body~politic

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Loco Eric on Twitter: "You can tell a lot about someone by how hard they laugh when you ask to borrow money."

Loco Eric on Twitter: "You can tell a lot about someone by how hard they laugh when you ask to borrow money."

Latin American Herald Tribune - Venezuelans March in Caracas to Demand Release of Jailed Opposition Leaders

Latin American Herald Tribune - Venezuelans March in Caracas to Demand Release of Jailed Opposition Leaders



CARACAS – Thousands of people demonstrated Saturday in Caracas in support of jailed opposition leaders Leopoldo Lopez and Daniel Ceballos, both on a hunger strike to demand their release and the scheduling of this year’s legislative elections.

The demonstrators, most of them wearing white, marched down one of the principal streets of the Venezuelan capital with banners and slogans calling for Lopez and Ceballos to be freed along with other political prisoners like the metropolitan mayor of Caracas, Antonio Ledezma, while slamming the government of President Nicolas Maduro.

Taking part in the march were the wives of those three jailed opposition leaders – Lilian Tintori, Patricia Gutierrez and Mitzy Capriles – as well as several leaders from Leopoldo Lopez’s Voluntad Popular (VP) party, and other opposition politicos like Maria Corina Machado.

National VP coordinator Freddy Guevara and the mayor of the El Hatillo municipality outside Caracas, David Smolansky, joined another two opposition councilors in shaving their heads. They were doing it in support of Patricia Gutierrez, who did the same recently in support of her husband, jailed since last July 26 in the central city of San Juan de los Morros.

“Today we have to work together, without hatred, without resentment, to reconstruct a democracy that no longer exists because only in a dictatorship do people go through what we’re suffering today, only a dictatorship holds a mayor prisoner,” the wife of Ceballos said as the march came to a close.

Leopoldo Lopez’s wife Lilian Tintori said she will call a “national day of fasting” that brings the opposition together on a hunger strike to demand, among other things, his release.

“We’re going to call for a national day of fasting, just one day and we’ll announce it in the coming hours, out of solidarity and for the love of our country,” Tintori said after the opposition march in east Caracas called by her husband from prison.

Among the requests of opposition prisoners was the demand that “political prisoners” be freed, an end to repression and censorship, and setting the date for legislative elections, on condition that they be carried out under the scrutiny of the Organization of American States (OAS) and the European Union (EU).

Joining Lopez and Ceballos on the hunger strike were the also jailed Alexander Tirado and Raul Baduel, who stopped eating last Tuesday, and another six Venezuelan students who stationed themselves two days ago inside a church in the Venezuelan capital.

Both Lopez and Ceballos have been behind bars for more than a year, accused of crimes related to their alleged responsibility for the violence that broke out during the anti-government protest of 2014, which took an official toll of 43 dead.

DOJ spending $1.8 million testing kid-run courts to combat bullying « Hot Air Headlines

DOJ spending $1.8 million testing kid-run courts to combat bullying « Hot Air Headlines




Hannibal - Season 3 Trailer (Sneak Peek)

SEVENDUST LYRICS - Separate

SEVENDUST LYRICS - Separate



Can you separate

All the darkness from my eyes






Friday, May 29, 2015

The Myth About College – UPDATED

The Myth About College – UPDATED



Professor’s don’t care if you learn or don’t learn the material in the class. They care more about their research and getting published. They don’t stop a lecture just for you if you don’t understand something. Do you think a professor thinks he failed if a student gets a B or a C or a D or doesn’t pass his/her course?

The Drake Equation | SETI Institute

The Drake Equation | SETI Institute



Drake Equation

"What do we need to know about to discover life in space?"

How can we estimate the number of technological civilizations that might exist among the stars? While working as a radio astronomer at the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Green Bank, West Virginia, Dr. Frank Drake conceived an approach to bound the terms involved in estimating the number of technological civilizations that may exist in our galaxy. The Drake Equation, as it has become known, was first presented by Drake in 1961 and identifies specific factors thought to play a role in the development of such civilizations. Although there is no unique solution to this equation, it is a generally accepted tool used by the scientific community to examine these factors.

-- Frank Drake, 1961

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

‘ObamaCare is penalizing me for pursuing my dreams!’ | New York Post

‘ObamaCare is penalizing me for pursuing my dreams!’ | New York Post In a Midtown specialist’s office, I confessed the secret that’s been weighing on my mind.
“My health insurance expires at the end of May,” I told the doctor.
I had a lot of questions for him: How much does an uninsured visit cost? What is the fewest number of follow-ups we can do this year? Do you have payment plans available to patients paying cash?
I’ve been down the uninsured path before, having spent my post-college years waiting tables and freelance writing. I know the risks involved, but I also know what information I need to make sure I’m relatively safe and mostly healthy.
My doctor looked confused. “Well, you’re required to have it now, right? So you’ll be covered?”
If only it were that simple.
ObamaCare has hit people like me the hardest. I left a desk job at The Post to dedicate my time to teaching yoga and developing a career in health and wellness (the irony of sacrificing my health insurance for this is not lost on me).
I’m teaching on a freelance basis. My husband is also a full-time freelancer, or a “perma-lance,” if you will. Our household income puts us just barely in the lower-middle-class bracket.
And we will end up paying top dollar to have any type of insurance.
So we’ve decided we’re just going to pay the Affordable Care Act’s individual-mandate penalty: 2 percent of household income or $325 per person, whichever is more (of course).
Paying this and paying cash individually for whatever services we require is still far cheaper than buying a health-insurance plan.
I explained all this to the kind and concerned doctor, and worried that he would judge me for making such a careless decision.
Instead, with an air of frustrated resignation, he responded, “I wish I could record your story and play it for people who think that ObamaCare is the answer.”
He knows that many people like me are, for lack of a better word, getting screwed, and he’s been forced to watch the landscape change, powerless against the burdensome new rules and regulations driving his patients away from health insurance.
Thankfully, he’s a great doctor and a good person. He laid out three options.
The first was that COBRA is available for people like me. You can leave a job for almost any reason and you’d be eligible to keep your insurance plan, as long as you pay up to 102 percent of your premium each month. This can last from 18 to 36 months.
Second, he recommended we look into a freelancers union, which might offer coverage.
Third, we could just use the New York state insurance marketplace to find something reasonable.
When I got home, I started crunching the numbers. I inquired about my COBRA coverage — a conversation that left me almost in tears. To cover my husband and me under COBRA, we’d have to pay $1,200 a month. (I guess my health plan was more of a “Cadillac plan” than I’d realized.)
In what world is that reasonable? Do these people understand what it’s like to be living in New York City in your 20s, besieged by ballooning student-loan debt and pumping more than half of your income into ludicrous rental prices? Clearly not.
I turned to the freelancers union. Surely they’d know what big-dreaming young people with an entrepreneurial spirit need to shine. Alas, the plan they offered was only slightly cheaper than COBRA.
I found my way to the state online marketplace and entered my information. Thankfully, the rate we would pay for two people is about half of what COBRA asks, but it’s still a stretch. I don’t know many young married couples in New York City or elsewhere who can afford to shell out an extra $600-plus each month.
Some people will read this and say I’ve gotten into this situation because I chose to live this way, and I left my full-time corporate job when I didn’t really need to. I wasn’t fired or laid off.
But that misses the point. I’m unwilling to sacrifice my passion for a benefits package.
I refuse to let the government stand between myself and my goals. Ideally, they’d support my freedom to pursue life, liberty and happiness — instead of penalizing me for it, which is what they’re doing instead.
Gabrielle Gray is a yoga instructor at Earth Wellness Yoga in Brooklyn.

iF Revista Digital Control De Armas: ¿Protección Al Individuo O Monopolio Del Crimen?

iF Revista Digital Control De Armas: ¿Protección Al Individuo O Monopolio Del Crimen?

iF Revista Digital Capitalismo Y Mercantilismo No Son Lo Mismo, ¿Por Qué?

iF Revista Digital Capitalismo Y Mercantilismo No Son Lo Mismo, ¿Por Qué?



Cui Bono: Frase atribuida al político Romano Marco Tulio Cicerón y que significa ”Quién se beneficia”. Normalmente se aplica a situaciones donde para esclarecer la responsabilidad de un acto, se cuestiona quien se pueda beneficiar de su ocurrencia.
En la entrega pasada te hable del Mercantilismo. Te mencioné que este es una doctrina que supone una economía con alta intervención del Estado y donde este otorga privilegios a algunos particulares, afines del gobierno, para la explotación de los recursos y el emprendimiento de empresas. También te comenté que en respuesta a este sistema de economía centralizada surgieron dos respuestas; la primera el Liberalismo, que proponía un sistema donde la intervención estatal se limitaba a la protección de losderechos de Vida, Propiedad y Libertad de los ciudadanos; y una segunda opción, representada por el socialismo, que, irónicamente, propone la sustitución de este sistema de economía centralizada por una aún peor, pues supone la total intervención del Estado en la economía y en la vida de los ciudadanos.
Increíblemente, a pesar de la oposición ideológica que enfrentaba, el Mercantilismo sobrevivió a los siglos XVIII y XIX. Y no solo sobrevivió sino que permaneció y permanece presente en diferentes grados en la economía mundial. Prueba irrefutable de esta aseveración son las economías de Latinoamérica. Solo basta echarles un ojo a algunos países de la zona para ver esto:
  • México: Empresas bajo control Estatal (Petroleras, Bancos, Comercializadoras, Aduanas, Salud, Educación…); protecciones arancelarias a productos agrícolas e industriales (evitado el ingreso de competidores que amenacen a los amigos del gobierno).
  • Venezuela (antes del socialismo): Empresas bajo control Estatal (Petroleras, Bancos, Comercializadoras, Aduanas, Salud, Educación, Minería, Acereras, Compañías de Servicios…); protecciones arancelarias a productos agrícolas e industriales (evitado el ingreso de competidores que amenacen a los amigos del gobierno), subvenciones a la producción, entre otros.
Incluso países más próximos al capitalismo en la región, sufren de este mal:
  • Chile: La empresa Codelco, la minera más importante de Chile es controlada enteramente por el Estado, así como la totalidad de la producción de cobre del país.
Pero este mal no se limita a Latinoamérica, incluso las economías más próximas al capitalismo sufren de algún grado de Mercantilismo:
  • Australia: El Estado es dueño de parte de Telstra (compañía de telecomunicaciones) y aplica leyes proteccionistas sobre el vino y algunos otros productos.
  • EEUU: Aplica políticas de protección arancelaria sobre su producción agraria. Durante la crisis Financiera más reciente, el gobierno impulsó paquetes de rescate para solo algunas de las organizaciones financieras afectadas. Existen paquetes de salvamento para las industrias Metalúrgica y Automotriz entre otras.
  • CEE: Aplica políticas de protección arancelaria sobre su producción agropecuaria e industrial. Al igual que en EEUU, la Comunidad Económica Europea ha creado paquetes de rescate para bancos, empresas y hasta países miembros (España, Irlanda, Portugal, Grecia). La misma existencia de la Comunidad es cuestionable pues se podría argumentar que su mera existencia responde más a un intento de proteger la producción interna de los países miembros que a establecer mercados libres.
Por favor, entendamos que cada país tiene una economía distinta y por tanto el grado de mercantilismo, socialismo o libre mercado presente es diferente al igual que lo son los resultados económicos que arrojan. Lo que siempre se mantiene invariable es que, amayor libertad en el mercado, nos encontramos con unas economías más saludables y prósperas.
¿El libre mercado solo beneficia a los empresarios? No, esta es una de las ideas que los socialistas nos han impuesto a pensar. Esto lo lograron haciéndonos creer que Libre Mercado y Mercantilismo son la misma cosa.
En el Libre Mercado, el Estado no tiene poder alguno para afectar la economía y restringir el poder de decisión de los consumidores (valga acotar, todos nosotros). Esto es únicamente posible en el Mercantilismo y en el socialismo. Sin ese poder no se pueden limitar precios ni crear impuestos que favorezcan a algunos; ni reducir los permisos de explotación de cierto producto a solo unas pocas licencias para mantener a un mercado cautivo; ni crear aranceles que impidan el ingreso de competidores; ni tampoco expropiar empresas para ponerlas al control del gobierno; ni pare usted de contar. Y si ninguna de esas cosas se puede hacer, ningún empresario sanguijuela del Estado se puede beneficiar y por tanto ningún político puede comprar favores de ellos y a los primeros les tocara competir para ganar al mercado.
La naturaleza humana -y con esto no es que desee justificar pero si tratar de entender- tiende a buscar la resolución de los problemas de la manera más fácil; por tanto, la gran mayoría de los empresarios, trataran de ganar favores de los políticos de turno para así introducir regulaciones en la economía que los favorezcan y les eviten el tener que competir contra otros empresarios. Trataran que el gobierno, forcé de alguna manera al mercado a solo comprarles a ellos lo cual les dará poder sobre los precios y reducirá los requerimientos de calidad sobre sus productos. Por esta razón es que muchas veces en los países donde el Mercantilismo es rey, encontramos poca variedad de productos, de muy mala calidad y a precios exorbitantes en comparación con productos similares en países de economías más libres.
Estemos claros de algo: los empresarios no son socialistas. Ninguno de ellos quiere que sus empresas les sean expropiadas, salvo que ellos sean partícipes del gobierno (se han visto casos). Pero tampoco son Capitalistas (al menos no en su mayoría) pues el tener que competir les da como asco. Lo que muchos de ellos no toman en cuenta es que el Mercantilismo, si bien es defendido como política económica por un grupo de derecha conservadora (especialmente en Latinoamérica), es desde el siglo XIX, y bajo el auspicio de la socialdemocracia, el caballo de Troya que utilizan los socialistas en su camino al socialismo puro.
La socialdemocracia, por su parte, surgió como alternativa al socialismo revolucionario, proponiendo lograr los mismos objetivos de este último, mediante un proceso paulatino de reformas. Para los socialdemócratas, el Mercantilismo resulto ser un instrumento ideal, pues tiene ese marco de ideas intermedias que le permiten una transición paulatina de una economía libre a una socialista. La socialdemocracia, ha tenido cierto grado de evolución, y su semejanza con el socialismo varían de partido a partido sin que esto implique que sus ideas intermedias entre libertad y colectivismo no resulten invariablemente en una recaída de la economía y la sociedad hacia la debacle socialista si no se ven frenadas por instituciones liberales serias.
A la final del cuento, con mercantilistas, la población general pierde su poder de decisión como mercado, para beneficio temporal de algunos empresarios y en detrimento de sus libertades para la paulatina acumulación de poder en manos de los políticos.
Y entonces, Qui Bono

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Athletic Babes on Twitter: "I'd watch the weather every day �� http://t.co/eBfTI6GARq"

Athletic Babes on Twitter: "I'd watch the weather every day �� http://t.co/eBfTI6GARq"

ISIS burn woman alive for refusing 'extreme sex act', reveals UN official | Daily Mail Online

ISIS burn woman alive for refusing 'extreme sex act', reveals UN official | Daily Mail Online



A woman was burned alive by depraved Islamic State militants after she refused to take part in an 'extreme sex act', a United Nations official has revealed.
Hundreds of women have been kidnapped by jihadi fighters who send the 'prettiest virgins' to slave markets in the Syrian city of Raqqa, where they are sold as sexual objects to the highest bidder.
Many are stripped naked and forced to undergo virginity tests before being sent to the twisted auctions, the UN's Special Representative on Sexual Violence in Conflict has said.
Zainab Bangura discovered the gruesome extent of crimes against young women – particularly from Iraq's Yazidi minority community – after collecting information from Syria, Iraq, Turkey, Lebanon and Jordan. 


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3097033/ISIS-burn-woman-alive-refusing-extreme-sex-act-reveals-official.html#ixzz3bHI0wvOE
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook





North Korea’s Real Life Hunger Games | Foreign Policy

North Korea’s Real Life Hunger Games | Foreign Policy MY second day at the detention center, I was sent to weed the rice fields. The task was exhausting, slogging for hours through the flooded rows of dirt, pulling at the weeds and digging down with my fingers for the grub-white roots. Around noon, we marched under a hot sun back to the detention center for lunch. Not knowing the routine, I simply followed everyone else, trying not to stick out. After we ate our meager portions of corn noodle soup, the guard, a lean teenager with an angry face, yelled: “It is your break time.” I watched as the other boys lay down and fell asleep instantly. I could tell how precious this time was by how fast they dropped to the floor.

When a famine struck our region of North Korea in 1995, I was five years old and living with my father, mother, and older sister Bong Sook in the province of North Hamgyong. In the difficult years that followed, my father died of starvation and illness, my mother was arrested for trying to cross the border into China, and Bong Sook was either sold into sex slavery or bought as a wife by a Chinese man — I never found out which. After my family scattered, I spent my early teenage years as one of the many Kkotjebi, or “wandering swallows,” homeless children who begged in the marketplace and slept wherever they could. Some had been abandoned by parents who couldn’t feed them; others had watched their family disintegrate under the pressure of the famine, as mine had. In the summer of 2005 — a year before I escaped to China, and two years before I made it to the United States — the Saraocheong, the government branch that oversees minors, placed me in the detention center for three months for not attending school.

Housed in a crumbling building that used to be an art school, and filled with hundreds of frightened youths, the detention center terrified me.Housed in a crumbling building that used to be an art school, and filled with hundreds of frightened youths, the detention center terrified me. My first day there, I’d seen a teenager beaten so severely I was sure his brain had been damaged; darkness brought the shrieks of girls being raped in the next room. The detention center had once been the best art school in Hoeryong, but now, like many things, it was broken and wild, a place of seething chaos.

That second day, I heard a voice calling in my dreams: “Up, up.” I opened my eyes. The guard was screaming at us, kicking the sleeping boys, threatening the slow ones with a long stick — actually just the handle of a garden hoe — which he held menacingly in his right hand. Everyone began scrambling to find his shoes that sat in a pile at the center of the room. My hands shook. I found one shoe but not the other. I was stooped over, hunting among the remaining pairs, when something struck me between the shoulder blades with great force. “Bastard!” he shouted. “Why are you so slow?”

It hurt terribly, but I managed not to fall over. I knew that showing weakness could mean death. I bowed to the guard, his face twisted in a bright grin, as the flesh above my spine throbbed.

“Please, sir,” I said, “I’m looking for my shoes.”

He raised the stick again and screamed “Bastard!” He slammed it down on my left shoulder, trying to break the collarbone. I wanted to kill him, but I thought he must have allies among the other guards, and they would come for me when the sky grew dark.

From then on, the guard chose me as his No. 1 victim. I learned later that his parents were middle class and could have afforded to get him out of the prison, but chose not to. The guard had been abandoned and then sent to detention, where he got a job watching over the other inmates. (There was no formal process for choosing a guard – the job went to the strongest and most intimidating inmates.) To show his dominance, the guard attacked people for no reason at all. And he made a special case out of me.

I learned to put my shoes in a place where I could find them, but the guard didn’t care. Bastard was my name, and beatings were my regular fate. Sometimes he hit me with the big stick; other times he slapped my face with his open hand. I only bowed in response. But rage was building up inside me. I could feel the blood pump hot to my face when he slapped it. Out on the streets, I was considered a good fighter for my age. Some even feared me.

I’d come to the detention center after many months of barely surviving as a beggar and thief. I’d been living with my mother and her abusive partner, who beat me if I didn’t steal enough to feed our makeshift family. Depressed and angry, I’d thought my life had reached its nadir — until I was taken to the detention center.

One day, after weeks of the guard’s abuse, I heard him approach me from behind. “Hey, bastard,” he said, almost jovially. I could feel the eagerness in his voice, the anticipation of a good slap, a release of his hatred and frustration from his skin into mine.I could feel the eagerness in his voice, the anticipation of a good slap, a release of his hatred and frustration from his skin into mine. It was almost like he craved the letting go of the dark electricity that had built up in him all morning. I could feel how he savored these moments. But today, I couldn’t take the thought of him touching me. I spun around.

“Why are you always picking on me?” I cried, my voice breaking. “Leave me alone, please. Leave me alone or else!” Even as I said it, I knew that I’d opened myself up to danger. But it was too late.

The guard’s face went still with surprise. Then it blushed dark and his eyes slitted. “How dare you talk back to me!” he said in a low voice. We began shouting at each other, the other boys gathering, wide-eyed, to watch. The team leader came running over.

“What’s happening?” he said, pushing boys aside. “What are you two yelling about?”

Before the guard could open his mouth, I quickly spoke up, and described what had been happening under the team leader’s nose. He listened and nodded, gesturing for the furious guard to be silent. When I finished, the team leader nodded. “I don’t need to hear any more. I will do what’s fair! And that means only one thing: you two will fight it out!”

The team leader looked very pleased. He was clearly bored with his daily routine, and here was an opportunity for excitement. I knew that losing would be dangerous. The guard would have total control over me, and because I had humiliated him by defying him in public, he would show no mercy. I decided I would do whatever it took to win.

The team leader gathered all the boys together in the center of our room. I studied my opponent. He was bigger and heavier, but I knew he’d led a more privileged life, while I’d been sleeping rough and learning how to survive on scraps. You are mentally stronger, I said to myself. Whatever you do, don’t give up.

“Ok, begin!”

The guard and I grabbed each other by the shoulders and arms and pushed back and forth, grunting with effort. He quickly slipped his hand away and landed a punch on my jaw, mashing the flesh against my teeth. I tasted blood, and this frightened me. I shoved him back, trying to topple him over. But he was strong. After a few minutes of furious wrestling, my left knee gave way and I rolled to the ground. The guard’s hands went to my throat as he fell on me. We rolled back and forth, punching each other and snorting for air.

After what felt like 20 minutes of wrestling and blows, my arms were slick with sweat. I was exhausted. It felt as if my arms were hanging from their sockets by thin strings. But I had more to lose, and I’d always been a stubborn fighter. I eventually managed to throw the guard to the ground and climbed on top of him, sitting on his heaving chest. I pinned both his hands with my left hand and started punching him in the face as he turned it this way and that, trying to evade my blows. I felt no rage anymore, no emotion at all. I was like a miner gouging out a seam of coal. There was no hatred left in me, only determination. Bang. I gashed his lower lip on his teeth. Again. I took a deep breath, leaned forward, and gritted my teeth. Bang. Harder. Bang.

“I give up!” he shouted finally. A cheer went up from some of the spectators while others blew out their breath in disgust. I rolled off the guard and lay on the floor, gasping.

I’d only wanted to serve my time as quietly as possible, but by winning I’d brought myself to the attention of “the gangster brothers” — the older criminals who essentially ran the detention center. That afternoon, I learned my reward. They named me the new guard. This meant more and better food, and freedom not to work all day in the intense heat.

The guard I had beaten became a regular inmate, and would go out to the fields to weed. The gangster brothers handed me the stick, with the understanding that I would use it indiscriminately, and with great harshness. I didn’t want the long stick, I didn’t want to be a guard, but I had no choice. I vowed to be a better person than the teenager who victimized me — I didn’t want become a brutal creature, like the gangster brothers who ran the detention center. I wanted to keep a part of the old me alive.

But it felt good to have power. In the mornings, older boys approached me and bowed deeply, asking me how I had slept. Most of the time I wouldn’t answer them: it didn’t pay for me to be too friendly with the inmates. As the weeks went by, I sank further into cruelty. If someone disobeyed me and I didn’t punish him, I would be beaten and replaced — the team leaders made this clear. So I beat those who refused my orders; I beat them with my fists as they looked at me with hatred.

Months after I left the center, I’d found a temporary home with a friend of my mother, and returned to a life of thievery. The same boys I had beaten at the center were still chasing me on the streets of Hoeryong, with the same rage in their eyes that I’d felt when the stick rapped me on the spine. We were angry, I think, because of what had happened to us, but also because of what we’d become.

The famine in North Korea killed hundreds of thousands of people. Some of their graves are still visible on the low hills outside Hoeryong. But the famine also did secret things: it dissolved families as if they’d been dipped in acid (mine, unfortunately, was a good example); it broke up deep, committed friendships over something as small as a cornmeal cake. Everyone in the West talks about the oppressive, invasive government of North Korea, but what I experienced was a complete absence of authority. And that was far more frightening.



This article is adapted from the book, Under the Same Sky.

Latin American Herald Tribune - VenEconomy: These Dark Hours of Venezuela

Latin American Herald Tribune - VenEconomy: These Dark Hours of Venezuela



Similarly, Lilian Tintori, wife of López, said via her Twitter account that she did not have any information on López, or knew of his whereabouts, or his health status, making Maduro responsible for what might have happened to both López and Ceballos.

A few hours later, it began to circulate a video of López announcing that both him and Ceballos had begun a hunger strike in order to vindicate the struggle of the Venezuelan people demanding the cessation of persecution and repression against those who think differently to the Bolivarian regime, as much as the release of all political prisoners. In addition to calling upon the National Electoral Council (CNE) to set a final date for the parliamentary elections this year, demanding guarantees of transparency and the presence of the OAS during the voting process. 

Today Ceballos is being held in a common prison with highly dangerous prisoners, with his head shaved off, and cohabiting with prisoners charged with murder, burglary, armed robbery, kidnapping, drug-trafficking, among other crimes. This treatment for political prisoners is totally unusual, and something of great concern because of the well-known control of "pranes" (prisons gang leaders) exerted over other inmates and their links with some of the leaders of the Bolivarian regime.

Monday, May 25, 2015

The Darkness (comics) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Darkness (comics) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia



The Darkness is an American comic book series published by Top Cow Productions. The series was created by Marc Silvestri,Garth Ennis, and David WohlThe Darkness is the story of Mafia hitman Jackie Estacado who on his 21st birthday became the bearer of the Darkness, an elemental force that allows those who wield it access to an otherworldly dimension and control over the demons who dwell there.






Texas and Oklahoma flooding: 3 dead - CNN.com

Texas and Oklahoma flooding: 3 dead - CNN.com



(CNN)Record-setting rains left officials in Texas and Oklahoma scrambling to assess the scope of the damage and destruction Monday as an emergency coordinator told reporters that a dozen people were missing in one county.
The 12 people missing in Hays County, Texas, come from families who had gathered for the long weekend, said Ken Bell, emergency coordinator for San Marcos, one of the cities hardest hit by the storms and flooding.

Justice Don Willett on Twitter: "TO: @Pontifex FROM: Texas RE: sainthood for Stevie Ray Vaughan (h/t @dodrummond) http://t.co/4bAhuE391J"

Justice Don Willett on Twitter: "TO: @Pontifex FROM: Texas RE: sainthood for Stevie Ray Vaughan (h/t @dodrummond) http://t.co/4bAhuE391J"

NSA Tests Out Smartphones that Recognize Handwriting Motion - Nextgov.com

NSA Tests Out Smartphones that Recognize Handwriting Motion - Nextgov.com



"Nobody else has the same strokes," said John Mears, senior fellow for Lockheed IT and Security Solutions. "People can forge your handwriting in two dimensions, but they couldn't forge it in three or four dimensions. Three is the pressure you put in, in addition to the two dimensions on the paper. The fourth dimension is time. The most advanced handwriting-type authentication tracks you in four dimensions."
The biometric factors measured by Lockheed's technology, dubbed "Mandrake," are speed, acceleration and the curve of an individual’s strokes.




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