Scathing Online Schoolmarm Scathes Through an Al Jazeera Article about England’s New Culture Secretary.

The United Kingdom’s new culture secretary has been accused of Islamophobia over her views on Muslim women and description of the burqa as a “medieval” dress code.

Accused by whom? The article doesn’t say. By the author of the article I guess, and one or two others. But since totally covering up women is way pre-medieval, the secretary is certainly guilty of medievophobia.

[Nadine] Dorries [has] called for a ban on the full-face veil.

This is added to the article to signify that, like the following miscreants, Dorries is Islamophobic:

“The following nations have introduced full or partial ban of the burqa: Austria, France, Belgium, Denmark, Bulgaria, the Netherlands (in public schools, hospitals and on public transport), Germany (partial bans in some states), Italy (in some localities), Spain (in some localities of Catalonia), Russia (in the Stavropol Krai),[4][5][6]Luxembourg,[7]Switzerland,[8]Norway (in nurseries, public schools and universities),[9]Canada (in the public workplace in Quebec),[10]Gabon, Chad, Senegal, the Republic of the Congo, Cameroon (in some localities), Niger (in some localities),[11][12]Sri Lanka,[13]Tajikistan,[14]Uzbekistan (ban on all personal religious symbols),[15]Azerbaijan (in public schools),[16]Turkey (in the judiciary, military and police),[17]Kosovo (in public schools),[18]Bosnia and Herzegovina (in courts and other legal institutions),[19]Morocco (ban on manufacturing, marketing and sale),[20]Tunisia (in public institutions),[21]Egypt (in universities), Algeria (in the public workplace),[22] and China (in Xinjiang).[23][24]

“Many [Islamic women] aren’t even allowed to keep their genitals,” [Dorries has written], referring to female genital mutilation (FGM), an outlawed practice in the UK. FGM predates Islam and Christianity, but is carried out by a minority of adherents to several faiths.

That’s so cute that the Al Jazeera writer puts it that way! FGM is overwhelmingly Islamic, and is practically universal in, among other places, Egypt. Check out all them 90%s, babe! Or how ’bout that 200 million? How Islamophobic to dismiss a deeply rooted, insanely popular practice that in Luxor, for instance, is carried out on newborns! Never too soon to keep a female chaste, and we know all about infantile sexuality from Freud.

Of the about three million Muslims in Britain, it is widely understood very few women wear the full-face veil, though there are no official statistics.

As with FGM, it would behoove Al Jazeera‘s writer to do a tad of research. As far back as 2007, the NYT reported that “the number of women [in England] wearing the niqab has increased in the past several years,” and the trend has continued. With England one of the last countries in Europe or Asia with no restrictions on the burqa, the place has made itself a magnet for tourists and residents who wear the burqa/niqab.

The burqa, the writer continues, only “captures the national attention when politicians or public figures comment on it.” No, the burqa captures the public attention all the time, because most citizens of liberal democracies object to it, whether or not they favor legalization. The thunderous silence that has followed Dorries’ comment, and many others like it from public figures, conveys the profound unpopularity of female invisibility cloaks, abundantly on view of late in that most Islamic of places, Afghanistan.

America’s Female Genital Mutilators, Under Assault Yet Again by the Federal Government, Ask: Where is our great defender, our hero, the famous American attorney willing to stake his career and reputation on the defense of the mutilation of seven year old girls’ clitorides? Come back, Alan Dershowitz: WE NEED YOU!

You got our traveling band of secret clit slashers out of trouble once; but now the feds are after us again with a whole new set of charges! Alan, as pious as we, understands that God wants – demands! – circumcision as much for our girl babies as for our boy babies, and he put his whole heart and soul into our first trial. Our worry is that Alan’s personal struggle against sex trafficking charges will make him less available than he was before. But our hope is based upon the fervency of his defense of child circumcision.


Who am I?
I teach a class called I Hate Me
My students watch my agony
Innocents who chose this place
Not to watch me hate my race

Who am I?
What do they think a syllabus is for?
It is to say Forgive Me evermore
And say my hated name until I die
And make my students just as vile as I

Oh tell me why
They cannot face their own deep shame
They think they do not bear the blame
They say “I came to school to learn,
Not to watch you crash and burn.
Your self-abasement makes me yawn.
I’m out of here, Madame.  I’m gone.”

Who am I?
Who am I?

Ernst Wins the Grand Slammer

Put his lucrative years of fraud and bribery down to advanced racket technique: A golden boy tennis coach at Georgetown University who taught the likes of the Obama kids, he recognized early that he could trade bogus athletic admission recommendations on behalf of the dim spawn of the super-rich and charge super-sums for the favor. Details here.

Hard to think of an easier way to earn millions than having your assistant write a note to the admit office insisting that the tennis team needs this one great high school grad on it! With that money, Ernst bought a Chevy Chase (a neighborhood just up the road from UD that gets even higher prestige points than UD‘s own ‘thesda) house practically next door to the house of a super-rich lobbyist where – fun fact – Les UDs spent an evening, long ago, in the company of Morton Kondracke and other denizens.

Ernst was just gonna brazen it out and keep hitting winners through his upcoming trial; but facing an array of witnesses who would no doubt add details to his scoring record, he decided to plead guilty and go to jail. Meanwhile, a serious investigation of ever-scandal-ridden Georgetown University needs to happen.

Hey! You’ve Got to Hide Your Guns Away

Here I stand head in hand
But hey they’ve rationed care
I’m bleeding from a gunshot wound
Treatment rooms nowhere

Number One for gunshot death
Alaska — my great state
I can’t seem to catch my breath
Doc says four-week wait

Hey, you’ve got to hide your guns away
Hey, you’ve got to hide your guns away

When it comes to suicide
We’re ranked Number Two
If you tried and you need help
Nothing you can do

How could Mike say to me
Masks are not the way
Gather ’round all you clowns
Let me hear you say

Hey, you’ve got to hide your guns away
Hey, you’ve got to hide your guns away

‘I can no longer sit back and allow Communist infiltration, Communist indoctrination, communist subversion, and the international Communist conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids.’

Brig Gen Jack D Ripper states his intentions.

The imperfect English of some of Phillip Kawin’s grieving piano students lends greater poignancy to the untimely death of their Manhattan School of Music teacher.

His death is announced here; and here are many tributes, with perfect and imperfect English. A few that caught UD‘s eye follow.


‘I can’t forget that when I was admitted to Manhattan School of Music, you cared for me and taught me like a father. You always leave the school very late, and I always can see you downstairs in the school in the midnight . I can’t describe my pleasantly surprise when you appeared in the concert hall and listened to my performance in the final recital of the Bach class and the harpsichord class. After that, you summed up all the problems in my performance for me, and I deeply feel your great support for your students. You have paid so much attention for us, you always devote all your energy to music and teaching. In the future, I will also teach many students. As your student, I‘m determined to learn and pass on your dedication and rigorous teaching attitude, as well as the spirit of selfless care for students.’


‘Today is your funeral day. Even till now, it’s still too hard for me to believe that this thing had happened. The date 9th of September in America which is 10th of September in China is my country’s Teacher’s Day. I wanted to say Happy Teacher’s Day to you but didn’t have chance. But I know someday I will meet you again, at the end of my life.’


‘But what made Mr. PK great wasn’t just his amazing insight in the classroom; it was also his above-and-beyond support for everyone he cared about. There were so many moments we shared outside of the classroom. I’ll always remember our trip to Italy where he said that he came up with the idea for me to play Prokofiev’s 1st Piano Concerto in a dream… He would always go to my performances whenever he could, no matter … where they were or how important they were. I specifically remember he went to one of my gigs, and he asked to be dropped off at his studio in MSM at 1:30 AM instead of at his apartment because he had to practice a Beethoven Piano Concerto for an upcoming concert in Moscow!’


‘One of the most enduring memories from my lessons with Prof. Kawin was his insistence that I use the weight of gravity to “sink” into the last two chords of Brahms’ g minor Rhapsody. I never quite managed to create the wonderfully rounded sound that he could.’


‘I can’t imagine you are gone. Just a few days ago I was still imagining what the first class of our new semester should look like. I have a lot to say to you, but I never have a chance again. I still remember what you said to me, your voice is always full of passion for music and you always encourage me. May you rest in peace.

Your stupid student


‘I am still not ready for saying good-bye.
You will be in my heart forever as my most wonderful teacher, my mentor, my friend, and beautiful musician like as your warm heart.
I learned from you not only music but also life which has to be beautiful and wise.
Thank you for being my teacher and I will miss you and love you. Don’t forget you were always be loved.’


‘He attended my bar mitzvah in 1998, and years later, my 12-year-old photo was amongst the collection on his studio wall. There were never one-hour lessons; there were only 2, 2.5-hour lessons, however long was necessary. Time stopped in his Room 228 studio, and the music ruled.’


‘I felt guilty of not spending enough time to talk with you casually when you were always there for me. All I knew was to focus my attention more into work, technical skills, while not willing to open myself up to you for a casual talk. I owe you and myself a deepest apology for not knowing you truly as a person rather than a tutor when you were still alive.’


‘He once asked: “do you see that picture of Rachmaninoff’s hand and my own, aren’t they alike!” His way of teaching Russian music was unlike anyone else. He taught me the importance of fingering ( Beethoven 111, Ravel’s Scarbo)- During one of his classes a Gym Promoting number called him, he picked up and hanged up ( He said to me I’m doing the fingering for Beethoven Op.111 that’s enough exercise for the whole day).’


‘I know you needed the cup of iced coffee always because you were always lacking of sleep from long lessons after midnight or thoughts about your students. Even if you blamed me that our lessons get too long because we talk too much, I know you truly believed that without life, there is no music. Your life was art itself, and music was your life.’


‘Mr. Kawin was a concert pianist, recording pianist, educator, accomplished turtle collector. A very sloppy person who couldn’t find a charger at his home but knew every inch of [the Manhattan School of Music]. A strange man who spelled gute Nacht with umlaut but read every Asian student’s name accurately.’


‘Art was his religion and he truly dedicated himself to it!
I can not write about him, because every-time I start writing or see his pictures my eyes fill up with tears. He will always be remembered with his child-like, naive smile!’


Truman Capote’s Black and White…

Ball today, at Shaheed Rabbani Education University.

Image: Aamir Qureshi / AFP

“It was America that drew their fury. It was the high gloss of our modernity. It was the thrust of our technology. It was our perceived godlessness. It was the blunt force of our foreign policy. It was the power of American culture to penetrate every wall, home, life and mind…

[T]here is no logic in apocalypse. They have gone beyond the bounds of passionate payback. This is heaven and hell, a sense of armed martyrdom as the surpassing drama of human experience.

He pledges his submission to God and meditates on the blood to come…

There are the doctors’ appointments that saved lives, the cellphones that were used to report the hijackings. Stories generating others and people running north out of the rumbling smoke and ash. Men running in suits and ties, women who’d lost their shoes, cops running from the skydive of all that towering steel…

When the second tower fell, my heart fell with it…

[W]hatever great skeins of technology lie ahead, ever more complex, connective, precise, micro-fractional, the future has yielded, for now, to medieval expedience, to the old slow furies of cut-throat religion…


It is possible to pass through some checkpoints, detour around others. At Chambers Street I look south through the links of the National Rent-A-Fence barrier. There stands the smoky remnant of filigree that marks the last tall thing, the last sign in the mire of wreckage that there were towers here that dominated the skyline for over a quarter of a century…

When we say a thing is unreal, we mean it is too real, a phenomenon so unaccountable and yet so bound to the power of objective fact that we can’t tilt it to the slant of our perceptions. First the planes struck the towers. After a time it became possible for us to absorb this, barely. But when the towers fell. When the rolling smoke began moving downward, floor to floor. This was so vast and terrible that it was outside imagining even as it happened. We could not catch up with it. But it was real, punishingly so, an expression of the physics of structural limits and a void in one’s soul, and there was the huge antenna falling out of the sky, straight down, blunt end first, like an arrow moving backwards in time…

The writer begins in the towers, trying to imagine the moment, desperately. Before politics, before history and religion, there is the primal terror. People falling from the towers hand in hand. This is part of the counternarrative, hands and spirits joining, human beauty in the crush of meshed steel.”

Don DeLillo

In the Ruins of the Future

Andrew Sullivan Compiles Many Recent Signs of the Return of Intellectual Sanity to America.

We’re still far away from actual head-clearing, but there’s reason to hope.


But don’t get too excited.

[9/11 was] an attack on the heteropatriarchal capitalistic systems that America relies upon to wrangle other countries into passivity. It was an attack on the systems many white Americans fight to protect.”


Good time, by the way, to revisit William Julius Wilson’s The Declining Significance of Race.

‘As a student at the University of Salzburg, [Stefan Weber] realized that the [intellectual] triumph his teacher had foreseen long ago [for him] was not going to be found in math. Despite his prodigious memory, he was unable to follow the university math professors and instead turned to “the idiot degree everyone studies: communications.”’

The guy UD routinely relies on in her posts about plagiarism gets a New York Times feature.


Melbourne’s ultraorthodox perform dangerous rooftop sprints at night!

First, a diversionary ultra-team places itself in front of the team’s synagogue so police think they’re up to no good; then, while police aren’t watching, other ultras scale the synagogue roof and enter the building (breaking lock-down orders).

When police get wise to the ruse, ultras inside the building race back up to the roof and then escape the police by running along other Melbourne rooftops!

The so-called “Piety Pentathlon” incorporates

  1. scaling a building
  2. climbing into the building from the roof
  3. climbing back up to the roof
  4. racing across rooftops
  5. climbing down from rooftops

Spectators are amazed.

A neighbour, who identified himself as Brent but declined to provide a surname, said he had seen several men enter the building in the same way over the past fortnight.

“I wasn’t around on Tuesday, but this has been going on for a while now, and often happens around early evening. It’s just bizarre,” he said.

La Vie UD, ce matin.

Foreground: Runty, reflective, pitbull mix.

Background: Purple flowers just gathered from UD‘s pollinator garden. This prolific plant had begun to cascade over her stepping stones, making walking there difficult. Particularly difficult, because the cascade sags with bees. Tried to cut it back yesterday afternoon, but there were too many bees.

Far fewer this morning, so with long sleeves, long pants, Mr UD‘s very big hat, and plenty of bug spray, I safely did the deed.

Other flowering plants. A gargoyle.

If you are an out of work attorney (and there are a lot of you), run, don’t walk, to THE GREAT STATE OF TEXAS

That state’s head is so far up its ass on so many big issues that you’re assured legal work as everyone – the Justice Department just filed- sues Texas for everything all the time.

It’s the sweetest litigation the country ever knew
Abortion, guns, and voting, they’re waiting there for you!
You may talk about your tort law and your pers’nal injury
But the law biz down in Texas is the only game for me.

Available In and Out of Store!

Ippolito, a licensed pharmacist and owner of Northgate Pharmacy in Waldorf, and Shifflett, an employee at the pharmacy, were indicted by a Charles County Grand Jury in August. Ippolito distributed narcotics to an undercover officer and Shifflett was conducting street deals of pharmaceutical controlled substances that she obtained from the pharmacy.

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