彼女言った死後案内するのが自分自身 goddess of the world
信者 みんな 避ける立場
We live in horse house.
What a wonderful world.
彼女がすなわち bad goddess
A to the Q to the U to the A
S to the A to the M to the A
ア ク シ ズ
We live in horse house.
What a wonderful world.
and they were already landed. But the Purveyor would
not let them be used ; "he could not unpack them without
a Board." Three weeks elapsed before the Board released
the shirts. The sick and wounded, lying shivering for want
of rugs and shirts, would have expressed themselves forcibly,
until the Board of Survey's good time had arrived.
consignment to be opened forcibly, while the officials wrung
スザンヌ・ヴェガの Tom's Diner
Hilary Clinton is beautiful.
But she doesn't know what to do.
Things are getting difficult.
He tries to hold himself.
She doesn't know what to do.
Things are getting difficult.
Because he's been nice to her.
She doesn't know what to say.
He doesn't know what to say.
Napalm Death - Scum
Rammstein - Du hast
Interpol - Slow hands
Dinosaur Jr. - Tiny
Andrew W.K. - Party Hard
The National - Fake Empire
David Lee Roth - Yankee Rose
Clutch - Electric Worry
Bunker Hill - The Girl Can´t Dance
Kings Of Leon - Use Somebody
Alabama Shakes - Hold On
Urban theoretician and writer J.Jacobs was born on May 4, 1916, in Scranton, Pennsylvania,United States. Although she had no formal training as an urban planner, J.Jacobs revolutionized the way we look at cities. Her vision was inspired by her time living in New York City’s Greenwich Village neighborhood, a medley of townhouses, walk-up apartment buildings and narrow streets that all fostered a sense of society.
Forthcoming changes to Instagram’s algorithm, which will present photos out of chronological order, have thrown the photo-sharing app into chaos, with users asking their followers to “turn on notifications” so their updates aren’t lost to the new regime.
Turning on notifications for Rihanna, for example, means you’ll be told every time she posts a new photo. It is the equivalent of Rihanna texting you to tell you that she’s put a pic up on Instagram, but without the close relationship with Rihanna implicit in that scenario.
彼女はもういない。自分がいくら好きでも。嫌われてしまったのは自分のせい。もう見向きもされない。自分なんて彼女からすれば空気同然。人生の意味がなくなった。神様が人生のチャンスを与えてくれたのに。自分は無駄にした。愛していたとは言えない。あの人に会って話したい。デートしたい。良い施設に行くたびここは良いデートスポットだと思う。彼女がいればもっと楽しめるのに。ある日突然、いや、気づかなかっただけだ。バカな自分。すべてを失った。もう何も見えない。彼女と死以外は。失恋した。明後日は精神科だ。うつ病で少し前まで入院してた。死にたいって言って、再入院だろう。憂鬱。まちの夜景を見て、さびしさを紛らわせても、過ぎ去ってしまった日々を取り戻せないと思うと、もっと憂鬱になる。まちの夜景が綺麗だと、彼女といればもっと幸せ、良いデートスポットだと思い、想像してしまう。音楽を聞けば、涙が出てくる。最近はone directionにハマっている。曲を聴くと、あの日々を思い出せるからだ。告白はまだしていない。告白したい。失敗しても何も変わらないだろう。恋は人を馬鹿にする。写真を見ることしかできない。この曲が大好きなんだ。story of my life
Victoria, how am I going?
Let's all enjoy this special occasion!
Please raise your glasses, cheers!
In the opening scene of Patton (1970), the film’s namesake addresses a sea of troops about to be hurled onto World War II’s front lines in Europe and North Africa. General George S. Patton says, “Now, I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country—he won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country.”
The film Good Kill, which comes out this week, depicts a lieutenant colonel delivering a similarly rousing speech to a group of recruits about to enter combat. Only this time it’s with drones. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the aircraft you’re looking at behind me is not the future of war; it is the here-and-fucking-now.”
The movie, written and directed by Andrew Niccol (Gattaca, Lord of War), provides a harrowing look at warfare’s newest frontier through the eyes of a fictional drone pilot. Major Tom Egan (Ethan Hawke), a former Air Force pilot yearning to fly again, spends 12 hours a day fighting militant groups like the Taliban from a dark, air-conditioned bunker in the Nevada desert—more than 7,000 miles away from the battlefield. Through prolonged close-ups on his computer screens, the audience is complicit, forced to watch as his strikes claim lives. When the camera turns, the audience sees Egan gradually unraveling from the stress. Joystick in hand, he surveils and strikes targets seen on a computer screen, racking up casualties. And then, after his shift, he trudges back to his home in Las Vegas, where his wife (January Jones), children and the challenges of domestic life await him.
From World War II to contemporary conflicts, war films often highlight the humanity of soldiers, helping to connect civilians in the audience to the people and wars they once understood only in the abstract. Good Kill adds to this long cinematic tradition within the context of the U.S. drone program, a little-seen world filled with men and women at the forefront of modern warfare. “You can’t say you’re anti-drone,” Niccol tells Newsweek. “It’s like saying you’re anti-Internet.”
“The really exciting thing about working with Andrew [Niccol] is that he doesn’t really see this from a left-wing point of view or a right-wing point of view,” Hawke says. “He’s kind of coming at it as a humanitarian and a scientist.”
So how accurately does the film depict the lives and thoughts of these modern fighters? Newsweek reached out to a former drone operator, Brandon Bryant, to gauge how realistic the movie’s portrayal is and discovered that, in August 2013, early on in Good Kill’s production, he was contacted by a producer, who asked for his insights. Bryant critiqued an early version of the script, told his service stories and answered questions. But a few weeks in, he says, the producers became unresponsive.
This is nothing new to Hollywood insiders, who are used to the slow pace and false starts of independent filmmaking, but Bryant thinks the “snubbing,” as he refers to it, was because of a disagreement regarding one element in the script. Or rather, an element noticeably absent from it: the psychological impact of remote warfare on drone operators. “The psychological aspect is the most important part of this kind of film,” says Bryant. “Because what we’ve done is taken the warrior from the battlefield where...they’re no longer with their comrades.”
U.S. Air Force Maj. Casey Tidgewell (L) and Senior Airman William Swain operate an MQ-9 Reaper from a ground control station August 8, 2007 at Creech Air Force Base in Indian Springs, Nev. Ethan Miller/Getty
In 2005, Bryant was a University of Montana student struggling to pay his tuition and searching for any way out of Missoula. He agreed to give his friend a ride to a nearby Army recruiting office that summer and weeks later signed up to join the Air Force. After several months of testing and training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas, Bryant was assigned to a windowless bunker on the periphery of Las Vegas, just like Hawke’s character in Good Kill. His job was to guide missiles to their intended targets via laser. He hated the work instantly, but, also like the film’s main character, Bryant knew he had to tough it out. In just six months during 2007, he says, he killed 13 people with four shots—some targets, others “collateral damage.”
He can recall every devastating detail of his first strike. Three men with rifles were walking along a road somewhere in Afghanistan; the two in front looked as if they were having an argument, while the third wandered a little behind them. Bryant says he had no idea who the men were, only that they were targets. Command ordered his team to aim a missile at the two men in front instead of the one in the back, as “two is better than one.”
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RecommendedHuge Manta Ray Catch Angers ConservationistsKim Jong-un Assembles New ‘Pleasure Squad’ of Young WomenThe Beginning of the End of North Korea?The Full Beauty Photo Project: Big Women Bare AllWhen the smoke cleared, a crater appeared on Bryant’s screen, littered with the body parts of the two men. The third man lay on the ground, missing part of his right leg. “I watched him bleed out,” Bryant recalls. The third man’s blood, which on Bryant’s screen appeared white in infrared, drained from his body, pooled on the ground and cooled. “After a while, he stopped moving, and he became the same color as the ground.”
The horrors of his work soon wormed their way into Bryant’s subconscious. “I used to have a lot of trouble sleeping,” he says. “I just hated seeing my work when I closed my eyes.” This aspect of the job gets a nod in the film: As Egan retreats into himself and those he loves drift further away, he seeks comfort in vodka. Prolonged depression gives way to rage—Egan gets physically violent with his wife and angrily throws a bottle of liquor after a cashier makes a joke about his flight suit.
In 2011, nearly six years after joining the Air Force, Bryant turned down a $109,000 bonus and left. Upon exiting, he was presented for the first time with a report on his accomplishments: He was associated with 1,626 kills. “I felt sick to my stomach,” he says. “Civilians were being killed because leadership didn't care…. All they were doing was racking up tallies for their promotions.”
Bryant’s guilt weighed heavily on his conscience. On a trip to Best Buy in late 2011, he used his military ID while paying for a video game. A young man behind him noticed it. “You served in the military? So did my brother. He served in the Marines and he killed, like, 30 people. How many people did you kill?” In front of a store full of people, Bryant responded, “If you disrespect the taking of another person’s life ever again, I will find you and kill you in front of your family.” He was asked to leave the store.
Most Shared. Venezuela Officials Suspected of Drug Trafficking Shares: 1.8k Dick Cheney’s Biggest Lie Shares: 955 Requiem for the Cryosphere: Huge Antarctic Ice Shelf Is About to Disintegrate Shares: 596 'Staying Up Late With Letterman': Our 1986 Profile Shares: 431 Why It’s Not Actually Raining Spiders in Australia Shares: 175 Most Read Court Ruling on Immigration Could Rock Obama, 2016 Race Taylor Swift Premieres 'Bad Blood' Video at Awards Show GMO Scientists Could Save the World From Hunger, If We Let Them Singing the End of 'Mad Men' Dick Cheney’s Biggest Lie It was after Bryant begrudgingly told a therapist this story that he finally agreed with her diagnosis: he had post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
The issue of PTSD in drone operators is controversial. To someone outside the military, it might seem that a distinction should be made between those in combat who are on a conflict’s physical front lines and those operating on its technological front lines. But does such a distinction extend to remorse or guilt? Or to the difference between whether the blood that a soldier may feel is on his or her hands is there literally or just on a computer monitor?
Madeline Uddo, a psychologist and team leader of the PTSD clinical team at the Southeast Louisiana Veterans Health Care System, says PTSD can be diagnosed if a certain number of symptoms outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders—the guide used in psychiatry to diagnose mental disorders—are present. She notes that the manual’s fifth edition seems to cover the experience of drone operators. Furthermore, a Defense Department study from 2013 found that drone pilots experience many stress disorders, including PTSD, at the same rate as aircraft pilots.
Hawke and Niccol say that soldiers like the fictional Egan and the very real Bryant are essentially test subjects, and that what the military asks of them has “never been asked of a soldier before.” It’s an admission that Good Kill is in uncharted territory, but they avoid saying that Egan has PTSD, although Niccol calls what Hawke depicts in the film “an approximation” of PTSD.
According to Zev Foreman, a producer on the film, the creators were determined to leave Egan’s diagnosis open-ended so the audience is able to better interpret how it feels about the drone program. Or, as Foreman puts it, “[we’re] not making a statement particularly about anything while opening up a discussion about everything.”
Still, Bryant maintains that the filmmakers, in telling a drone operator’s story, have a responsibility to weigh in on the remorse that many of them face, something he feels Good Kill largely fails to do. “I wanted [them] to make a powerful movie, not just an entertaining one,” he says. “[They] wanted to make something akin to Top Gun with drones…. They’re doing what our society does—marginalizing the traumatic effects of personal experiences.”
While this back-and-forth could be chalked up to an outsider not understanding Hollywood’s rules, it indicates a bigger issue: Although troops can perform their duties 7,000 miles away from battle, that doesn’t mean they’re safe. And although drones allow us to see into any corner of the world at any time, when it comes to the psychological effects this type of fighting has on our soldiers, we're flying blind.
Bryant is currently in an inpatient program designed to help him cope with his PTSD. “When I go back to those memories and my emotions get high,” he says, “I feel rage or extreme depression. It’s helping me manage those emotions.”
11. 軍事を目的とした産業はダメというのが抜けているし、いろいろ直訳っぽい。『日本国がその経済を持続するため、および物資的賠償を可能にするための産業を維持することを許可する。ただし、新たな戦争に向けて軍事力を復活させる目的のものは許可されない』。原文の"permit the exaction of just reparations in kind"は正直なところ意味が曖昧だと思う。just reparations in kindということは「物資的な賠償」だと思うのだけど、これは誰に向けての賠償なのか？なぜ金銭的な賠償ではないのか？がちょっと不明。
[W]hen I was nine years old Star Trek came on," Goldberg says. "I looked at it and I went screaming through the house, 'Come here, mum, everybody, come quick, come quick, there's a black lady on television and she ain't no maid!' I knew right then and there I could be anything I wanted to be."
1*36 2*18 3*12 4*9 ぜんぶ=36
After its liberation from Japanese rule in August 1945,the Korean Peninsula was divided into two: Soviet troops occupied the northern half and the US military the southern half. The ongoing US military presence in South Korea led to the formation and maintenance of “Camp towns” (kijich’on, in Korean) around the military bases, a development that has had a striking social impact on Korean communities. Kijich’on (literally, base or camp [kiji] village [ch’on]) refers to the civilian world of commercial establishments and residential buildings that have sprung up around the US military bases and cater to the needs of the American GI’s. It is “ a place where Koreans and Americans- mostly male military personnel- meet in an economic and emotional marriage of convenience”. As of the end of 1996, 37,000 American troops supported the economies of ninety-six kijich’on. The estimated number of kijich’on prostitutes over the first four decades of the American presence ranges between 250,000 and 300,000.
The kijich'on sex trade consolidated and expanded during the second phase, which began with the Korean War. In her testimony, Pak Sun-i who had laboured at three different comfort startions in Japan 1944 to the end of the war, recalled:
"At twenty-seven years of age, I was having a hard time making ends meet in Tongduch'on (the largest kijich'on just outside Seoul). I ended up cohabiting with a staff sergeant of the USArmy for about two years... One of my friends from the days at a comfort station in Japan also worked as yang-gonju, but she passed away."
An American veteran who served in Korea in the 1950s after the end of the Korean War recounted that on Friday nights half-ton trucks would bring into the base a few hundred women to stay the night or the weekend with the soldiers. In 1958, five years after the armistice, the majority of about 300,000 prostitutes in Korea reportedly served American soldiers. Some of them, like their earlier Japanese counterparts(RAA), married and emigrated to the United States as wives of servicemen.
The fact that the Korean military also availed themselves of the "special comfort unit" during the Korean War has received little public attention even after the Korean women's movement in support of the "comfort women" began in the 1990s. Only piecemeal anecdotal materials on it had come to light from memoirs written by retired generals and generals and the testimony of soldiers who fought in the war.
Characterizing the Korean military comfort system as an "unfortunate offspring" of the Japanese colonial legacy, Kim Kwi-ok called for victimized women, civic organizations, and scholars to come together and confront the unresolved issues of this historical injustice. The media reports of Kim's work, however, have generated little response. There has been no public outcry regarding the Korean military's use of "comfort women" during the Korean War or its violation of women's human rights. Korean silence over these issues is reminiscent of earlier societal indifference toward survivors of imperial Japan's comfort system, It mirrors the reticence of many Japanese to come to terms with the history of their country's wartime comfort system. As in the case of Japan, many in Korea, including retired military leaders, apparently regard the women's sexual labour simply as the performance of gendered customary sex labour in order to meet the needs of fighting men. It is noteworthy that military authorities have acknowledged that the system of special comfort units contradicts the national policy of banning licensed prostitution. Nonetheless, they have insisted that the special units were created to fulfill an important strategic end.
However, when it comes to the issue of Japan's wartime "comfort women" system, which has been redefined by the international community as a prominent case of violence against women in armed conflict, no social critic or public intellectual in Korea would dare to take the customary masculinist position that such a system benefits the economy or promotes national security. This is because the comfort women issue has been redefiend as military sexual slavery and a war crime by the international community owing largely to women's collaborative movement for redress in Japan and Korea.
Still, little critical public discourse has occurred on the legacies of that historical institution or the social structural dimension of Korea'S comfort women tragedy. Few are willing to consider the unsavoury fact that, accustomed to indigenous public institutions that have granted customary sex rights to men, and licensed by the colonial government, many Koreans did not hesitate to collaborate in recruiting and runing comfort stations by trafficking in girls and young women. Rather than deal with the messy and unpleasant complications of the historical record, Korean public discourse has simplistically elevated the survivors to heroic symbols of national suffering under Japanese colonialism and its imperialist war of aggression.
By contrast, Japan, which is unavoidably seen as the perpetrator nation, has been in turmoil over contested representations of the comfort women phenomenon and its responsibility in the matter. Meanwhile, the international - as well as domestic - trade in public sex prospers in capitalist economies of Japan and Korea despite endless incidents of criminal abuse of women so employed by both foreigners and compatriots. The social historical legacies of masculinist sexual culture and political economic realities in the two countries continue to help construct women'S sexual labour as stigmatized yet customary care labour for masculine "need".