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はてなキーワード: Sisterとは




A long time ago, in a certain country, there was a bastard named Cinderella. The reason why she is called Cinderella is because she sprinkled her own ashes on her own head at her mother's funeral, which led to her being called the ash-coverer, which is why her real name is Cinderella. I lost

The husband who lost his wife was also a bastard, and the day after the funeral he cheated on a woman three years younger than him, had sex with her, and even got married.

I have decided. Then, to her Cinderella

She now has an older sister and a younger sister who are not related by blood.

Her sister was a bitch too, she came to Cinderella's house

After a few days, she thought, ``Wouldn't it be more convenient to have an outbuilding?'' and cut down Cinderella's mother's grave in her garden and the hundreds of years old tree that was next to her grave, and built an outbuilding. We forced construction.

One day, the bastard's family receives news of a ball from the castle. But before Cinderella could read it, her sister broke the news and said, ``There's no way you can go.'' Cinderella didn't seem to have any intention of going either, saying, ``I had no intention of going in the first place.I'd rather go to hell.''

Then, on the day her mother was admitted to the hospital to give birth, her sister went to the ball. In the garden, the construction of an outbuilding was progressing as usual.

Let’s light a fire here and make a bonfire.”

She thought about that, but Cinderella stopped her. Suddenly, a witch appeared

``Cinderella, why aren't you going to the ball?'' asked the witch.

"What's the point of telling Teme?"

Cinderella returned with an ax in her hand

Then, for some reason, Cinderella was wrapped in a jewel-like dress.

"If you don't go to the ball, that dress will kill you. Now go."

Cinderella doesn't want to die in a place like this, so she reluctantly decides to go to the castle.

In the castle, some asshole like her sister was looking for a one-night stand and was dancing wildly. No one really praised others, and in their hearts they all seemed to think that they were the center of the world.

Cinderella didn't dance, but killed her time by smoking a cigarette at the end of her room. There, she was approached by a man wearing formal clothes that were flashier and more expensive than anyone else, and said to her, ``Miss, won't you dance?''

She is Cinderella with a cigarette in her mouth

She said, ``I only dance with the Grim Reaper and bad luck.''

she answered. For some reason, the man fell in love with her at first sight, and she said, ``Let's have some fun in the other room.Here, come.'' She tried to force Cinderella to take her to another room in the castle. However, Cinderella pressed the cigarette she was holding into her hand.

"Her hand slipped," she laughed.

When she pressed the cigarette, the sound in her voice was so pitiful that no one tried to get close to him or dance with him. Of course, no one even knows that such a pitiful man is the prince who owns this castle.

Eventually, she had enough, Cinderella threw her shoes on her stairs and went back to her house in her bare feet. Her shoes were made of glass, so they shattered into pieces.

The next day, while her servant was cleaning the castle, she found one shoe on the stairs. Obviously thinking this was strange, she secretly examined her shoes and discovered that they had been smeared with a deadly amount of poison.

Rumors spread within the castle that this must be an attempt to kill the prince, and soon a large-scale investigation was conducted. Even though it's a survey, it's simple.

The idea was to create a replica of a shoe and imprison the person who matched it perfectly as a suspect.

And one after another, people were imprisoned just because of their size. Some of them had not been to the ball, but they thought it must be a lie and were forcibly taken away.

Eventually, an investigation came to Cinderella's house. That's when we all looked at her mother and child after she was discharged from the hospital, and of course her sister didn't fit.

So all that was left was Cinderella. Then, her sister said to Cinderella, ``Hell suits you better than this world.''

She was of course the perfect size for Cinderella.

However, she protested her innocence, saying that I hadn't gone to the ball and there was no dress anywhere in the house to prove it.

However, the prince showed him an empty pack of cigarettes that had been discarded in a trash can and said, ``This is the same brand that the criminal was smoking that time.Why?''

Then Cinderella grinned and

I unbuttoned all the buttons on her jacket.

She said, ``After all, I feel like dancing with the Grim Reaper. Right, little prince?'' she said.

By the time the princes realized it, it was already too late.

The grenade that fell at his feet blew up Cinderella and the prince.

The time was around noon. Bells rang throughout the city and residents prayed for lunch.

The flying fragments of the shoe became a weapon, a sad fragment that could only hurt someone, and no one could imagine its original form.



英訳 about the #Berbenheimer issue




Various things that really need to be said about the #Berbenheimer issue


In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.


I was born in Nagasaki and am a third-generation A-bomb survivor.

I say this because I grew up hearing the stories of the A-bomb damage directly from those who suffered from the atomic bombings.


I feel that it is unacceptable for someone like me to speak about the A-bomb damage.

However, there are few A-bomb survivors left, so I will speak up.


In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.


I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.


Another thing is that at this time of year, pictures of the victims of the atomic bombing are pasted up in the hallways.

In other parts of the country, these are grotesque images that would cause a fuss from the parents who are always nagging about them.

Recently, even the A-bomb museum has become more gentle in its exhibits, and most of the radical and horrifying exhibits that would have traumatized visitors have been removed.

I don't know how elementary schools now teach about the A-bomb damage. But when I was in elementary school, there were photos on display.


There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.

I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was displayed, so I always took the long way around to another floor to avoid seeing the photo.

My grandfather was under the bomb and went to the burnt ruins of the bomb to look for his sister. I can understand now that he couldn't turn away or go another way.

There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning in the ruins of the burnt ruins. There would have been many more who would have died out in agony.

My grandfather walked for miles and miles, towing a rear wheelchair, through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister.

My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.

A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.


I can never forget that story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it's painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I'm crying.


I keep wondering how that old man who ran away from his father's brain was able to expose to the public the unimaginably horrible trauma, the scar that will never heal, even after all these years.


Now I think I understand a little.


Why I can't help but talk about my grandfather and the old man now, even as I remember my own trauma.

Because this level of suffering is nothing compared to their words being forgotten.

It's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that once existed that will be forgotten, like my hands shaking, my heart palpitating, my nose running with vertigo, and so on.


So maybe it's the same thing.


My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire.


In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire.


My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell.


I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles on the ground in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it.


Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, unimaginable suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.


Memories fade inexorably with each passing human mouth. The memories that those people could never allow to be forgotten are almost forgotten.


The tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted.


Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire without being able to tell anyone about it.


Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are still in their graves.


Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words.


But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing.


I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.


Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for fun.

I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.





I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.

In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.

There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.

Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.

I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.

Now I think I can understand a little.

The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.

So maybe it's the same thing.

My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.

Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.

Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.

Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.

Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.



I must talk about various things regarding the Barbie incident.

I saw a post about it from someone who is neither directly involved nor from Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and it made me realize that there are things I must say.

I was born in Nagasaki and grew up listening to stories from the survivors, being a third-generation survivor myself. Most survivors are no longer with us, so I feel compelled to speak up.

In Nagasaki, kids grow up hearing about the atomic bomb. We were packed like sushi in a gymnasium without air conditioning or even fans during the scorching summer, and we listened to stories about the bomb. It was incredibly tough for me.

I imagine it was even harder for the elderly who spoke about their experiences. As a child, I couldn't fully comprehend their pain, and now, I can hardly remember most of the stories I heard. I can only recall one or two.

Every year during this time, gruesome images that would make PTA elsewhere go crazy were displayed in the hallways. I heard that many of the horrifying exhibits that used to traumatize visitors at the Atomic Bomb Museum have been removed, and the museum has been considerably sanitized. I'm not sure about the current situation, but that's how it was when I was there.

There was one photograph that I could never bear to look at as a child – a picture of Tadashi Taniguchi. You can find it if you search, but it's a shocking image with a viewer discretion warning. Still, I want people to see it.

I couldn't walk down the hallway where that photo was displayed, and I always took a different route, avoiding it so I wouldn't have to see it.

Now, I think of my grandpa who went to the ruins to search for my sister. He couldn't look away or take a different path. The pain must have been unimaginable.

Besides photographs, there were many living people moaning in pain back then, and there must have been even more who succumbed to suffering.

My grandpa walked for miles, pulling a handcart through the debris-laden streets of Nagasaki, searching for my sister.

Even though my grandpa was not a child, I'm sure there were elementary school kids who did similar things. I don't just think they might have been there; they were there. I heard the stories from the people themselves, and I still remember them.

I can't forget the stories I heard as a child, such as the young siblings finding their father's burnt corpse in the ruins and cremating him. They didn't have enough firewood, and their father ended up half-burnt. They ran away after seeing the brain tissue oozing out, and that became their final farewell.

I can never forget those stories I heard as a child, and even now, they still bring pain and suffering, making my hands tremble and tears flow.

I wonder how my grandpa, who ran away from that father's brain tissue, could expose his unimaginable trauma and everlasting scars to the world.

Now, I feel like I understand a little.

Even someone like me, who experienced such unimaginable trauma, has gone through pain that I can't even imagine being compared to being discarded, forgotten, and ignored. Compared to what those people experienced, my suffering means nothing.

My trembling hands and the palpitations and dizziness I experienced are nothing compared to the tremendous pain that many others went through.

Memories fade irreversibly every time they pass through people's lips. The memories that I couldn't bear to be forgotten are almost forgotten now.

The unimaginable pain that existed 78 years ago has mostly disappeared, and we can no longer pass it on.

The people who suffered the most from the atomic bomb perished in the ruins, rotting away without being able to convey it to anyone.

Even those who saw it with their own eyes mostly took the memories with them to their graves. Most of them are now under the tombstones.

Compared to the words of the elderly, my words seem so light. I think that speaking with such light words would be better than keeping silent, as silence has led to this result.

I feel like I might occasionally choose to stop imagining the unimaginable pain and consume the suffering of others in an amusing way to live on.

Before I forget the pain and suffering of those elderly people, whose faces and voices I can no longer recall, I will leave this here.


















































前にsister janeの欲しかったワンピ売り切れて泣いたしいまだに後悔してるもんな。








The Sacrament—and the Sacrifice

By Elder David B. Haight

Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

I pray for your faith and prayers that my utterances will be received and understood “by the Spirit of truth” and that my expressions will be given “by the Spirit of truth” so that we might all be “edified and rejoice together.” (See D&C 50:21–22.)

As I stand here today—a well manwords of gratitude and acknowledgment of divine intervention are so very inadequate in expressing the feelings in my soul.

Six months ago at the April general conference, I was excused from speaking as I was convalescing from a serious operation. My life has been spared, and I now have the pleasant opportunity of acknowledging the blessings, comfort, and ready aid of my Brethren in the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve, and other wonderful associates and friends to whom I owe so much and who surrounded my dear wife, Ruby, and my family with their time, attention, and prayers. For the inspired doctors and thoughtful nurses I express my deepest gratitude, and for the thoughtful letters and messages of faith and hope received from many places in the world, many expressing, “You have been in our prayers” or “We have been asking our Heavenly Father to spare your life.” Your prayers and mine, thankfully, have been answered.

One unusual card caused me to ponder upon the majesty of it all. It is an original painting by Arta Romney Ballif of the heavens at night with its myriad golden stars. Her caption, taken from Psalms, reads:

“Praise ye the Lord: …

“He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.

“He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.

“… His understanding is infinite.” (Ps. 147:1, 3–5.)

As I lay in the hospital bed, I meditated on all that had happened to me and studied the contemplative painting by President Marion G. Romney’s sister and the lines from Psalms: “He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.” I was then—and continue to be—awed by the goodness and majesty of the Creator, who knows not only the names of the stars but knows your name and my name—each of us as His sons and daughters.

The psalmist, David, wrote:

“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;

“What is man, that thou art mindful of him? …

“For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.” (Ps. 8:3–5.)

To be remembered is a wonderful thing.

The evening of my health crisis, I knew something very serious had happened to me. Events happened so swiftly—the pain striking with such intensity, my dear Ruby phoning the doctor and our family, and I on my knees leaning over the bathtub for support and some comfort and hoped relief from the pain. I was pleading to my Heavenly Father to spare my life a while longer to give me a little more time to do His work, if it was His will.

While still praying, I began to lose consciousness. The siren of the paramedic truck was the last that I remembered before unconsciousness overtook me, which would last for the next several days.

The terrible pain and commotion of people ceased. I was now in a calm, peaceful setting; all was serene and quiet. I was conscious of two persons in the distance on a hillside, one standing on a higher level than the other. Detailed features were not discernible. The person on the higher level was pointing to something I could not see.

I heard no voices but was conscious of being in a holy presence and atmosphere. During the hours and days that followed, there was impressed again and again upon my mind the eternal mission and exalted position of the Son of Man. I witness to you that He is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, Savior to all, Redeemer of all mankind, Bestower of infinite love, mercy, and forgiveness, the Light and Life of the world. I knew this truth before—I had never doubted nor wondered. But now I knew, because of the impressions of the Spirit upon my heart and soul, these divine truths in a most unusual way.

I was shown a panoramic view of His earthly ministry: His baptism, His teaching, His healing the sick and lame, the mock trial, His crucifixion, His resurrection and ascension. There followed scenes of His earthly ministry to my mind in impressive detail, confirming scriptural eyewitness accounts. I was being taught, and the eyes of my understanding were opened by the Holy Spirit of God so as to behold many things.

The first scene was of the Savior and His Apostles in the upper chamber on the eve of His betrayal. Following the Passover supper, He instructed and prepared the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper for His dearest friends as a remembrance of His coming sacrifice. It was so impressively portrayed to me—the overwhelming love of the Savior for each. I witnessed His thoughtful concern for significant details—the washing of the dusty feet of each Apostle, His breaking and blessing of the loaf of dark bread and blessing of the wine, then His dreadful disclosure that one would betray Him.

He explained Judas’s departure and told the others of the events soon to take place.

Then followed the Savior’s solemn discourse when He said to the Eleven: “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33.)

Our Savior prayed to His Father and acknowledged the Father as the source of His authority and powereven to the extending of eternal life to all who are worthy.

He prayed, “And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.”

Jesus then reverently added:

“I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.

“And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I had with thee before the world was.” (John 17:3–5.)

He pled not only for the disciples called out from the world who had been true to their testimony of Him, “but for them also which shall believe on me through their word.” (John 17:20.)

When they had sung a hymn, Jesus and the Eleven went out to the Mount of Olives. There, in the garden, in some manner beyond our comprehension, the Savior took upon Himself the burden of the sins of mankind from Adam to the end of the world. His agony in the garden, Luke tells us, was so intense “his sweat was as … great drops of blood falling … to the ground.” (Luke 22:44.) He suffered an agony and a burden the like of which no human person would be able to bear. In that hour of anguish our Savior overcame all the power of Satan.

The glorified Lord revealed to Joseph Smith this admonition to all mankind:

“Therefore I command you to repent …

“For … I, God, … suffered … for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent; …

“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, …

“Wherefore, I command you again to repent, lest I humble you with my almighty power; and that you confess your sins, lest you suffer these punishments.” (D&C 19:15–16, 18, 20.)

During those days of unconsciousness I was given, by the gift and power of the Holy Ghost, a more perfect knowledge of His mission. I was also given a more complete understanding of what it means to exercise, in His name, the authority to unlock the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven for the salvation of all who are faithful. My soul was taught over and over again the events of the betrayal, the mock trial, the scourging of the flesh of even one of the Godhead. I witnessed His struggling up the hill in His weakened condition carrying the cross and His being stretched upon it as it lay on the ground, that the crude spikes could be driven with a mallet into His hands and wrists and feet to secure His body as it hung on the cross for public display.

Crucifixion—the horrible and painful death which He suffered—was chosen from the beginning. By that excruciating death, He descended below all things, as is recorded, that through His resurrection He would ascend above all things. (See D&C 88:6.)

Jesus Christ died in the literal sense in which we will all die. His body lay in the tomb. The immortal spirit of Jesus, chosen as the Savior of mankind, went to those myriads of spirits who had departed mortal life with varying degrees of righteousness to God’s laws. He taught them the “glorious tidings of redemption from the bondage of death, and of possible salvation, … [which was] part of [our] Savior’s foreappointed and unique service to the human family.” (James E. Talmage, Jesus the Christ, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1977, p. 671.)

I cannot begin to convey to you the deep impact that these scenes have confirmed upon my soul. I sense their eternal meaning and realize thatnothing in the entire plan of salvation compares in any way in importance with that most transcendent of all events, the atoning sacrifice of our Lord. It is the most important single thing that has ever occurred in the entire history of created things; it is the rock foundation upon which the gospel and all other things rest,” as has been declared. (Bruce R. McConkie, Mormon Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1966, p. 60.)

Father Lehi taught his son Jacob and us today:

“Wherefore, redemption cometh in and through the Holy Messiah; for he is full of grace and truth.

“Behold, he offereth himself a sacrifice for sin, to answer the ends of the law, unto all those who have a broken heart and a contrite spirit; and unto none else can the ends of the law be answered.

“Wherefore, how great the importance to make these things known unto the inhabitants of the earth, that they may know that there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah, who layeth down his life according to the flesh, and taketh it again by the power of the Spirit, that he may bring to pass the resurrection of the dead, being the first that should rise.

“Wherefore, he is the firstfruits unto God, inasmuch as he shall make intercession for all the children of men; and they that believe in him shall be saved.” (2 Ne. 2:6–9.)

Our most valuable worship experience in the sacrament meeting is the sacred ordinance of the sacrament, for it provides the opportunity to focus our minds and hearts upon the Savior and His sacrifice.

The Apostle Paul warned the early Saints against eating this bread and drinking this cup of the Lord unworthily. (See 1 Cor. 11:27–30.)

Our Savior Himself instructed the Nephites, “Whoso eateth and drinketh my flesh and blood unworthily [brings] damnation to his soul.” (3 Ne. 18:29.)

Worthy partakers of the sacrament are in harmony with the Lord and put themselves under covenant with Him to always remember His sacrifice for the sins of the world, to take upon them the name of Christ and to always remember Him, and to keep His commandments. The Savior covenants that we who do so shall have His spirit to be with us and that, if faithful to the end, we may inherit eternal life.

Our Lord revealed to Joseph Smith that “there is no gift greater than the gift of salvation,” which plan includes the ordinance of the sacrament as a continuous reminder of the Savior’s atoning sacrifice. He gave instructions thatit is expedient that the church meet together often to partake of bread and wine in the remembrance of the Lord Jesus.” (D&C 6:13; D&C 20:75.)

Immortality comes to us all as a free gift by the grace of God alone, without works of righteousness. Eternal life, however, is the reward for obedience to the laws and ordinances of His gospel.

I testify to all of you that our Heavenly Father does answer our righteous pleadings. The added knowledge which has come to me has made a great impact upon my life. The gift of the Holy Ghost is a priceless possession and opens the door to our ongoing knowledge of God and eternal joy. Of this I bear witness, in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.





The singing sea


The talking trees


A Silent in a noisy way


The stars are bright


But give no light


The world spins backward everyday


A rainbow rat


A checkered cat


Go tail in tail around the road


The mouse is pleased


The moon is cheese


The sun is shining hot and cold


A golden bird


Today I heard


Sitting upon a silver branch


His little song was very long


Which made me sad and start to laugh


My sister is he


My brother is she


But there is only me in the family


When I grow up


I'll go down


The river to the Singing Sea








 デビューアルバムTEDDY BEARS SING」のB-1「I DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE」の<ステレオバージョン>はナントリードボーカル女の子の声が左で、真ん中がフィルコーラスしかも、ところどころリードボーカルの3倍くらいの大きさでコーラスが<邪魔をする>といってもいいほどの前代未聞のバランス!です。




 また'50年代中期には「暴力教室」をはじめ「HIGHSCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL」など<怒れる若者>をテーマにした映画が続々と作られ、その代表としてJ・ディーンが登場し、代表作が「理由なき反抗」-REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE -でした。このように、当時の若者キーワードの一つは<REBEL>であり、「乱暴者」のマーロン・ブランドのような皮ジャン、サングラスバイクというスタイル流行しました。




 麻雀同様4人(あるいは3人)いればすぐにできたのがR&Rの特徴でしたが、ニュー・ヨークのようにせまいところで大声を上げれば、お母さんに怒鳴られるだけですからストリートへ出るわけです。50'sのDoo Wapブームの背景は街角ストリート・コーナーが似合ったわけです。






 このホームレコーディングが、実は<スペクターサウンド>の根幹なのです!<BACK TO MONO>の意味もこのことなので、一つのかたまり大人数、熱気、乱雑の中の整理、複雑の単純化、そして<ホーム>、これが彼の求めたものでした。かたまりは<MONO>、大人数はミュージシャンの数、熱は<ハルブレインドラム>、整理は<J・ニッチェアレンジ>、単純化は<L・レビンミックス>、そしてホームは<西海岸>、これがスペクターサウンドの中味の分析ですが、詳しくはこれも後述します。


 この当時のロックンロール少年と同じく、スペクターギター少年でした。本名フィル・ハーヴェイとしてインストレコードも発表しています。また'58、'59年はインストロックの当たり年で、チャンプ栖の「TEQUILA!」が#1になったり、B・ホリーのインスト版ともいえるファイヤーボールズ、リンクレイ、そしてジョニーハリケーンズサント&ジョニーサンディー・ネルソン(「TO KNOW HIM~」のドラムデビュー前の彼です)、そして極め付きはギターインスト王者、デュアン・エディーの登場でした。

 日本ではなぜか、ほとんど評価されませんでしたが、ギターリストとして一番の人気とヒットのあった人で、そのサウンドユニークさとポップ・シーンへの影響は大きいものがありました。またイギリスでの人気は特に異常で、'60年の人気投票では1位でした(すごい!)。近年リバイバル・ヒットした「PETER GUN」などは後の<007シリーズ>や<バットマン>のもとになったともいえますし、日本では未公開の映画「BECAUSE THEY'RE YOUNG」のテーマは、彼の"トワンギー・ギター"と流麗なストリングスとのコンビネーションは、すぐアル・カイオラが取り入れて「荒野の7人」となって登場、西部劇インストテーマの基本形となりました。また「ビートルズがやってくる ヤァ!ヤァ!ヤァ!」のジョージマーチン楽団の「リンゴテーマ」も、まさにD・エディーのマネジャープロデューサーレスター・シルで、テディー・ベアーズの録音の際、隣のスタジオ仕事をしていて知り合ったといわれ、この人と出会ってなければ<スペクターサウンド>はこの世に存在しなかったといえるほど重大な出会いでした。

 シルはこの時すでにスペクタープロデューサー向きであることを見抜き、早速契約を結び、最初に買った曲のタイトルナント「BE MY GIRL!」。


 例えば、R&Rの時代になって<BE>という動詞で始まるビッグ・ヒットは「BE MY BABY」が第1号です(BE CAREFUL~などの慣用句を除く)。簡単なようですが、作る側にまわってみると、これが簡単に言い切れるものではないのです。まさにこれをスパッと言い切れるのが<スター>なのです。「TO KNOW HIM~」の断定と「BE」の命令。このシェイクスピア調の、時代がかったともいえる口調が、逆に新味を呼んだのではないでしょうか。この大時代的で、且つ直接的な手法は「I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND」(ユーモアの点ではJ&Pの方が数段上ですネ!)に共通したものを感じます

 シルと契約直後、スペクターはD・エディのセッション見学しています。さっそく実地訓練をさせようというシルの計らいで、時は'59年の4月の後半でした。この年のエディーの最大のヒットは6月に発売された「FORTY MILES OF BAD ROAD」(9位)で、この曲はナントベースドラムだけをイントロでフィーチャーした、ポップス史上初のヒット曲>なのです。さて、ベースドラムイントロといえば「BE MY BABY」ですが、この2曲の因果関係についての疑問を、10年ほど前の<ニュー・ミュージック・マガジン>で発表したことがありましたが、時期的にはこの推論が成り立つようです。が、モチロン、その因果については全く憶測の域は出ておりません。






 スペクターにとって、このニュー・ヨークでの修行時代の最大の収穫はベン・E・キングヒット曲「SPANISH HARLEM」をJ・リーバーと共作できたことでしょう。これはR&Rビジネスへの切符を手に入れた、つまり、お墨付をもらったということ......って、最大の自信となったことは疑う余地はあり.....

 ま.... ドリフターズの「THERE GOES MY BABY」...にストリングスをフィーチャーする手法を....ことも<スペクターサウンド>への引金になったと、私は思います。その手法プロデュースしたジーン・ピットニーの「EVERY BREATH I TAKE」は、全くドリフターズ調でしたが、すでに<スペクターサウンド>は出来上がっていた、ともいえる、本家を凌ぐ作品でした。<ゴフィン&キング>との最初作品でしたが、この日のセッションにはリーバー&ストラーをはじめ、B・バカラック、B・マン&C・ウェイル、アルド出版社代表のD・カーシュナーら、そうそうたる顔ぶれが集まったといいます。そしてこの作品が、ここに集まった全ての人にスペクターの印象を強く与えることとなり、一緒の仕事が始まるわけです。特にこの曲で印象深いのはドラムフレーズですが、G・ゴフィンの証言によれば、フィルドラマーゲイリーチェスターに指示をして、それが実に的確だった、ということです。





 '60年代初めにシュレルズがキャロル・キングの名作<WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW

....きっかけに、ガール Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 09:24























英語でもBrother, Sisterから兄なのか弟なのか姉なのか妹なのかもわからねえ






奈留かわいーとにやにやし、空とあるゅう先生や人体視願/ヴィイ、月夜のおとぎばなしマイマイトーカ、WANDERLUST、type01-Mono、話術士、あのみ-My fair sister-……大いにハマった。











これ原曲坂本龍一featuring Sister M(坂本美雨)の「the other side of love」なんだよな









The Witch魔女






聖女Mad Sister










英訳:Part-time-job to writing moaning voices




When I was in college, I had a part-time job writing moaning voices incessantly.

It was a part-time job at an erotic game company that I was introduced to by one of my seniors.

The company put a lot of effort into the story of their erotic games, and the writers who worked there were all people who took pride in their writing.

From their point of view, it was a pain to write the moaning voices in the sex scenes, so they decided to leave it to the part-time workers.

Here's what the job was like.

First, I was given the "gist" of the sex scene, such as "unzipping" or "moving hips faster.

2. I would then add my own moaning voices, such as "mmm ......" and "ahhhhhh", in a reasonable amount of salt.

3. the scenario writer checks it and it's done.

That's how it went.

This may sound easy, but it is surprisingly difficult.

First of all, there is a certain length to an sex scene, so it is necessary to make it exciting precisely within that range.

The sounds used must be gradual, so that the audience does not get bored, and the excitement must be gradually increased.

It is also important to adjust the length of the text.

If the text is too short, it won't convey a sexual pleasure feeling, but if it is too long, the voice will become redundant.

In this way, a sense of balance and systematic pacing is required to get a bird's eye view of eroticism.

It was definitely not a job that I could just bang on the keyboard as I pleased.

My first work was a "younger sister" story, and I had a hard time allocating the "a" sound for the second sex scene.

If she said "aaaaah" from the beginning, it would sound like a seasoned whore's moaning voices, but if She said "an", it would not be erotic enough.

I finished it after much effort, but the writer said, "Couldn't you make it faster?” I'm disappointed.

As I was puzzling over what to do with ...... in front of the computer left by my predecessor (only the "A"key on the keyboard was strangely shiny), I noticed the existence of a file.

It was an Excel file titled "moaning-editor.xls," and it was a macro left by my predecessor specifically for making moaning voice.

By entering lines one by one in the vertically aligned cells, the phonetic elements such as vowels and consonants in each line were automatically converted into numerical values.

Furthermore, by adding and subtracting the numerical values, a value called "climax level" was calculated.

This "climax level" make a breakthrough to creating the ideal moaning voice.

If the sentence is constructed in such a way that this value gradually increases from the beginning to the end of the scene, the voice comes ideally.

It seemed that my predecessor had single-handedly created such an amazing and awesome Excel program.

I guess he wanted to share it with me, his successor, while hiding it from his boss as a secret tool.

Thanks to this tool, my work became much easier, and I could continue to make moving sounds with a stable quality.

One day, while I was working, I noticed something.

Theoretically, any text can be entered into the cell where the moaning voice is supposed input.

In other words to that, any text other than a moaning voice could be used to calculate the "climax level".

So I tried to calculate the "climax level" of famous works in the history of literature.

For example, "I have always called him teacher." for exampleis 12, and "He is reckless like his parents and has been doing nothing but losing money since he was a child. " is 30.


I have always called him teacher.


Author , Natume Soseki

Out , in 1914

Story of distressed man who robbed lover from his friend by lying.


He is reckless like his parents and has been doing nothing but losing money since he was a child.


Author , Natume Soseki

Out , in 1906

Story that revenge of one teacher, who was naughty boy in youth ,to nasty coworker.


I hadn't expected this, but as I researched, I found that many of the masterpieces were written on the same principle as my work.

In other words, the degree of "climax" increases toward the end.

The most notable example is Akutagawa's "Nobody knows where the servant" is. The number of climaxes in this story is 367.


Nobody knows where the servant


Author , Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Out , in 1915

Story of one fired servant struggle to survive and he decide throw aside his human conscience.


The scene in which a drugged married woman faints with the whites of her eyes is at most 330, so you can see how astonishing the number is.

It turns out that "climax" is a universal rule that applies to all kinds of writing.

After realizing this fact, I started to write every sentence as if it were a gasp.

And I have been successful in every aspect of my life.

In job-hunting entry sheets, too, it is the distribution of the "climax level" that is important.

For example, in the education section, if you drop out of the university with the name that has the highest "climax level" and use it as your final education, it will look very different.

(It depends on the name of the university, but in general, "dropped out" has a higher climax level than "graduated.)

As some of you may have noticed, I've been writing this article in such a way as to gradually increase the climax level.

↑The climax level of this sentence is 290.

I'd like to end this sentence here, since it's getting quite high.

Ohhhh! Aaahhhh!



日本語でも、医者医師という、建築士建築家といい、者・士・家の区別はいいかげんです。それと同じように、英語の -er、-ist、-an の区別もそれほど厳密な区別があるわけではありません。







「I'M NOT A HARD-LUCK WOMANだが?」(はてなブックマーカー2020年今日もルリ派とユリカ派で対立するのが大好き)


「ZMAPファンなのでForever Loveが好きです」(はてなブックマーカーアニラジ青春)





電波女と青春男 Ground Control to Psychoelectric Girl

放課後のプレアデス Wish Upon the Pleiades

いつか天魔の黒ウサギ A Dark Rabbit Has Seven Lives

四畳半神話大系 The Tatami Galaxy

あそびにいくヨ! Cat Planet Cuties

戦国乙女 Battle Girls: Time Paradox

貧乏神が! Good Luck Girl!

となりの怪物くん My Little Monster

神様はじめました Kamisama Kiss

幻影ヲ駆ケル太陽 Day Break Illusion

有頂天家族 The Eccentric Family

れでぃ×ばと! Ladies versus Butlers!

Working!! Wagnaria!!

閃光のナイトレイド Night Raid 1931

裏切りは僕の名前を知っている The Betrayal Knows My Name

さらい屋五葉 House of Five Leaves

ぬらりひょんの孫 Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan

世紀末オカルト学院 Occult Academy

伝説の勇者の伝説 The Legend of the Legendary Heroes

海月姫 Princess Jellyfish

それでも町は廻っている And Yet the Town Moves

侵略!イカ娘 Squid Girl

神のみぞ知るセカイ The World God Only Knows

夢喰いメリー Dream Eater Merry

お兄ちゃんのことなんかぜんぜん好きじゃないんだからねっ!! I Don't Like You at All, Big Brother!!

放浪息子 Wandering Son

緋弾のアリア Aria the Scarlet Ammo

俺たちに翼はない We Without Wings

世界一初恋 The World's Greatest First Love

神様のメモ帳 Heaven's Memo Pad

輪るピングドラム Penguindrum

ダンタリアンの書架 The Mystic Archives of Dantalian

境界線上のホライゾン Horizon in the Middle of Nowhere

未来日記 Future Diary

モーレツ宇宙海賊パイレーツ) Bodacious Space Pirates

あの夏で待ってる Waiting in the Summer

男子高校生の日常 Daily Lives of High School Boys

パパのいうことを聞きなさい! Listen to Me, Girls. I Am Your Father!

あっちこっち Place to Place

謎の彼女X Mysterious Girlfriend X

黄昏乙女×アムネジア Dusk Maiden of Amnesia

坂道のアポロン Kids on the Slope

人類は衰退しました Humanity Has Declined

恋と選挙とチョコレート Love, Election and Chocolate

はぐれ勇者の鬼畜美学エステティカ) Aesthetica of a Rogue Hero

だから僕は、Hができない。 So, I Can't Play H!

新世界より From the New World

中二病でも恋がしたい! Love, Chunibyo & Other Delusions

絶園のテンペスト Blast of Tempest

好きっていいなよ Say I Love You

ヤマノススメ Encouragement of Climb

GJ部 GJ Club

問題児たちが異世界から来るそうですよ? Problem Children Are Coming from Another World, Aren't They?

断裁分離のクライムエッジ The Severing Crime Edge

はたらく魔王さま! The Devil Is a Part-Timer!

やはり俺の青春ラブコメはまちがっている。 My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected

帰宅部活動記録 Chronicles of the Going Home Club

神さまのいない日曜日 Sunday Without God

私がモテないのはどう考えてもお前らが悪い! No Matter How I Look at It, It's You Guys' Fault I'm Not Popular!

次元ゲイネプテューヌ Hyperdimension Neptunia

君のいる町 A Town Where You Live

境界の彼方 Beyond the Boundary

勇者になれなかった俺はしぶしぶ就職を決意しました。 I Couldn't Become a Hero, So I Reluctantly Decided to Get a Job.

世界いちばん強くなりたい Wanna Be the Strongest in the World

機巧少女は傷つかない Unbreakable Machine-Doll

最近、妹のようすがちょっとおかしいんだが。 Recently, My Sister Is Unusual

となりの関くん My Neighbor Seki

とある飛空士への恋歌 The Pilot's Love Song

未確認で進行形 Engaged to the Unidentified

魔法戦争 Magical Warfare

世界征服 謀略のズヴィズダー World Conquest Zvezda Plot

僕らはみんな河合荘 The Kawai Complex Guide to Manors and Hostel Behavior

悪魔のリドル Riddle Story of Devil

聖刻の竜騎士ドラグナー) Dragonar Academy

それでも世界は美しい The World Is Still Beautiful

一週間フレンズ。 One Week Friends

彼女がフラグをおられたら If Her Flag Breaks

マンガ家さんとアシスタントさんと The Comic Artist and His Assistants

ご注文はうさぎですか? Is the Order a Rabbit?

魔法科高校の劣等生 The Irregular at Magic High School

龍ヶ嬢七々々の埋蔵金 Nanana's Buried Treasure

残響のテロル Terror in Resonance

精霊使いの剣舞ブレイドダンス) Bladedance of Elementalers

曇天に笑う Laughing Under the Clouds

失われた未来を求めて  In Search of the Lost Future

オオカミ少女と黒王子  Wolf Girl and Black Prince

天体のメソッド  Celestial Method

ガールフレンド(仮) Girl Friend Beta

異能バトルは日常系のなかで When Supernatural Battles Became Commonplace

大図書館の羊飼い A Good Librarian Like a Good Shepherd

俺、ツインテールになります。 Gonna be the Twin-Tail!!

魔弾の王と戦姫ヴァナディース) Lord Marksman and Vanadis

神撃のバハムート Rage of Bahamut

怪盗ジョーカー Mysterious Joker

七つの大罪 The Seven Deadly Sins

暁のヨナ Yona of the Dawn

寄生獣 Parasyte

四月は君の嘘 Your Lie in April

美男高校地球防衛部LOVE! Cute High Earth Defense Club Love!


decreased vision of her left eye.[10] She has one younger sister, Mijanou.[11] Bardot's childhood was prosperous; she lived in her family's seven-bedroom apartment in the luxurious 16th arrondissement.[9][12] However, she recalled feeling resentful in her early years.[13] Her father demanded she follow strict behavioural standards, including good table










nd Anne-Marie Mucel (1912–1978).[4] Bardot's father, originated from Ligny-en-Barrois, was an engineer and the proprietor of several industrial factories in Paris.[5][6] Her mother was the daughter of an insurance company director.[7] She grew up in a conservative Catholic family, as had her father.[8][9] She suffered from amblyopia as a child, which resulted in decreased vision of her left eye.[10] She has one younger sister, Mijanou.[11]










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