Like father like son

A bit of smooth utter cuteness with Papas and sonnies ^^




Look at that little cute piece of heaven with his little uniform! =^.^=

C'est Mozart qu'on assassine et tous les autres aussi!

Within weeks before I came back to France, I was feeling very blue, stressful and did not want to leave England - My Lionheart.

I went on Facebook as usual and that's what I saw from a friend I hid because there's no point in shaming them.





For those who do not what I am all about. Those songs and artists are just plain turd!

Michel Sardou and Johnny Haliday are the worst, yet most popular, French artists in the history of music. The songs are badly written: the music, the lyrics...everything. And those twats are so tacky even the center Blackpool would go pale looking at them.

And when it comes to Jenifer, she won what we call here Star Academy some kind of Big Brother/Pop Idol/X Factor so calling anything she does "music" would be the biggest insult to all the people who made this art an art.

All that to say I became very very depressed with coming back to THAT! afterwards.

IQ results: 12...after cheating?

But with a body like that, who cares for IQ? ^^

Just one thing: the chest. Shave it properly or don't shave it because now there's some quite big acne here :-/

Perfect match

Polls show that Middle America’s ideal president is a hard-line conservative who believes in guns and religion, he’s deeply pro-family and anti-gay.

Well here’s your man:

Click here at your own disgust

Art by Erik Johansson

Beach hunk

What's more to say? ^^ A part that I have never seen that kind of things in France...

Oh my!

There's a wife who must be happy!

Mateus Verdelho

Hell, no!

Can it be any more wrong?! Look at them!

Gee, I can barely picture the low-living slags who believe they could be anywhere near fµck@ble! :-/

Chaiten volcano eruption - Chile, May 2009

So here's how that works:

First it enflates a bit at some point due to the pressure of the lava pushing from the inside.



Then it not just inflates but the new lava dome becomes a new peak of its own.


Some rock gives in under clouds of dust and cinders, the lava comes out.


And the montain peak pretty much gives in under the pressure of gazes and the lava and you have this.


And that.


And by night you see a couple of that.




And down the valley you end up with that...when things turn pretty good.



And that's how life came to Earth to begin with.

Washington can never seem to understand...

Robert Fisk: Democracy will not bring freedom

The Independent - Friday, 21 August

So they voted. But for what? Democracy? Certainly not "Jeffersonian" democracy, as President Obama reminded us. Yes, the Afghans wanted to vote. They showed great courage in the face of the Taliban's threats. But there's a problem.

It's not just the stitched-up Karzai administration that will almost certainly return, nor the war criminals he employs (Abdul Rashid Dostum should be in the dock at The Hague for war crimes, not in Kabul), nor the corruption and the hideous human rights abuses, but the unassailable fact that ethnically-divided societies vote on ethnic lines.

I doubt if anyone in Afghanistan voted yesterday because of the policies of their favourite candidate. They voted for whoever their ethnic leaders told them to vote for. Hence Karzai asked Dostum to deliver him the Uzbek vote. Abdullah Abdullah relies on the Tajik vote, Karzai on the Pashtuns.

It's always the same. In Iraq, the Shia voted in a Shia government. And in Lebanon, Sunni Muslims and a large section of the Christian community voted to keep the Shia out of power. This is not confined to the Muslim world. How many Northern Ireland Protestants vote for Sinn Fein?

But our problem in Afghanistan goes further than this. We still think we can offer Afghans the fruits of our all-so-perfect Western society. We still believe in the Age of Enlightenment and that all we have to do is fiddle with Afghan laws and leave behind us a democratic, gender-equal, human rights-filled society.

True, there are brave souls who fight for this in Afghanistan – and pay for their struggle with their lives – but if you walk into a remote village in, say, Nangarhar province, you can no more persuade its tribal elders of the benefits of women's education than you could persuade Henry VIII of the benefits of parliamentary democracy. Thus the benefits we wish to bestow upon the people of Afghanistan are either cherry-picked (the money comes in handy for the government's corrupt coffers and the election reinforces tribal loyalties) or ignored. In the meantime, Nato soldiers go on dying for the pitiful illusion that we can clean the place up. We can't. We are not going to.

In the end, the people of these foreign fields must decide their own future and develop their societies as and when they wish. Back in 2001, things were different. Had we hoovered up every gun in the land, we might have done some good. Instead, the Americans sloshed millions of dollars at the mass murderers who had originally helped to destroy the place so that they would fight on our side.

Then we wandered off to Iraq and now we are back to fight in Afghanistan for hopelessly unachievable aims. Yes, I like to see people – women and men – voting. I think the Afghans wanted to vote. So, too, the Iraqis. But they also want freedom. Which is not necessarily the same as democracy.

Alessandro Calza

Song of Summer

Could be honeycomb
In a sea of honey. A sky of honey

Whose shadow, long and low is slipping out of wet clothes?
And changes into the most beautiful iridescent blue

Who knows who wrote that song of Summer that blackbirds sing at dusk?
This is a song of colour
Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust then climb into bed and turn to dust

Every sleepy light must say goodbye to day before it dies

In a sea of honey
A sky of honey

Keep us close to your heart so if the skies turn dark
We may live on in comets and stars

Who knows who wrote that song of Summer that blackbirds sing at dusk?
This is a song of colour
Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust
Then climb into bed and turn to dust

Who knows who wrote that song of Summer that blackbirds sing at dusk?
This is a song of colour
Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust
Then climb into bed and turn to dust

Oh, sing of summer and a sunset
And sing for us, so that we may remember

The day writes the words right across the sky
They all go all the way up to the top of the night

Luz Casal - Un año de amor

Lo nuestro se acabó y te arrepentiras
De haberle puesto fin a un año de amor.

Si ahora tu te vas pronto descubriras
Que los dias son eternos y vacios sin mi.

Y de noche , y de noche por no sentirte solo,
Recordaras nuestros dias felices,
Recordaras el sabor de mis besos.

Y entenderas en un sólo momento
Que significa un año de amor.
Que significa un año de amor.

Te has parado a pensar lo que sucedera
Todo lo que perdemos y lo que sufriras.

Si ahora tu te vas no recuperas
los momentos felices que te hice vivir.

Y de noche , y de noche por no sentirte solo,
Recordaras nuestros dias felices,
Recordaras el sabor de mis besos.

Y entenderas en un sólo momento
Que significa un año de amor.

Y entenderas en un sólo momento
Que significa un año de amor.

Liverpool FC School of Dance

Footballers should deffo stick to football on the pitch.

Peter Brookes from The Times

Haaaaa!!!

The best starts arround 1.50 minute :D

Misha Collins

Two way street

Maria Callas - Madame Butterfly

Un bel dì, vedremo
Levarsi un fil di fumo
Dall'estremo confin del mare.
E poi la nave appare.

Poi la nave bianca
Entra nel porto,
Romba il suo saluto.
Vedi? È venuto!

Io non gli scendo incontro.
Io no. Mi metto là sul ciglio del
Colle e aspetto, e aspetto gran tempo
E non mi pesa, la lunga atteta.

E uscito dalla folla cittadina
Un uomo, un picciol punto
S'avvia per la collina.

Chi sarà? chi sarà?
E come sarà giunto

Che dirà? Che dirà?
Chiamerà Butterfly dalla lontana.
Io senza dar risposta
Me ne starò nascosta un po' per celia…

E un po' per non morire
Al primo incontro,
Ed egli alquanto in pena chiamerà, chiamerà:
Piccina mogliettina olezzo di verbena,
I nomi che mi dava al suo venire

Tutto questo avverrà,
Te lo prometto
Tienti la tua paura
Io con sicura fede lo aspetto.

Madonna - Hollywood

Here's how you spell "mischievous"

Shakira - Tú

Te regalo mi cintura
Y mis labios para cuando quieras besar
Te regalo mi locura
Y las pocas neuronas que quedan ya

Mis zapatos desteñidos
El diario en el que escribo
Te doy hasta mis suspiros
Pero no te vayas mas

Porque eres tú mi sol
La fe con que vivo
La potencia de mi voz
Los pies con que camino
Eres tu amor
Mis ganas de reír
El adiós que no sabré decir
Porque nunca podre vivir sin tí

Si algún dia decidieras
Alejarte nuevamente de aqui
Cerraria cada puerta
Para que nunca pudieras salir

Te regalo mis silencios
Te regalo mi nariz
Yo te doy hasta mis huesos
Pero quédate aqui

Porque eres tú mi sol
La fe con que vivo
La potencia de mi voz
Los pies con que camino
Eres tu amor
Mis ganas de reír
El adiós que no sabré decir
Porque nunca podre vivir sin tí

Andy Roddick by Stephen Danelian

I would gladly handle his love-handles

Smoking hot!

Chest pattern

On a more positive note, let's gorge on Novak Djokovic's chest.



That hair pattern is just amazing ^^

Ay te dejo Madrid!

That’s it.

He’s left. He’s gone to Real Madrid.

Xabi Alonso’s just left Liverpool for Real Madrid after five years of loyal, outstanding and more than absolutely beautiful service.

I’m happy but utterly heartbroken!

I am happy for him. Really. Because he wanted to move. Last year, he was the most faithful player in Liverpool after Steven Gerrard. He would’ve rathered sell his brothers to slavery than leave the club but the manager Rafael Benitez wanted Gareth Barry.

Barry was playing for Aston Villa and next to Alonso who’s an utter master in central midfield, the best in the whole world, Barry is just a midfielder. But Benitez got obsessed and went bonkers and actually offered Xabi to Juventus without even asking him whether he wanted to leave.

Eventually nothing happened. Benitez didn’t get Barry. And mostly, we, the Liverpool fans, were outraged he tried to get rid of him. We all deeply love him and we started growing apart from manager who got scared and pretended he wasn’t responsible and played Xabi like he should have.

This year was brilliant for him, and at the end of the season, he was, as usual, the most beloved player in Liverpool after the captain and Scouse (Liverpool-born) Steven Gerrard and even before Jamie Carragher, another Scouse veteran in the club. Huge achievement for a Spaniard after barely five years in a club.

But he got fed up and while he never says anything and never complains about anything publically, he also knows the fans don’t make the team, chose the players but the manager does. And he knew Benitez could easily find another shiny object to go and chase after. He knew his position at Liverpool didn’t depend on his performances anymore (because they are always excellent) but on the good will and stable mental health of the manager.

So he asked for a move after Real Madrid said they wanted him in the center of their new team. After two months of rumours, it’s done. He’s leaving.

I’m happy because I know that’s what he wanted and not what the manager forced him to do like he did with 15 of the 18 other players of the team who won the Champion League in 2005. Only Steven and Jamie are left from that team. Alonso was the last one with them.

I’m happy because he’s a newlywed and unlike me, he loves England but also loves his country. He’s a family and a deep Basque and Spanish man and I know he wants to build a family a home with his parents, brothers and in-laws. I know he wants his son to grow up in Spain. England was good when it was only about him and Nagore but now there’s a whole family and future involved and Spain is the place to do that for him.

But I’m heartbroken. Deeply, truly heartbroken. And that’s the second time. Because in August 2004, Michael Owen also left Liverpool for Real Madrid because he wanted something different and he also knew Benitez had no intention using him as a key player in the team. Steven Gerrard was his target so Michael Owen left for Real Madrid.

That’s the second one who does that: leaving my dear Liverpool for that dreadful Real Madrid.

It can seem silly and pointless because it’s just football but those men are not just football for me. Yes, I find them attractive despite what people think of them but I love them!

I like Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard, John Arne Riise, Fernando Torres just like I like Andy Roddick, Marat Safin or Jan-Michael Gambill but that’s it.

Michael Owen and Xabi Alonso are, with Thomas Johansson, my heroes. I love them, worship them, admire them for everything they are and do on and off the football pitch or tennis court. They are my role models. If I can be like the persons they are, one day I could say: “I succeed my life”.

Thomas Johansson has more or less retired and and now Xabi’s gone. Just like Michael did five years ago.

I’ll get used to it and will come to the point when I realised he’s not dead but just when to play for a cesspit from Hell! But I’m so scared he might get wasted by the club. They might destroy him like they destroyed Michael. And it took Michael five years to come back to the top with Manchester United today.

So it’s 2009 and I’m a Liverpool FC supporter. For me, Liverpool FC that’s Michael Owen, Xabi Alonso, Steven Gerrard and John Arne Riise.

And now Steven Gerrard’s the only one who’s still here but for how long?

Michael Owen’s now playing for Manchester United: the club I hate the very, very, VERY! most in the world! But at least, they were smart enough to give him a chance and believe in him. That’s more one can say about Liverpool.

Xabi Alonso: Same thing and now he’s gone to play for a club I hate with all my deepest guts and who knows what’s coming over there. Well at least, he’s at home.

And Riise’s got killed by Benitez and thrown out of Liverpool all the way to AS Roma where…well I don’t know actually…

Lucky I still have my sweet Djokovic ^^

But something tells me I won’t cry when Liverpool fail to win anything again this year. That serves that bloody Rafael fucking Benitez right!

Yes yes! Gay yet still a football fan.

Fear

Brazilian driver Felipe Massa carried from his car after crashing during the qualifying session of the Hungarian Formula One Grand Prix, the Hungaroring race track in Budapest.

Massa who underwent surgery following a 200 kph crash was released from the hospital and flew back to Brazil today after a few days in a coma and breathing through respiratory assistance.



This eye.

The Fear.

What did he see?

My favourite couple.

Je me demandais...

Pourquoi être contre le CPE et la précarité est-ce être « conservateur » ?
Pourquoi les acquis sociaux sont-ils considérés comme archaïques ?
Pourquoi les doctrines sociales du début du XXe dites « avancées » sont aujourd’hui montrées comme plus archaïques que la doctrine du libéralisme absolu d’Adam Smith datant du milieu du XVIIIe ?

Pourquoi la « flexibilité du travail » est-elle l’avenir ?
Pour parer à la concurrence des pays d’Asie où la main d’œuvre est plus flexible (servile pour les cyniques) ? Mais pourquoi alors doit-on toujours niveler par le bas ?

Pourquoi rendre les Européens aussi précaires que les Indiens ou les Chinois ? Pourquoi ne pas protéger ces derniers autant que nous ?...On irait alors vers l’Afrique ? De qui se moque-t-on ?

Pourquoi revenir aux journaliers du Moyen Age, aux mercelots du XIXe que l’on engageait
selon les besoins avant de les rebalancer sur les routes est-ce une avancée ?
Pourquoi traiter des êtres humains comme des matières premières à obtenir au moindre coût ?

Pourquoi refuser tout ça est-ce faire preuve d’égoïsme ?
Pourquoi est-il bon de se sacrifier pour l’économie mais pas pour le bonheur d’autrui ?


POURQUOI PREND-ON TOUJOURS LES GENS POUR DES CONS ?

Pourquoi dresse-t-on des épées de Damoclès au-dessus de chaque tête sans véritable raison ?

Peut-être pour les pousser à agir par réflexe…sans réfléchir…pour les empêcher de trouver d’autres réponses que celles des enfants d’Adam Smith…quelque chose qui changerait la façon de voir le monde présent que cette pensée unique…une véritable reforme ?

Mais où êtes-vous Keynes, Marx, Lénine et tous les autres ?…Où sont les Internationales socialistes, ouvrières ou que sais-je…? Où sont les alternatives ? Où sont les penseurs, merde ?!...

Can I be any more in utter awe?