Bassnectar - Vava Voom ft. Lupe Fiasco
Among many others over the past eighteen days, American Sunday Times war reporter Marie Colvin and French photographer Remi Ochlik were killed earlier today during further shelling in Homs, Syria.
Covering a war means going to places torn by chaos, destruction and death, and trying to bear witness. It means trying to find the truth in a sandstorm of propaganda when armies, tribes or terrorists clash. And yes, it means taking risks, not just for yourself but often for the people who work closely with you.
Despite all the videos you see from the Ministry of Defence or the Pentagon, and all the sanitised language describing smart bombs and pinpoint strikes, the scene on the ground has remained remarkably the same for hundreds of years. Craters. Burned houses. Mutilated bodies. Women weeping for children and husbands. Men for their wives, mothers, children.
Our mission is to report these horrors of war with accuracy and without prejudice. We always have to ask ourselves whether the level of risk is worth the story. What is bravery, and what is bravado?
— Colvin, speaking at a service for the war-wounded in 2010.
Hero. I hope my presence in Syria next week might put a little dent in the horror that is happening there. Not too likely, but I can’t say no to the possibility.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck
“Black Betty” the newest addition to our family, and D, there is a porch with a couch….
OH MY GOD YES.
You posted this the same day I’ve been seriously considering never returning to the US. I think this means something.
For everyone else on tumblr, I LOVE sleeping on couches. Particularly couches on porches. Before I left the US, I was living with a couple of friends in Michigan. They had this crappy couch on a porch that was not quite level. I hardly ever slept in my room - always the couch. Even in the winter. My laptop hated it, but I’ve never slept so well.
It was a lot like camping, but with crackheads instead of bears.
Crackhead bears are the worst!
Few months ago stopped at a light i saw a car spin out of control, ping pong between trees and smash through a sign of the dodge mansion. The car came to rest on the sidewalk, broken axel, broken window, obviously not good. Of course i ran over to see if i could help, i saw child seats upside-down in the back, no kids in the car, lucky… the driver was mid-50’s, she had tasted the steering wheel, bleeding, and stunned, i asked if she was allright..( such a funny question)…”oh yeah, I’m fine” the typical answer… i had automatically called 911, its the dad in me, i assured the injured driver that help was on the way. “Oh hell no!” She had to crawl out the passenger window, and hobbled across the street. She made it two houses down and collapsed on someones front lawn.. now its 8 am, a few months later. I am sittling next to her in a dirty hallway at the courthouse awaiting her jury trial. She blew .19 bac. She has 3 babies with her, (maybe she is not mid 50’s…ouch). I just wanted to help, i am painfully aware that i do not know her backstory, at first i was conflicted about testifying against her, but after seeing her interact with her kids, & lawyer, and babbydaddy, the conflict is gone. I hope they “throw the book” at her and i hope she realizes how lucky she was…
