ANGELA DAVIS: You ask me, you know, whether I approve of violence — I mean, that just doesn’t make any sense at all — whether I approve of guns. I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. Some very, very good friends of mine were killed by bombs, bombs that were planted by racists. I remember — from the time I was very small, I remember the sounds of bombs exploding across the street, our house shaking. I remember my father having to have guns at his disposal at all times because of the fact that, at any moment, someone — we might expect to be attacked. The man who was at that time in complete control of the city government — his name was Bull Connor — would often get on the radio and make statements like “Niggers have moved into a white neighborhood; we better expect some bloodshed tonight.” And sure enough, there would be bloodshed.

After the four young girls who were — who lived very — one of them lived next door to me. I was very good friends with the sister of another one. My sister was very good friends with all three of them. My mother taught one of them in her class. My mother — in fact, when the bombing occurred, one of the mothers of one of the young girls called my mother and said, “Can you take me down to the church to pick up Carole? You know, we heard about the bombing, and I don’t have my car.” And they went down, and what did they find? They found limbs and heads strewn all over the place. And then, after that, in my neighborhood, all the men organized themselves into an armed patrol. They had to take their guns and patrol our community every night, because they did not want that to happen again. I mean, that’s why when someone asks me about violence, I just — I just find it incredible, because what it means is that the person who’s asking that question has absolutely no idea what black people have gone through, what black people have experienced in this country, since the time the first black person was kidnapped from the shores of Africa.

]]> http://firasd.org/weblog/2012/01/08/twitter-sports/feed 0 http://firasd.org/weblog/2011/12/01/kerry-taylor-couture-auction http://firasd.org/weblog/2011/12/01/kerry-taylor-couture-auction#comments Thu, 01 Dec 2011 23:14:06 +0000 Firas http://firasd.org/?p=7246

The November 29 ‘Passion for Fashion’ auction in London had some memorable pieces for sale, with the whole collection going for over £590,000 (£708,000 with buyer’s premium.) Says auctioneer Kerry Taylor, “This sale demonstrates that even in these difficult economic times that the appetite for fine haute couture and antique costume is undiminished and we are already looking forward to our next auction in February.”

Included was Lot 174: ‘Elizabeth Taylor’s Balenciaga couture gold figured cloqué silk sari gown, Autumn-Winter, 1964′. Liz Taylor had an appreciation for gold:

Double Oscar-winner Taylor wore the famous one-shoulder gold brocade Sari gown, designed by Cristobal Balenciaga, with the Port Talbot-born actor at the New Review Lido premiere in Paris, in December 1964.

Her hair was plaited and interlaced with ribbons by the top Parisian hairdresser, Alexandre de Paris, and she carried a gold clutch bag and wore golden shoes to match.

Taylor, who died aged 79 in March, had a slender 24-inch waist when she wore the gown, which sold for £31,200.

Liz Jones ruminates about the relationship between the clothes and the women’s lives:

I am contemplating this while standing in a huge and decidedly unglamorous warehouse in south London, surrounded by three outfits hung on mannequins. These gowns belonged to three of the most beautiful and famous women who ever lived — Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor and Princess Diana. [...]

I ask Kerry whether the warehouse becomes spooky late at night, given the gowns’ owners are invariably dead. ‘It doesn’t, but I do believe the dresses retain some essence of the wearer,’ she says.

Alexander McQueen black velvet and bugle beaded evening gown, £78,000

Disaya printed chiffon dress worn by Amy Winehouse, £43,200

Emanuel replica of H.R.H. Princess Diana’s bridal gown, £48,000

duplicate Diana bridal shoes by Clive Shilton, £36,000

gentleman’s banyan, circa 1730-40, £28,800

An Imperial dragon robe, £24,000

Lupe Fiasco’s amazing personification of societal evil:

One of the oldest most ancientest things
Speak every single language on the planet, nah mean?
I am the American dream, the rape of Africa, the undying machine
The overpriced medicine, the murderous regime
The tough guy’s front, and the one behind the scenes

I am the blood of this city; its gas, water and electricity
I’m its gym and its math and its history
The gun shots in the class
And you can’t pass if you missing G

I taught them better than that
I taught them aim for the head, and hope they never come back
I’m glad your daddy’s gone baby, hope he never comes back
I hope he’s with you mother with my hustlers high in my trap

I hope you die in this trash; I can’t help it
All I hear when you crying is laughs
I’m sure somebody find you tied in this bag
Behind the hospital, little baby crack addicts had

Then maybe you can grow up and be a stripper
A welfare receiving, prostituting gold digger
You can watch on TV how they should properly depict ya
The river shall flow with liquor, quench your thirst on my elixirs

I am the safe haven for the rebel run away, and the resistor
The trusted misleader, the number one defender
And from a throne of their bones, I rule
These fools are my fuel so I make them cool

Baptize ‘em in the water out of Scarface pool
And feed em from the table that held the Corleone’s Food
If you die tell em that you played my game
I hope your bullet holes become mouths that say my name
Cause I’m the {*gunshot*}

I was virtually the last generation of American law students and business students taught that corporations had a responsibility—because they had special privileges under the law, like limited liability—to their stakeholders: to their shareholders, their employees, their customers, and the communities of which they were a part. Then starting in the late 70s, that practice changed and all of a sudden the shareholders were way up here and all the stakeholders were down here. It had the ironic consequence of giving the most influence over corporate decisions to the stakeholders with the least concern about the long term profitability of the corporation and the greatest concern about the short term profitability.

Ben Heineman recently suggested that Steve Jobs’ approach to running his public company bucked the trend, almost ignoring shareholders but benefiting them regardless by focusing on customer satisfaction:

Apple has paid no dividends since 1995. It hasn’t used leverage. It holds $76 billion in cash with nary a thought of a buy-back. It is hard to argue that fundamental business decisions were driven by stock options (although there is the issue of options back-dating in the debit column).

Obviously, Apple shareholders have done just fine, with Apple and ExxonMobil today changing places back and forth as the U.S. company with the highest market cap. Yet this has been a long process of product design, introduction and success.

The Economist chimes in by warning against elevating other stakeholders to the current position of share owners:

The era of “Jack Welch capitalism” may be drawing to a close, predicted Richard Lambert, the head of the Confederation of British Industry (CBI), in a speech last month. When “Neutron Jack” (so nicknamed for his readiness to fire employees) ran GE, he was regarded as the incarnation of the idea that a firm’s sole aim should be maximising returns to its shareholders. This idea has dominated American business for the past 25 years, and was spreading rapidly around the world until the financial crisis hit, calling its wisdom into question. Even Mr Welch has expressed doubts: “On the face of it, shareholder value is the dumbest idea in the world,” he said last year.

Yet this need not mean that the veneration of shareholder value is wrong, and should be replaced by worship at the altar of some other business deity. Most of those preaching reverence for other stakeholders concede that the two are usually not mutually exclusive, and indeed, often mutually reinforcing.

Jack Welch clarifies that supposed advocacy of short-term shareholder value isn’t his real position:

Look, the job of a leader and his or her team is to deliver to commitments in the short term while investing in the long-term health of the business. Bottom line: That’s management. Good managers know how to eat today and dream about tomorrow at the same time. Any fool can just deliver in the short term by squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. Similarly, just about anyone can lie back and dream, saying, “Come see me in several years, I’m working on our long-term strategy.” Neither one of these approaches will deliver sustained shareholder value. You have to do both.

the muthafucka most likely to have a gateway to Narnia in his closet aka The Michael Buble of Rap or that nigga witta beatin vagina for a heart that you be hearin on the radio sandwiched between Katy Perry n Lady Gaga joints all day aka Justin Biebers beard n the only nigga on earth capable of turnin sandpaper into moist towelettes wit the touch of his hands…

The writing is beautiful (and, as someone who disdains Drake myself, a pure shot of spiteful pleasure.) Check the juxtaposition of Take Care lyrics with actual pictures of Drake:

“Im a descendant of either Marley or Hendrix”

Nas
I be out in London, Camden
Hunting for the answers, why did God take away the homie?
I can’t stand it, I’m a firm believer that we all meet up in eternity
Just hope the big man show me some courtesy
Why? Cause I’m deemed a heart breaker
Like smoke, girls linger round a player

Amy Winehouse
I never wanted you to be my man
I just need your company
Don’t want to get dependent on your time
Then lose the way you love me
Like smoke, I hang around in the unbalanced

Nas
Tell the car to go to Aura, Funky Buddah, Whisky Mist on Mayfair
I hope I meet Monie Love, so she can show me love
NYC to UK, I might stay there
Everybody in the club tonight say, “Yeah!”
You know how me and Amy are, straight players

I Knew a Woman
Theodore Roethke

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)

How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)

Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)

Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)