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Posting my long-winded comment from a thread elsewhere:

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Two faces of Indian medal

One – Kamala Harris, one of two daughters of an Tamil-Indian expat, a woman who came to Berkley at 19 and participated in student revolt of the 60’s. She married another protestor, a Jamaican-American student of economics; but left him later and raised her kids surrounded by her side of extended Indian family. She became a breast cancer researcher, but – in the words of her obituary in San Francisco Chronicle  –  “Her passion for science was augmented by a fervent commitment to social justice … leading to a lifelong fight against injustice, racial discrimination and intolerance. She instilled these values in her daughters, who in turn have dedicated their lives to the pursuit of justice and equality.” In other words, she was a SJW and  used the race card for advancement.

That’s a legacy Kamala has taken from her mother and carries as a flag in her Presidential campaign. SHe’s trying to out-populist the Great Populist himself, by resurrecting the stinking ghost of reparations to descendants of negro slaves. That positively enraged her father, who reminded Kamala of the family history – namely, that they are coming from the other side of plantation:

My roots go back, within my lifetime, to my paternal grandmother Miss Chrishy (née Christiana Brown, descendant of Hamilton Brown who is on record as plantation and slave owner and founder of Brown’s Town) and to my maternal grandmother Miss Iris (née Iris Finegan, farmer and educator, from Aenon Town and Inverness, ancestry unknown to me). The Harris name comes from my paternal grandfather Joseph Alexander Harris, land-owner and agricultural ‘produce’ exporter (mostly pimento or all-spice), who died in 1939 one year after I was born.

Two: Nikki Haley

“Haley’s parents Ajit and Raj Randhawa moved to Bamberg in 1969 after living in India. Her father, Ajit Randhawa, had taken a biology professor post at nearby Voorhees College, an historically black college. Her mother worked as a school teacher before opening a clothing store “Exotica” in 1976. They replaced some of the ceiling tiles to create rows of red and blue tiles in the design of the American flag. They stapled 50 white glittery stars to the blue tiles. [..]

While in elementary school, Haley wanted to be a Pilgrim in a school play, but instead was tapped to play Pocahontas.“We weren’t dark enough to be black or pale enough to be white,” she wrote. She was bullied in third grade to the point where her dad talked with her teacher and her mom brought Indian snacks to school and answered her classmates’ questions about India. “I still feel like that kid in survival mode who has to focus on bringing people together … and how we’re more similar than different,” Haley said.”

“Bringing people together” – vs. stereotypical SJW. Same life experience, opposite conclusions, opposite results.

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П[ере]ц

Это я пытаюсь найти цензурное слово-marker:

Мужчина, благодушно перечисляя события своей биографии, ставит за «сменил работу» – «женился на своей бывшей ученице».

Не стыдится, не скрывает (никто ж не тянул за язык, про «ученицу» сам добавил). Вовсе наоборот – гордится. Мужики – кагбе похваляется имярек – гляньте, какой я Пигмалион. Как я ловко юной девке мозги запудрил. В рот смотрит (и не только). Научаю уму-разуму, дома я бог, учитель и ПартияНашРулевой, не то что вы, подкаблучники.

Оч. надеюсь, ученица быстро поумнела и прибавила кое-что к багажу знаний наставника.

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Завидно,

что не я написала этот пост!

 

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I am going through my periodic Nero Wolfe phase.

Today is a third weekend in a row; I even skipped the gym for pleasures of A Man Alive.

[…]they (Daumery & Nieder, a ficitonal haute couture house – Etat) had there that afternoon six of the girls I was waiting to marry, if you count Cynthia Nieder, and I don’t see why you
shouldn’t. Each of them made around a dozen appearances, some more, some less, and as for picking and choosing, if the buyers were as far up a stump as I was by the time it was over the only way they could possibly handle it was to send in an order for one of each.

As I explained to Wolfe in the office that evening, after I had reported a blank and we were conversing, “Imagine it! After the weddings I will of course have to take a good-sized apartment between Fifth and Madison in the Sixties. On a pleasant autumn evening I’ll be sitting in the living room reading the newspaper. I’ll toss the paper aside and clap my hands, and in will come Isabel. She will have on a calf-exposing kitchen apron with a double hemline and will be carrying a plate of ham sandwiches and a pitcher of milk. She will say seductively, ‘Two-ninety-three,’ make interesting motions and gestures without spilling a drop, put the plate and pitcher on a table at my elbow, and go. In will come Francine. She will be wearing slim-silhouette pajamas with padded shoulders and a back-flaring hipline. She’ll walk and wave and whirl, say ‘Nine-thirty-one’ four times, and light me a cigarette and dance out. Enter Delia. She’ll be dressed in a high-styled bra of hand-made lace with a billowing sweep to the—”

“Pfui,” Wolfe said curtly. “Enter another, naked, carrying a basket full of bills, your checkbook, and a pen.”

He has a personal slant on women.

Marvelous! admit it.

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Есть в жж такая мастерица-пирожница, Ирина Чадеева (chadeyka) – мне у неё когда-то очень нравились пошаговые фото сластей всевозможных. Такие романтичные, с туманным фоном и акцентом на разноцветных ингредиентах, и свет всегда выставлен прохладный, для контраста, и композиция (вкусовая и цветная) прекрасная. Фото не просто так, а иллюстрации к собственным книгам (и не одной). А ещё дети у неё чУдные, и красавчики и умнички, воспитанные. И она ещё немножечко шьёт. А сегодня я вдруг поняла, чья же знакомая аватарка в замечательных садовых постах в домашне-интерьерной комюнити. На голову выше обычного их уровня. Чадейкина же!

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