If Mymble sent Snufkin down a river in a basket so that he would reach Joxter, would that make Snufkin the moominvalley equivalent to moses?
blah blah blah murder and obsessive love go figure
Sufism is ISLAM IMAN IHSAN
Dude that islamophobic account is just,,,,,,,
Besties I just discovered Coney Island
The song by Taylor Swift duh.
Let me explain what i mean. I have a process for Taylor Swift songs. Like when mom releases an album , i will listen to an entire album RELIGIOUSLY and then I'll go back an listen to the song that caught my attention.
And it'll be on REPEAT for at least a week. And on and on until my top songs are established.
But there are some songs i just can't get behind at first.
Trust me I end up being in love with all of Taylor Swift's songs.
I was converted to Reputation ( that album took some soul searching to fall in love) , white horse, teardrops on my guitar ,afterglow and illicit affairs.
And now ✨ coney island✨
of my English translation of Robespierre; crónica dramática del terror, Bravo. (Original here)
Scene XIV. ROBESPIERRE, ENRIQUE.
ENRIQUE. (At turning around sees Robespierre.) Ah! I’m sorry, citizen, I didn’t know that you were here.
ROBESPIERRE. Don’t feel sorry, Florval . . . It’s good that Robespierre knows his friends.
ENRIQUE. Those who are not, will have to deal with the people of Paris who rise like a single man to be placed at your side . . . Oh! I assure you that the party is going to be fun.
ROBESPIERRE. Do you believe they will dare to attack me?
ENRIQUE. It is good that you are prepared . . . The wasps sometimes dare with the lion. But I warn you that the people are willing to clear your way of insects. Let them dare, and even the stones of the streets will rise up tomorrow to shout: long live Robespierre!
ROBESPIERRE. Your simple enthusiasm comforts me . . . Thank you, Florval. (Takes him by the hand. Enrique removes his with liveliness.) Eh! (With deaf wrath.) Have you not seen that Robespierre extended his hand to you?
ENRIQUE. (Aside.) Oh! this is superior to my strengths . . . (Loud.) Excuse me, citizen . . . I am a crude patriot unworthy of this honor . . . for me to shake hands with he who has in his the destinies of France and perhaps of the liberty of the world . . . Oh, no! I don’t want to give jealousy to posterity. (Changing tone.) Despite everything, if the day of tomorrow I manage to do something for the homeland, I would dare to shake the hand that today you stretch to me . . . (Aside.) But it would be in order to drag you to the gallows, evil man!
ROBESPIERRE. (Calming down and smiling.) Your scruples could make me vain, Florval, if my virtue didn’t put on me a covering from the temptations of pride . . . Now you see . . . My enemies accuse me of aspiring for the dictatorship. Ah! If the people insisted on my taking that heavy burden on my shoulders, only surrounding myself with enthusiastic hearts like yours, I would possibly stand the troubles of the command . . . But let’s leave this. Do you know why I have called you?
ENRIQUE. No. Fouquier just told me that you had to speak to me.
ROBESPIERRE. Fouquier is a traitor or an imbecile . . . In the Revolutionary Tribunal a conspiracy has been carried out with infernal ability to hide two heads from the guillotine. The Marquis de Saint Germain and his daughter-in-law, appearing in the registers of the Tribunal and in the lists submitted to the Committee as judged and guillotined, while one and the other live and are found prisoners in the Conciergerie. What do you say to this?
ENRIQUE. (Aside.) He knows it all! (Louder.) I’m sorry, citizen, if I didn’t hear it from your lips, I would believe it that you tell me a fable.
ROBESPIERRE. You are not surprised without reason, Florval. The Revolutionary Government has never received a more audacious slap. Did Fouquier mean to mock me?
ENRIQUE. That is to say, that you have some personal interest in punishing those two aristocrats?
ROBESPIERRE. Yes, Florval . . . Receive this secret as a pledge of the esteem that you profess to Robespierre . . . That Marquis de Saint Germain, is from Arras, my birth city . . . His park and his palace, in the present time razed by the popular furor, occupied only a few years ago the highest point of the city, of which his ancestors were lords . . . The close friendship which since my youth I contracted with his firstborn Enrique, gave me occasion to frequent that proud abode where I was received under an equal footing as the other youths of the nobility of the country . . . Deceived by this apparent familiarity and seduced by the beauty of Justina, sister of Enrique, I dared to put my eyes on her. When at the death of my father I occupied his place of lawyer of the Conseil d’Artois, I believed I’d reached the moment of realizing my dreams of ambition and of love: and one day I presented myself in the abode of the marquis to request the hand of Justina . . . Oh! That day decided my future! . . .
ENRIQUE. Your request . . . was it snubbed?
ROBESPIERRE. Yes, and in the most humiliating terms. I saw myself affronted in my love, in my pride and converted my dreams of happiness into dreams of blood and of revenge . . . Since that day I swore war of extermination on the nobility and I embraced with greater resolution the new ideas . . . The Marquis knows already at this hour what it costs to humiliate Robespierre . . .
ENRIQUE. (With an insecure/uncertain voice.) According to that . . . The other members of that family . . . have they already felt the effects of your . . . just resentment?
ROBESPIERRE. The Marquise was guillotined . . . Justina, overwhelmed by the miseries and the persecutions, died of grief one year ago in the prisons of Arras . . . What is that Florval, you go pale?
ENRIQUE. (Shaking and raising a hand to his forehead.) In effect . . . I feel a cold sweat! It’s that you have a manner of telling things, citizen, it seems that it passes through oneself . . .
ROBESPIERRE. The fate of those aristocrats interests you?
ENRIQUE. No, on the contrary . . . It’s that I put myself in your situation, and the furor and the wrath transport me . . .
ROBESPIERRE. You are sensitive like me, Florval.
ENRIQUE. (Aside.) Oh my God! (Louder.) Continue if you please.
ROBESPIERRE. The Marquis and his son Enrique managed to hide; but the Terror was established, and for the Terror there is no one hidden, and I managed to find his hiding place. The ancient ex-noble and his daughter-in-law were imprisoned and conducted to the Conciergerie.
ENRIQUE. But . . . and Enrique?
ROBESPIERRE. Enrique remained in liberty, because . . . destiny protects him.
ENRIQUE. He was able to escape? What a shame!
ROBESPIERRE. No, my orders of persecution didn’t include him. There is a prediction in the way that puts him under cover from my rage.
ENRIQUE. (Aside.) What do I hear! Now I understand . . . The prediction of the Romni. Oh Providence! (Louder.) Citizen, I take part in your indignation . . . In the Tribunal you have some hidden enemy, traitor to the homeland and to you . . .
ROBESPIERRE. That traitor can not be another than that Prosecutor Fouquier or someone of his most immediate agents. (The porter enters and delivers a sheet to Robespierre. The latter still speaks with animation while he opens it. Enrique considers the paper with concern.) You take to the side of Fouquier a position of confidence, and as your adherence to my person puts you under cover from all suspicion, you are going to tell me who the villain is . . . (Passing his gaze over the paper.) Ah! . . .
ENRIQUE. (Apart and with anxiety.) What will this sheet contain . . . ?
ROBESPIERRE. (Reading to himself with compressed wrath.) “Citizen Robespierre: the author of the conspiracy to save the life of the Marquis de Saint Germain and of Luisa d’Entragues, is Florval. There are grounds for believing that below that name he hides that of a dangerous aristocrat. - Fouquier.” (On finishing reading this letter Robespierre fixes his eyes with wrath on Enrique as if wanting to recognize him. This one observes anxiously and out of the corner of his eye the movements of Robespierre.)
ENRIQUE. (Aside.) I am lost! How he looks at me! This paper is from Fouquier . . . Can I escape . . . ? Impossible! Well then, let’s show him how it tastes to die as a de Nerac! (Crosses his arms looking at Robespierre firmly.)
ROBESPIERRE. (Aside and examining Enrique.) Oh, it’s the same! What blindness has been mine! In spite of the change that his face has suffered and of the years that have passed, I should have recognized him. (Louder.) Enrique!
ENRIQUE. Yes, I am Enrique de Nerac. You haven’t known me until now, hangman!
ROBESPIERRE. (Rushing towards the back door.) Traitor! (Before arriving at the door stops and turns to Enrique.) Why did you cross in my way, swine?
ENRIQUE. In order to make you fall.
ROBESPIERRE. You come to make an attempt against my life? Don’t you know that yours is hanging from my lips?
ENRIQUE. Why haven’t you already called to your henchmen?
ROBESPIERRE. Because . . . (Aside.) It is true . . . Why do I hesitate? Why don’t I free myself from this dangerous enemy . . . ? Ah! But if his head and mine are united through the influence of the same fate . . . If I commit in killing him a suicide . . . (Louder.) Enrique, what are your purposes? Do you want to murder me?
ENRIQUE. (With concentrated fury.) Murder you, tyrant! He who purges the earth of a monster like you, doesn’t murder. All of France has the right to be your judge and your executioner because your death is the life of millions of innocents and the atonement for crimes without count. Even though your veins contained as much blood as the waters of the Seine, you would shed it without scruple. Ah! You have fear of death, you who have made it the unique instrument of your power and have converted France into a vast sepulchre! You tremble at the sight of a man, you who have put all the nation below the knife of the guillotine! The tyrant who reigns through the terror, trembles like the most pusillanimous of his victims! Oh! you do well in trembling, Maximilien; but the hour of justice has not yet sounded for you. I come armed, I am stronger than you and I could have you bloodied at my feet before your executioners came . . . My homeland bloodied, my race exiled, my family persecuted and sacrificed for your implacable rancor, beg revenge from me; but God has his times, and yours, although close, has not yet arrived.
ROBESPIERRE. It is in your hand to lengthen one of the two. (With bitterness.) Ah Enrique! I should beg as for a benefit for the death with which you threaten me; but you have said it . . . (With a muted voice and looking at all sides.) Robespierre afraid! If in this fight of ferocious beasts, I am the more implacable, it is because in the eyes of every human being I seem to read the desire to exterminate me . . . In every man I see an avenger who pursues me, and I defend myself by killing the terror that death inspires in me. But you are the only French man who has no right to shed the blood of Robespierre.
ENRIQUE. I owe that, not to your mercy nor to your justice, but to your superstition. You have trampled on all the divine laws, and you stop terrified before the prediction of a miserable Romni.
ROBESPIERRE. That prediction has saved you until today. If you want it to serve you for tomorrow, run away and try not to return to bump into Robespierre.
ENRIQUE. I will do it on one condition.
ENRIQUE. Death will not restore its victims; but my father still lives . . . my wife still lives . . .
ROBESPIERRE. Ah! You ask me for the life of your father? No! With him I have no more ties than the bonds of hate. I have sworn to cut down the head of this arrogant old man who filled with rancor and with bile a heart that was thirsty for love.
ENRIQUE. (Making efforts to restrain himself.) You are speaking of my father!
ROBESPIERRE. You can thank destiny that it frees you of my rage; but the talisman that protects you does not reach to your people. Did you still think to make fun of my justice? Your father and your wife will go tomorrow to the guillotine.
ENRIQUE. (Beside himself taking some steps towards Robespierre.) Ah villain! . . .
ROBESPIERRE. (Running towards the back door.) Help! Citizens, here!
ENRIQUE. (Restraining himself and apart.) I have not been able to repress myself.
[T/N: both use the familiar ‘you.’ Also see the notes on the fifth scene of the First Illustration.]
We have all see and herd the person who “turned their life around” because they found religion. From drugs, stealing or other criminal activities to prayer. I propose they just traded one form of lying and cheating themselves for another form of lying and cheating themselves.
Excerpts of Montazeri’s book on the rape of women in the Iranian regime’s prisons:
In December 2000, Hossein Ali-Montazeri, a 79-year-old cleric who had been for 10 years the designated successor to Khomeini,
the supreme leader of the theocratic regime in Iran, published his memoirs. The book revealed shocking documents on the atrocities committed by the clerical regime, none as horrendous as the massacre of 30,000 political prisoners in 1988 on the orders of Khomeini. Montazeri’s book does possess a unique legal and political value, however, in that he reveals, for the first time, some key documents on the way the massacre began and was conducted. Most important among the documents is the text of Khomeini’s fatwa – religious edict that in clergy-ruled Iran has the force of law – ordering the massacre of all political prisoners.
In effect, he acknowledges that the rape of girls in the mullahs’ prisons was a widespread and systematic practice. He writes: “many of those who were being arrested in connection with the PMOI were girls and they were executing them on charges of waging war on God… I told the judiciary officials and Evin officials and orthers, quoting the Imam, that they must not execute girls from the PMOI. I told judges not to write death sentences for girls. This is what I said. But then perverted my words” and quoted me as saying: “Don’t execute girls. First married them for one night and then execute them.”
This is a clear acknowledgment that girls in prisons were being systematically raped by the guards and torturers. The sexual assault on prisoners was not confined to girls; from teenagers to aging women, all female prisoners were constantly exposed to the savage treatment. Many women prisoners became insane as a result of being raped by the guards.
Crime against Humanity – National Council of Resistance of Iran Foreign Affairs Committee – 2001
Goosewing from the Marvel comics is Old Testament God. Destroys without hesitation, punishment for small misdeeds. Look at something wrong? Builds a machine to turn you into a pillar of salt.
London Edition comics Goosewing is New Testament God, still quite powerful but doesn’t cause as much trouble. Forgiven sins by sacrificing one of his inventions. The fuckin’ uhhh werewolf he made. Dead. Never seen again. Murderous tendencies have been sated.
I’m going back to sleep
Check out the shadow by the cross.
Watch How Nigerian Pastor Performs ‘Deliverance’ on Reverend Sister in a ‘Special’ Position https://dlvr.it/S2Jbt6