Lekarze, którzy odmawiają przeprowadzania aborcji są szykanowani. W Wielkiej Brytanii dąży się do tego, aby wszyscy praktykujący ginekolodzy „uznawali prawo kobiety do aborcji” i nie korzystali z żadnej klauzuli sumienia, tylko bez sprzeciwu przerywali ciążę.

Dr Robert Walley, ginekokog-położnik z Anglii, został postawiony w sytuacji, która zmusiła go do emigracji. (…) Coraz częściej na lekarzy wywierane są także naciski w kierunku praktykowania eutanazji. On sam wyjechał do Kanady. W Anglii postawiono go wobec ultimatum – albo przerywa ciąże, albo będzie zwolniony z pracy.
(…)
Polscy lekarze przez wiele lat doświadczali podobnych szykan. Od 1956 r. do 1993 r. setki ginekologów zostało zwolnionych z pracy w szpitalu, ponieważ odmawiali dokonywania aborcji. Na specjalizację z ginekologii nie przyjmowano młodych lekarzy, którzy nie chcieli przerywać ciąży. Szykanowane były również pielęgniarki i położne.

Za/Więcej: http://www.hli.org.pl/xoops/modules/news/article.php?storyid=800.

366 Minutes

M-O-O-N, that spells Tom Cullen. -Tom Cullen

• Gary Sinise as Stu Redman
• Rob Lowe as Nick Andros
• Molly Ringwald as Frannie Goldsmith
• Jamey Sheridan as Randall Flagg
• Ruby Dee as Mother Abigail
• Laura San Giacomo as Nadine Cross
• Corin Nemec as Harold Lauder
• Ossie Davis as Judge Richard Farris
• Miguel Ferrer as Lloyd Henreid
• Matt Frewer as Trashcan Man
• Adam Storke as Larry Underwood
• Ray Walston as Glen Batemen
• Bill Fagerbakke as Tom Cullen

You’re quite a piece of work Mr Cockroach. We could learn a lesson from you, especially in light of recent events. I have an idea come this time tomorrow I’ll be gone, but you’ll still be trucking, running little roach errands. -Glen Batemen

This weekend during ‘Wilson Christmas Decorating Mayhem 2008′ Pete decided he should clean out his closet.  Never mind there are 51 other weekends he could have attempted to purge his closet…  he chose the weekend we were decorating for Christmas.  That fact is a different post entirely.

The point of this post is that in his Goodwill pile was this shirt….

Yes, I realize the shirt screams 1993… that’s because it is the first thing I purchased as a gift for him… in 1993.  I told him it was impossible for him to get rid of this shirt because of the sentimental value.  He said “Value-smalue… I’m haven’t worn it in 12 years, it’s going.”

Seriously, that shirt is vintage Tommy Hilfiger.  As a sophomore in college that purchase alone was probably my biggest Christmas gift purchase that season.

Believe me, I’m all about the purge.  Keep it simple, weed out the old, throw out the broken, Goodwill knows me by name… but keep the sentimental, right???

After all I still have the Express dress he purchased for me as a Christmas gift way back in 1993.

What do you think?  Should EVERYTHING go to Goodwill?

I can’t believe that Simon Cowell took his reality show posse out to the studio one day and decided to turn Mariah’s classic about personal perseverance and possibly a plight to shun suicidal thoughts into a cesspool of monotony about non-drafted soldiers getting back home. On top of all of that, this piece of garbáge has been on the #1 spot for 3 weeks now. Mariah’s original went to #7 in the UK charts back in November 1993. Click to see it after the jump…

According to Wiki: Barack Obama’s wife Michelle played “Hero” to Obama before the election results were announced.

TOP 10 SURPRISES ABOUT MOVING BACK TO AMERICA
(with apologies to David Letterman)

10. Kids in America sound just like those mutant turtles … and so do adults. It takes a little practice to say “Cool” with the proper inflection. But there are plenty of other people doing it, so the examples are out there to emulate. Lizzie and Jonathan quickly dropped their English accents, though they do talk “posh” to each other sometimes when no one else is around. They occasionally introduce themselves to people as “recent immigrants,” but have not as yet begun to speak what Lizzie once referred to as “Jerseyish.” Or perhaps we just haven’t noticed.

9. The number of Volvo station wagons per capita in Ridgewood appears to be higher than anywhere this side of Gothenburg. We have attended school events where the parking lots are virtual Volvo corrals. The other rides du jour generally seem to Jeeps, Voyagers or other vans or station wagons. Remembering how unhip the family wagon was only a short time ago, it is clear that we all really are turning into our parents. Which leads us to …

8. Home improvement shows are the best thing on American television (pardon us while we rant here for a moment, both about home improvement and about television-the latter first). Since when are highlights of the 10 o’clock “news” hyped during prime time … two days in advance? “See our special investigative report on runs in pantyhose. Film at 11 — the day after tomorrow.”

7. As for home improvement, it’s been raised to such an art (or maybe obsession) that taking the kids to Home Depot after the crowds thin out on Saturday night is considered a wholesome family outing. After finding a workshop in our basement and at first thinking about nailing the door shut, we have bought (and bought) into this home improvement stuff — hook, line and nutwing. Or is that wingnut? But don’t get us started on the “joys” of home ownership.

6. American beer — with the notable exception of Brooklyn Lager, of course — is weak and tasteless. That’s not really something new; we just didn’t realize it the first time around.

5. The quiet, leafy American suburbs are a myth. In any suburb with even a few trees, the din of leafblowers on any autumn afternoon makes working in Manhattan, or on Runway 2 at JFK, seem like a restful option. We wonder how the noise will be with snowblowers and lawn mowers. But we do appreciate the real seasons, and real sunshine. Even if it rains all day, you can be fairly sure it will clear up the next day, or at least the day after that, instead of maybe in 3-4 months.

4. Commuting isn’t as horrible as everyone always said it was. It’s worse.
3. Things are CHEAPER in America. And it’s so EASY to BUY them, NOW, with everything always ON SALE, especially when you have just acquired a house after nine years of living in rented accommodation with the landlord’s furniture, linens, china, etc. The recent headlines about a U.S. retail surge, particularly among “things for the home,” were no surprise to us Of the 3.7 percent jump in consumer spending in America over the last quarter, we feel personally accountable for at least 2.6 percent. One day, after weeks of relentless shopping, we vowed not to go out and buy anything, just to see if we could do it. Instead we found ourselves calling 800 numbers and picking out things from mail-order catalogs. Talk about jump-starting the economy; if we’d moved back a year earlier, George Bush would still be president.

2. Technology in communications and nutrition. Voice mail, E-mail, call waiting, automatic dialback, etc., have become de rigeur. When one of Lizzie’s classmates lost her homework assignment, her mother called and asked us to fax over Lizzie’s copy. So we did. Grocery stores are open all night, but the shelves are jammed with things described as superlight, zero-fat, lower than low cholesterol — is this health-conscious or health-conscience? We have seen the future written on a grocery box, and its name is Lite All-Natural Microwave Popcorn.

And the very best thing about moving back to America is

1. You can send out your Christmas letter on Dec. 22, and it won’t be weeks late — at least for the American addressees. For those in Europe and Asia, well, it’s nice to get post in January, too, isn’t it? As we used to say all the time … sorry.

Happy Holidays and Best in ‘94 from

Nancy, Tim, Lizzie & Jonathan

Song: “Sober”

Artist: Tool

Album: Undertow (1993)

…L.A. United States…

Tool’s first full length monster that they unleashed and let scamper out of the hole in which they kept all their secrets in. Dark and menacing the music, even early on has been able to create a landscape which is both forbidding and seductive. But still manages to capture one of tools more powerful messages. That through introspection, in everything that you do, who you are and what you are becoming you can realise your true potential.

To me this track is about an artist who’s true creativity comes through their addiction (alcoholism). The works of art are incouraged by society, wanting more hense fueling the addiction. In the end the artist feels worthless, manipulated and is trapped in a downward spiral.

Year: 1993

Age: 13

Date: Friday, November 19, 1993

Age: 13

Year: 1993

Age: 13

Year: 1993

Age: 13

Date: Tuesday, April 13, 1993

Age: 13

1993 was the first time for Wild Card to use a borderless design, and overall the design was a bit more toned down than the previous bordered issues:

The backs was unique in that it showed the city (literally) that the player played for. The background for stats was semi-transparent (take that Windows Vista), but as with nearly all the Wild Card issues, they were thin on stats and writeups. It was a pretty generic base set, but I suppose what people were really looking for were those stripe cards.

Date: Monday, December 27, 1993

Age: 14

Year: 1993

Age: 13

I was supposed to put this letter in Jim’s backpack, but I chickened out.

17 Ноември 1993 година, Париж - ст. “Парк де Пренс”

ФРАНЦИЯ - БЪЛГАРИЯ 1:2

Помниш ли къде беше в този момент?

Beverly Peele (1975- ), an American supermodel, was one of the top fashion and print models of the early 1990s.

She started modelling on the runways of Paris at age 12. In 1989, by age 14, she had made her first million and became the first black woman to appear on the cover of Mademoiselle magazine. In 1993, at age 18, People magazine named her one of the 50 most beautiful people in the world. She appeared on hundreds of magazine covers. All the top fashion designers wanted her.

But then suddenly it all came to end.

Where Naomi and Tyra had wanted to be models since they were little girls, she did not. She said she wanted to be a plumber. So she was not willing to play the game. And when she got pregnant at 18 she had the baby against all advice: they said it would mess up her looks, that she would never work again. Even her mother would not to speak to her (at first). She did not care. The baby was more important.

After she had the baby she came back to modelling, but she failed to make a comeback. In 1997 she went into acting, but with small success.

She is one of the most beautiful black supermodels of all time, but because she rose and fell before the rise of the Web, there are not many pictures of her on the Internet, and what you see are not even her best.

She grew up in suburban Los Angeles but went to the school where her mother worked in South Central.

At 11 her mother made her take an etiquette course to learn “how not to be klutzy”. She learned to walk with grace. That and her long legs helped her to win modelling contests and before she knew it she was on the runways in Paris.

At her height she spent money so freely people called her C-Note. She had a three-floor apartment in New York. Because money came so easily to her so young, she had no idea of money management. She also started doing drugs. She was far from home and growing up too fast. After she had the baby, it was all over.

Ten years later, in 2005, she found a lost credit card in a supermarket and used it to buy a washer, dryer, refrigerator and other stuff for her house. It went to court and in 2006 the judge sentenced her to three years’ probation, 300 hours of community service and, of course, she had to pay back everything - and something else to American Express for their troubles.

In 2006 she went on the “Tyra Banks Show” to warn women of the dark side of modelling.

Peele first ran into Tyra Banks years before in Venice. Tyra at the time was 17 and broke in a foreign country. Peele helped her out.

Peele is six feet tall (1.83 metres). In 1989 her measurements were 33.5-22-33 (85-56-84 cm). That gives her a waist-to-hip (WHR) ratio of 0.67, which is on the low side for a fashion model.

See also:

• The most beautiful black women models
• black fashion models
• Tyra Banks - another black supermodel from the same time and place, but with far more drive and discipline
  
• Naomi Campbell
• Lisa Bonet - whose life offers interesting parallels

           What’s LeftYou work for years, build up technique,

Become a member of the clique;

Bel canto sound,

You want to sound good,

Learn to sound good.

Then as time goes by

The sound sounds boring, dry

And folks you’d hoped would like you die.

The styles change, the public too.

They seem like children now to you.

And what is left? A vacant cleft;

A sound that isn’t really true.

You do the honest thing.

You start to strip and uglify the voice.

You sell the Rolls, you sell the Royce.

The song itself becomes the choice –

The intellect, the heart a part.

You take the easy way, you say.

You’re much more simple when you play.

It starts to sound much more as you

Had always hoped to: like you do!

At least you’re singing with less stress.

The stress, instead, is in the art

And vanity’s a small, small part.

The pre-performance nerve’s caress:

It isn’t there. You’ve ceased to care.

What’s left is that you dare to dare.Where do you head? You’ve no idea.

Continuing to sing sans fear,

You simply sing, correcting all

The while.

You feel it’s false to smile.

That’s not to say there’s no smile there.

You’re lighter than you ever were.

You’re happy simply knowing where

You stand. The breach that once deterred

The song is healed. The once estranged

Is reaching for a newer range.

The only thing that’s left is change.

©What’s Left 93.5.5

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

Guardate cosa mi avete fatto,
mi avete reso molto famoso e vi ringrazio.
So che volete che le vostre popstar siano eccitanti, per cui ho comprato… questi! (gli stivaletti dorati)

Ora il mio tempo con voi è quasi terminato.
La gloriosa ZooTV deve innalzarsi e prendere il suo posto assieme agli altri satelliti.
Non abbiate paura, vi controllerò ancora;
lascerò delle videocamere per ognuno di voi.
In così tanti ci ascoltano stasera,
io… ho una lista:

Americani,
vi ho dato Bill Clinton,
l’ho messo sulla CNN, sulla NBC, C-SPAN.
Troppo alto per essere un despota, ma teniamolo d’occhio.

Asiatici,
il vostro momento sta arrivando.
Senza i vostri piccoli transistor
niente di questo sarebbe stato possibile.

Europei,
quando sono arrivato fra di voi
stavate litigando come bambini;
ora siete tutti appesi a un filo,
tutti vicini come stations on a dial.

Gente dell’ex-Unione Sovietica,
vi ho dato il capitalismo,
così ora potete tutti sognare
di essere ricchi e splendenti come me.

Gente di Sarajevo,
ringraziate il cielo.
Ci sono persone in tutto il mondo che hanno cibo, calore e sicurezza,
ma non sono in TV come lo siete voi.

Frank Sinatra,
ti ho dato MTV,
benvenuto.

Salman Rushdie,
ti ho dato i decibels

Arrivederci Squeegie,
spero ti diano alle balene.

Arrivederci Micheal (Jackson)

Arrivederci a tutti voi neo-nazisti,
spero vi diano Auschwitz.

A questo punto,
spesso faccio una telefonata,
a volte al presidente degli Stati Uniti,
ma non stasera.
Stasera chiamerò un taxi per riportarmi a casa,
perchè sono stanco.

- Grazie per aver chiamato Taxi Services
- Pronto?
- Può dirmi il suo nome e il luogo in cui si trova, per favore?
- Il mio nome è Mr. MacPhisto, sto cercando un taxi per portarmi da Sydney a…
- Oh, mi dispiace signore, qual è il suo nome? Pronto?
- Il mio nome è Mr. McPhisto.
- Ma cos’è? Uno scherzo?
- Ciao. Come ti chiami? Pronto?

(La signorina mette giù e McPhisto canta sconsolato)

Mostrami la strada per tornare a casa
Sono stanco e voglio andare a letto
Ho bevuto qualcosetta circa un’ora fa
E mi è salito dritto alla testa…

Mister MacPhisto - Sydney 1993

I am sure we all have stories about how we have reconnected to lost friends and acquaintances through social networking websites like MySpace and Facebook. I know that I have had my share. The other day though I got in touch with a couple of ladies that I knew back in college. No, these were not old college girlfriends or anything like that but just friends of the female persuasion.

When I rediscover an old mate it always brings back those stories that could have been lost forever. When I begin to wax nostalgic regarding those times at MTSU (I call them LeBlanc: The College Years) I get a bit depressed.

In Facebook I ran into Fua. Fua was related to me in the Greek sense. I pledged Beta as a freshman which allowed me to meet (too) many people. Fua was my big brother’s little sister. Big brothers were to be sort of mentors to us young fellas and little sisters were the ladies that hung around the fraternity house on a regular basis. Fua was a good friend to Little Harry’s future momma so that is how we were all connected. Another hanger-on and friend to Fua was Lisa. Lisa is now one of my new Facebook buddies.

When I think of Lisa one of my all time favorite “drunk at college” stories pops into my head. One of my very best friends (who shall remain nameless since I am not sure if he wants to be called out publicly or not) and I were attached at the hip. We lived together, we had classes together, we pledged together, we got drunk together, blah blah blah. So one evening it was decided that I, along with LH’s future mom, would visit a club called Main Street (do ya’ll remember that place?) with my roomie buddy and Lisa.

(Faces blacked out to protect the not-so innocent.)

Now to fully understand the story you must know that my friend was completely smitten with Lisa to the point of almost unhealthiness. Also, it makes it more interesting to know that we were shit-faced inebriated to the hilt. The story goes that the four of us were sitting around a table with some country tunes blaring through our heads when for one reason or another, probably to get a refresher drink, Lisa excused herself from the group.

At this moment my boy thought it prudent to oggle her as she shook her thing across the bar then do something that would stay with us for the rest of eternity. He looked both ways as if crossing a street, leaned ever so slightly downwards towards Lisa’s now vacant stool, took a deep breath and exhaled. He bent over to the point where his nose was basically touching the leather covered seat and proceeded to completely fill his nostrils with the scent that was left behind on her chair by her…uh…behind. Yep, he sniffed her seat! Of course this led to finger pointing and laughing, etc.

Years later conversations have begun with the line: “Dude, remember when you sniffed that chick’s chair?” Completely embarrassing to say the least.

Anyway with the help of these social networking sites stories like this can forever be etched into the realms of our memories (like I could really forget that one). As far as the depression bit well that is a bit of an intriguing piece of information. In 1993 I left MTSU forever. I engulfed myself fully into the job market and, oh yeah I became a dad to Little Harry. The bad part is that if I would have waited only one more year The School Girl would have been a student at my college. I always think that maybe I would have met her then and we could have started our love affair sooner instead of waiting almost a decade.

I am sure that meeting and eventually marrying her was God’s plan. It’s just that I tried my best to muck it up. Luckily, he steered me back in her direction. The thing is if I didn’t screw it up royally we would not have celebrated this wonderful moment in time.

                 The Sadly Futile Pretence

“This is the last song that you’ll ever hear me play,” he roared.

He sat down at his organ, striking one great chord.

“…the last song that I’ll ever play in this damned pub!”

And he walked up to the organ while the boss looked bored.

He played a song he’d often played, but with a great emotion.

He played his heart out, as they say. He played with great devotion

To the theme, and as he finished with a grand dramatic pause,

He took his beer, he wiped a tear and looked for some applause.

But folk continued talking; clinking glass was all you heard.

For the saddest cut of all was that, in fact, nobody cared.

“They’ll see they cannot do without me. They’ll be sorry yet…!”

He was thinking this with every pounded note he played that set.

Just a drunken little fellow who showed up each night at six,

And who stayed till two each morning showing off his tattered tricks.

Who’d begun to think he owned the club – played host and bossed around

Other players who showed up to play. He had to share the stand.

And if someone had a birthday or a graduation day,

Or if someone wanted Strauss, or asked to sing, then he would play.

Good old Charlie-at-the-ready, with unsteady hand could

Play light opera or a folk song. In his genre good.

Not professional, but in his amateurish way he played quite well,

Playing harmonies – not incorrect – just, what shall we say, - stale.

Dearest Charlie, dear loud Charlie, he could turn a tune.

And he sometimes changed the light-bulbs in his home in the saloon.

I’d have sworn he’d gone forever, if you’d asked me on that night.

But on showing up myself next week, he’d far from taken flight.

Walking round the club as always, telling all who gave an ear,

How he’d fixed the mike, had cleaned the keys, wouldn’t say no to beer:

“A strong one, please!”

©The Sadly Futile Pretence 93.7.5

Vaguely About Music; Special People Special Occasions; Small Stories Book;

Arlene Corwin

.

Faye Wong (王菲) as Wang Jingwen (王靖雯) performing “Seasonal Gale” (季候風) in a 1993 Golden Hit award show. The song is from one of my all-time favorite albums, No Regrets (Feb 1993). What makes this video special is the low-cut, tight black outfit she’s wearing. Hot!

done