Pitiful and pitied by no one, why have I come to the ignominy of this detestable old age, who was ruler of two kingdoms, mother of two kings? My guts are torn from me, my family is carried off and removed from me. The young king [crown prince Henry, †1183] and the count of Britanny [prince Geoffrey, †1186] sleep in dust, and their most unhappy mother is compelled to be irremediably tormented by the memory of the dead. Two sons remain to my solace, who today survive to punish me, miserable and condemned. King Richard [the Lionheart] is held in chains [in captivity with Emperor Henry VI of Germany]. His brother, John, depletes his kingdom with iron [the sword] and lays it waste with fire. In all things the Lord has turned cruel to me and attacked me with the harshness of his hand. Truly his wrath battles against me: my sons fight amongst themselves, if it is a fight where where one is restrained in chains, the other, adding sorrow to sorrow, undertakes to usurp the kingdom of the exile by cruel tyranny. Good Jesus, who will grant that you protect me in hell and hide me until your fury passes, until the arrows which are in me cease, by which my whole spirit is sucked out?"[Third letter to Pope Celestine (1193)]

That summer, Titanic fever gripped Kabul. People smuggled pirated copies of the film from Pakistan- sometimes in their underwear. After curfew, everyone locked their doors, turned out the lights, turned down the volume, and reaped tears for Jack and Rose and the passengers of the doomed ship. If there was electrical power, Mariam, Laila, and the children watched it too. A dozen times or more, they unearthed the TV from behind the tool-shed, late at night, with the lights out and quilts pinned over the windows.At the Kabul River, vendors moved into the parched riverbed. Soon, from the river's sunbaked hollows, it was possible to buy Titanic carpets, and Titanic cloth, from bolts arranged in wheelbarrows. There was Titanic deodorant, Titanic toothpaste, Titanic perfume, Titanic pakora, even Titanic burqas. A particularly persistent beggar began calling himself "Titanic Beggar.""Titanic City" was born.It's the song, they said.No, the sea. The luxury. The ship.It's the sex, they whispered.Leo, said Aziza sheepishly. It's all about Leo."Everybody wants Jack," Laila said to Mariam. "That's what it is. Everybody wants Jack to rescue them from disaster. But there is no Jack. Jack is not coming back. Jack is dead.

I like the aesthetics for a well-designed game. I like world-building, setting up challenges, pitfalls…" He paused. "Do you like gaming?" She shook her head. "Not my thing. The couple of games I've tried are complicated and violent, and I really don't like the sexism." "Not in the games I produce. I don't allow story lines that include prostitution, rape, or demeaning language toward women." Justine seemed unimpressed. "I've seen some of the ads for Skyrebels- that's one of yours, right?- and most of the female characters are dressed like space hookers. Why do they need to wear leather minis and boots with five-inch heels to fight off an attack of armored soldiers?" She had a point. "The teenage male demographic likes it," Jason admitted. "Thought so," she said. "But no matter how they're dressed, the female characters are just as tough as the males." "Sexism is about presentation and tone as well as actions." "Are you a feminist?" "If you define a feminist as someone who wants to be treated with equality and respect, yes. But some people tend to think of feminists as being angry, which I'm not." "I'd be angry if someone sent me to war in five-inch boots and a leather mini."-Jason & Justine

Ich versuche mir vorzustellen, wie es wäre, wenn mir dies Erleben zum ersten Mal auf solche Art zuteil geworden wäre. Ich muß den Gedanken abbremsen, so was ist nicht vorstellbar. Eines ist klar: Wäre an dem Mädchen irgendwann in Friedenszeiten durch einen herumstreunenden Kerl die Notzucht verübt worden, wäre hinterher das übliche Friedensbrimborium von Anzeige, Protokoll, Vernehmung, ja von Verhaftung und Gegenüberstellung, Zeitungsbericht und Nachbarngetue gewesen – das Mädel hätte anders reagiert, hätte einen anderen Schock davongetragen. Hier aber handelt es sich um ein Kollektiv-Erlebnis, vorausgewußt, viele Male vorausbefürchtet – um etwas, das den Frauen links und rechts und nebenan zustieß, das gewissermaßen dazu gehörte. Diese kollektive Massenform der Vergewaltigung wird auch kollektiv überwunden werden. Jede hilft jeder, indem sie darüber spricht, sich Luft macht, der anderen Gelegenheit gibt sich Luft zu machen, das Erlittene auszuspeien. Was natürlich nicht ausschließt, das feinere Organismen als diese abgebrühte Berliner Göre daran zerbrechen oder doch auf Lebenszeit einen Knacks davontragen.

It is the political change in international relations as well as a change in superpower fortunes which indicate that the days of successful unilateral intervention are past and that multilateral military intervention might only succeed in exceptional circumstances. Even before the changes in these relationships had occurred, both the old USSR and the USA discovered in the most dramatic way the true impotence of their power in the intra-state conflicts of Afghanistan and Vietnam respectively. Not least, the cost of unilaterally inspired intervention was horrendous. The total bill for Vietnam was $190 billion while the Soviets spent $3-4 billion for each of the years their forces were fulfilling no useful purpose in Afghanistan.The fact is that most military interventions undertaken this century should never have been embarked upon, for they were doomed for failure. The reason for this has tended to be due to misplaced faith in national capabilities as well as misappreciation of the size of the problem. By way of illustration it is appropriate first to relate international theory to the concept of military intervention, followed by a current overview essentially of the two states most traditionally involved in military intervention, the former USSR and USA.

Evan stares at me.I try to hug him. He takes a step back. I pause, my heart in my throat. I’ve got to reach out to him, let myself be vulnerable. I find the courage, but he backs up again.“You can’t go to Iraq anymore.”“I know.”He looks up at Deanna, then back to me. “Did you fight bad guys? You told me you weren’t.” His voice is suspicious, full of accusation. He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame him for that.“No, Evan. I didn’t fight bad guys.”I can’t bring myself to tell him the complete truth. I want so desperately to go back into this fight. I miss it every day. I always felt I could change the world with a rifle in my hands and our flag on my shoulder.“Did you get shot?” he looks me over, apparently searching for bullet wounds.I grin a little. “No, Bud, I didn’t get shot.”“People get shot in Iraq.”“Yes, they do.” It strikes me then that Evan for the first time has a grasp on the dangers that are faced over there. He’s six now, and the world is coming into focus for him.“People get shot, Daddy. They die. Bad guys kill them.”I think of Edward Iwan and Sean Sims.“Yeah, I know they do, Evan.

AbsageLieber von einem Faschisten erschlagen werdenAls selber Faschist sein!Lieber von einem Kommunisten erschlagen werdenAls selber Kommunist sein!Wir haben den Krieg nicht vergessen. Wir wissen,Wie das berauscht, wenn man Trommel und Pauke rührt.Wir sind taub, wir werden nicht mitgerissen,Wenn ihr das Volk mit dem alten Rauschgift verführt.Wir sind weder Soldaten noch Weltverbesserer mehr,Wir glauben nicht, dass "an unserem WesenDie Welt müsse genesen".Wir sind arm, wir haben Schiffbruch gelitten,Wir glauben alle an die hübschen Phrasen nicht mehr,Mit denen man uns in den Krieg gepeitscht und geritten -Auch die Euren, rote Brüder, sind Zauber und führen zu Krieg und Gas!Auch Eure Führer sind Generäle,Kommandieren, schreien und organisieren,Wir aber, wir hassen das,Wir trinken den Fusel nicht mehr,Wir wollen Herz und Vernunft nicht verlieren,Nicht unter roten noch weissen Fahnen marschieren.Lieber wollen wir einsam als "Träumer" verderbenOder unter Euren blutigen Brüderhänden sterben,Als irgend ein Partei- und Machtglück geniessenUnd im Namen der Menschheit auf unsere Brüder schiessen!(Als Antwort auf einige Anfragen, warum ich (Anm.: Hermann Hesse) mich nicht auf die Seite der Kommunisten stelle.)

this is the 21st century and we need to redefine r/evolution. this planet needs a people’s r/evolution. a humanist r/evolution. r/evolution is not about bloodshed or about going to the mountains and fighting. we will fight if we are forced to but the fundamental goal of r/evolution must be peace.we need a r/evolution of the mind. we need a r/evolution of the heart. we need a r/evolution of the spirit. the power of the people is stronger than any weapon. a people’s r/evolution can’t be stopped. we need to be weapons of mass construction. weapons of mass love. it’s not enough just to change the system. we need to change ourselves. we have got to make this world user friendly. user friendly.are you ready to sacrifice to end world hunger. to sacrifice to end colonialism. to end neo-colonialism. to end racism. to end sexism.r/evolution means the end of exploitation. r/evolution means respecting people from other cultures. r/evolution is creative.r/evolution means treating your mate as a friend and an equal. r/evolution is sexy.r/evolution means respecting and learning from your children. r/evolution is beautiful.r/evolution means protecting the people. the plants. the animals. the air. the water. r/evolution means saving this planet.r/evolution is love.

We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world—a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us. . . . No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we’ll kill you.Well, shit on that dumbness. George W. Bush does not speak for me or my son or my mother or my friends or the people I respect in this world. We didn’t vote for these cheap, greedy little killers who speak for America today—and we will not vote for them again in 2002. Or 2004. Or ever.Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush?They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us—they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis.And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.

Old man sitting on the handle of his giant sword. Which is stuck in the ground. He cuts them the land, the sword of war, who drinks human blood, he divides everything in the country, the nation and even race, approaching people who like to inflict pain and suffering of others. From his sword suddenly became very black, was leaking a lot of human blood, and opened the darkness and eerie, frightening moans and cries from which the animals fled in terror and flew away birds. And where was cut earth opened an abyss of human violence and out of the ground and was bleeding and from there also heard moans and cries. Everyone who was once associated with violence, and war: war, soldiers, bandits, barbarians, gangsters. All the damned souls of violence, all kinds and types of violence and war out of the land, and the sword. Stupid people refused to obey, and to lay down weapons, they said they wanted to continue to hurt people. And the sword emits a terrible, negative energy, swallowed up their sinful souls, absorbed them into himself, he imprisoned them in yourself forever. Elder power of thought has reduced the sword of war. This old man is a god of war. Put your sword, which turned into a pocket knife in the inner pocket of his clothes. And then everything became so if nothing had happened.

O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

Tenente colonnello Abbati: – Io mi difendo bevendo. Altrimenti, sarei già al manicomio. Contro le scelleratezze del mondo, un uomo onesto si difende bevendo. È da oltre un anno che io faccio la guerra, un po’ su tutti i fronti, e finora non ho visto in faccia un solo austriaco. Eppure ci uccidiamo a vicenda, tutti i giorni. Uccidersi senza conoscersi, senza neppure vedersi! È orribile! È per questo che ci ubriachiamo tutti, da una parte e dall’altra. Ha mai ucciso nessuno lei? Lei, personalmente, con le sue mani? […] Io, nessuno. Già, non ho visto nessuno. Eppure se tutti, di comune accordo, lealmente, cessassimo di bere, forse la guerra finirebbe. Ma, se bevono gli altri, bevo anch’io. Veda, io ho una lunga esperienza, non è l’artiglieria che ci tiene in piedi, noi di fanteria. Anzi, il contrario. La nostra artiglieria ci mette spesso a terra, tirandoci addosso. […] Abolisca l’artiglieria, d’ambo le parti, la guerra continua. Ma provi ad abolire il vino e i liquori. Provi un po’. Si provi. […] Nessuno di noi si muoverà più. L’anima del combattente di questa guerra è l’alcool. Il primo motore è l’alcool. Perciò i soldati, nella loro infinita sapienza, lo chiamano benzina.

I was taken to a villa to meet Sabri al-Banna, known as 'Abu Nidal' ('father of struggle'), who was at the time emerging as one of Yasser Arafat's main enemies. The meeting began inauspiciously when Abu Nidal asked me if I would like to be trained in one of his camps. No thanks, I explained. From this awkward beginning there was a further decline. I was then asked if I knew Said Hammami, the envoy of the PLO in London. I did in fact know him. He was a brave and decent man, who in a series of articles in the London Times had floated the first-ever trial balloon for a two-state solution in Israel/Palestine. 'Well tell him he is a traitor,' barked my host. 'And tell him we have only one way with those who betray us.' The rest of the interview passed as so many Middle Eastern interviews do: too many small cups of coffee served with too much fuss; too many unemployed heavies standing about with nothing to do and nobody to do it with; too much ugly furniture, too many too-bright electric lights; and much too much faux bonhomie. The only political fact I could winnow, from Abu Nidal's vainglorious claims to control X number of 'fighters' in Y number of countries, was that he admired the People's Republic of China for not recognizing the State of Israel. I forget how I got out of his office.

Do the people in this country approve of this war?" [...]."Approve? You don't think we'd lie down and let the damned Thuvians walk all over us? Our status as a world power is at stake!""But I mean the people, not the government. The... the people who must fight.""What's it to them? They're used to mass conscriptions. It's what they're for, my dear fellow! To fight for their country. And let me tell you, there's no better soldier on earth than the Ioti man of the ranks, once he's broken in to taking orders. In peacetime he may spout sentimental pacifism, but the grit's there, underneath. The common soldier hs always been our greatest resource as a nation. It's how we became the leader we are.""By climbing up on a pile of dead children?" [...]."No,"[...] "you'll find the soul of the people true as steel, when the country's threatened. A few rabble-rousers in Nio and the mill towns make a big noise between wars, but it's grand to see how people close ranks when the flag's in danger. You're unwilling to believe that, I know. The trouble with Odonianism, [...], is that it's womanish. It simply doesn't include the virile side of life. 'Blood and steel, battle's brightness,' as the old poet says. It doesn't understand courage--love of the flag."[...] "That may be true, in part. At least, we have no flags.

I don’t fundamentally understand why people give a shit about what other people put up their noses or what other people put in their veins or what other people breathe into their lungs. I mean I sort of care like if somebodies an addict it’s very destructive to people around that addict. It’s destructive to themselves. I’d like to get them help. I certainly support that which is to get that person help but, I don’t understand how people wake up and say I have to eradicate drug use across the land. “I gotta stick my nose into the business of what other people stick up their nose.” I just find that incomprehensible. I mean, is your life so vacant and so hysterical, so empty, so void of love, care and affection? I can go play with my daughter or I can go and obsessively try and get politicians to throw people in jail for doing things I don’t like. I can’t imagine why people would be choosing option “B” but, only because they don’t have anyone who loves them or, anyone they care about. They don’t have any rich, significant, important, hobbies, relationships, artistic pursuits or anything rich enough to keep them from obsessing about what other people do or bossing and bulling what other people do. This “stick your nose in other people’s business” Is so compulsive and epidemic to human society.