Arcabouço Fiscal

LAERTE

 

Polarização Politica

JOTA CAMELO

 

Tommy featuring Tina Turner The Acid Queen.

IN MEMORIAM TINA TURNER

Nicholas Britell >> Strings Con Fuoco | Succession: Season 1 OST

O TRABALHO ESCRAVO PERSISTE

 

 

 "!“Não tem indenização financeira que
recupere a vida que essas pessoas perdem
nas casas onde são escravizadas. A gen-
te precisa desconstruir esse discurso do
‘é como se fosse uma pessoa da família’.
Não sentamos na mesa para nos alimen-
tar com eles, não dormimos nos melhores
aposentos da casa, e sim num quartinho
quente, abafado, cheio de objetos que eles
não querem mais, não estamos no testa-
mento nem no plano de saúde deles e não
participamos das decisões da família. En-
tão, como é que somos da família?”, dis-
para Luíza Batista, presidente da Federa-
ção Nacional das Trabalhadoras Domés-
ticas. Ela cita a dificuldade do sindicato de
ter acesso ao local de trabalho, facilitan-
do ainda mais a exploração por parte dos
patrões. “Como o crime acontece dentro
das residências, os sindicatos não podem
ir até lá, porque, pela Constituição, a re-
sidência é inviolável”, observa, chaman-
do atenção para uma campanha do MPT,
em parceria com o Sindicato Nacional dos
Auditores Fiscais (Sinait), para flexibili-
zar a fiscalização do trabalho doméstico."

LEIA REPORTAGEM DE FABIOLA MENDONÇA

 

 

Nichilas Britell > Adagio in C Minor | Succession: Season 1 OST

maozinha n'OS GEMEOS CCBB / BH

 

Nicholas Britell = Andante in C Minor (Succession)

O Agro é um Rodeio!

FRAGA

 

 

 

AROEIRA

 

 

 

JOTA CAMELO

 

The Smiths - Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

in memoriam ANDY ROURKE

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now

 

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die?

maozinha n'OS GEMEOS CCBB / BH

 

Succession (Main Title Theme) - Nicholas Britell

FORÇA DE EXPRESSÃO

Arnaldo Branco 

 

O novo caso de racismo contra o jogador Vinícius Jr. trouxe de volta o uso de algumas expressões que gostaria de comentar brevemente. Vamos nessa:

 

Racista em desconstrução

 

Esse termo, “desconstrução” — aplicado ao racismo ou a qualquer outra forma de preconceito — virou um salvo conduto pra quem continua reproduzindo comportamento racista mas também quer deixar claro que está pensando muito no assunto. É o “estamos tomando as devidas providências” do homem branco que está com preguiça de tomar qualquer iniciativa.

“Desconstrução” passa a ideia de uma construção ao contrário, algo quase tão trabalhoso quanto o ato de construir. Significa que você quer lidar com o racismo, o seu e o dos outros, com a mesma velocidade de uma obra de igreja, que se arrasta de propósito pro pessoal não parar de fazer doações — que nesse caso são as migalhas de aprovação de outros caras que também estão passando por esse mesmo processo “demorado”.

Racismo estrutural

 

Claro, o racismo no Brasil é difuso a ponto de ter gente apoiando o direito de alguém contar uma piada racista sem entender que está sendo tão racista quanto o comediante, embora o rigor da expressão “racismo estrutural” seja contestado de tempos em tempos. Meu problema é com seu uso por uma galera que parece acreditar que se trata de uma espécie de fenômeno atmosférico inescapável, algo que pode te acometer involuntariamente, como uma gripe.

 

O racismo estrutural virou o eu-lírico pra quem você pode apelar quando comete racismo. “Não fui eu, foi o racismo estrutural”. Assim como o tal processo de desconstrução, o racismo estrutural muitas vezes é usado como habeas corpus por gente que na verdade precisa assumir uma série de culpas.

 

Identitarismo

 

O uso pejorativo da expressão identitarismo — muitas vezes por gente de esquerda — para designar o que muitos acreditam ser uma agenda menor, um capricho adiável e favor de pautas mais “abrangentes”, é um dos maiores indicativos de privilégio do debate político. Só alguém muito ciente da sua bolha de segurança para desprezar o drama de quem luta por sua mera existência.

 

O fascismo é o braço armado da supremacia branca e a supressão das minorias é o item número um da sua agenda. Quem não entende isso é um racista em desconstrução que ainda não deu uma mísera martelada para começar sua obra.

 

CONFORME SOLICITADO

assine a newsletter

. Majid Khan’s existence is a final repudiation of a government that turned sadism into policy

 

 

 

Jeffrey St. Clair

 

In 1996, Majid Khan moved with his family from Pakistan to Catonsville, Maryland, a suburb of Baltimore. Two years later, the Khan family was granted political asylum and given permanent residence in the US. Majid graduated from nearby Owings Mills High School, worked at his dad’s gas station, dated girls, smoked pot, played video games and got a job at the telecom company that managed the Pentagon’s phone system.

 

Then in 2001 his mom died, the Towers came down and his life spiraled out of control. He moved to Pakistan, became a courier for Al Qaeda, got captured by Pakistani security, was turned over to the CIA and renditioned to a black site for what the Agency coyly called “enhanced interrogation.”

Majid was 23-years-old when he entered the black hole of the US secret detention system. He wouldn’t emerge until last month when he was released from Guantanamo and sent to Belize.

While in the custody of the CIA, Majid was berated, waterboarded, physically and sexually abused, subjected to sleep deprivation and humiliation, starved and force fed, isolated, denied the opportunity to pray, and inflicted with rectal hydrations that his attorneys at the Center for Constitutional Rights called “anal rapes.”

 

This torture, there’s no other word for it, went on for years, long after Majid posed any kind of threat to anyone but himself. Why? Majid says he told his interrogators the truth from the beginning, anxious to get what he knew off his chest. He answered their questions, told the interrogators how he’d been recruited largely through GTMO videos, and described how he transported the money used to fund the bombing of the Marriott Hotel in Jakarta in August 2003.

 

None of these admissions satisfied his torturers. With each session, the abuse only escalated. “The more I cooperated, the more I was tortured,” Majid later said at his tribunal.

 

Majid was held in a dark cell, under dungeon-like conditions. He was stripped and kept naked for weeks at a time. He was often shackled, his arms twisted and chained. He would be doused with icy water and left shivering in his cell, blanketless. He was repeatedly waterboarded, nearly to the point of drowning.

To stop the torture, Khan began to invent stories, more and more fanciful, that he thought might satisfy his torturers. “I lied to make the abuse stop,” he said.

 

But the abuse didn’t stop. When the interrogators ran out of questions, they put Majid into isolation. He reached a breaking point and went on a hunger strike to protest the inhumane conditions at the black site, they began to force feed him. First by placing plastic tubes up his nose and down his throat so that they could pump liquid into his stomach. When Majid bit off the tubes, his torturers switched to a new, more aggressive technique “without unnecessary conversation.” Translation: Rectal feeding without consent. Majid’s daily lunch menu of hummus, pasta with sauce, nuts, and raisins, was pureed and infused up his anus. This was followed by infusions of Ensure, at least twice a day, for weeks at a time.

Over the course of his detention, Majid was moved from one secret prison to another. Before one rendition flight, Majid was given an enema and then placed in a diaper that was duct-taped to his body so that his guards wouldn’t have to take him to the bathroom. His eyes were also duct-taped shut and his eye-lashes and brows ripped out when the tape was torn off.

 

The torture exacted its toll, physically and psychologically. Majid developed chronic hemorrhoids, anal fissures and a prolapsed rectum. He slipped into depression. He was wracked with nightmares and hallucinations.

 

For years, Majid was kept in a perilous state that not even Kafka could dramatize. He was tortured when he refused to eat. He was tortured when he refused to drink. He was tortured when he struggled to survive and when he wanted to die. Majid attempted suicide six times. He sliced his wrists twice. He cut a vein in his foot. He jabbed a filed toothbrush into his arm. He tried to bite through a vein in his elbow.

The medics patched him up and sent him back into conditions that would make anyone contemplate suicide. They saved his life against his will so that they could take him to the brink of death, again and again.

 

Majid wasn’t tortured for information. He wasn’t tortured for names or account numbers. He’d long ago surrendered, willingly, all he knew. Majid Khan was tortured for behavior control. Whatever that behavior was. He was tortured when he complied and when he resisted. He was tortured for asserting any act of self-will. The point–if by the end there was a point beyond sating the power lust of his torturers–was to annihilate his personality, his own sense of himself. But here the CIA failed.

When Majid stepped off the plane that took him from the moral darkness of Gitmo to Belize, he was not a broken man. He was older. He had less hair. His body and mind were scarred. But he was fully aware of where he’d been, what he’d been through and who put him through it. Few have endured what Majid endured. Even fewer have survived to describe their torture to the agencies that inflicted it. Majid Khan’s existence is a final repudiation of a government that turned sadism into policy.

 

COUNTERPUNCH

 

Dallagnol pelo ralo

KLEBER

AROEIRA

 

IOTTI

 

Mountain / Theme For An Imaginary Western

When the wagons leave the city
For the forest and further on
Painted wagons of the morning
Dusty roads where they have gone

in memoriam PETE BROWN

TINA

 

}

 

}GILMAR

Ike & Tina Turner - Proud Mary (1971) |IN MEMORIAM TINA TURNER

Vini Jr vs LA LIGA

DALCIO MACHADO

BIRA DANTAS

GILMAR

 

The Funk Brothers - I Heard it Through the Grapevine - Joan Osborne

You could have told me yourself
That you found someone else

 Instead I heard it through the grapevine

Not much longer would you be mine

Manipulação de resultados

BIRA DANTAS

BRUNO LANZA

KLEBER