This interview is simply classic!!
“you know that when a white woman runs into the arms of a black man she don’t know, something is wrong! it was a dead give away!”
Three women who went missing separately about a decade ago, when they were in their teens or early 20s, had been tied up but were found alive Monday in a residential area just south of downtown, and three brothers were arrested, police said.
One of the women told a 911 dispatcher the person who had taken her was gone, and she pleaded for police officers to come and get her, saying, “I’m free now.”
Cheering crowds gathered Monday night on the street near the home where police said Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus and Michelle Knight had been held since they went missing and were found earlier in the day.
Police didn’t immediately provide any details of how the women were found but said they appeared to be in good health and had been taken to a hospital to be reunited with relatives and to be evaluated. They said a 6-year-old also was found in the home.
On a recorded 911 call Monday, Berry declared, “I’m Amanda Berry. I’ve been on the news for the last 10 years.”
She said she had been taken by someone and begged for police officers to arrive at the home on Cleveland‘s west side before he returned.
“I’ve been kidnapped, and I’ve been missing for 10 years,” she told the dispatcher. “And I’m here. I’m free now.”
Berry disappeared at age 16 on April 21, 2003, when she called her sister to say she was getting a ride home from her job at a Burger King. DeJesus went missing at age 14 on her way home from school about a year later. They were found just a few miles from where they had gone missing.
Police said Knight went missing in 2002 and is 32 now. They didn’t provide current ages for the other two women.
Police said one of the brothers, a 52-year-old, lived at the home. They released no names and gave no details about the others arrested or what charges they might face.
Dozens of police officers and sheriff’s deputies remained at the scene late Monday awaiting a warrant to search the building where the women and the child were found.
Loved ones said they hadn’t given up hope of seeing the women again. Among them was Kayla Rogers, a childhood friend of DeJesus.
“I’ve been praying, never forgot about her, ever,” Rogers told The Plain Dealer newspaper. “This is amazing. This is a celebration. I’m so happy. I just want to see her walk out of those doors so I can hug her.”
Berry’s cousin Tasheena Mitchell told the newspaper she couldn’t wait to have Berry in her arms.
“I’m going to hold her, and I’m going to squeeze her and I probably won’t let her go,” she said.
Berry’s mother, Louwana Miller, who had been hospitalized for months with pancreatitis and other ailments, died in March 2006. She had spent the previous three years looking for her daughter, whose disappearance took a toll as her health steadily deteriorated, family and friends said.
Mayor Frank Jackson expressed gratitude that the three women were found alive.
“We have many unanswered questions regarding this case, and the investigation will be ongoing,” he said in a statement.
At Metro Health Medical Center, Dr. Gerald Maloney declined to go into details about the women’s conditions.
“We’re assessing their needs, and the appropriate specialists are evaluating them as well,” he said at a news conference, which concluded with a round of applause from a large gathering of area residents.
In January, a prison inmate was sentenced to 4 1/2 years after admitting he provided a false burial tip in the disappearance of Berry, who had last been seen the day before her 17th birthday. A judge in Cleveland sentenced Robert Wolford on his guilty plea to obstruction of justice, making a false report and making a false alarm.
Last summer, Wolford tipped authorities to look for Berry’s remains in a Cleveland lot. He was taken to the location, which was dug up with backhoes.
Two men arrested for questioning in the disappearance of DeJesus in 2004 were released from the city jail in 2006 after officers did not find her body during a search of the men’s house.
One of the men was transferred to the Cuyahoga County Jail on unrelated charges, while the other was allowed to go free, police said.
In September 2006, police acting on a tip tore up the concrete floor of the garage and used a cadaver dog to search unsuccessfully for DeJesus’ body. Investigators confiscated 19 pieces of evidence during their search but declined to comment on the significance of the items then.
No Amber Alert was issued the day DeJesus failed to return home from school in April 2004 because no one witnessed her abduction. The lack of an Amber Alert angered her father, Felix DeJesus, who said in 2006 he believed the public will listen even if the alerts become routine.
“The Amber Alert should work for any missing child,” Felix DeJesus said then. “It doesn’t have to be an abduction. Whether it’s an abduction or a runaway, a child needs to be found. We need to change this law.”
Cleveland police said then that the alerts must be reserved for cases in which danger is imminent and the public can be of help in locating the suspect and child.
The impact of fear on the human brain is very powerful: it completely changes the way we process information. “When people are frightened, intelligent parts of the brain cease to dominate”, Dr. Bruce Perry explains, quoted in an article published on theTime magazine website. When faced with a threat,the…
Marc Lamont Hill is the black Liberal Columbia professor who for some reason is always on The O’Reilly Factor. This episode made Hill’s presence even more puzzling, because Bill O’Reilly told him that he looks like someone who sells drugs.
Dang, O’Reilly, having black commentators is supposed to make you look less racist. Unless O’Reilly was talking about Hill’s spiffy pinstripe suit. Like, how could you afford such a nice suitunless you were selling drugs? That’s probably it.
This reflex, also called the bradycardic response, causes babies to hold their breath and open their eyes when submerged, says Jeffrey Wagener, a pediatric pulmonologist in Denver. Parents can get this same reaction by blowing in their baby’s face. The response weakens as a baby gets older, but even adults have it to some degree.
Swedish researchers studying the dive reflex in 21 infants between 4 to 12 months old found that none of them inhaled water or choked during “diving” (being pulled underwater). They also noted that the babies didn’t seem apprehensive about the next dive. In fact, some seemed eager to dive again!
Many infant swim programs rely on the dive reflex to allow babies to “swim” before they’re old enough to hold their breath intentionally.
Brad Paisleyis a sly country singer, a slick electric guitarist and a sometimes repentant West Virginian. “Accidental Racist,” off his newest album, Wheelhouse (you may have read about this song a hundred times in the past 24 hours), begins with Paisley thinking about telling his Starbucks barista that really, the T-shirt he’s wearing with the stars and bars of the Confederate battle flag just means he’s a Lynyrd Skynyrd fan, “caught between southern pride and southern blame.” By the end, LL Cool J has been dragged in to rap a reconciliation as treacly as Paisley’s melody: “If you don’t judge my do-rag / I won’t judge your red flag / If you don’t judge my gold chains / I’ll forget the iron chains.” But nobody is pretending there’s a true end in sight. As Paisley notes himself, Reconstruction was more than a day ago: “We’re still siftin’ through the rubble after a hundred-fifty years.”
As you may have heard, Paisley is sifting through some rubble of his own right now, having been declared a national laughingstock by virtually all commentators coming from outside mainstream country. But then, this condescending dismissal is nothing new. There is a history to “Accidental Racist,” the history of how white Southern musicians — heatedly, implicitly, at times self-servingly and not always successfully — try to talk about who they are in answer to what others dismissively assume they are.
After all, while the Jim Crow South was Anglo supremacist politically, American culture offered a very different dynamic. Ever since white Northerners started putting out their records, Southern whites have represented a backward rural mindset in a national culture of jazzy modernity. Black Southerners, by contrast, were jazz itself: urbanely looking forward, the cradle of hot rhythm. The contrast is evident in the records that launched the hillbilly/country and race/R&B categories. Georgia mill worker Fiddlin’ John Carson‘s “The Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane,” released in 1923 but almost as old as Carson (born 1868), was an 1871 lament for the slave life by a protagonist clutching his dog. Whereas Mamie Smith and Her Jazz Hounds’ brassy 1920 “Crazy Blues,” written by an Atlantan, featured a narrator scoring drugs and shooting a cop. Variety loved jazz but scorned the hillbilly in 1926 as ” ‘poor white trash’ genera. The great majority, probably 95 percent, can neither read nor write English. Theirs is a community all to themselves. [They are] illiterate and ignorant, with the intelligence of morons.”
The “morons” responded in a few different ways in the 1920s, all of which remain as default settings today: glorifying tradition, assimilating through black-identified sounds, selling regional separatism and flying the flag of resistance. The Carter Family emphasized the grainy vernacular authenticity of mountain music. Jimmie Rodgers performed “Blue Yodels” as edgy as “Crazy Blues” on vaudeville stages, even once recording with backing by Louis Armstrong. The Grand Ole Opry, broadcast on radio throughout the South, established Nashville as a place that would target a separate genre of commercial music to a separate audience, both fortifying white Southern sounds and adding to their archaicism and marginality: Roy Acuff’s “Great Speckled Bird,” a key anthem, defended the Bible. The fourth and final answer, outright screw you rebel fury, was rarer, though we can hear it in recently rediscovered Charlie Poole, who snarled, “I was born in Alabama, raised in Tennessee / If you don’t like my peaches then don’t shake my tree” before drinking himself to death.
If anything promised to bury the backward white South issue, it was rockabilly (i.e., hillbilly rock), that signature 1950s moment when Sun Records in Memphis offered Elvis Presley,Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins combining traditionalism, regional enterprise, crossover and a rebel yell in a whole lot of shaking. For young white Southerners, this was a vision of redemption. John Egerton later remembered: “The musicians and the music elicited far more respect and admiration from us than anyone in an adult leadership role. In truth, we marched to a different drummer, or guitar, or brass drum, and the beat was its own reward.” Even Pat Boone, Michael Bertrand notes in Race, Rock and Elvis, declared “racial segregation is sickening” at a time when that was a lot more dangerous than swiping ”Tutti Frutti.”
But as rock ‘n’ roll became Woodstock rock, as the South became the bloody ground of civil rights and Alabama Gov. George Wallace’s credible presidential bids in 1968 and 1972 revealed the extent of white embattlement, the cultural image of the white South returned to bottom — Okies from Muskogee standing by their man. White Southerners faced the same old choices in new times. They could embrace black music and contemporary life and cross over, like former Texan Janis Joplin. They could go bluegrass singing the Carter Family’s now revived “Can the Circle Be Unbroken.” Or they could join the notion of regional separatism to new concepts of identity: In songs by Merle Haggard and Loretta Lynn, that great euphemism, country, became something you could be proud of like James Brown was proud to be black.
This time, however, there was a rebel anthem nobody could ignore. “Sweet Home Alabama” is the tag on the license plate of most cars in Alabama, but it has a strange message for such an emblem once you get past the part about skies that are so blue — why is Ronnie Van Zandt, leader of a group of Floridians, insulting Canada’s Neil Young? Young, in 1970, had updated Variety‘s stance to castigate what he saw as a land of “screaming and bullwhips cracking” in “Southern Man.” Two years later, in “Alabama” — whose line “swing low Alabama” Lynyrd Skynyrd would transmute — he framed heritage as hate: “Banjos playing through the broken glass … Don’t it take you down home?”
Skynyrd, a leader of the Southern rock revival, felt its region deserved better. The too-twisted-to-untangle politics of the second verse seemed to be y’all failed to change the world too: ”In Birmingham they love the governor (boo boo boo) / Now we all did what we could do / Now Watergate does not bother me / Does your conscience bother you? / Tell the truth.” Wallace was going to give them a medal before an aide pointed out the black female backing singers booing him. But the third verse switched happily to culture: “Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers / And they’ve been known to pick a song or two / Lord they get me off so much / They pick me up when I’m feeling blue.”
The Swampers were the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section, whites raised on rockabilly and black R&B who now made soul records for Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett. As the Drive-By Truckers, led by Patterson Hood, son of Swamper bassist David Hood, put it in “Ronnie and Neil,” their great 2001 meditation on this moment, “Meanwhile in North Alabama, Lynyrd Skynyrd comes to town / To record with Jimmy Johnson at Muscle Shoals Sound / And they met some real fine people, not no racist pieces of shit / And they wrote a song about it and that song became a hit.” Young, it turns out, loved the song that bashed him and befriended Van Zandt, said to be wearing a Young T-shirt when the Skynyrd plane crashed in 1977. The Truckers call such unlikely outcomes “Duality of the Southern Thing.”
But that moment of reconciliation, a time of redneck rock and Willie Nelson smoking pot on the roof of Jimmy Carter’s White House, proved equally short-lived. By the Clinton and Bush years, a now solidly white Republican South, bashed as Jesusland or the neo-Confederacy, came to embody retrenchment while the “Dirty South” gave us OutKast and Lil’ Wayne. And the old choices for white Southern musicians remained. Embrace a by now almost cartoonish traditionalism, like the multiplatinum bluegrass soundtrack O Brother Where Art Thou? Shake a fist and put a boot up somebody’s ass: Toby Keith and Hank Williams, Jr. Stay regional with your head down, like George Strait and Reba. Or embrace black music and pop crossover, like Justin Timberlake of Memphis, Tenn., working out an enduring partnership with Norfolk, Va.’s Timbaland.
The surviving members of Lynyrd Skynyrd, now led by Gary Rossington, momentarily gestured in 2012 toward giving up one of their trademarks: performing in front of a version of the Confederate battle flag, sometimes scrambled with the American flag and the red X of Alabama’s state flag. Massive resistance from the fan base led to a quick reversal, accompanied by a tortured statement by Rossington: “Myself, the past and present members (that are from the South), are all extremely proud of our heritage and being from the South. We know what the Dixie flag represents and its heritage; the Civil War was fought over States rights. We still utilize the Confederate (Rebel) flag on stage every night in our shows, we are and always will be a Southern American Rock band, first and foremost. We also utilize the state flag of Alabama and the American flag, ’cause at the end of the day, we are all Americans. I only stated my opinion that the Confederate flag, at times, was unfairly being used as a symbol by various hate groups, which is something that we don’t support the flag being used for. The Confederate flag means something more to us, Heritage not Hate.”
Tradition, rebel spirit, a frustrated desire to reach “all Americans”: One assumes Brad Paisley was reading every word before he wrote and recorded “Accidental Racist.” Paisley is a complicated figure in country music. He’s an avid traditionalist, inducted into the Grand Ole Opry very early in his career after he’d volunteered to play it 36 times, seemingly every free weekend, “because, to me, that recharges me.” He’s also, like longtime Dixie Chick Natalie Maines, married to a Hollywood actor and comfortable in show business outside Nashville. Maines felt bullied out of country music, but Paisley hosts the Country Music Awards and revels in ranging from celebrating the election of Barack Obama (“Welcome to the Future“) to being no less upbeat about schlocky ’80s country (“Old Alabama“). Wheelhouse, the new album from country’s ultimate postmodernist — and how retro is that? — begins with a 1919 snippet of “How Ya Gonna Keep ‘Em Down on the Farm,” employs rhythm loops and offers Charlie Daniels rapping for those less into LL, the comic talents of Monty Python’s Eric Idle and a line about dancing to “My Sharona” at weddings.
None of which quite redeems “Accidental Racist,” though longtime listeners to mainstream country might filter its simpering melody through Garth Brooks’ “What She’s Doing Now” and its overweening ambitions with Brooks’ “We Shall Be Free.” Soft can register as radical if you hear Nashville in full format context. I don’t look to music for policy solutions, just proof that what lives in people’s heads is more complicated than their voting choices might lead you to believe. Paisley can joke about his “Southern Comfort Zone” in a No. 1 hit. Then he can risk some Southern discomfort, too. And the story of “Sweet Home Alabama,” the story of so-called morons and their complicated responses to unambiguous derision, staggers on.
by ERIC WEISBARD
The Sirius documentary official release date is the 22nd of this month, for those who are into UFO’s and extraterrestrial phenomenon might want to check it out. This would be somewhat be the blueprint to full disclosure, that’s if the government of the world ever decides to enact it.
This little known story has met a just conclusion, as Sophia Stewart, African American author of The Matrix will finally receive her just due from the copyright infringement of her original work!!! A six-year dispute has ended involving Sophia Stewart, the Wachowski Brothers, Joel Silver…
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