Domestic terrorist Terry Nichols wants more than a dozen guns seized in the investigation of the Oklahoma City bombing returned.
He says they had nothing to do with the bombing, and he wants his family to have them for the money the weapons are worth.
From his maximum security prison cell in Colorado, Nichols said he wants 13 guns in that currently are in federal custody, including handguns, rifles and a shotgun, to be turned over to one of his two ex-wives or to his sister.
The Feds, of course, disagree:
Federal authorities say the guns should not be released from FBI custody because someone might use them in a copycat crime. Instead, the feds want to destroy the guns and give Nichols credit for their fair market value of $7,000.
Not that the credit would do him or his family much good:
It would go toward the $14.5 million he owes in restitution.
“The driving force behind this transaction is growth. This is an opportunity to create value by combining the distribution and strengths of Marriott and Starwood, enhancing our competitiveness in a quickly evolving marketplace.”
This is pure boardroom-approved corporate-speak, full of syllables and buzzwords, signifying nothing. Yet somehow, “value” is going to be created.
Hint: In corporate mergers, the “value” most often created is the reduction in expense due to reductions in force. Expect rather a lot of people to be kicked to the curb; perhaps they won’t get in the way of valet parking.
Taylor Swift, the woman, has shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes and receives gushing letters from fans all over the world. As it turns out, so does Taylor Swift the man.
Taylor Swift the man is a professional photographer who lives in Seattle and every day must move through the world shouldering the burden of sharing a name with a famous pop star. His online identity is pretty much ruined: His photography website won’t be surfacing in Google results anytime soon, and he had to stop using his email address (firstname.lastname@example.org) for obvious reasons. The baristas at Starbucks even make fun of him when he gives them his name!
Nor will “Taylor A. Swift” work: he’s Adam, she’s Alison. And anyway, at thirty, he had the name first. Not that this matters a great deal.
An R&B singer named Jesse Braham, who records as Jesse Graham, claims in the suit, reported by multiple media such as CBS News, the Verge, and New York’s Daily News, that Swift stole lyrics for her hit from one of his songs, “Haters Gonna Hate,” in 2013.
The suit asserts that lyrics of Swift’s chorus (“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play / And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate”) are similar to his lyrics, “Haters gonna hate / players gonna play.”
Plaintiff gonna lose the first time the defense plays this song from 2001:
Legislators in governments based on the Westminster system enjoy parliamentary privilege, which means that, while in the House, they can speak their minds without the fear of being sued for slander. But to retain some modicum of decorum during debates, the Speaker of the House has the authority to rein in politicians who use language deemed unparliamentary, asking foul-mouthed lawmakers to withdraw their comments or face discipline.
Canadians, by reputation anyway, are generally big on decorum. But this exchange in Parliament in 2004 suggests that they’re also not given to mealy-mouthedness:
Betty Hinton (Kamloops, Thompson and Highland Valleys): I would ask hon. members to please remain calm. I realize that this is an emotional issue. I would ask the hon. member to try to stay within the confines of parliamentary language.
David Anderson (Cypress Hills—Grasslands): Madam Speaker, I have a question. Was the unparliamentary language the word “incompetent” or was it the word “corrupt”?
I note purely in passing that Mrs Hinton and Mr Anderson, both of whom represented ridings in British Columbia, have since left Parliament, though not over whatever incident precipitated that exchange.
I did manage to wring a chuckle out of myself this morning. Someone had posted a ginormous replica of Elsa’s ice-castle from Frozen that was for sale at Costco or somewhere. And I remarked that I needed one in life size, and on the side of a remote mountain (and with a sewing room and a library — it already has a grand piano in it). And it would be my Fortress of Solitude.
Which I typed first as Fortress of Solidude.
I imagine a Fortress of Solidude would have more sports-themed decor and probably a beer fridge. (Sadly, I can’t think of a “lady” equivalent of “Solidude.” But yeah, sometimes I really want somewhere extremely remote from everyone and everything else where I can go and that has everything I need…)
I suppose I could try to argue that “fortress” is actually the feminine version of “fort,” but I don’t think I could get away with that one.
I’ve had Taylor Swift’s 1989 on CD for a while now, but it occurred to me this weekend that I’d never bothered to paste it into iTunes. The mighty Apple machinery jumped into import mode, and it recognized the album, of course, but:
Or, alternatively, some other folk. Then again, what can you do? It’s a machine. Importers gonna import.