I’m from a small rural community, and ev’rybody who lived in my neighborhood, if you want to call it that, were relatives.  We called it “the circle,” and our house was there, my grandmother’s house was there, an aun’ an’ uncle who were childless lived there, and (uh) a couple of aunts an’ uncles who had children.  There were five female cousins, an’ in the summertime we hung out together all day long from early until late.  In my grandmother’s yard was a maple tree, and the five of us developed that into our apartment building.  Each of us had a limb, and [small laugh] the less daring cousins took the lo’er limbs, and I and another cousin a year younger than I always went as far to the top as we could, an’ we– we were kinda derisive of those girls who stayed with the lower limbs.  We had front doors an’ back doors.  The front door was the — the limb — were the limbs on the front, that were nearest (um) the boxwood hedge.  And the grass was all worn away in that area.  An’ then the back doorwa–was on the back side of the tree, an’ you could only enter the front an’ exit from the rear.  And that had to be done by swinging off a limb that was fairly high off the ground, and (um) my cousin Belinda and I had no problem with that, but the other girls — that was always somethin’ we had to coax them into doin’.  But still, you entered the front, you left the rear.  We (um) ate our lunches together.  When it was lunchtime — an’ our mothers always cooked lunch in the summertime ’cause they didn’ want to be in the hot kitchen at night.  So we would just take our (um) — go home, an’ we’d load our plates with all the vegetables an’ the cornbread, an’ get our glasses of milk or ice tea or whatever we were havin’, an’ we would head for somebody’s yard, where we would all sit down an’ eat together.  It was just an institution:  lunch in somebody’s yard.  An’ if you wanted to go home for a second helping– sometimes that was quite a little walk, but it was worth it, because that was our thing, having lunch together, every day.  (Um) We gathered at my grandmother’s on Sundays.  All my aunts would get those chairs, form a circle.  (Uh) One crocheted.  (Uh) Most of them just sat an’ talked, an’ we girls hung out for the main part with the women.  (Uh) The men would gather around the fish pond, which was in a side yard.  It was (um) — it was kind of a rock (um) pond that my granddaddy had, had built.  There was a ir’n pipe in the middle, an’ when he went fishin’, he would put his catch in there.  Or he caught a mud turtle, he’d put it in there.  An’ there it stayed until it was time to kill it an’ cook it, whatever it was.  The pipe in the middle had water that sprayed up all the time.  There was a locust tree near there, an’ that’s where we girls picked the leaves an’ the thorns to make the doll clothes out o’ the locust.  It’s where we always ate the watermelon.  We always had to save the rind, an’ we always had to leave some pink on that rind, because my grandmother made watermelon pickles out o’ that rind.  I hated the things.  I thought they were the worst things I ever put in my mouth.  But ever’body else thought watermelon pickles were just a great delicacy.  That was also around the time that ev’rybody grew gladiolias [sic] an’ I thought they were the ugliest flower I’d ever laid my eyes on, but ever’body had gladiolias.  ‘Course now I’ve come to appreciate the gladiolia, but back then I had absolutely no appreciation for it.  It was also where we made (uh) ice cream, (uh) on the front porch.  We made ice cream on Sunday afternoons.  I had an aunt who worked in the general mercantile business that my family owned, an’ she was only home on Sunday, so she baked all day:  homemade rolls an’ cakes.  And so, she made cakes an’ we made ice cream, an’ ever’body wan’ed to crank, of course.  (Um) That was just a big treat, to get to crank that ice cream.  It was jus’ our Sunday afternoon thing, an’ I, I think back on it.  All the aunts would sit around an’ they’d talk, an’ they’d smoke.  Even if you never saw those ladies smoke, any other time o’ the week.  On Sunday afternoon when we all were gathered about in gran- in granny’s yard, they’d have a cigarette.  Just a way of relaxing, I suppose.  The maple tree’s now gone.  In later years, it was thought the maple tree, our apartment building, was shading the house too much an’ causing mildew, so it was removed at some point.  And I don’t, to this day, enjoy lookin’ (uh) into that part o’ the yard. …

Trujillo is tormented by both his incontinence and impotence. Trujillo sexually assaulted Urania. Mix just Urania? Veikkaan et tää on viittaus Löysän homofiliaan. He is unable to achieve an erection with Urania and, in frustration, rapes her with his bare hands. This event is the core of Urania's shame and hatred towards her own father. In addition, it's the cause of Trujillo's repeated anger over the "anemic little bitch" who witnessed his impotence and emotion, as well as the reason he's en route to "sleep" with another girl on the night of his assassination.

'Tuesdays with Morrie' by Mitch Albom

xxx/ellauri450.html on line 321: Samantha Stephens | Bewitched Wiki - Fandom. Vaimoni on noita (Bewitched) on vuosina 1964–1972 tehty yhdysvaltalainen television komediasarja. Sen päähahmoja olivat nuori aviopari, mainosmies Darrin ja kotirouva Samantha Stephens (Elizabeth Montgomery), joka on oman äitinsä tavoin noita.
xxx/ellauri450.html on line 463: Jakobovitsin poliittinen kanta oli konservatiivinen, ja hän oli erityisen läheinen Margaret Thatcherin kanssa. Kun Englannin kirkko arvosteli The Witchin politiikkaa, Immanuel hyökkäsi! Jakobovits väitti, että työnteon tulisi olla pikemminkin kuin sosiaalituen kuin sen tulisi olla hallituksen politiikan ensisijainen tavoite: "Halpa työvoima on parempi kuin ilmainen työapu".
xxx/ellauri450.html on line 494: In his book Dare to Discipline, Dobson advocates the spanking of children as young as fifteen months and up to eight years old when they misbehave, using switches or belts kept on the child's dresser as a reminder of authority. Dobson says corporal punishment should end with the child asking for forgiveness and receiving a hug.
xxx/ellauri451.html on line 179: 1990-luvulla äiti Teresasta julkaistiin kaksi paljastuskirjaa: Christopher Hitchensin The Missionary Position ja Aroup Chatterjeen Mother Teresa: The Final Verdict. Kirjoissa häntä moititaan muun muassa korruptiosta, köyhäinhoidon lääketieteellisesti varsin huonosta tasosta sekä hyvistä suhteista eri maiden diktaattoreihin, kuten Haitin yksinvaltiaaseen Jean-Claude Duvalier’hen. Chatterjee esimerkiksi kertoo, ettei äiti Teresan järjestöllä ole Kalkutassa sairaalaa eikä kaupungissa edes anneta ruoka-apua köyhille. Saattokodissakaan ei ole lääkäriä, kertakäyttöruiskuja eikä jäähdytettyä ruumishuonetta. Samoin Chatterjee kuvaa saattokodin potilaiden hoitoa huonoksi ja väittää, että kuolleille annetaan kaste heidän uskonnostaan ja omasta tahdostaan riippumatta. Järjestön saamia hoitolaitteita ei käytetä oikein tai ne myydään, ja sairasautojen tehtävänä on vain kuljettaa nunnia kaupungilla. Lahjoitusvaroja käytetään pääasiassa uskonnolliseen työhön – kuten pappien kouluttamiseen eikä köyhien auttamiseen. ”Me emme ole sairaanhoitajia, me emme ole lääkäreitä, me emme ole opettajia, me emme ole sosiaalityöntekijöitä. Me olemme uskovaisia, me olemme uskovaisia, me olemme uskovaisia.” ”Mihin kaikki tämä raha on mennyt? Ei ainakaan parantamaan niiden oloja, joille se oli tarkoitettu. Nunnat saattoivat antaa heille lautasellisen keittoa ja jotkut sairaudesta sekä puutteesta kärsivät saivat suojaa ja huolenpitoa. Maailman rikkain sääntökunta ei ole kovinkaan antamishaluinen, koska se haluaa opettaa köyhyyden auvoisuuden. 'Köyhien kärsimys on erittäin kaunista, tämä näyte kurjuuden ja kärsimisen ylväydestä auttaa maailmaa suuresti', sanoi Äiti Teresa.
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