From Amy Lam’s article "Nicki Minaj’s Unapologetic Sexuality is Not a Crisis":
When Minaj received negative feedback after releasing the cover art for “Anaconda,” she took to her Instagram to highlight the inconsistent and—let’s be honest—racist reactions to her displaying her own body. She wrote“Angelic. Acceptable. Lol” alongside photos of white Sports Illustrated models, topless and arching their backs, with their barely-covered bottoms on the cover of the magazine.
When Lady Gaga uses her body as a form of expression, she’s an “artist.” When Nicki Minaj owns her own hypersexuality, she’s slut-shamed.
Where was the outcry against Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” when she laid about nude on a puffy pink cloud, with a small piece of fluff covering her bum? Did folks call Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” a piece of pornography when she salaciously licked a sledgehammer and writhed around naked on an actual wrecking ball? Did Jennifer Aniston face disparaging criticism for her strip scenes in last year’s We’re The Millers? Nope, they asked her how she got in shape for the role.
as a parent it is your god damn fucking job to look after your children stop treating your children like they are burdens
you signed up to have a child, the child did not sign up to have you as a parent
keep this in mind. do not expect your children to immediately give you back all the things you give them. they are children. love them. cherish them. treat them well.
Of course, owners’ refusal to maintain their buildings was nothing new. From the beginning, professional slumlords like Forman, Balin, Berland, Berke, and Wolf had been loath to make repairs. Forman was a regular in housing court when the Chicago Daily News investigated it in 1963; he remained so when he Chicago Tribune conducted its investigation in 1973. That year, in addition to contesting over forty code violations charged against him personally, Forman appeared in housing court about four times a day to get continuances on code violations against Berland, Wolf, or other clients.
However, O’Hara noted a growing trend among slum landlords: to “avoid paying gas bills until your tenants freeze.” Leaving one’s building without heat during Chicago’s winters was of a different order from refusing to fix faulty wiring or broken windows. It indicated a new phase in their operation, in which the goal was not to get money from tenants but to force them out altogether. For tenants, the results could be lethal. After her nineteen-month-old son, Scott, died of pneumonia, Mary Miller old reporters: “We had to huddle together around the stove and pile on coats and blankets. But it didn’t do any good.” Every time she complained, “the landlady would say ‘If you don’t like it get out.’” In the winter of 1969, three babies died over a three-week period because their West Side slum apartments had gone unheated. Their deaths confirmed the insight of the Chicago Tribune’s investigative reporters, who noted that, “when someone has to die in this shabby shell game played for money, it is usually a child.”
Slumlords’ eagerness to ride their buildings of tenants was part of yet another profit-making scheme. It involved the manipulation of the Illinois Fair Plan, which was established in the aftermath of the 1968 riots to ensure that black neighborhoods were covered by fire insurance. As a result of the Fair Plan, buildings in Lawndale were now insurable for the same amount as those on the city’s North Side Gold Coast. Slumlords realized that they could insure their rotting, neglected structures for twenty to thirty times what the buildings were worth. Of course, as one observer noted, they “aren’t worth anything unless you burn them”—but if you didn’t mind arson, then “even an abandoned building could be turned into a $60,000 windfall.
Al Berland didn’t mind. By August 1970, fires had broken out in forty-seven of his buildings and he had collected $350,000 in insurance. In one case, a tenant saved the lives of his four children by dropping them one at a time from a second floor window. In another, Berland and Wolf were observed entering a property they owned at 715 South Lawndale “carefully” carrying some liquid in a bucket. The two men left “in a hurry” and shortly thereafter the building went up in flames. Later that day the police found Berland at his paint store, still wearing the clothing described by a witness. The witness later withdrew form the case “after his car caught fire mysteriously in front of his home.” Chicago police sergeant John Moore, an arson expert, sad that in his department Berland was known as “a torch.
Beryl Satter, Family Properties: How the Struggle Over Race and Real Estate Transformed Chicago and Urban America
The book goes on to detail numerous other speculators’ prolific arson of their own buildings with people inside, but I think the utter disregard and viscous contempt for Black life at work here has been made apparent.
I love full time pot heads because they’re so willing to share.
- A lot of Natasha’s mysterious reputation around SHIELD stems from the fact that she sometimes doesn’t know how to end a conversation so she’ll dive away Batman style when the other person’s back is turned.
- Whenever Natasha walks into a room, she immediately ranks everyone in it from most to least threatening, then favorite to least favorite. For the second list, no one can match Tony’s ability to go from a respectable placing to dead last in the span of one sentence.
- She’ll watch any movie with “shark” in the title, provided the movie is also objectively terrible.
- Natasha loves emojis.
- Natasha genuinely enjoyed spending time with Pepper while investigating Tony, but once her mission was over, Natasha immediately disappeared to avoid the awkwardness of the “so hey, I was undercover and everything I told you about myself was a lie” conversation. Then Maria starts working at Stark Industries and arranges power lunches that seem a lot like the three women getting mimosas and complaining about their day, and now Natasha and Pepper have a standing dinner date every time they’re in the same city.
- She changes her hair so often for the novel joy of being able to choose what she looks like. Natasha has liked all her hairstyles, except that one perm which we don’t talk about or acknowledge existed, Clint, don’t you dare show those pictures to Steve.
- She knows it’s childish, but Natasha identifies to an uncomfortable degree with any robot character who seems to be programmed to experience emotion, especially if the humans around them doubt the robot really feels anything. (It’s not like she’s written anything down about it, she’s not that sad, but for the past decade Natasha has been working on this version of Blade Runner where it’s this replicant who’s the hero, and she ends up escaping Earth and heads off to explore alien planets with a mech-shark she stole from the Tyrell Corporation, it sounds dumb but it’s actually very exciting and oh god, Natasha is that sad.)
- Once Natasha left her phone on Sam’s kitchen table. When she came back two minutes later, Sam and Steve had managed to take eighty-two selfies. She kept them all. It’s embarrassing how happy they make her.
- But it’s more embarrassing to Sam and Steve when Natasha shows the selfies to Maria and Pepper at lunch, and that makes Natasha pretty happy too.
U.S. attorneys declined 50 percent of the Native American cases deferred to them between 2005 and 2009, of which 67 percent were sexual abuse and rape related, according to the Native American Bar Association. [source]
What about the tribes?
They don’t have jurisdiction over cases involving non-Indians, and non-Indians are over 80% of the perpetrators