One hears this constantly in the conversation about immigration, the lingering fear that somehow "they" (meaning not just Mexican-Americans and Latinos more generally, but any non-white immigrants) are going to keep moving to this country and at some point become the majority demographically.
Even though whites likely can maintain a disproportionate share of wealth, those numbers will eventually translate into political, economic, and cultural power. And then what? Many whites fear that the result won't be a system that is more just, but a system in which white people become the minority and could be treated as whites have long treated non-whites. This is perhaps the deepest fear that lives in the heart of whiteness. It is not really a fear of non-white people. It's a fear of the depravity that lives in our own hearts: Are non-white people capable of doing to us the barbaric things we have done to them?
After a few rotations, you end up with a lump that resembles a red blood cell
We're frequent burrito rollers in our house. I'm going to make my own tortillas! Flour tortillas from scratch, redux.
It was June 1966, five years before he won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Neruda, a member of the Chilean Communist Party, was to speak at the IDB, but it was the height of the Cold War and anticommunist feeling ran deep among the bank's employees. The IDB president was forced to stand "in the doorway of the bank and, despite the protests and sirens, announced through a bullhorn that the ceremony would take place at the Hotel Mayflower." There, Castedo introduced the poet, and the reading was "a colossal success."
The Washington Post reports on the discovery of a long-lost recording of Pablo Neruda reading in Washington, D.C.
I am such a dumb modern American, living in my suburb, driving my car to work and back, in a constructed environment that exists mainly to serve the exigencies of human lives as they have manifested in just the past 50 years or so. Much of it is shit. No, shit is too good a word for it. At least shit is real, stinky and animal. These buildings that lack character, these ugly roads, this language debased into commerce, I don't know what to call it that can communicate my distaste for it.
...It turned into a deep meditation on race. It pisses the black girls off because I start with the white girl verset—they're like 'Fuck you! How can you stand up for those bitches!' I'm like, 'I'm not—I'm just saying it as it is.' Then the second verse is about the black girls that don't fit in. Doing the kind of music I do, I always meet the one black girl in the room who's into, like, the Cure and Atmosphere; she'll be really cute, and all the thug guys at her school wish she listened to Tupac. The black girls that act white are still dark-skinned white girls, because they're white girls on the inside, and vice versa. That's America.
randomWalks listens to 'Dark Skinned White Girls': Murs - Murray's Revenge - MusicRemedy.com.
How can you pilot a spacecraft if you can't find your way around your own apartment? It's just like retaking a movie shot until you get it right. And you will begin to feel yourself in a film moving with ease and speed. But don't try for speed at first. Try for relaxed smoothness taking as much time as you need to perform an action. If you drop an object, break and object, spill anything, knock painfully against anything, galvanically clutch an object, pay particular attention to the retake. You may find out why and forestall a repeat performance.
Meme, countermeme: Weblogs not dead yet!
randomWalks digs Dodging Invisible Rays.
Science will be responsible for the climactic overthrow of the superstition of materialism.