Holy HUAC, Batman. This guy hit for the unAmerican terrorist grand slam. From The New York Times: "The former soldier, Ethan Phelan Melzer, 24, of Louisville, Ky., was a member of the Order of the Nine Angles, or 09A, a 'white supremacist, neo-Nazi, Satanist, and jihadist group that promotes extreme violence to accelerate and cause the demise of Western civilization,." The Order of the Nine Angles is weird, even by the standards of white-supremacist, neo-Nazi, satanic cults. And the group's concept of direct action is very...direct. |
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No matter the dress code. |
| "I don't care that Rocky wasn't in the movie, but they made it like he never existed, which was annoying." |
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When you see the path of a wildfire, it's always a bit mysterious why some places are obliterated while others remain untouched. It's like that in Antakya, Turkey, the city hardest hit by the devastating February 6 earthquake. Sometimes, whole city blocks are destroyed. On other streets, only a single building or two has collapsed while the rest remain cracked but standing. But the city, which has been continuously inhabited since Roman times and was one of the early centers of Christianity, is now largely erased. Immediately following the February disaster, award-winning photographer Peter van Agtmael travelled to the epicenter of the destruction. Nothing could prepare him for what he saw. |
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You spent all that money on the vino, at least store it properly. |
| No need to sacrifice style just to get ECG monitoring on your wrist. |
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It's twilight at the Turning Stone Resort and Casino, and the curtains glow a dim blue. Jim Boeheim stands on his heels at the lectern, the night before his annual charity golf tournament. Weight back, hips supinated, eyes down. The thunderheads are in. The bad weather is jammed in to the west and headed this way. Golf tomorrow is probably off. But this is upstate New York, the Mohawk Valley, east of Syracuse. People know the weather doesn't make any guarantees as to your happiness. Boeheim smiles and addresses the room from the cockpit of his trademark what-are-you-gonna-do shrug. Then he sets about his business for the night. Boeheim's not playing in the tournament anyway. His game has slipped—he doesn't like that one bit. And there's the business of tomorrow: a hearing regarding an accident in which he struck a man on the interstate on his way home from a game last winter, and the man died. |
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