pictures

**tomt** · December 22nd, 2019, 08:39 PM

Gretsch G6128T-TVP Power Jet with Bigsby and TV Jones Black | Reverb

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Scientists Develop Liquid Fuel That Can Store The Sun's Energy For Up to 18 Years

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MI-477-A/MI-1425-A

**tomt** · December 23rd, 2019, 04:33 AM

Oops!

**tomt** · December 23rd, 2019, 10:40 AM

There is merit, at times, to thinking about what might have been. Counterfactual history can help us see what our factual history has actually told us.

So reflect for a second on the campaign of 2016. One Republican candidate channeled the actual grievances and anxieties of many Americans, while the others kept up their zombie politics and economics. One candidate was prepared to say that the Iraq War was a catastrophe, that mass immigration needed to be controlled, that globalized free trade was devastating communities and industries, that we needed serious investment in infrastructure, that Reaganomics was way out of date, and that half the country was stagnating and in crisis.

That was Trump. In many ways, he deserves credit for this wake-up call. And if he had built on this platform and crafted a presidential agenda that might have expanded its appeal and broadened its base, he would be basking in high popularity and be a shoo-in for reelection. If, in a resilient period of growth, his first agenda item had been a major infrastructure bill and he’d combined it with tax relief for the middle and working classes, he could have crafted a new conservative coalition that might have endured. If he could have conceded for a millisecond that he was a newbie and that he would make mistakes, he would have been forgiven for much. A touch of magnanimity would have worked wonders. For that matter, if Trump were to concede, even now, that his phone call with President Zelensky of Ukraine went over the line and he now understands this, we would be in a different world.

The two core lessons of the past few years are therefore: (1) Trumpism has a real base of support in the country with needs that must be addressed, and (2) Donald Trump is incapable of doing it and is such an unstable, malignant, destructive narcissist that he threatens our entire system of government. The reason this impeachment feels so awful is that it requires removing a figure to whom so many are so deeply bonded because he was the first politician to hear them in decades. It feels to them like impeachment is another insult from the political elite, added to the injury of the 21st century. They take it personally, which is why their emotions have flooded their brains. And this is understandable.

But when you think of what might have been and reflect on what has happened, it is crystal clear that this impeachment is not about the Trump agenda or a more coherent version of it. It is about the character of one man: his decision to forgo any outreach, poison domestic politics, marinate it in deranged invective, betray his followers by enriching the plutocracy, destroy the dignity of the office of president, and turn his position into a means of self-enrichment. It’s about the personal abuse of public office: using the presidency’s powers to blackmail a foreign entity into interfering in a domestic election on his behalf, turning the Department of Justice into an instrument of personal vengeance and political defense, openly obstructing investigations into his own campaign, and treating the grave matter of impeachment as a “hoax” while barring any testimony from his own people.

Character matters. This has always been a conservative principle but one that, like so many others, has been tossed aside in the convulsions of a cult. And it is Trump’s character alone that has brought us to this point. That’s why the editorial in the Evangelical journal Christianity Today is so clarifying. Finally — finally — an Evangelical outlet telling the truth in simple language:

[President Trump] has hired and fired a number of people who are now convicted criminals. He himself has admitted to immoral actions in business and his relationship with women, about which he remains proud. His Twitter feed alone — with its habitual string of mischaracterizations, lies, and slanders — is a near perfect example of a human being who is morally lost and confused … To the many Evangelicals who continue to support Mr. Trump in spite of his blackened moral record, we might say this: Remember who you are and whom you serve.

It is this profound immorality that made this week inevitable. Yes, inevitable. Put a man of this sort — utterly unprepared, utterly corrupt, and with no political or governing experience at all — into the Oval Office, and impeachment, if there is any life left in our democracy, is inevitable.

Yes, some partisan Democrats were out to destroy him from the very beginning and have merely been seeking a pretext ever since. Yes, some have overreached in their Russia fixation. And I’m not going to deny the troubling facts outlined in the Inspector General’s report on the FBI’s dangerously sloppy FISA requests when the Russia question first emerged in summer 2016. These are parts of the truth that demand inquiry and reflection. But they are largely irrelevant to the question in front of us.

The impeachment was inevitable because this president is so profoundly and uniquely unfit for the office he holds, so contemptuous of the constitutional democracy he took an oath to defend, and so corrupt in his core character that a crisis in the conflict between him and the rule of law was simply a matter of time. When you add to this a clear psychological deformation that can produce the astonishing, deluded letter he released this week in his own defense or the manic performance at his Michigan rally Wednesday night, it is staggering that it has taken this long. The man is clinically unwell, preternaturally corrupt, and instinctively hostile to the rule of law. In any other position, in any other field of life, he would have been fired years ago and urged to seek medical attention with respect to his mental health.

I fear the consequences of impeachment. I fear the resentment it might stir up, the divides it could deepen, the rancor it will unleash. But I fear more profoundly the consequences of not impeaching. And there is something clarifying — something that pierces the strongman atmosphere that now dominates Washington — about the sheer fact of it. We live in a republic whose forms have not completely degenerated into meaninglessness. Despite near-insane attempts to describe a constitutional process as a “coup,” despite senior senators declaring they will violate their oath to be an impartial juror in the forthcoming trial, despite machinations from Mitch McConnell that he intends to turn the trial into a damp squib, the Constitution’s mechanisms just worked. We now need to believe in these mechanisms, in the cooling process of constitutional norms, which are now in operation. The Speaker should not step on her own smart strategy and play games with the articles of impeachment. Send them to the Senate now. Then hold the Senate responsible for what it does with them.

And enough of the world-weary cynicism that all of this is futile! It is, in fact, deeply regenerative of the norms of accountability that we have allowed to erode too easily for too long. A Senate trial could further illuminate the damning fact pattern. Around 50 percent of the public already backs this process. Some Republican senators may wish to behave according to the Constitution and the rule of law — and if that gives us a small majority for impeachment, if nowhere near enough to remove him, that helps cauterize this experiment in one-man rule for the record. An already-impeached president may have more of an uphill fight to get reelected. There are glimmers of hope still around.

We can’t know the future. But we can know our duty. The only way past this is through it. And this is not a depressing truth. We can keep this republic. We can isolate this presidency as a cautionary tale. We can refuse to be gaslit. We can become Americans again — in the restless, querulous refusal to be any tyrant’s plaything and any con man’s mark.

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Yet some people will say anything,

As revealed in the above remarks.

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The Doom of Ancient Egypt Might Befall Earth Soon, Archaeologist Warns - Sputnik International

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Boy, 6, dies from meningitis B after mum told he’s ‘milking it’

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Sleeping dragon no more: China about to replace US as strongest naval power and Washington is too late to stop it — RT World News

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Fake news isn't the real problem – news is: One of the world's leading internet researchers explains what went wrong - Haaretz Magazine - Haaretz - Israel News | Haaretz.com

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https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/art...zen.yandex.com

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQ3FnTRvc_E&t=324s

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https://sputniknews.com/world/201909...climatologist/

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https://sputniknews.com/environment/...tion-concerns/

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Quite possibly the greatest crime

fighter in USA history

https://spartacus-educational.com/JFKskolnick.htm

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTXZv...4s&app=desktop

**tomt** · December 23rd, 2019, 07:47 PM

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amend for arnold - Google Search

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Soyuz Carrying Italian Satellites Launches from French Guiana - Video - Sputnik International

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https://www.google.com/search?q=%D0%..._AUoAHoECAAQAw

**tomt** · December 25th, 2019, 04:22 AM

“Waiting for Dailies,” 1961–67.
Photographs by Dennis Hopper
Dennis Hopper’s photography archive—the Hopper Art Trust—resides in an office on the top floor of a squat building on the Sunset Strip, in Los Angeles. Its neighbors are insurance and mortgage offices, and for the most part it shares their appearance: filing cabinets here, a desk there, a wall of bookshelves with plastic binders. The binders are filled with contact sheets containing upward of eighteen thousand images that Hopper created with his Nikon F camera between 1961 and 1967, when he was just another actor with a stalled-out career, in the years leading up to “Easy Rider,” which he starred in and directed. That movie, released in 1969, would make him something more than a Hollywood star; for a time, he was a pop-culture deity. And, for whatever reason, it also turned him into a former photographer. With a few exceptions (including an ill-advised Hustler shoot, in the eighties), Hopper rarely picked up a camera again for the rest of his life.

Hopper died, of cancer, in 2010, at the age of seventy-four. Since then, his daughter Marin Hopper has been an energetic steward of his photographic legacy. She has helped to shepherd gallery shows, museum exhibitions, and the publication of a succession of compact monographs—“The Lost Album,” “Drugstore Camera,” “Colors: The Polaroids.” To be clear: Hopper was no mere celebrity shutterbug. He shot album covers, gallery announcements, and images for Vogue. In 1963, Artforum saluted his work with the headline “Welcome brave new images!” His photograph “Double Standard”—an L.A. streetscape seen through a car windshield—is in the Museum of Modern Art’s permanent collection.

“Livestock, Sons of Katie Elder,” 1965.
Whatever the occasion or assignment, Hopper always seemed to be shooting for himself, satisfying an insatiable eye. A new collection, “In Dreams” (Damiani), edited by the photographer Michael Schmelling, to whom Marin Hopper granted unlimited access to the archive, zeroes in on the idea of Hopper as an idiosyncratic, compulsive collector of visual experience. Schmelling culled about ninety photographs from the Hopper Trust, most of which have never been published, and which have the spirited, unfussy feel of outtakes. In a brief essay, Schmelling writes that he made his selections around the notion of how Hopper lived “day to day,” compiling a diaristic sequence of images with the aim of “integrating his roles as photographer, husband, and actor.”

“Girl in Rear-view Mirror,” 1961–67.
Hopper received the Nikon as a gift on his twenty-fifth birthday, in May, 1961, from the actress Brooke Hayward, who would become his first wife. Her father, the agent and producer Leland Hayward, was a camera nut, and Brooke, whose mother was the actress Margaret Sullavan, paid three hundred and fifty-one dollars for it. “Dennis had the greatest eye of anyone I’ve ever known,” Hayward told me for a story I wrote last year about her marriage to Hopper. “He wore the camera around his neck all day long.”

“The Factory (Gerard Malanga),” 1963.
The couple married that fall. In the spring of 1963, the two bought a house at 1712 North Crescent Heights Boulevard, in the Hollywood Hills, and went about filling it with Warhols, Lichtensteins, Rauschenbergs, and campy Art Nouveau goodies. The house became a gathering place for an indelible cultural moment, a way station for Andy Warhol, Terry Southern, Ike and Tina Turner, and Black Panthers.

“Jane Fonda (with garter),” 1965.
There’s an old adage that great subjects make a great photographer. Hopper, overstimulated by everything that the decade had to offer, enjoyed a certain ease of access. He shot Martin Luther King, Jr., Robert Rauschenberg, the Byrds, Allen Ginsberg, Claes Oldenburg, Timothy Leary, John Wayne, Paul Newman, Phil Spector, the Grateful Dead. He and his camera were at the March on Washington, the riots on the Sunset Strip, and the Human Be-In. The contact sheets at the Hopper Art Trust, where I spent a few days recently, suggest that the actor was supernaturally everywhere in the sixties, from Warhol’s Factory to post-riot Watts to the studio where the Rolling Stones happened to be recording “Paint It, Black.”

“Brooke Hayward (In Dreams),” 1963.

“Margarita,” 1961–67.
But, in the pages of “In Dreams,” celebrity and history are incidental. Terry Southern is just a guy smoking a cigarette. The gentleman with his back turned, inspecting a wall of paintings, turns out to be Jasper Johns. The all-American bride hiking up her wedding dress to adjust her garter is Jane Fonda. And those whiplashing dancers having the time of their lives? Look really closely and you’ll see the Byrds in the background, playing one of their landmark shows, in 1965, at Ciro’s, on the Sunset Strip.

“Joint,” 1961–67.
Many of the photographs that Schmelling selected are encoded with Hopper’s preoccupations. The picture of a plastic box containing a joint is a nice bit of stoner fun, but it also evokes the glass-cube sculptures of Larry Bell, another of the artists whose work Hopper and Hayward collected (and whom Hopper photographed). A neon Motel Alaska sign, with a glowing index finger illuminating a nocturnal streetscape, echoes a Duchampian credo that Hopper was fond of, that the artist of the future will “point his finger at something and say it’s art.” Pointing fingers recur in the tender image of two hands—one an adult’s, one a toddler’s—hovering over a mud puddle, a moving study of Hayward and Marin.

“Kissing Booth,” 1961–67.

“Brooke Hayward (in grocery store),” 1961–67.
Hopper was tight-lipped about his photographic inspirations, though he occasionally gave a shout out to Harry Callahan or Aaron Siskind. He befriended a few photographers who may have had a hands-on impact on his work: John Swope, William Claxton, Julian Wasser. The curator Walter Hopps saw Hopper as a kind of American-vernacular Cartier-Bresson, and Hopper did love, as he put it, “the idea of the decisive moment”—when subject, action, and composition coalesce in the viewfinder like lightning in a bottle. “My lens is fast and my eye is keen,” Hopper boasted to Terry Southern, in an article in Vogue, from 1965. The model and writer Leon Bing, who posed for Hopper, told me that Hopper backed it up: “There is that instant when a photographer must take the picture—and not all do. He never missed.”

“Terry Southern (1712 Crescent Heights),” 1965.
The Hopper gaze is casual, offhand; if it’s possible for photographs to be conversational, then Hopper’s were. As the poet Michael McClure wrote of Hopper’s work, “the Hollywood here is not afraid of friendship, love, or sentiment.” When I asked Jane Fonda about being photographed by Hopper, she said she loved that he “knew how juxtapositions told a story and how to capture that.” Hopper balked at the notion that there was anything overtly cinematic in his photography, but it’s hard not to see a French New Wave jazziness in it.

“Set Photographer (Cool Hand Luke),” 1967.

“Walking with George Herms,” 1961–67.
For all their conviviality, Hopper’s photographs were by-products of an anxious period in his life. “I sat in a chair, and, uh, watched a fly dying on the wall,” he recalled in an interview, in 1970. “And I thought if I could just help that fly find an air current, that led to a window.” In the mid-sixties, the fly was Hopper, a Hollywood player going nowhere. Photography was his air current, a creative updraft. He was desperate not to be a washed-up teen actor from the fifties. He was terrified of becoming Rick Dalton; he wanted to be Robert Frank.

VIDEO FROM THE NEW YORKER
Crossword Puzzles with a Side of Millennial Socialism

Wim Wenders said of Hopper that if “he’d only been a photographer, he’d be one of the great photographers of the twentieth century.” As successive collections of Hopper’s archived photographs become available, it becomes easier to say that Hopper was, at the least, a compelling, important, and weirdly omnipresent chronicler of his times. After “Easy Rider” and amid divorce, Hopper put away his Nikon and moved on. “I was trying to forget,” he later said. “These photographs represented failure to me.” The feeling you get from “In Dreams” is not of failure at all but of the dreamlike ecstasy Hopper found in image-making—the realization, as he put it, “that art is everywhere, in every corner that you choose to frame and not just ignore.”

Dennis Hopper’s Quiet Vision of Nineteen-Sixties Hollywood | The New Yorker

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Kim Jong-un Inaugurates North Korea's New Town of Samjiyon - Sputnik International

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**tomt** · December 26th, 2019, 06:17 AM

https://scontent-lax3-1.cdninstagram...29&oe=5EAC8000

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Hazana Anderson - Google Search

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Ukraine, China & 2024 retirement plans: Key takeaways from Putin's 15th annual press chat — RT World News

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https://m.vk.com/id322916575?from=re...hotos322916575

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Rockefellers try to hide their crimes

Mel Rockefeller Memo to Four Generals in the Trump Administration – The Hidden Tax on Humanity

**tomt** · December 26th, 2019, 08:01 AM

Altec Lansing VIT Concert Horn Speakers - electronics - by owner - sale

**tomt** · December 26th, 2019, 07:35 PM

61788344 683724352087176 564952467822897754 n? nc htscontent lax3 1cdninstagramcom& nc cat100& nc ohc qdczjqHf94AX9sYrUv&ampoh2c319828fff5865c25c4c4933f41f9bb&ampoe5EA7374C

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Used.
Limited testing.
Given the complexity of some units, we are not able to test each function.
Partially tested: Powers on, SPEAKERS: A&B, Bass, Treble Volume, Balance, Loudness, Mode & Tape, all these functions were tested & working (NO FURTHER TESTING).
Meter lights do NOT work.
Nothing else tested.
Needs cleaning.
Has signs of usage possible: scratches, scuffs, markings, dents, bends, chips, nicks, stains, stickers, goo, cracks, rust, dust, engraving, writing, blemishes, fading, discolorations, etc (see pictures for more details).
The unit may be missing other parts or may have other issues we are not aware of.
Only what is pictured is being sold.
SOLD AS IS.
**ALL SALES ARE FINAL & NO RETURNS**.

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Just think of the US’ Endless Wars as a constant string of increasingly derivative Hollywood sequels — RT Op-ed