For the first time since word spread about problems in her marriage , Sharon Osbourne opened up today during a segment on The Talk . “We’re not getting divorced,” Osbourne said of her and her husband of over three decades “However, am I happy? No. Am I upset? Yes I am. I’m devastated right now.” Ozzy Osbourne recently admitted that he began using drugs and alcohol again after years of sobriety and that he’s been clean now for over a month. Sharon says she was taken aback when she learned of the extent to which Ozzy had fallen off the wagon: “I never knew that he was using prescription drugs. I knew he was drinking occasionally, but I didn’t realize the extent. He said he’s been using alcohol and prescription drugs for the last year and a half. And that he’s been an a– and he’s been in a very dark place. That’s true. That’s very true.” Let’s all hope Ozzy gets his act together and these two find their way back to each other.
Sometimes I wonder how many Candice Swanepoel posts I can do in a year before the site turns into a Candicee Swanepoel fan site, because I hate to admit, I am a fan….but not for any real reason other than the fact that she gets half naked, she isn’t fat, and she’s got a good face….I mean that’s the extent of what I know about her…I’m not a weirdo who tries to get her at her core and really understand what brought her from AIDS ridden South Africa to America, but I will assume it was blood diamonds, or something even more horrible and corrupt….Victoria’s Secret…. That said, here are some pics of her in lingerie, cuz that’s her job, and a big reason why we like her, and the only reason we know she exists…
If you could distill essence de chat into a few well-chosen pen strokes, you’d end up with something like Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol’s superb animated adventure A Cat in Paris , a picture whose modest demeanor only underscores how expressive and imaginative it is. This isn’t the kind of big-budget animation we get from the major studios: It’s richness of another sort, a feat of hand-drawn animation that relies on spare but succinct character design and a dazzling sense of perspective — rather than a volley of cultural in-jokes — to tell its story. The picture sparkles, but in the nighttime way — its charms have a noirish gleam. Most of the picture does, in fact, take place at night, beginning and ending with the nocturnal Parisian perambulations of a wily striped cat named Dino. Dino “belongs” to a little girl named Zoe. He pledges his devotion by bringing her little gifts from his nighttime hunting jaunts. Actually, he keeps bringing her the same gift: One dangly, limp dead lizard after another, but Zoe is delighted by them and saves them all in a little box, much to the annoyance of her new nanny. What almost no one knows is that Dino doesn’t go out at night just for fun, or simply out of a feline sense of duty. He’s also a cat burglar, assisting a sneaky but noble local jewel thief, Nico, on his midnight rounds. The plot becomes more complicated — to the extent that it’s complicated at all — by the fact that Zoe’s mother, Jeanne, is a detective with the Paris police. She’s consumed with concern for Zoe, who hasn’t spoken since her father was killed by a square-shouldered, square-headed thug named Victor Costa. She’s also riven with grief, and she’s determined to avenge her husband’s death by catching Costa, who, it turns out, has a new scheme: He plans to steal a precious, valuable and huge antiquity, the Colossus of Nairobi, a hulking totem that’s being brought to the city for an exhibit. Meanwhile, though, Jeanne has peskier problems: Jewels keep disappearing from various households in the city, thanks to Nico and an accomplice with four silent, velvet paws. A Cat in Paris is being released in the states in two versions, an English-language one (in which Marcia Gay Harden, Anjelica Huston and Matthew Modine provide some of the key voices) and a subtitled French one (which features, in the role of the nanny, the voice of actress Bernadette Lafont, who, for those who keep track of such things, played Marie in The Mother and the Whore ). If you’re bringing children and are lucky enough to have bilingual ones, I recommend the French version, since it is simply more French; to hear the English language pouring forth from these characters’ mouths feels just a little wrong. But the visuals of A Cat in Paris resonate in any language, and it doesn’t hurt that the picture features a stunning, stealthy Bernard Hermann-style orchestral score by Serge Bessett. (The music in A Cat in Paris is finer and more resonant than that of any live-action picture I’ve seen this year.) This is Felicioli and Gagnol’s first full-length feature — it was a 2012 Academy Award nominee — and it clocks in at a very trim but visually rich 70 minutes. The filmmakers’ drawings are both meticulous and highly stylized: They render the rooftops of Paris (what is it about city rooftops in general, and Paris rooftops in particular?) as a dusky, velvety patchwork, an invitation to adventure — they take great delight in the city’s highs and lows, in the contrast between tall and short. Their palette features an array of oranges, from muted citrus tones to deep sienna, and lots of deep, nighttime turquoise. And they dot the picture with small but inventive visual touches: When a character dons night goggles, the figures around him are rendered as stark white lines on a flat black surface. And the gargoyles of Notre Dame feature in the climactic chase sequence, a bit of travelogue whimsy that’s nonetheless dramatically gripping, perhaps even a little dizzying for those who are hinky about heights — it doesn’t matter that you can’t really fall off a cartoon building. And then there’s Dino, an utterly bewitching arrangement of orange and chocolate triangles (with a pink one for a nose). Dino isn’t a cute cartoon cat — there’s an element of mystery and devilishness about him, suggesting that Felicioli and Gagnol understand true feline spirit. They also understand feline loyalty, which is a contradiction in terms only to those who don’t understand (to the extent that understanding is possible) these elusive, magnetic creatures. Dino comforts the distressed Zoe by visiting her in bed, sliding under her arms as if he could pretend she’d never notice. And in a way, she doesn’t notice — somehow, suddenly, Dino is simply there , a presence who changes, only ever so slightly, the nature of the room around him. That’s the quiet province of cats everywhere — not just those who are lucky enough to live in the animated city of Paris. Follow Stephanie Zacharek on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
If you could distill essence de chat into a few well-chosen pen strokes, you’d end up with something like Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol’s superb animated adventure A Cat in Paris , a picture whose modest demeanor only underscores how expressive and imaginative it is. This isn’t the kind of big-budget animation we get from the major studios: It’s richness of another sort, a feat of hand-drawn animation that relies on spare but succinct character design and a dazzling sense of perspective — rather than a volley of cultural in-jokes — to tell its story. The picture sparkles, but in the nighttime way — its charms have a noirish gleam. Most of the picture does, in fact, take place at night, beginning and ending with the nocturnal Parisian perambulations of a wily striped cat named Dino. Dino “belongs” to a little girl named Zoe. He pledges his devotion by bringing her little gifts from his nighttime hunting jaunts. Actually, he keeps bringing her the same gift: One dangly, limp dead lizard after another, but Zoe is delighted by them and saves them all in a little box, much to the annoyance of her new nanny. What almost no one knows is that Dino doesn’t go out at night just for fun, or simply out of a feline sense of duty. He’s also a cat burglar, assisting a sneaky but noble local jewel thief, Nico, on his midnight rounds. The plot becomes more complicated — to the extent that it’s complicated at all — by the fact that Zoe’s mother, Jeanne, is a detective with the Paris police. She’s consumed with concern for Zoe, who hasn’t spoken since her father was killed by a square-shouldered, square-headed thug named Victor Costa. She’s also riven with grief, and she’s determined to avenge her husband’s death by catching Costa, who, it turns out, has a new scheme: He plans to steal a precious, valuable and huge antiquity, the Colossus of Nairobi, a hulking totem that’s being brought to the city for an exhibit. Meanwhile, though, Jeanne has peskier problems: Jewels keep disappearing from various households in the city, thanks to Nico and an accomplice with four silent, velvet paws. A Cat in Paris is being released in the states in two versions, an English-language one (in which Marcia Gay Harden, Anjelica Huston and Matthew Modine provide some of the key voices) and a subtitled French one (which features, in the role of the nanny, the voice of actress Bernadette Lafont, who, for those who keep track of such things, played Marie in The Mother and the Whore ). If you’re bringing children and are lucky enough to have bilingual ones, I recommend the French version, since it is simply more French; to hear the English language pouring forth from these characters’ mouths feels just a little wrong. But the visuals of A Cat in Paris resonate in any language, and it doesn’t hurt that the picture features a stunning, stealthy Bernard Hermann-style orchestral score by Serge Bessett. (The music in A Cat in Paris is finer and more resonant than that of any live-action picture I’ve seen this year.) This is Felicioli and Gagnol’s first full-length feature — it was a 2012 Academy Award nominee — and it clocks in at a very trim but visually rich 70 minutes. The filmmakers’ drawings are both meticulous and highly stylized: They render the rooftops of Paris (what is it about city rooftops in general, and Paris rooftops in particular?) as a dusky, velvety patchwork, an invitation to adventure — they take great delight in the city’s highs and lows, in the contrast between tall and short. Their palette features an array of oranges, from muted citrus tones to deep sienna, and lots of deep, nighttime turquoise. And they dot the picture with small but inventive visual touches: When a character dons night goggles, the figures around him are rendered as stark white lines on a flat black surface. And the gargoyles of Notre Dame feature in the climactic chase sequence, a bit of travelogue whimsy that’s nonetheless dramatically gripping, perhaps even a little dizzying for those who are hinky about heights — it doesn’t matter that you can’t really fall off a cartoon building. And then there’s Dino, an utterly bewitching arrangement of orange and chocolate triangles (with a pink one for a nose). Dino isn’t a cute cartoon cat — there’s an element of mystery and devilishness about him, suggesting that Felicioli and Gagnol understand true feline spirit. They also understand feline loyalty, which is a contradiction in terms only to those who don’t understand (to the extent that understanding is possible) these elusive, magnetic creatures. Dino comforts the distressed Zoe by visiting her in bed, sliding under her arms as if he could pretend she’d never notice. And in a way, she doesn’t notice — somehow, suddenly, Dino is simply there , a presence who changes, only ever so slightly, the nature of the room around him. That’s the quiet province of cats everywhere — not just those who are lucky enough to live in the animated city of Paris. Follow Stephanie Zacharek on Twitter . Follow Movieline on Twitter .
Everyone makes mistakes. The best thing one can do is face up to the facts and acknowledge the error; fix the problem to the extent possible and do what is necessary to avoid repeating the mistake. Ben Bernanke’s inability to admit his (and his predecessor’s) mistakes condemns the Fed to repeat the sins of the past. In this week’s lecture tour at George Washington U, Bernanke spoke to the students… Broadcasting platform : YouTube Source : zero hedge Discovery Date : 31/03/2012 13:16 Number of articles : 2
So someone sent me in this picture that they claim is of Selena Gomez leaked….My talents do not lie in recognizing or matching tits and face to celebrities…to me all bitches look the same, but I am pretty sure convinced there’s no fucking way this is of Selena Gomez, but instead some topless girl is trying to get her face out there pretending to be Selena Gomez, but since my talents don’t lie in recognizing and matching tits and face to celebrities, this very well could be her and I’m not about to miss that story, even if normal people don’t give a fuck about seeing Selena Gomez, because the majority of the people who end up on the site are hardly fucking normal…See I ran this pic by a girl I was with last night and her answer was “who cares” and I was like “shit, seriously, cuz I don’t care and really I spend too much time on this shit, it’s embarassing and almost gay, so to prove I’m still a man, I’m gonna jerk off to your facebook pics….instead of these Gomez pics”…. CLICK HERE TO SEE THE PICTURE THAT I AM 99% SURE IS NOT SELENA GOMEZ – CUZ THERE IS ALWAYS THAT 1% Either way, we call this bitch launching her career, here are some pics of her overshadowing Beiber, it’s her marketing strategy…showing some cleavage, loving the scandals, attention money, and possibly sex but that’s just cuz Usher Raymond is there masturbating in the corner…
Rita Rusic is some European celebrity who I have never heard of because I am about as cultured as the homless guy who just got work at the Wal Mart stocking shelves after hours….you know all crazy and half retarded….She was born in 1960, making her 51 years old….her WIKIPEDIA page isn’t worth shit, cuz it is in another language, and wikipedia is the extent of my researching skills…but when a bitch is old and can afford a set of fake tits while squeezing her big vagina in a bikini bottom, it doesn’t matter what she does, whether she’s a stripper or a billionaires wife, she’s half naked in pictures and that’s what matters…
No actor has made a career of exerting determination to the extent that Matt Damon has. In the Bourne movies, he burned himself down to a central nervous system — his focus fried away unnecessary calories. In The Informant! , the comedy comes from doughy Mark Whitacre’s single minded pursuit of the life he has in his head; the weight he happily carries didn’t make him earthbound. That film’s examination of identity played like a Philip K. Dick adaptation; it seems to serve the purpose of making writer/director George Nolfi’s simultaneously drab and florid adaptation of Dick’s Adjustment Team superfluous.
While it is generally clear, even to the relatively uninformed, that government and corporations have become one and the same, the extent to which this is the case is still largely unknown amongst the general public. Likewise, the extent to which this merger is affecting public health is also not widely known. In recent years (aside from their other horrific projects) government agencies, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), think tanks, and corporations have all banded together to combine two of the biggest scourges on the environment and human health — genetic modification and vaccines — into one entity. While “scientists” have been genetically modifying insects for years, only in the last few have they begun to openly discuss releasing them into the environment. As always, the fact that public discussion has just now begun to take place on the issue means that the project has already been initiated. This much has been borne out by the facts in that the release of the insects has already been announced. Under the guise of eradicating Dengue fever, GM mosquitoes were released into the environment in the Cayman Islands in 2009. Dengue fever is a mosquito-borne, virus-based disease that has largely been non-existent in North America for several decades. Dengue fever can morph into a much more dangerous form of the illness known as Dengue Hemorrhagic fever. Symptoms of Dengue fever are high fever, headache, pain behind the eyes, easy bruising, joint, muscle, bone pain, rash, and bleeding from the gums. There is no known cure or treatment for Dengue fever besides adequate rest and drinking plenty of water. Generally speaking, it is one specific type of mosquito, Aedes aegypti, which transmits the virus. The publicly given method for using these GM mosquitoes in the eradication of Dengue fever was that the genetically modified mosquitoes were “engineered with an extra gene, or inserted bacterium, or have had a gene altered so that either their offspring are sterile and unable to spread dengue, or simply die.” More specifically, the male GM mosquitoes are supposed to mate with natural females which produce larvae that die unless tetracycline, an antibiotic, is present. Without the antibiotic, an enzyme accumulates to a level that is toxic enough to kill the larvae. It is important to note that these GM mosquitoes, known as OX513A, necessarily have to be of the Aedis aegypti type in order to achieve the goals publicly stated by the developers. Therefore, the millions of male mosquitoes that were released into the open-air environment in 2009, and again in 2010, were all of the dengue fever carrying type. The OX513A mosquitoes were developed by a British biotechnology company named Oxitec and their subsequent release was overseen by the Mosquito Research and Control Unit (MRCU) in the Cayman Islands, a British overseas territory. Although Oxitec Limited was the developer who engaged in most of the groundwork for the GM insects, the project was not theirs alone. The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the World Health Organization, The PEW Charitable Trusts, and government agencies in the United States, England, Malaysia, and others were all involved in the development and promotion of the GM mosquitoes. http://www.activistpost.com/2010/12/viruses-and-gm-insect-flying-vaccine.html added by: Dagum
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