wbur Commentary National Urban League President Vernon Jordan Jr., left, and William F. Buckley Jr., host and inquisitor of the public television show Firing Line, find something to laugh about at the 15th birthday celebration of the show in New York, Tuesday, Feb. 25, 1981. Jordan was one of 48 guests on the show who had come to celebrate with Buckley. (Kaye/AP)

Now that congressional Democrats have settled on legislative total war on Trump, some progressives are worried the artillery is wreaking collateral damage on the presidents working-class base. [D]emocrats often sound patronizing when speaking of Trump voters, demonizing them along with their disdain-deserving leader, lamentsNew York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof.

For an example of what concerns him, check out the comments thread to a recent Cognoscenti column urging empathy for the president and his backers. A progressive backlash against preaching empathy for Trump is unsurprising; the anger in some comments against the uneducated people and forgotten men supporting him is something else. In a polarized era of neighbors, family members and protesters screaming at each other over Trumpism, another writer asserts, There is little doubt about our need to find language that illuminates the dark abyss separating those who approve of our new presidents words and executive orders and Cabinet appointments from those appalled by them.

...you might askwhich words should be weaponized to resist an anti-immigrant, anti-environment, anti-safety netchief executive, andshould they be fired at his supporters as well?

If youre in the latter camp, as I am, you might askwhichwords should be weaponized to resist an anti-immigrant, anti-environment, anti-safety netchief executive, andshould they be fired at his supporters as well? To answer this, I found an instructive model from a half-century ago, when another populist double-talker was confronted by a famous wordsmith.

In January 1968, William F. Buckley Jr. featured segregationist Alabama Gov. George Wallace on Buckleys "Firing Line" interview show. You couldnt have paired an odder couple: Buckley, the Yale-educated, sesquipedalian guru of modern conservatism, and Wallace, the farmers son whod futiley blocked the schoolhouse door five years earlier against black students at his states university. The mens' dust-up, broadcast as Wallace readied a third-party presidential bid, today plays like a toned-down foretaste of the long-runningpublic television program "The McLaughlin Group," with repeated interruptions and efforts to out-snark one another. (Said asmiling Buckley:Youre telling me stuff that I knew when I was 3 years old, governor.)

The program, archived byStanford Universitys Hoover Institution, corroborates the observationthat Wallace was Trump before Trump becameTrump, down to the surly, just-bit-into-a-lemon grimaces at what he calls the pseudo-intellectual Buckley. The latter, coolly, sometimes self-deprecatingly, but relentlessly swatting Wallaces denials of racism, was, admittedly, a problematic defender of racial equality. In 1957, hed suggested that the white South was entitled to thwart African-American aspirations ...because for the time being, it is the advanced race. Like Wallace, Buckleyopposed the 1960s civil rights legislation, a stance hed recant years later.

Destiny, if not Buckley, intended for the Wallaceinterview to beredemptive (the hosts stated goal was to expose Wallace as a non-conservative, not rehash his renowned racial views).

Ive never said that you should have segregation of the school system or any other, Wallace said.

What steps did you take to encourage the enfranchisement of the Negro back before the [federal] government got on your back?" Buckley countered. " Its a clear part of the historical recordthat the South not only didnt encourage its Negroes to vote, but encouraged them not to vote.

In another exchange, when Wallace defended his home region as more law-abiding than the North, Buckley parried that southern law enforcement techniques were, to say the least, unusualthe Ku Klux Klan, for instance...

What does this decades-old brawl teach us about handling Trump? The lesson for liberals seething at the president is that there are more ways to skin a strongman than just venting rage. As necessary as the outrage-fueled mass protests against Trump are, Buckley shows how calm reason andhumor can also dismantle a foe. Anger can go too far; smart liberals know that actions such as blocking Education Secretary Betsy DeVos from visiting a school only sink toTrumps puerile incivility and risk turning off some people who might be open to theirviewpoint.

For their part, Trump voters must understand that theydont get a pass just because theyre genuinely pissed. Wallaces voters sincerely feared their ebbing white privilege; Buckley still called out collective Dixie racism. Today, its fair game to note the data showing that too many Trump supporters are indeed bigots, their Wallace-like disclaimers notwithstanding.

Of course, they're not all bigots.Kristof reminds us that some Trump folks voted for Barack Obama. But their support is even more confounding.If Trump is a con man peddling preposterous promises (Mexico will pay for that wall; Obamacare can be replaced with equal but cheaper coverage; climate change is a dismissible hoax), how gullible can his voters be?

...it's fair gameto hold a reality-reflecting mirror to Trump's supporters when their views are abhorrent or just plain ignorant, as Buckley did with segregationists.

Democratic discourse depends on a common frame of reality among citizens of differing views. I spoke to one pro-Trump friend during the campaign, trying to understand her politics, only to find they relied on half-truths and misinformation.Buckley was right: The voters blow it sometimes, as he said in the Wallace interview.

Should the opposition emulate Trumps rudeness?No.But it's fair gameto hold a reality-reflecting mirror to Trump's supporters when their views are abhorrent or just plain ignorant, as Buckley did with segregationists.

Wallace found the KKK remark insulting to his people. It certainly was. But below-the-belt? I doubt African-Americans living under Jim Crow would have thought so.

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Rich Barlow Cognoscenti contributor Rich Barlow writes for BU Today, Boston University's news website.

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Anatomy Of A Takedown: William F. Buckley Jr. Vs. George Wallace - WBUR

We have all quite rightly marveled at the rebirth of Federico Fazio this season. After bouncing between Spurs and Sevilla prior to moving to Roma, the accepted wisdom was that Fazio was just another in a long name of players long on talent and short on results. Based on his statuesque figure and technique, Fazio profiled as the ideal, albeit it a bit slow, centerback; one who could be the foundation upon which your backline was built.

For a variety of reasons, it took Fazio several years and several more changes of sceneries to put it altogether. Fortunately for us, Roma has been the beneficiary of that latent development, as Fazio has been, without a doubt, one of the best defenders in Serie A this season, so please do not take what follows as an overarching critique of Fazios abilities nor a harbinger of bad things to come. He simply goofed up, as well all do, and its been such a long time since weve dissected an individual play, I thought it might be interesting to analyze exactly what went wrong.

First up, the goal in total

As we discussed yesterday, this goal was partially a product of Fazios error mistiming Marek Hamsiks final pass, but as with most things, that only tells a portion of the story. First, Roma had to turn the ball over, then they failed to dispossess Napoli in the middle third, and lastly, and I would argue most egregiously, they gave Hamsik WAY TOO MUCH space to make that pass. It was simply a sequence of poor decisions and poor execution.

However, with all that in mind, the most visible error here was Fazios ill-timed and somewhat unnecessary attempt to intercept that pass and/or cut off the passing lane, so lets take a look at that sequence.

The thing Id like you to take notice of, besides Mertens breezing past the last link in Romas defense, is just how soon Fazio jumped on this pass. Notice how he breaks towards, and really past, Mertens before Hamsik even receives the ball. And yes, had he picked off the pass wed be hailing his aggressiveness and timing, I get that, but in this instance, with no one behind him or directly on Mertens hip, Fazios speculative attempt at stealing the ball was haphazard and completely ill advised.

Here it is in freeze frame:

At this point, Daniele De Rossi is close enough to Mertens to corral or at least obscure his path a bit, while also allowing Juan Jesus to close the gap on the left, making Fazios jump all the more hasty. Granted the angle of this photo may be misleading, but the point was simply this: Fazios gamble was completely unnecessary, had he simply held his ground and even allowed the pass to make it to Mertens, Fazio would still have been in position to make a tackle or at least commit a necessary and justified foul, and, as we mentioned, DDR and Rruan werent so far away they couldnt have closed Mertens down had Fazio held his ground

As it stood, Fazios gamble was ill-advised and poorly executed, he made a decision when he didnt have tohis choice to try and jump that passing channel ceded control to Mertens. If he held his ground, Mertens would have had to make the decision, not Fazio, and as we mentioned, with De Rossi and Juan nearby, had Fazio held firm, Mertens path to goal would have been virtually non-existent....but check this out:

Thats how agonizingly close Wojciech Szczesny was to actually saving this; a few centimeters and a couple fractions of a second. Football is nothing if not a game of inches.

Ultimately, this was a team error. From the poor play out of their back, to their inability to stop Napolis counter, down to Kostas Manolas keeping Mertens on side, this was a prime example of how a series of seemingly innocuous decisions or indecisions can doom you during a 90+ minute match.

So while Fazios error was the most glaring, he was by no means the lone culprit. And the mere fact that we can be so pedantic about his performance shows just how far he has come this season. However, as we so often warn, with the margins for error razor thin, moments like these can be devastating and quite costly.

Also, apologies for the poor quality of some of those stills and gifs, I had trouble finding decent clips.

Read this article:
Anatomy of an Error: Fazio & Mertens - Chiesa Di Totti

"Senate Bill 2243 creates a student loan reimbursement program for two teachers to work in a North Dakota school district or nonpublic school with fewer than 1,000 students," Forum News Service reported.

"The program will reimburse up to $4,500 per teacher in each of the first two years and up to $6,500 in the third year," with a maximum of $25,000 if the teacher is filling a critical vacancy.

So far, so good. SB 2243 now has passed the Senate and is being considered in the House.

But our point is to call attention to some of the prep work that made this billwhich is, after all, proposing new spending at a time of cutbacks everywhere elsesail through the Senate, 42-4.

Kirsten Baesler, state superintendent of public instruction, describes the process in her interview on this page. As Baesler recounts, it started with a North Dakota University System study of how well the NDUS is meeting the state's workforce needs.

Where training teachers is concerned, "what we learned is that the system graduates plenty of teachers," Baesler says.

"But if they don't get a job in Bismarck or Fargo or Grand Forks, they're choosing not to use that degree." For lots of would-be teachers, it's better to find alternative work in a bustling city than to go to work in a small-town school, especially considering the very modest salaries most rural school districts offer, it turns out.

That's solid and new information. Best of all, it's useful, too. It helped narrow down the policy-response possibilities, ruling out an attempt to, say, attract teachers from Minnesota or Wisconsin.

Then the state's leadership took the next step: They interviewed some of those Fargo and Grand Forks teachers-doing-other-things. So, what would it take to entice them to leave the bright lights and big city behind, and go to work in a North Dakota country school?

"A lot," said the teachers, as Baesler recounts. Specifically, it would take repaying their student loans, and through a much more generous program than the state currently offers.

Senate Bill 2243 was born.

To sum up, the supporters of this bill effectively researched the problem they were trying to solve, learned the particulars of that problem in North Dakota and crafted a policy that uses a targeted approach.

No wonder the bill passed the Senate. It should pass the House, too. And reformers of the future who are looking to pass laws should take a lesson from the history of SB 2243.

-- Tom Dennis for the Herald

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Editorial: Anatomy of a 'Do Pass' bill in North Dakota | Grand Forks ... - Grand Forks Herald

TheHoonigans the guys behind the popular Gymkhana series with Ken Block have recently teamed up with NHRA Top Fuel driver Leah Pritchett.

Pritchett is off to a great start in the 2017 NHRA Mello Yello Drag Racing Series. She has won the opening two rounds of the season from the No. 1 qualifying position and has already been breaking records with her Don Schumacher Racing team.

During interviews, Pritchett always ensures she thanks the team that puts together her 11,000-horsepower Dragster, and in the above video from The Hoonigans you can see why.

The video shows what goes on from the time Pritchett hops into her car ahead of a run, all the way down to the finish line.

Pritchetts run captured above was a 3.677, which took place during preseason testing on Friday, Feb. 3 at the Wild Horse Pass Motorsports Park in Phoenix.

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The anatomy of an NHRA Top Fuel run - FOXSports.com

What I felt for her was profound and real. I felt every bit of it as much as the hunger that stings my stomach and as much as the anger that blinds me. Yes, it was that real and strong. I know how genuine it was

Mar 5, 2017- The intensity of your love defines the intensity of your heartbreak. The deeper your love, the more unfathomable is your heartbreak. The shallower your love, the more fleeting your heartbreak is.

Perhaps, my love was far too deep. If not, why would I take forever to recover from our abrupt end? Why would I take forever to move on? Why would I take this long to be the person I knew I was supposed to be in the real world? How would I even know my love was deep when, in fact, I wasnt even there? All there was is the love itself. I was the love. Yes, I was love itself.

A heart breaks when your grand expectation from someone seems impossible to be met. A heart breaks when the utopian universe inside your head starts collapsing before it even sees the light of the day. A heart breaks when you surrender your soul to someone who is utterly soulless. A heart breaks when your heart starts beating more for someone else, and less for yourself. A heart breaks when you start thinking and feeling more for someone else, and less for yourself.

A heart breaks when you handcuff yourself to your love, kneel down before your beloved and surrender yourself completely only to become disregarded. A heart breaks when your own existence escapes your memory. A heart breaks not because it is fragile, but because you have been clumsy with it. I have been clumsy, very clumsy.

For the first time in my life, I had developed genuine feelings for somebody. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing the joy of being and sharing my life with someone. For the first time in my life, I felt like if there was someone at all for me out there, it had to be her and nobody else.

What I felt for her was profound and real. I felt every bit of it as much as the hunger that stings my stomach and as much as the anger that blinds me. Yes, it was that real and strong. I know how genuine it was. Only I know how real those tears really were and how sweet that smile really was.

But, maybe she could never see the authenticity in my love. Perhaps, she also thought of me as someone fake.

It kills you when your unconditional love is unappreciated. It maddens you when your utmost care goes unacknowledged. It suffocates you when your admiration is mocked. It hurts you when you become a clown in the most beautiful pair of eyes you have ever seen.

And its all real, every bit of pain. It is as real as the air you are breathing now.

Every winter, as I soak in the snow standing in the middle of a street, hands spread wide open, head bent backward and my two little teary eyes looking into the sky, I think of her. I let her memory envelop me. Every single snow flake reminds me of her.

Even when I try to shake off the snow, there never is enough energy in my body. It just seems to escape me. As I get home, fully covered in snow, I cant help but collapse on my bed. The snow leaves my clothes to melt on the sheets, soaking it in all its glory. I feel like I am laying on a pond, perhaps drowning in one. It is then that I start bawling like a baby. Why should the snow melt into water? Why should anything leave its state of being to become something else? Why did love leave me so soon?

She loved snow. She loved watching snowfall from her balcony. She loved the sound of silence as the entire city quietly snuggled under a blanket of snow. She knew that it was a myth that no two snowflakes are exactly the same. She pretended that she knew all the hundred names that Eskimos had for snow.

She loved snow, just like I did. She knew of snow, as much as I did. It was the snow that brought us together. Our mutual fondness for it invoked conversations and sparked an untold chemistry between us. It was because of the snow that we started opening up to each other, little by little.

Yes, it is strange, but arent all the beautiful things?

When you heart breaks, your ego bruises too. What if my ego is steering my heart, telling it how to feel? What if it is not the heart, but the ego? What if it is not love, but my pride that has been torn apart?

If I tackle this mindfully, love shouldnt be so hard. Maybe there is no such this as a heart break. Hearts never break. Hearts dont hurt. Hearts function perfectly until they stop functioning altogether. Perhaps, when we talk of heartbreak we are talking of our imagination not taking shape. May be when we talk about heartbreak, we are talking of our subtle agendas regarding somebody not being met. Perhaps we are talking about the sudden collapse of our countless expectations and our incapability of loving ourselves in the first place.

Heartbreak has nothing to do with the heart or with love. Maybe even when we cant control how we love, we can decide how we feel about heartbreak. Love is inevitable, heart break is optional. So what should I do now, who should I blame?

It looks like with my heart still intact, heartbreak is just a notion I inventedan emotional play maybe? Is this heartbreak just another excuse to escape from the now, from the reality? Is it my way of justifying why I have failed to love myself in the first place? Is it my way of feeding my ego-telling myself nobody will ever love her like I did?

I have been thinking how she doesnt deserve my love; is this tool of superiority complex? Am I trying to prove something here? Am I demanding more than I should here? Should I demand or prove something at all? Do I really need to claim that I love someone; do I really need to seek for credit? Cant I just love-without any anticipation or greed? The answer escapes me.

Once upon a time, on a beautiful evening I remember saying to her: You are the wind that blows my mind and the silence that soothes my heart. You are the beauty that blinds my eyes and the beast that scares my soul. You are the root that grows underground and the branch that grows towards the sky. You are the question I ask and the answer I find. You are the chaos to my thoughts and the order of my heartbeats. You are the yin and you are the yang. You are the contradiction that confuses me, and the ultimate truth that relieves me. That is why you are so beautiful, so intriguing.

What happened to that statement and all those words? Did I even mean every single thing? Could they have been as meaningless and as empty as I feel right now? Perhaps, she understood it long before I did.

Come to think of it, she loved herself more than anyone else. She was so much in love with herself that my so-called unconditional love didnt amount to anything. She knew how to live every single moment of her life and on her own to the fullest. She was a free soul who didnt entertain any kind of entanglement. She was a rebel who questioned everything and enjoyed basking in the glory of lifes mysteries. She was someone who dared to be nave and perhaps just herself. She was someone who could maintain her curiosity passionately.

Thats the reason why her eyes always twinkled. She was utterly blissful in her own being. She was a peaceful soul.

Thats the reason why everyone around her experienced peace. She was always joyful and that is why being around her was so intoxicating.

She was a dream that you wanted to hold on to. Thats why I loved her, and thats why I lost her.

I remember how she always pushed me to love myself first, when all I wanted to do was love her. Maybe she waited for me to love myself while I thought I could only do so if she loved me back.

The power of your ego defines the intensity of your heartbreak. The deeper your ego, the more unfathomable is your heartbreak. The shallower your ego, the more fleeting your heartbreak is. Look! Its snowing again.

Published: 05-03-2017 09:09

Link:
The anatomy of heartbreak - The Kathmandu Post

Historical lovers, courtesy researchers and biographers, cant act coy in death. Claretta: Mussolinis Last Lover by RJB Bosworth details the grand passion between Italys prime minister Benito Mussolini and Claretta Petacci, all the way down to that unforgettable portrait of their butchered bodies hung upside down in Piazzale Loreto. Sheela Reddys Mr and Mrs Jinnah: The Marriage That Shook India chronicles a liaison closer home, but no less doomed.

If Mussolini was 49 to Clarettas 20, Mohammad Ali Jinnah was 40 to Ruttie Petits 16. Ruttie, a social butterfly in her gauze saris and backless blouses, romances a reticent and charismatic politician whom no one, not even her, called by his first name. He was her J.

Despite their elopement and Muslim-Parsi tag, the Jinnahs too had to contend with domestic ennui. The man from Karachi and the girl from Bombay fall for each other in haste but they repent in exquisite leisure.

While Motilal Nehru escapes having a son-in-law from another caste, Sir Dinshaw Petit was tricked into revealing his doublespeak when Jinnah asked him his opinion on inter-caste marriage and, after ascertaining his support for it, requested his daughters hand and the father refused.

It was Ruttie who chased after Jinnah and nothing stopped them from being one of the historys tempestuous couples. Prominent figures are part-narrators, like Sarojini Naidu, whose letters, maternal advice and perceptive insight into the matrimonial disaster between two such dissimilar people via letters to daughters Padmaja and Leilamani are a testimony to the timeline.

Ruttie sashays off the pages with great panache. Jinnah hardly blinked when his first wife, Emi Bai, died but Rutties death changes the tone of his silence. He had shaved off his moustache to marry hera precondition she laid downand been a most indulgent husband, letting her shop infinitely, getting out of his car to buy her roadside chaat, handing only child over to nannies so Ruttie could gallivant around. But couldnt give her what she wanted most, his time.

He was grooming himself for destiny, she was dressing up for him. It was her sparkling mischief against his staidness, her pout against his stiff upper lip. Naturally, they suffered. The same woman who told the court: Mr Jinnah has not abducted me... I abducted him, when her father sued him for kidnap, much later, when not a star was left in her eyes, told Sarojini he could never satisfy her mind and soul.

Sarojini documented Rutties changing persona in a letter to her daughter: There is something hard and cold about it all paint, powder, bare back...

Bedridden with discontent, Rutties body seemed unable to rise to the ordeal of breaking free even after she mentally fled the marriage. She kept her only daughter nameless through sheer lack of interest.

Since the book bats for Ruttieit is all about her desire, her disappointments and her deaththe reader awaits a husbandly version. One cant help wonder what Jinnahs matrimonial take might have been. It is not the first time a childish, high-strung flibbertigibbet wife drove mad a man inherently disinterested in coochie-coo.

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Anatomy of a difficult marriage - The New Indian Express

The renowned fashion and lifestyle journalist, and quirky stylist, takes us through her style evolution

The renowned fashion and lifestyle journalist, and quirky stylist, takes us through her style evolution. Find out the challenges she faces in dressing herself and why she thinks its okay to ignore rules sometimes!

Understanding your body is the key to looking good and a trait found amongst all impeccably dressed fashionistas. While people shy away from talking about their bodies, these brave souls explain how they work their anatomies to their advantage.

How would you describe your body type?

Im petite. Ive always been naturally skinny so no complaints really.

Has your body type changed over the last five years?

It hasnt changed much actually. I think maybe just a couple of pounds of weight fluctuation every now and then, but nothing major.

How has your style changed over the years?

Id like to think its improved and evolved for the better. I used be very feminine and kind of boring in my style choices previously, but as of late my style has developed to match my personality.

In your opinion what is your most troublesome area?

I lack seven extra inches of leg.

How do you dress your body according to your body type?

I am short, so I try avoiding silhouettes that crop me or draw attention to my height. Cropped pants, culottes or anything that ends above my ankles is generally avoided, while high waisted pants and obi belts are my friends.

In your opinion what is the biggest mistake a person can make while dressing here?

Honestly, it depends on the version of the silhouette and how you style it. I feel sometimes you just need to ignore rules and wear what you want.

Which silhouettes suit your body the most?

Anything that elongates me,so high-waisted, boot-cut or flare pants.

What is the one piece of clothing that you shy away from wearing and why?

I havent found anything that Ive hated that badly yet!

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Style anatomy: Haiya Bokhari - The Express Tribune