Generally, you don’t want to publicize your snipers. Good ones are national treasures, fomenting chaos in enemies ranks. For example, SEAL Chris Kyle used to be called Al-Shaitan Ramad (The Devil of Ramadi) for his lethality. Another fact military folks should keep close to their vest (if they wear them) is the wives of their leaders. It opens the families up to all sorts of potentially dangerous exploitation when it becomes known who the head honcho’s wife is. This captioned picture breaks all those rules:
The New York Daily News has their yearly review of all the pictures that made 2011. The above shot encapsulated the OWS movement.
You have your mandatroy Che. And the bum sleeping, wrapped in the American flag. The Class War poster on the left. But it is covered up, so you can only partially read it. Oh and the 99%er playing guitar. I gave my love a cherry.
The one productive member of society: the businesswoman strolling to work in the foreground. . .
The blog Bleacher Report has a slideshow of the 50 Fattest Soccer player of all time. Do not, whatever you do, click on this link. I winced through the intel and selected one colorful character to highlight. If you have watched soccer in the late 70s, 80s, or 90s, the name of the Argentinian superstar Diego Maradona is familiar to you.
Diego had a serious drug problem:
He was banned for 15 months for taking cocaine while playing for the Napoli team in Italy in 1991.
He has shot at reporters with an air-rifle:
Former Argentine soccer great Diego Maradona has been given a suspended jail sentence of two years and 10 months for shooting journalists with an air rifle.
Maradona also likes his dictators. Like Fidel:
Maradona recovered after gastric bypass surgery in Cuba and befriended/worshipped Fidel Castro. Yes, that Fidel Castro.
Maradona is also chummy with Hugo Chavez, and has said he hates everything that comes out of the United States.
Awhile back, there was speculation that Maradona might coach Iran. Why? Because he’s pals with Iran Prime Minister Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.
What’s a tattooed arm without a little Che?
What are those two names, Dalma and Giannina, on the inside of his forearms?
“My legitimate kids are Dalma and Giannina. The rest are a product of my money and mistakes.”
Classy Diego. . .
Whisky Tango Foxtroting Foxtrot is going on? Che Guevara, that photogenic killer, is now an ice cream treat? I wonder which country created the Che-heads. Who else, but our good friends, the Russian bear:
Ice cream can be more interesting than the basic shapes on sticks and dollops on cones. Delmonte recently invented the ‘Hoffsicle’ in the image of David Hasselhoff to celebrate National Ice Cream Week, after His Hoffness was voted in Britain as the smoothest TV personality of 2011.
Now a Russian advertising agency Stoyn have created a range of ten ice cream busts in the shape of 20th century iconic characters, including Darth Vadar (blueberry with licorice), Marilyn Monroe (strawberry and cream), Donald Duck (banana chocolate), Che Guevara (mate with rum). . .
I don’t get the Che thing. I’ve seen stupid Berkeley kids, and suburban dummies too, running around with that ubiquitous red shirt with his dis-likeness on it. When even Slate magazine can’t stomach you, you know you are beyond the pale:
The cult of Ernesto Che Guevara is an episode in the moral callousness of our time. Che was a totalitarian. He achieved nothing but disaster. Many of the early leaders of the Cuban Revolution favored a democratic or democratic-socialist direction for the new Cuba. But Che was a mainstay of the hardline pro-Soviet faction, and his faction won. Che presided over the Cuban Revolution’s first firing squads.
The present-day cult of Che—the T-shirts, the bars, the posters—has succeeded in obscuring this dreadful reality.
And Walter Salles’ movie The Motorcycle Diaries will now take its place at the heart of this cult. It has already received a standing ovation at Robert Redford’s Sundance film festival and glowing admiration in the press. Che was an enemy of freedom, and yet he has been erected into a symbol of freedom.
Che ice cream, no thanks. . .