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Woman Who Drove Off Cliff With Twin Sister Arrested For Her Murder — Again

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This twin’s trouble returned on the double.

Alexandria Duval, 38, was arrested Friday in Albany, New York, on a assassinate charge for the death of her twin sister, Anastasia, earlier this year.

The Duval sisters were in a lethal car accident in May, when their SUV plummeted off a 200 -foot cliff in Maui, Hawaii. Alexandria was behind the wheel. Anastasia expired at the stage. There was no evidence of braking, and bystanders claim the sisters had been arguing prior to the clang and that Alexandria had intentionally steered the car off the cliff.

Alexandria was arrested for second-degree carnage, but at a preliminary hearing, a judge governed there was no probable cause and removed the charges.

However, in October, a Hawaii grandiose jury indicted Alexandria for second-degree assassinate, according to The Associated Press. Maui police problem a authorize, and experts tracked down Alexandria at an Albany home. She’s now awaiting extradition to Hawaii.

The shocking nature of the floor caught the country’s notice. The twins, also known as Alison and Ann Dadow, were “known for their formerly glamorous life-style, ” The Palm Beach Post wrote.

The two loped a successful yoga business in Florida and later opened a yoga studio in Park City, Utah. But financial both problems and run-ins with police reportedly caught up with them.

Sex, Lies, And Podcasts: Why Im Finally Ready To Speak Out About My Emotionally Abusive Marriage

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Lorna Scubelek

When the #metoo campaign started, I was confused to feel a mix of relief and utter despair. Though horrifying to see how many women I knew had endured some form of harassment, there was also a sense of solidarity and survival. However, there were many voices missing from this choir of brave women due to the fact that some “me too’s” occur in committed relationships and over many years.

In my case, it continues long after the relationship has ended.

As I sat at my desk while my ex-husband’s bizarrely altered voice squeaked out of my speakers, my jaw slowly dropped to the floor. It had started innocently enough, a simple Google search to procrastinate my work and to (hopefully) confirm that he had moved out of the city. The usual results lined up until the fourth title caught my eye, a comedy podcast about divorce in which he was the guest. It had been recorded over six months ago, but had managed to slip under my radar. I immediately texted it to my best friend, and we both clicked “play” at the same time. There he was, in all his self-deprecating glory, laughing about his two failed marriages and revealing the insanely coincidental reason both of his wives had left him: they had both cheated and run off with his friends.

The 30 minute interview continued with a barrage of lies. How I ruined our wedding night. How I probably cheated the entire marriage, and how understanding he would have been. How his former wife was “insane.” Our “great” sex life. How the entire divorce came from “out of the blue” and how quickly I ran off with his best friend. The moral of the sordid story arose at the 31 minute mark. The abuse endured from picking the wrong women has made him a more resilient and better person. A person who is able to give advice to others going through such horrible events. A person who is able to laugh at his past and move forward. A person who is able to go on a podcast and hide the fact that it was he who emotionally and verbally abused his second wife to the point that she now cannot hear his voice without remembering it calling her “stupid” or a “bitch.”

According to my ex, I was simply “not there” at our wedding reception. The podcast hosts exploded in laughter as he stated I was probably with his friend I later “ran off” with or grinding on the dance floor with other men. The truth is, our wedding night was a nightmare I had blocked from my mind until I saw a particularly poignant scene in the last season of Transparent. In the scene, Sarah is having a panic attack in the bathroom at her own wedding reception. Watching this, I was quickly transported back to the bathroom of my own perfect, expensive, hipster barn reception where my best friend was shoveling pills into my mouth to remedy the worst migraine I had ever experienced. It was crippling. I explained to my new husband what was happening and, as the drinks kept coming, he appeared less concerned with my health and more angry that I wasn’t being his perfect bride. Post reception, we went to the after party where I was promptly ushered into the bathroom by concerned friends. I threw up for a half hour while someone waited for me outside the door, making sure I was okay. The same friend then found my husband, placed our hands together, and said, “She’s your wife now, and you have to take care of her.” I wish I had clung to my friend for dear life that night. My husband’s idea of “taking care of me” was to grab my arm, drag me up to our room, throw me inside and growl, “You have forever ruined this night. I will never forget it.” He then promptly returned to the after party, leaving me crying, alone, and in searing pain until I managed to fall asleep. The next morning, he acted as though nothing happened and everything was fine. This all flooded back to me in stark contrast to his hilarious quips on the podcast about his overly flirtatious wife being with everyone else except him at our wedding.

My wedding night was the beginning of a long set of expectations that were impossible to meet. When they weren’t, the abuse was rampant. Later, I realized they were designed for me to fail so that I would be guilted into taking blame and continue walking on eggshells around him, hoping to please.

One particular evening, at a friends’ wedding, we were having a lovely time until we were one chair shy at our table. My ex had found out someone had taken his chair and instead of simply asking for another, he decided this was yet another assault in a lifelong pattern of people warring against him. An altercation took place with the unassuming stranger and I promptly ushered my ex outside so as not to ruin my friends’ wedding. There, on the streets of Long Island City, I found myself on the receiving end of every insult you could imagine, ending with him sneering, “Fuck you” repeatedly, an inch away from my face. In sheer defense and fear, I slapped him. This would turn the blame back on me for future fights. Nothing could ever be his fault, and he was never wrong. My act of defiance and self-defense came with such awful repercussions that I would not stand up to him again for years to come.

There are many more stories like this, none of which were discussed on the podcast, of course. As I was being painted as a common whore who left her loving husband, all I could think of was my own memories of the abuse. The night he threatened to throw hot soup in my face. The night I was so sick I couldn’t speak, yet I was drunkenly berated for over an hour for not waiting to eat with him after he came home from a bar. Being called “selfish” constantly, though I was working four jobs, supporting him through school. The time I went out with a friend to talk about a tragedy she had just endured only to return home to be called “stupid” repeatedly for not returning texts in a timely manner. His constant attempts at isolating me from my family and friends by saying how awful they were and how poorly they treated me. One night, I confronted him about buying too many drinks and sticking me with the bill. He proceeded to run away, darting into the street, forcing me to chase him in a cab to make sure he was safe. While trying to persuade him to get into the car so I could get us home, he started a fight with a knife wielding homeless man, putting both of us in danger. I had to diffuse the situation and protect him. He would often turn these violent outbursts on himself. When frustrated, he would hit himself in the face, sometimes with objects, sometimes with his own hands, and I would be forced to physically intervene though I was always afraid for my own safety. He knew this caused me immense pain, but he continued this form of abuse when others proved unsuccessful.

In addition, my ex-husband exerted complete control over my work as a songwriter, acting as my manager in order to access every aspect of my life. I laughed along with the podcast hosts as my ex alluded to the fact that I probably cheated on him while touring with my band, but that he wouldn’t have cared because he “understands” that kind of thing happens. This would have been quite impossible as he was physically present every step of the way on tour. Each show, every recording, every writing session, my ex was there, not only giving his input, but completely
disregarding my ideas as inferior to his own. I not only had limited opportunity to cheat on him, I was never allowed any freedom to even entertain the idea. One tour, in particular, I was chastised for not FaceTiming him within 30 minutes of our scheduled phone date. Even when he was not physically present, his control loomed over me.

My ex-husband’s final and most vicious lie on the podcast recounts his version of how his best friend and I ran off together, taking all of our friends with us, leaving him alone and desolate. The truth is, for nearly half a year, our sex life had been in disarray, mainly because my ex had “needs” that I refused to meet. These needs required involving other people. What I had thought was a fantasy slowly devolved into texts and conversations behind my back; invitations to others that I was completely unaware of. In addition to emotional and verbal abuse, my ex would frequently use sex as a weapon. He was so obsessed with sex, in fact, that I later found out he would lie about our sex life to my friends and use it as a tool to degrade and embarrass me. Even across the airwaves, on the podcast, he continues this behavior.

I finally asked for a separation and sought the advice of my family, friends and a mental health professional. The decision was unanimous: I had been through enough, and what I had been through was the term I was avoiding all this time. I had to Google “emotional abuse” to truly grasp what was being done to me. It’s not a common topic of conversation, nor does it leave the identifiable marks of physical abuse. When I asked for a divorce, my ex asked for alimony. The final insult. I traded that for full rights to everything I had ever written and the agreement that we would never speak again.

His version of the divorce is, “…she said she just didn’t want to try anymore.”

My version is this: I tried to change his behavior, then I tried to change myself to stop his behavior. Neither worked. You cannot change the people who abuse you. They lack the emotional tools that should prevent them from abusing you in the first place. You can only recognize it and then survive by whatever means possible. I left my ex-husband, filed for divorce, and gave him nearly everything we owned plus alimony so I could start my life over. I rented the tiniest apartment in Brooklyn and lived by myself for a year, relying on kickboxing, yoga, therapy, and the support of my family and friends.

At the end of the podcast, to my surprise, my ex actually revealed the truth about one thing. Off-handedly, he mentioned all of our friends abandoned him and supported me during the divorce. The hosts were shocked. How could they have sided with the “cheating wife?” He answered, “Well, you’re getting my side of the story. Maybe I wasn’t the best husband. Maybe I’m just a shitty person.”

After listening to this, my therapist said, “Isn’t that the exact definition of ‘gas lighting’?” Yes, it is. My ex managed to manipulate two people in an interview for a half hour with unbelievable tales of heartbreak and trauma, only to unravel the entire thing with one truthful sentence. Now, they will never be certain whether this is the redemptive ending they desired, or if they just listened to 30 minutes of lies. I was gas lit for eight years, so I empathize with their confusion.

I had been struggling to write a piece like this for quite some time. It’s easy to veil metaphors in song lyrics, not so easy to be completely and truthfully exposed. I held onto many fears: not being believed, being thought of as weak, having people think it was my fault for staying. I
continue to struggle with my self-esteem, but I’m working on it. I continue to strengthen the bonds my ex tried to break between myself and those closest to me. I continue to re-write my story from the perspective of a victim to that of a survivor. It is my greatest hope that someone needing a voice will read this and find one. All we can do is live to tell our story in the hope that it will impact and help others.

I stayed silent for a long time, but hearing my ex-husband brazenly lie on a podcast gave me renewed armor. Buddhism states you should “thank your enemies, for they are your greatest teachers.” While I now know what love is, my ex taught me what love is not. So, thank you, I suppose. But I’m not going to stay silent anymore.

None of us should.

Read more: https://thoughtcatalog.com/emily-danger/2017/11/sex-lies-and-podcasts-why-im-finally-ready-to-speak-out-about-my-emotionally-abusive-marriage/

Nick Jonas Ceased His “Find You” Music Video& We’re All Freaking Out

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OMG, you guys. Today is already a great day. Nick Jonas’ “Find You” music video is ultimately here, and it’s truly, really good. Nick Jonas, the international man of sexy, is always remarkable us with brand new music, and this time it’s something totally, utterly stylish. Jonas’ brand-new anthem, “Find You, ” is the sort of soothing song to get you in the mood to dance on the beach with a knot of attractive strangers. Jonas does that in the music video, and it is truly inducing for me. Can I do that? Is that what a beach day with Jonas is like? If so, sign me up.

Jonas dropped “Find You” on Sept. 14, 2017, and the entire world started bobbing their premiers. We know where to find you, Nick Jonas. You can find him on the radio until eternally because this song is catchy AF, y’all. So what does this music video genuinely signify? Who is it about, and why is he driving an expensive car so close to the irrigate? Watch out, dude! One of the words says, “I look for you in the center of the sun.” I have no clue what that could symbolize, but do not seem immediately at the sun, parties. It’s not worth it to simply find a riddle girlfriend that prevents disguising from you. No way.

This is Jonas’ second song to come out the summer months, and we aren’t mad about it. The lyric, “Remember I Told You” was the catchy tune released in May. It boasted Mike Posner and Anne Marie, and it showcased Jonas’ sultry voice. Mama like. Both songs are completely different, but these are sensual.

One thing is for certain, Jonas knows how to connect with his followers. In October of 2016, he told

Heartbreak is a topic that a lot of beings relate to — the challenges presented by the next steps in your life, and when some openings open, and how you approach the next ones opening … I checked pretty quickly that it was a lot of what my love could relate to. It’s nerve-wracking when[ the beliefs] are as personal as the ones that I shared were. But I find counteracted when I use my writing as a way to handle — it’s exceedingly therapeutic.

Jonas is getting deep, and I like it.

Here are more words to deeply analyze 😛 TAGEND

I took a capsule but it didn’t facilitate me numb
I see your appearance even when my eyes are shut
But I never truly know where to find you

I taste the words that keep falling out your mouth
If I could love you I would never put you down
But I never really know where to find you

Where to find you
Where to find you
But I never genuinely know where to find you
Try, try, try
Try, try, try
Try, try, try
But I never really know where to find you

I’m guessing, based on the music video, Jonas is stumbling through a sweltering, steamy desert all alone, and finally ascertains the beautiful California coast. Although one would assume the first stop would be instantly into the monstrous body of water, Jonas instead dances with all the beautiful women on the beach. Hey, we all have our priorities. Is he looking for that special girl “hes losing” long ago? Is he searching for himself? Oh, Jonas. You are a strange man.

At the end of the video, Jonas jump-start into a Lyft on the beach and leaves. Yes, he gets into a freakin’ Lyft. I couldn’t believe it either, but it happened. Times that have gist, or is it cunning make placement? Likely a little bit of both, honestly. Although Jonas never seems to find who he’s go looking for, the music video is a luscious treat.

Now, let’s all get out there and shake our hips to this sexy little song and find our inner dance! Afterall, we’re all looking for something.

Check out the entire Gen Why series and other videos on Facebook and the Bustle app across Apple TV, Roku, and Amazon Fire TV .

My dad’s murder didn’t violate me

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When Mark Lemon was 12, “his fathers” was killed. Even at such a young age he knew he had to make peace with himself in order to have a future

On Tuesday 12 May 1992, my father was murdered and my world changed for ever.

At 3pm, a coach has now come to my classroom to say to me my mother had requested that I go home urgently. I will never forget that heart-sinking feeling at the thought that something terrible had happened. I arrived dwelling to be greeted by police cars and the clang of my sister announcing in the living room a clang that will stay with me for ever.

My mother took me upstairs and was just telling me my father had died that morning. I have never held her so tightly. I would never look my papa again, I believed. I would never play football with him again and I would never view his hand again. I was 12.

After I was told, I fled the members of this house, got on my bicycle, and went back to institution to realise one of my closest sidekicks, whose leader had died of lung cancer when she was nine. I recollect discontinuing my motorcycle on the school driveway, guiding towards her and collapsing into her forearms. I muttered two messages Dads dead, then sank to the storey and burst into weepings.

It was not until I came back home that evening that my uncle sat me down to tell me that Dad had not died in a auto disintegrate, as I had at first supposed, but had been murdered.

At the time, our lineage had a clean who was going through a difficult divorce and my parents were helping her through it. The spouse would check her upright to try to find anything that pointed to his wife having an affair. Because of this, she had her post redirected to our mansion so my father could keep it and overtake it safely on to her.

On 12 May, the husband followed his wife to the house where my father extradited the upright. He turned up to find my fathers vehicle outside. He went to a local browse where he stole a boning spear, then returned to the house where my father and the status of women were sucking coffee in the kitchen.

After a brief struggle, “the mens” plucked out the knife and jabbed my father twice, killing him instantly and then turning on his wife. The wife loped out of the house and the man grabbed another spear from the kitchen and continued to stab my father. He then lay the knife in the garden and left.

He was later caught and went to prison for four years.

That evening, as my uncle said to me that my father had died, my feeling was one of exasperation and I swore to do to the man what he had to be undertaken to my father. I even picked up my fathers pocket knife, telling my uncle that I would get revenge.

Deep down, though, I knew that the only lane I could live “peoples lives” was to make peace with myself. It announces strange, but I ever tried to stay positive after my fathers carnage. I had to make peace with myself at an early age for the very best of my future.

I still vividly recollect my fathers funeral. I was standing outside the church when one of my fathers sidekicks approached. You are now the man of the family, he said. For a 12 -year-old boy who had just lost his role model, it was quite a burden is to know I was now held liable for looking after my mother and two sisters.

For many years, I wouldnt talk about what happened. I fastened the reminiscences away. But I could never forget my daddies smile, or how quickly he ambled and how I struggled to keep up with him when regarding his hands. I had adored spending time with him, specially playing football or tennis. After he died, I stopped playing athletic it was too painful a reminder of the times we had invested together.

The suffering process is strange. No question how you know it, the working day you are fine and the next the regret punches you like a sledgehammer.

Throughout my teenage years, my suffering had turned to anger and frustration why had this has come to me? The last happen on my intellect was leaving academy with good grades. But I was particularly fortunate to have a support network that remained me on its path. I had an incredible father who loved me and accepted that events would be OK in time, and my friends were supportive and understanding.

I have always believed that I have been navigated subconsciously by something; perhaps my father has been helping me along the way.

On 17 April 2011, I became a father for the first time. I was a dad to a babe son, Otis. To prop your child for the first time is a mystical instant, but for me it detected extra special. All of my ardours and heartache had washed away at that moment, and all I felt was cherish for the purposes of our baby.

I had never certainly was just thinking about the emotional legacy of my fathers assassinate until I became a father myself. Now, nearly 25 years after my fathers fatality, I am married to Simone and have two children, Otis, six, and Thea, two. But the overwhelming gumption of loss is still great and I cant promotion but wonder how this harrowing event constituted me the mother I am today. The obvious outcome was that failing a role model at such a young age left home without a male anatomy to go to for advice.

I would also find it agonizing calling pals houses, identifying them with their leaders. I did become very close to one sidekick and his family. They would let me stay over and dine with them; and I have always is seeking to take inspiration from my friends father. Chiefly, though, I experienced the strong appreciation of household they had together. “Thats what” I missed most in failing my own parent so young.

I have been very lucky to be helped by people who plainly attended and this has helped me be the parent I am today.

If there is one hero in this tragic affair, it is my mum. The persuasivenes she must have had to carry on with three children is phenomenal and I will never understand how she retained so strong following the loss of her husband, just as I will never be able to comprehend why another person would want to crusade so much better senseless extermination, affecting so many was living in the process.

Since becoming a dad, I have always is common knowledge that the time will come when I will have to sit down with their own children to tell them “whats happened to” Grandpa. Otis has recently been asking questions about where Grandpa is and why he isnt alive any more. I guess it is about dealing with it in stages throughout their own lives. But the time will come eventually.

It was not until my mid-2 0s that I looked for proper assistance. The greatest defy for anyone struggling with their mental health is to open up and be brave enough to talk about how they find themselves notion. I was helped immensely by the bereavement donation Cruse.

By speaking about this subject so publicly, my hope is that, in some manner, I can help a young person knowledge a similar loss.

Fantastic charities such as Winstons Wish and Cruse understand potential impacts of bereavement at a young age and have developed a range of practical support and steering “for childrens”, their families and professionals. They offer specialist support programmes for children affected by deaths related to assassination, manslaughter, suicide or the military forces parish.

Writing about something so personal has been hard-boiled, but strangely cathartic. Four terms have always stayed with me: meter is my healer. Time doesnt shape are working with my fathers terrible loss any easier, but it does enable me to learn how to be dealt with the loss.

I hope that in some way my own experience has schooled me to enjoy life and cherish my family even more. It has certainly opened me an outlook on life that can only come from misplacing someone so treasured. It has realise me stronger, both for myself and for my family.

cruse.org.uk

winstonswish.org.uk

Mark Lemons recent work, Thea Lemon and Her Super Sporty Fairy Godmother, is published by lemondropbooks.co.uk

Florida Fox reporter discovers illegal immigrants accused of committing bolting from SUV crash

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The driver and fare who fled on foot from a single-car disintegrate that left another passenger dead Friday have been located– thanks to a FOX 13 reporter.

TEXAS BABY ABANDONED IN PARKING LOT; PARENTS CHARGED

FOX 13 ‘s Alcides Segui was reporting on the clang near the panorama Friday morning, when he says he saw two shirtless humanities in the woods. Segui called Florida Highway Patrol to report the suspicious people, then followed “the mens” as they strolled southbound.

FHP moved contact with “the mens”, and discovered that they were in fact the move and fare involved in the crash who fled the incident on foot. Both were arrested, and said they were illegal immigrants.

BLUE LIVES MATTER FLAG DEEMED ‘RACIST, ‘ ORDERED TO COME DOWN

According to Florida Highway Patrol, the SUV, a 2004 GMC Yukon, was headed southbound when the driver failed controller for unknown reasons. The vehicle revolved, left the roadway, and collided with several trees before to access to a remainder.

Investigators belief three people were in the car at the time of the clang. The motorist and one fare absconded the vistum on foot, leaving another fare in the car.

The standing fare digested lethal harms and was found dead at the site of the crash.

A massive exploration was launched for the two suspects, use K9s and helicopters.

But it was FOX 13 ‘s Alcides Segui who spotted the men sauntering southbound along U.S. 301.

Click for more from Fox 13.

George Takei Accused Of Groping Model In 1981!

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George Takei is the latest celeb to be accused of sexual assault.

According to The Hollywood Reporter, the Star Trek star allegedly groped former model and actor Scott R. Brunton in Los Angeles in 1981. Brunton was 23 years old at the time of the alleged incident.

Related: George Takei SLAMS Donald Trump’s ‘Dangerous Talk’ Of A Muslim Registry

The accuser tells the publication:

“This happened a long time ago, but I have never forgotten it… It is one of those stories you tell with a group of people when people are recounting bizarre instances in their lives, this always comes up. I have been telling it for years, but I am suddenly very nervous telling it.”

According to Scott, the two met at Greg’s Blue Dot bar where they exchanged numbers. After Brunton broke up with his-then boyfriend, the author invited him out for dinner and a theater show.

“He was very good at consoling me and understanding that I was upset and still in love with my boyfriend… He was a great ear. He was very good about me spilling my heart on my sleeve.”

The two went back to Takei’s condo and had more drinks. However, Brunton began feeling “dizzy” and “disoriented” after two rounds.

“We have the drink and he asks if I would like another… And I said sure. So, I have the second one, and then all of a sudden, I begin feeling very disoriented and dizzy, and I thought I was going to pass out. I said I need to sit down and he said sit over here and he had the giant yellow beanbag chair. So I sat down in that and leaned my head back and I must have passed out.”

When he woke up, he allegedly saw George “groping” his crotch, and tried “to get my underwear off.”

“The next thing I remember I was coming to and he had my pants down around my ankles and he was groping my crotch and trying to get my underwear off and feeling me up at the same time, trying to get his hands down my underwear… I came to and said, ‘What are you doing?!’ I said, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ He goes, ‘You need to relax. I am just trying to make you comfortable. Get comfortable.’ And I said, ‘No. I don’t want to do this.’ And I pushed him off and he said, ‘OK, fine.’ And I said I am going to go and he said, ‘If you feel you must. You’re in no condition to drive.’ I said, ‘I don’t care I want to go.’ So I managed to get my pants up and compose myself and I was just shocked. I walked out and went to my car until I felt well enough to drive home, and that was that.”‘

Although the two met up years later in Portland, Brunton was unable to ask George why he (allegedly) assaulted him.

“I wanted to see him… I always wanted to ask him — I just felt really betrayed. I thought I was a friend and here I am later, just another piece of meat. So I called him up at the hotel — I figured out which hotel he was at — and he said ‘Hi, Scott. I remember you.’ I wanted to ask him why. We met for coffee, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was just too uncomfortable.”‘

According to Takei’s rep:

“George is traveling in Japan and Australia and not reachable for comment.”

Four of Brunton’s friends confirm to THR that Scott previously told them about the alleged encounter.

[Image via Joseph Marzullo/WENN.]

Read more: http://perezhilton.com/2017-11-10-george-takei-scott-r-brunton-star-trek-sexual-assault

‘I fell out of bunked laughing’: columnists on their favourite funny book

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Nina Stibbe, David Nicholls, Bridget Christie and others discover the books that reached them laugh the most

At Freddies by Penelope Fitzgerald

Chosen by David Nicholls

So many of my early speak remembers imply hysterical laugh. There was Adrian Mole, of course, and Douglas Adamss The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, the Monty Python notebooks, Woody Allens Without Feathers, Geoffrey Willanss How to Be Topp, Evelyn Waughs Decline and Fall. Books were prized for being outraging or entertaining or, even better, both, and the promise that a book would induce the reader laugh out loud seemed solely plausible. Why not? It happened all the time.

Less so now perhaps, but a notebook that systematically attains me laugh is Penelope Fitzgeralds At Freddies, a comic masterpiece from 1982 that really should be better known. Its established in the early 60 s, in a seedy, disintegrating stagecoach institution in Covent Garden, full of terrifyingly precocious child performers and incompetent, downtrodden coaches, all presided over by the infamous Frieda Freddie Wentworth. Manipulative, enigmatic, sharp-tongued, opinionated, shes an extraordinary comic innovation; imagine Miss Jean Brodie give full play to Alastair Sim.

But if Freddie dominates both school and tale, theres also a wonderful supporting direct, and I especially like Pierce Carroll, the incompetent teacher, well intentioned but altogether incapable of verifying his class. Theres Boney Lewis, a delightful, drunken actor famed for his Napoleon, an off-stage cameo from Nol Coward and a great comic set piece implying a hysterically ostentatious production processes King John, full of mad play and mime.

If the idea of a stage institution humor announces worryingly endearing, Fitzgerald sidesteps schmaltz and predictability. Shes clear-eyed about their chances of the underdog and brilliant at captivating the desperation that hides behind the smiles and bravado of those on the lower calls has anyone written about flop so well? Theres a fortify bitterness to the mood( No spirit can be as pure as the hatred you feel for a child, says Boney ), and melancholy extremely, a sense that adversity is never far away; in this respect, the final page is quite unforgettable. Fitzgerald is rightly celebrated for the great, late historic novels such as The Blue Flower, but she is also a first-class, underrated comedian, even when the comedy is played against a backbeat of sadness.

David NichollssUs issued by Hodder.
Nina Stibbes Love, Nina is published by Penguin.
David Lodges The Man Who Wouldnt Get Up and Other Stories issued by Vintage.
Deborah Moggachs Something to Hide issued by Vintage.
John OFarrells Theres Merely Two David Beckhams is published by Black Swan.
The worse the world get, the more we need to chortle Marina Lewycka. Illustration: Leon Edler Bridget Christies A Book for Her issued by Arrow.
Sebastian Faulkss Where My Heart Utilized to Beat is published by Vintage.
Jenny Colgans Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery issued by Sphere.
Philip Ardaghs The Grunt on the Run is published by Nosy Crow.
Marina Lewyckas The Lubetkin Legacy issued by Fig Tree.
Shazia Mirzas 2017 slapstick tour begin in Bath on 19 January.
Lissa Evanss Crooked Heart is published by Black Swan.

The Shirk Report Volume 447

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Welcome to the Shirk Report where you will find 20 funny images, 10 interesting articles and 5 entertaining videos from the last 7 days of sifting. Most images found on Reddit; articles from Facebook, Twitter, and email; videos come from everywhere. Any suggestions? Send a note to submit@twistedsifter.com

20 IMAGES

Friday!
When you ask for your charger back and they ask what your battery life is
Good one Fredo!
This is so bad it’s good
When he pretends to throw the ball for the 5th time in a row
Kill it with fire!
Terry’s the best
Has science gone too far?
Dude!
When basketball is life
Meanwhile his dog at home..
Last year these two brothers both won the lottery
Cannot unsee
This chart speaks to me
Here’s something satisfying
Oh my
Free your mind Neo
Me too Ryan, me too
Thanks Minty!
Until next week

10 ARTICLES

A Poet, with Prison Behind Him, Becomes an Attorney
What Explains U.S. Mass Shootings? International Comparisons Suggest an Answer
Paradise Papers leak reveals secrets of the world elite’s hidden wealth
The surprising reason why Converse sneakers have fuzzy bottoms
‘Everyone will have 5 years to get their car off the road or sell it for scrap’
The Essential Action Jeans, 1977-1991
The Growing Business Of Defensive Urban Design
Did the World Get Aung San Suu Kyi Wrong?
From Defendant to Defender: One Wrongfully Convicted Man Frees Another
Recognizing What They Had, 20 Years Too Late

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UNTIL 2/22/22

Read more: http://twistedsifter.com/2017/11/the-shirk-report-volume-447/

Rob& Chyna: the saddest reveal on Tv

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The format of this painfully dull show is identical to other persons of the Kardashian empire: interminable backgrounds of people sitting in kitchens not chewing cheese plates

Is there a less qualified world establish adept than Rob Kardashian? If you lined up 10 parties from the casting register of A& Es Intervention and Rob Kardashian and had to choose one to base an ongoing tv series around, would you ever pick him unless you knew his last name? Isnt this a tragedy? Shouldnt we all be more unnerved?

Sunday nighttimes premiere of the brand-new E! series Rob& Chyna tags the yield of the black sheep Kardashian to the public eye. Hes invested years of their own lives unwilling to leave his room, which effected him to increase( his texts) a clutch of weight. He looks little comfortable stirring see linked with other human being than the little orphan daughter Newt from the movie Aliens. A Los Angeles Dodgers hat covers whats left of the poorest of the poor people thin, matted whisker. His wardrobe consists of T-shirts , nondescript jeans and sneakers. In other texts, when I watch this astoundingly depressing platform, I hear myself and what I might become( minus the millions of dollars ).

The first few minutes of Rob& Chyna intend to become us sympathize with Rob and his pregnant fiancee Blac Chyna. As an aside, isnt it a bit ghoulish that Blac Chyna departs almost entirely by the mention Chyna in the first episode now that the original Chyna the former WWE wrestler has died? Its like rummaging through people jewelry after a funeral.

Regardless of what you call her, Blac Chyna is the actual adept of this present, even if her epithet is second on the marquee. She came up from the world-famous deprive teams of Atlanta and grew something of an entrepreneur, at least in the way that we characterize that parole in 2016. She took the Kardashian template of monetizing tabloid notoriety through a faith of temperament social media ubiquity, branded commodities, and now, the final fragment of the question, an E! reality franchise. Shes become a major supporting player in the ongoing Kardashian meta-narrative having a baby with the rapper Tyga, who then leaves her for Kylie Jenner, which leads to Chyna connect patrols with Rob. Whether or not her relationship with Rob is genuine or a calculated effort to increase her making potential is not for me to decide (* cough its bullshit cough *) but what is is whether or not this TV show is good. Its not.

Rob
Rob& Chyna: get with the wind. Picture: E!

If your litmus test for putting with a programme designed is answering the question does someone fart within the first 10 hours with a yes, then Rob& Chyna is for you. Spoiler alert, Chyna farts in the car. If you prefer a bit of drama, then maybe flip over to another path. Or hurl your cable carton or streaming machine into the nearest open body of water and wander into the town square. Either one is fine with me.

The format of this dreadfully dull show is identical to the other outposts of the Kardashian empire: wearisome vistums of parties driving indulgence automobiles on featureless pikes, be standing kitchens not devouring cheese illustrations, or folding clothes for a business trip that may or may not ever happen. During these scenes, mush-mouthed pod beings debate some ill-defined conflict. Someone needs to go to rehab for a ambiguous problem. Someone needs to text person back about a concept that happened off camera. Person detects disrespected. A party invite is lost in the mail. Watching these establishes is like reading the most banal email thread at 3am. Plug sad-eyed agoraphobe Rob Kardashian into this format and you have a medication for insomnia so potent, the Food and Drug Administration should govern it.

The ostensible plan of this escapade revolves around Rob accusing Chyna of texting people behind his back. He declares this to be the case because he discovers that Chyna has changed the passcode on her iPhone. He even insinuates that shes securing up with her ex, Tyga. All of this takes place with Rob spread out comfortably on a couch. Chyna disavows any wrongdoing, then alleges Rob of contacting females behind her back. He apparently declares it, which I vaguely recollect before my eyelids glued shut for the night. It must be the case, because the very next background is Chyna in another expensive automobile screaming at Rob to stop texting bitches.

These are the moments one watches world Tv for belligerence, incoherent yell and profanity. This is why I prefer the Andy Cohen Bravo model for reality over the clumsy Ryan Seacrest/ Kris Jenner indulgence gabfests. Contrast Rob& Chyna with Bravos Below Deck, currently on the work of its fourth season and with one spinoff under its region. Below Decks premise is simple: put a knot of attractive deckhands on a mega-yacht, cater them with booze, and be fostered to melt down every escapade. Would you rather watch that or a show starring parties extremely famed to represent proper gulls of themselves for your amusement? The explanation is, neither, Im a grownup who is too busy lending appraise to the culture to demoralize myself with such technicalities, but dont perturb, I picked the show about yachties drunkenly hooking up too.

I will say that the producers of Rob& Chyna( which include the titular Rob and Chyna among their grades) do try to spice happens up. Scott Disick appears in the role of Robs only friend in the entire world and his chauffeur, schlepping him around Los Angeles like a pasty lily-white Morgan Freeman from Driving Miss Daisy. Theres a memorable background where Rob steps into Chynas home in full Eeyore mode, carrying blooms to apologize for texting bitches. Chyna isnt having it, grabs the flowers, chucks them in a pool, then kicks Rob out of her mansion. This is the turning point of the suspect tale, as the rest of the occurrence concerns Chyna trying to get Rob to text her back, as she has apparently forgetting that she hollered at him to leave her alone while pee-pee all over his nostalgic gesticulate. Im sure Rob Kardashian, AKA Calabasas Morrissey, certainly took that well.

Finally, Kris Jenner, matriarch of the extended Kardashian family and former nemesis of Blac Chyna, appears to counsel Chyna on how be addressed with Rob. Jenner is shown to be so shrewd that I half expected her to have grown a whisker, picked up a large twig, and shed on a pointy hat off-screen. Much has been made of how Blac Chyna is so clever and took down the Kardashians by getting engaged to Rob. Thats a neat little underdog narrative, but if you think that Kris Jenner isnt ingeniou enough to use this to her advantage and will be the ultimate winner of this dim-witted race, then you arent paying attention to the reveal. Thats fine, since it probably shaped you pass out from boredom, but the fact remains that one of the last faces you see in this first episode is Kris Jenner. The whole silly project is hers and hers alone. Chyna can have a piece, as long as she compensates her taxes to her feudal lord.

And then theres Rob. At last, they found a practice to monetize his mopey look and wrinkled robes. Instead of a Shrek-like creature they retain locked away in a basement, he has his own see, which exclusively furthers the aims of their own families. In exchange, this serviceman who probably has real clinical depression has to pretend to be a TV adept. By coincidence, E! has stumbled upon the saddest show on television, so filled with existential anguish that youd expect it was drummed up by a government-funded columnist in some mushy Scandinavian country over a bottle of cheap scotch. If “youre watching” more than one of these escapades, youll probably find yourself not leaving the house for years, just like Rob Kardashian.

Danica Patrick’s car detonations into kindles during Dover practice

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( Fox Sports)

There was an ugly three-car clang at the start of NASCAR Sprint Cup Series practise Friday morning Dover International Speedway.

Just six minutes into practice, a gear appeared to break on Danica Patricks No. 10 Stewart-Haas Racing Chevrolet. Patrick spun at the depart of Turn 4 as her car dropped oil onto the way and caught fire.

Behind Patrick, her teammate Tony Stewart stumbled the lubricant, as did the Chip Ganassi-owned Chevrolet of Jamie McMurray. Both of them had hard contact with the wall, while Patricks car remained igniting as it extended around on the frontstretch.

Stewart, which continued to nursing an injured back, told his team on the radio, That hurt. The three-time champ had three separate impacts, the first coming where there was no SAFER barrier.

All three motorists were able to clamber from their respective cars, but McMurray eventually left the infield caution core cradling his left forearm in the elbow expanse, in obvious pain.

I got back to the throttle and it was like a muted — actually stifled like I blew an machine, said Patrick. And then it just got sideways and thump the wall. As you can see, theres lots of flares, very. Obviously, some kind of lubricant of something like that in there that developed that.

I genuinely feel bad because Jamies shoulder injured pretty bad and I dont know if Tonys feeling perfect, said Patrick. Definitely unfortunate. Not something we usually see.

Patrick expressed briefly with Stewart after the crash. I fantasize at any point in time you worry for Tony, simply made to ensure that hes OK after everything hes are going through physically. Hopefully, hes alright, but I guess merely he knows how he experiences right now.

More NASCAR news from Fox Sports