When to use noone : Never use the word noone. This is not a real word, rather an error that people sometimes make when trying to spell no one. It is possible that the fact that nobody is a single word causes people to believe no one should also be one word. This is not the case, however. When to use no one : No one is a pronoun that means no person. A common synonym is nobody. No one and nobody share the same meaning and grammatical rules.
However, no one is more appropriate in a professional or academic setting, whereas nobody is more common in casual conversation. The beat is kinda basic. The hook is like the music they play when Abu Nazir sidles scarily by in "Homeland. It doesn't get played much anymore. When it does resurface, it feels It's not a song you'd put on a mixtape for your crush. It's not a song you'd play for your spouse when the kids are at home with the babysitter and you've got nine hours to tear up the Piscataway Hampton Inn.
It's certainly not a song you'd include on the video photo montage you made for your grandparents' silver anniversary. You wanna back that thing up or should I push up on it? The bass drum hits. The MIDI violins whine. The singer starts filling out his fellatio permission slip. It's only been 20 seconds, and you're already getting ready to hang it up with "Candy Shop. But then Go, cunnilingus doves, go! Rather than simply imposing his desires on the person he's with — a la the dude in "God Only Knows "I'm going to invest my entire sense of self-worth in you!
But here's the key thing : the lady on the receiving end of those desires? She's clearly into it. And we know this because she says so. The lines of consent in "Candy Shop" are bright red, highlighted, and soldered into the weirdly sticky club floor.
Meanwhile, Robin Thicke is outside trying to convince the bouncer that his uncle is a lawyer. No matter how nasty they freak, it will be intimate. It will be private. There will be no revenge porn the epilogue to " Blurred Lines ," to wit, would definitely be a protracted, emotionally devastating lawsuit.
Drum Soloist: Jack DeJohnette “It’s You Or No One”
Sexual compatibility is key to the survival of any relationship, whether years, weeks, or very possibly in the case of "Candy Shop" minutes long. She may have a high sex drive, but dude is graciously offering to accommodate her. What a gentleman! These crazy kids just might go the distance after all. And at the end of the day, what is a relationship but two nymphos, sharing health insurance? Thanks, Obamacare! The "Candy Shop" guy is a keeper. Because he's not a hero or a stranger in the night or a funky, shimmering love god.
He's a good partner. But when you strip away the swagger, the back beat, and the weird strings from "Best of Public Domain Middle Eastern Music ," by the end of the song, both people are satisfied. And at the end of the day, isn't that what a healthy relationship is all about? Perry received his award for making movies that were, Perry feels, subconsciously about "wanting her [his mother] to know that she was worthy—wanting black women to know you're worthy, you're special, you're powerful, you're amazing.
He spoke to the power of helping others while simultaneously carving out your own destiny. You're down on your knees pulling weeds, up on a ladder lopping off errant tree branches, and pushing a heavy lawnmower that never seems to start on the first try. Unfortunately, because lawn work is so physically intense and not everyone can afford a gardner, the elderly and disabled sometimes have to let their lawns and backyards grow wild.
An alternative learning center in Dubuque, Iowa is helping its kids stay physically fit while helping out their community with a new program that gives them high school PE credit for doing yard work for the elderly and disabled. The Alternative Learning Center is for high school juniors and seniors who are at risk of dropping out of school.
As part of the program, the teens visit homes of the elderly and disabled and help out by raking leaves, pulling weeds, cutting grass, and cleaning gutters. Teacher Tim Hitzler created the program because it helps the students get involved in the community while helping those who need it most. They really like giving back to people and meeting the person. Nick Colsn, a year-old student at the learning center, told NPR that the program allows him to meet people he wouldn't have otherwise. The end-of-year program has been so successful, Hitzler hopes to expand it next year.
You know, I mean, it just makes sense. It's so simple. And it works. If you're a white supremacist, I imagine drinking beer or any other alcoholic beverage is a nice way to relax and tune out the fact that you're a terrible person who's helping set human progress back at a rate the bubonic plague would be proud of. But for some self-professed white supremacists, it wasn't quite so easy on a June weekend in Germany.
According to Newsweek , the hundreds of neo-nazis who flocked to the "Shield and Sword Festival" in Ostritz found themselves uncomfortably dry when a court imposed a liquor ban at their gathering of hateful bigots who also like to listen to awful music together. The ban's aim was to prevent any violence that might erupt you know it would They even posted pictures on Twitter of the alcohol they'd removed from participants.
Residents of the town of Ostritz, who've had to deal with the bigots before they threw the same festival last year on Hitler's birthday , knew that the ban wouldn't stop the festival-goers from trying to obtain more alcohol while in town. So the townspeople got together a week before the festival and devised a plan which would truly make the white supremacists focus on how terrible neo-nazi music is: They bought up the entire town's beer supply. At the same time the festival was going on, residents also staged two counter-protests and put on a "Peace Festival" to drive home the point that bigotry wasn't welcome.
If the festival is held in the same town again next year, ticket-buyers should be aware that Ostritz isn't playing around when it says that white supremacists aren't welcome. There's some good news, too: Aside from the fact that residents aren't afraid to send the message that they're intolerant of intolerance, attendance to the far-right music festival has drastically decreased in the past year.
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In , 1, people attended, according to the BBC. This year? Approximately Here's hoping the festival won't have a return engagement next year. My husband and I waved from across the street as the buses pulled away, our kids, along with a hundred or so others, behind tinted glass. We waved like we were excited. Our son was likely not looking. Our daughter may have been, but she also could have not been paying attention until the bus started into motion. We won't know for sure if she saw us waving until she returns.
It's so much the default that realizing it is actually stunning. We run our lives as though anything else other than what's in our head, our routine, our privilege, is what will take place. There's that little truism that a worrier shines like a pebble in the hand: you're more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash.
Yet we are much more likely to be worried about flying because it is out of our routine. Being out of your routine awakens you to the precariousness we completely shut out in our day-to-day lives. What should be normal: sending your kids to sleep away camp. What feels wholly unnatural: sending your Jewish kids to a Jewish sleep away camp in the world we're living in now.
I don't want you to know there are such things as Jewish sleep away camps. Even having others know that they exist feels like a danger. I'm used to my feelings and my instincts seeming like hyperbole to others. I'm emotional. I'm tuned in. I'm hyperreactive. I have a hair trigger. I have anxiety and depression. I also come from a genetic and cultural history of people who ended up in this country because we were hunted and pursued and needed to escape.
Over and over and over again. In "normal" suburban upper-class life, this can be a huge detriment. A handicap. It can manifest in the most unhelpful and frankly, startlingly blind ways. I've spent so much of my life reacting and feeling and then trying to understand what makes me tick. I've spent so much time learning to train and control and ignore and channel.
I wasn't made for easy times. I was made for survival. I was made, like an animal, to intuit danger and get the hell out, fast. I was made in the image of fight or flight. I do both better than most people. It's not something I brag about, because it doesn't feel like a good thing most of the time. I put my kids on a bus to Jewish sleep away camp. Because when my husband and I got married I'm Jewish, he's not , our pact was this: if our children live in a world where historically they could be targeted and threatened because of their Jewishness regardless of their actual observance of religion or customs , they deserved to know that being a Jew is not negative.
We should give them every opportunity to be proud and happy about their Jewishness. Their belonging should help them to feel good about themselves and the world. It should help them seek connection and understanding of the human condition. They should know songs. They should sing full-throated. They should feel comfort in our traditions when they are useful to them, but never feel threatened or unnecessarily constrained by them.
Research funded by Jewish institutions and communities suggests that the number one way to help ground kids in their Jewish identity is to send them to Jewish sleep away camp. It's the glue. I put my kids on a bus to Jewish sleep away camp at a time when our government is putting migrant children into concentration camps. I bought all the supplies on the list. I washed and labeled and sorted and packed. I zipped up those bags to accompany my children. And then I dropped my children off and couldn't see if they were waving back as the buses drove away. Of course, the camp I'm sending them to has a stellar reputation.
Every day they post updates on a special web site, along with hundreds of pictures of the kids in action. I send emails to the kids which are printed out and given to them. I send packages with stickers and trading cards and all sorts of goofiness so that they know they are loved. Migrants from central America have made their way to our border with just what they could carry.
My children's bags were so heavy that neither of them could carry them. Migrants are following the rules of asylum seeking. They are fleeing violence and intimidation and abuse far greater than I will allow myself to imagine. They are separated from their children by a government that has no business doing so. I, an upper-class white woman, expect my voice to be heard.
I expect to be able to vote and call and hold my elected officials accountable. I know what to say to get my point across. I've given money to candidates and I know how to threaten that support in the future. I also have the privilege of time and energy with which to do it. My underlying expectation is that there are very few problems that I don't have some redress for.
Asylum-seekers, in good faith, and following the rules, have nothing left to lose. They are coming here seeking something less life-threatening than what they're fleeing. They're seeking some good will. Or, at the very least, safety. Or relative safety. I put my children on a bus to Jewish sleep away camp knowing that in my daughter's cabin of 8 girls, there are 4 young adult counselors who are there to make sure that she's safe, happy, and her needs are being met.
I also know that last year, an asshole white supremacist antisemite decided to go to a synagogue on shabbat , the Jewish sabbath, and turn it into a bloodbath. Well before that ever happened, well before the era of mass shootings and Columbine, Jewish institutions like synagogues and preschools and JCCs have needed extra surveillance. We've had police guard our religious services and social gatherings. Even and perhaps especially seeking out Jewish belonging, Jewish joy, has always been a reckoning with danger and threat. After I sent my children on that bus—the one I knew where it was going—the one where I'd shoveled their overpacked duffle bags into the bowels of the bus—I came home to a house strewn with the remnants from packing.
Laundry bins with unneeded t-shirts and shorts and single socks. The cat—he normally comes to greet me when he hears the garage door open—was nowhere to be seen. I called for him. He still did not come. I came upstairs and looked in my son's room. No cat. I looked in my daughter's room—with its orange and pink somewhat darkened by the rainy skies—and there he was, tucked into a furry circle in an eddy of her duvet.
I laid down next to him and lost control. The control I never really had. Twitter this week has erupted in a jagged back-and-forth between politicians and pundits and opinion-havers about whether or not it is appropriate to call the migrant detention centers run by ICE and our government "concentration camps.
Non-Jews and, to be fair, some Jews as well , like to tiptoe around the Holocaust and any words or imagery which may in any way encroach upon the historical accuracy or singular legacy of that horrible period. To a degree, I might agree when the comparisons are used flippantly or improperly. In the same way I understood or had an inkling in my bones that the election might go a way I didn't want it to, I know this same thing: we are not ok.
This is not just the start. This is halfway down the road to the place where we lose not just perceived control, but real control. For all the current administration's lies and purposeful incapabilities, know this: the cruelty that comes out of the mouth of our president and those who continue to support him in the government and in the populace is not a lie. It is predictive. They're telling us in advance what they intend to do.
Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers – It’s You Or No One
And then they are doing it. In a world where I still have the ability to put my daughter and son on a bus with all their toiletries and know that they will likely arrive at their destination, I also know that our government argued for the legal right to deny soap and toothbrushes to migrant children. When anyone's children are denied such basics—human basics—no one is safe.
I know it will sound like hyperbole.
It's you or no one - Muziekweb
I know that those who so easily dismissed my concerns early on—before this administration even took office—will still attempt to dismiss my warnings now. But do so at your own peril. I was not built for normal times. I was built for times like these. And I haven't been wrong yet.
Love songs are where we get our passion, our soul — and most of our worst ideas. They're amazing. So amazing. And also terrible. I love it. It rings so true about what life throws at us and what we can throw at life. I shall read more of your blog, first I must finish watching the film. Courage is indeed contagious Amy. Have an amazing day!
I agree whole hardheartedly Amy, never pre-judge and never discount or underestimate your own wealth. Certainly I was not the only one to notice this and I will surly be back to read more of your blog. I was searching this quote to properly attribute it. I was going to do my blog based on the quote. When I typed it in, your entry came up. Now I can quote the quote in my sermon. Thanks for the blog. I too love this quote. But I would like to verify who said it originally. Was it Turing himself? Was it Christopher Morcom, who first says those words in the film? Or was it someone else?
- Becoming Real: Authenticity in an Age of Distractions;
- Noone or No One – How to Use it Correctly?
- No One But You!
Also, what other quotations express a very similar thought? Thank you. Hi Amy, My husband and I watched this movie the other night and that line jumped out at me as well! I loved it! I found your blog when I googled this quote. Thank you for sharing, it put my feelings into words! Thanks again!
Amy, this is such an inspiring quote I must say. Amy, I, too, just finished the movie on Netflix and was inspired by it and dismayed by the still rampant — at that time — profound prejudice against gays. As with the other persons who commented, I was deeply touched by the quote, and moved by your essay.