Ah yes, Enrico Cover, leader of the Baby Girl Power movement:
Hmm, where I have seen this animal before?
I guess he gave up talent scouting.
So, let me get this straight— the true history of talent scouting is… a cheetah reptile?
Ah, good ol’ Gravity U:
Alma mater of Sir Isaac Newton, of course.
I think this might be the first time I’ve ever reprinted a post from elsewhere, but I heard something about this story on the news the other day, and now I see our blogging community here in Turkey is taking up the cause, so I thought I’d join in. As a musician myself, I know firsthand how difficult it is to make a name for yourself and to eke out even a moderate living. I can’t imagine how stressful it must be if on top of everything your money troubles make you fear for your life. These guys are working hard, but unfortunately they have everything else working against them, so I want to do my part to see that they get some help.
I’ll be keeping up with this story and I’ll let you know how everything turns out— with any luck this will have a happy ending.
I’m going to go check out that documentary now. Please feel free to repost this in your own blogs or link to this post from your twitters.
From Villa Luna, via Carpetblogger:
Help save our heavy metal friends from an uncertain fate in Baghdad
In November 2007, the Iraqi metal band Acrassicauda was able to get to Turkey through the help of friends who donated money for them to leave Syria. Their visas in Syria were expiring and the government of Syria was threatening to force all Iraqis to return to Iraq.
Now they are in Turkey and their money and options are running out. Life in Turkey is very expensive and very difficult for people waiting to find out if they can officially be resettled by the UNHCR in another country (Turkey does not accept refugees from anywhere other than the West). As it stands now, they may have to return to Baghdad, simply because they can’t afford to stay in Turkey much longer. It’s impossible to stress just how dangerous this will be for them. It could very likely be a death sentence, and the time in which we can help them is quickly running out.
You can help by making a donation to assist Acrassicauda in surviving while they are stuck waiting in Istanbul. The band has no bank accounts, and PayPal doesn’t function in Turkey, so the makers of the documentary about them (Heavy Metal In Baghdad) set up a PayPal account on their behalf. No donation is too small. By giving as little as ten dollars, you can be a part of keeping the heavy metal dreams of four young Iraqi men alive.
Born out of a basement rehearsal space in Baghdad, Acrassicauda (Latin for “black scorpion”) is Iraq’s only heavy metal band. Inspired by western bands like Metallica, Slayer, and Slipknot, they began writing and playing metal in 2001. Their dream of performing live in Iraq soon became the struggle of their lives.
Due to increased security precautions throughout Iraq, it became difficult to practice —much less get through a show— without literally risking their lives. As the situation worsened in Baghdad they began receiving death threats from insurgents and religious fundamentalists accusing them of Satanism.
The war has now all but destroyed their dream of living in peace, growing their hair long, banging their heads, and shredding as loud as they want. The members of Acrassicauda are currently seeking asylum in Istanbul, Turkey. All of their visa applications to foreign countries have been denied.
As opposed to that see-through shirt I was wearing earlier.
In English-speaking countries, and throughout many parts of Europe, there is a simple way to distinguish left from right on products that require it— L means left, R means right. Simple.
But in Turkey, the word for left is sol and the word for right is sağ. S and S. So I always wondered how they marked it when necessary.
Well, today I learned one way they do it (though perhaps not the only way). I purchased a new bottle of contact lens cleaning solution, and it was one of those that has the free lens case inside. My old lens case says L and R on the caps. The new one, however, just has different coloured caps and has nothing printed on either one. Ah.
Although it seems like it would be a great idea to erase the international problem altogether and use colour-coding instead, I’m not sure how well it works in practice. For one thing, you have to remember which colour you decided was left and which one right. That might be easy enough if you use the case everyday, but if you sometimes wear your glasses several days in a row, it would be pretty easy to forget which lens cap was which. I’d probably resort to a sharpie marker and mark one of the caps with an L. I guess Turks would have to write the entire word sol, unless they have some other clever way of indicating it.
The other issue is, whatever system you choose for remembering only works if you’re the only one who needs to understand it. What if you’re a Turkish company shipping out a self-assembly product for a Turkish market, and it’s important that every end user can easily identify the left parts from the right parts? How do you mark those? You can’t just expect everyone to know that the one with the blue sticker on it is the left one. My guess would be you’d just have to mark them with the full words, providing there’s enough room to do that.
Can any of my Turkish readers shed some light on this, or does anyone else come from a place where the words for “left” and “right” share the same initial letter?
Perhaps “hire a proofreader” would be a better future project:
Yesterday was my quarterly visa day. I have to leave the country and re-enter four times a year. This usually involves either a boat trip or a plane trip, and this time it was a quick flight to Cyprus.
I hadn’t been over to the airport side of town in a while— our city is changing, developing. Antalya can be so beautiful on days like this.
Look who I met on the way to the airport:
He was just wandering around the airport grounds. It’s not surprising, because there are quite a few turtle/tortoise species in this area (the airport is near both a swampy region and the beach). I tried to make friends with him, but he seemed distressed by my presence, kept making this hissing noise and pulling his head inside his shell when I got close (I still think that’s the best trick ever, wish I could do it). So I snapped a photo and then backed off, at which point he stopped hissing and continued on his way.
This particular visa day was a hassle as usual, but it was probably the second best one I’ve ever had. I had some quick-turnaround flights for which I was worried about delays, but they went off without a hitch. I literally landed in Cyprus, hurried through all the international arrivals hoops (immigration officer: “and how long will you be staying here in Cyprus?” me: “twelve minutes”), walked out through customs, and headed back to departures to check in for my return flight. By the time I checked in and got to the gate, the flight was already boarding.
The flight from Ercan to Antalya is 23 minutes, during which time they serve a meal. I’m not kidding. And I’d just had a meal half an hour earlier on the first flight. Basically as soon as the wheels are up they start throwing trays at everyone, and then you gulp your food while they stand there with the trash bag, tapping their feet. It’s crazy. And it’s a big plane, too. But they’re determined you won’t leave the flight hungry. Ah, Turkish hospitality.
We can ascertain the meaning of “sexsells” if we break it down into its root words: “se” and “xsells.”
Yeah, D&G… price: less than a dollar. Heh.
