Architechture Schools No Portfolio

Iran that is in us, a problem vanished into thin air!


In the pages of the newspapers has gone fear of an Iran with a nuclear bomb. But why? What are you hiding?

I do not believe that problems can be solved in a few days without even warning the world that three or four years has been put on the alert about the threat of the devil Ahmainejad.

The most likely answer, and that this threat there has ever been and that for now, for some reason, America and its allies no longer needed to build the enemy Iran.

I consider this to push loving readers of this blog never to allow drag and conditioned by globalized mainstreaming of news that should always be treated with caution and a lot , veriicate possible. And now with the Internet ( and satellite TV ) is not difficult to find remnants of counter or hidden truths that belie the false truth shouted from the crowded media giants of the information.

Rest assured that behind this type of media campaigns (KNOW THAT THE ENEMY NUMBER 1 OF WORLD 'OF IRAN AHMADINEJAD) there is always a manipulation , an interest often more sinister and criminal as it is painted the same enemy .

foo win

Architechture Schools No Portfolio

Iran that is in us, a problem vanished into thin air!


In the pages of the newspapers has gone fear of an Iran with a nuclear bomb. But why? What are you hiding?

I do not believe that problems can be solved in a few days without even warning the world that three or four years has been put on the alert about the threat of the devil Ahmainejad.

The most likely answer, and that this threat there has ever been and that for now, for some reason, America and its allies no longer needed to build the enemy Iran.

I consider this to push loving readers of this blog never to allow drag and conditioned by globalized mainstreaming of news that should always be treated with caution and a lot , veriicate possible. And now with the Internet ( and satellite TV ) is not difficult to find remnants of counter or hidden truths that belie the false truth shouted from the crowded media giants of the information.

Rest assured that behind this type of media campaigns (KNOW THAT THE ENEMY NUMBER 1 OF WORLD 'OF IRAN AHMADINEJAD) there is always a manipulation , an interest often more sinister and criminal as it is painted the same enemy .

foo win

Is The Scion Tc Supercharger Good?

THE REVOLT OF THE ARAB PEOPLE!

 Overwhelmed by anger People are starting to drop the wire 
 Western Arab regimes. The people of Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen and others have 
 reversed, or are about to do so, the corrupt dictatorships 
 joined together by a common thread: the direct dependence on the U.S. and 
 complicity with Israel. Obama has quickly sold several Ben Ali and Mubarak and will 
 same with the next states to be infected with the sacred rage of anger 
 People: Jordan, Lebanon, perhaps Algeria, Saudi 
 Saudi Arabia and also others. Matter of time. We will see later if 
 these peoples really 
 failed to release from capitalist exploitation and the U.S. military game. 
 is important that they are trying to regain the dignity and the right 
 to govern according to his will and civilization of nations. And 
 can have full freedom to choose their own governments without 
 blackmail of dollars and military threats. These would be the examples to follow 
 well as Europe, but stories! 
 
 Vincenzo Mannello 
  http://www.vincenzomannello.it/  
   

Is The Scion Tc Supercharger Good?

THE REVOLT OF THE ARAB PEOPLE!

 Overwhelmed by anger People are starting to drop the wire 
 Western Arab regimes. The people of Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen and others have 
 reversed, or are about to do so, the corrupt dictatorships 
 joined together by a common thread: the direct dependence on the U.S. and 
 complicity with Israel. Obama has quickly sold several Ben Ali and Mubarak and will 
 same with the next states to be infected with the sacred rage of anger 
 People: Jordan, Lebanon, perhaps Algeria, Saudi 
 Saudi Arabia and also others. Matter of time. We will see later if 
 these peoples really 
 failed to release from capitalist exploitation and the U.S. military game. 
 is important that they are trying to regain the dignity and the right 
 to govern according to his will and civilization of nations. And 
 can have full freedom to choose their own governments without 
 blackmail of dollars and military threats. These would be the examples to follow 
 well as Europe, but stories! 
 
 Vincenzo Mannello 
  http://www.vincenzomannello.it/  
   

Brown Pink Cervical Fluid

true equals false


The Master has unleashed all its languages \u200b\u200band its faces because deny everything, make the victims on its own, confusing maps, lied, stating the contrary evidence.

him and they know perfectly well that, from television screens, truth and false appear identical . He knows perfectly well that in the society of the spectacle, the truth is a component of the false, and vice versa.

Giulietto song strait from the article of the Church "Extreme lie" published www.megachp.info

Brown Pink Cervical Fluid

true equals false


The Master has unleashed all its languages \u200b\u200band its faces because deny everything, make the victims on its own, confusing maps, lied, stating the contrary evidence.

him and they know perfectly well that, from television screens, truth and false appear identical . He knows perfectly well that in the society of the spectacle, the truth is a component of the false, and vice versa.

Giulietto song strait from the article of the Church "Extreme lie" published www.megachp.info

If I Had A Wheel Id Be A Wagon

The version of the Barney

Seen at Fiorella.
Price: Too.
Location: front row, in spite of the diopter and the feeling of too much intimacy with the actors.

CONTAINS SPOILER

Taking it for what it is also the film runs, the script is very well planed to do more appreciative of those who have not read the book rather than the other (I will sell you that too), cutting a few jokes, some skit. From immediately you are taken by scrotal sfracassamento that the director has chosen to inflict the camera movements and the rhythm typical of aquatic invertebrates with soft body that is able to skillfully connect these peaks lazy cynical wit laced with existential discouragement Paul Giamatti disrupts the hairy, fat and covered with a thick reddish fur, embarrassed, empathetic as liquid nitrogen. The reprehensible decision
Paris to Rome to transmute itself already deserves to be imposed on this bunch of clowns 30 strokes of the scourge rituals and the lifetime ban on access to any intellectual property of others. The definition version of "soft" Barney comes from the fact that, for the declaration of the director, the film is less cynical and misogynist, politically scorrect less than the book, a film is not anti-Semitic, is a comedy - what the hell - that c 'enter politics?
Bravo Dustin Hoffman, who made the caricature but not too much, from old-school actor tells dirty jokes on the set, wearing the right face and with the aplomb of a professional engineer Izzy suited to the melancholy General , however, making it appealing and true. Honorable mention goes to diarrheal Boogie played by the masterful Scott Speedman, tired beyond belief. The screen reflected the colossal ape who oppresses the poor idiot, probably taking, pure Stanislavsky method, coated drunk for half the duration of filming. Just to keep it in mind the writer called Michael Konyves , just to monitor any future films (in his past, "The mystery of the mine of emeralds" and "The Descent - the center of the earth," the TV movie that I hope with all my heart never see). Two before him transposition of the company had tried but failed to complete the effort, which lasted a job, think, ten years.
In the period of Roman Boheme (!) Boogie is represented as a vaguely cotton arrogant, proud to own everything that is legal and illegal you can do (legal? the Malox? it was also Malox?), novels with titles that shit turds in Barney is particularly fond since it also reads in two an evening. The term cirrhosis of the actor gives the character here the inner awareness of an inescapable fate, bad luck of a giant that is to come, typical of who will be ousted by a Canadair: superlative.
Rachelle Favelle Brave, Minnie Driver and Rosamund Pike (Clara, respectively, the Second Mrs. Panofsky and Miriam), supporting actors with no real life, throw them, but decent and all other pussies. Needless to lament the disappearance of art Clara, which, like good boogie, the economy is judged particularly foreign film, or choosing to ignore the ego represented by the third-person narrator.


Ultimately I do not recommend to anyone to see this bad movie. Even those who do not read the book, just just if you have nothing better to do, although I think you had better make a jump in the library, in paperback with 12 € there the quarried.

If I Had A Wheel Id Be A Wagon

The version of the Barney

Seen at Fiorella.
Price: Too.
Location: front row, in spite of the diopter and the feeling of too much intimacy with the actors.

CONTAINS SPOILER

Taking it for what it is also the film runs, the script is very well planed to do more appreciative of those who have not read the book rather than the other (I will sell you that too), cutting a few jokes, some skit. From immediately you are taken by scrotal sfracassamento that the director has chosen to inflict the camera movements and the rhythm typical of aquatic invertebrates with soft body that is able to skillfully connect these peaks lazy cynical wit laced with existential discouragement Paul Giamatti disrupts the hairy, fat and covered with a thick reddish fur, embarrassed, empathetic as liquid nitrogen. The reprehensible decision
Paris to Rome to transmute itself already deserves to be imposed on this bunch of clowns 30 strokes of the scourge rituals and the lifetime ban on access to any intellectual property of others. The definition version of "soft" Barney comes from the fact that, for the declaration of the director, the film is less cynical and misogynist, politically scorrect less than the book, a film is not anti-Semitic, is a comedy - what the hell - that c 'enter politics?
Bravo Dustin Hoffman, who made the caricature but not too much, from old-school actor tells dirty jokes on the set, wearing the right face and with the aplomb of a professional engineer Izzy suited to the melancholy General , however, making it appealing and true. Honorable mention goes to diarrheal Boogie played by the masterful Scott Speedman, tired beyond belief. The screen reflected the colossal ape who oppresses the poor idiot, probably taking, pure Stanislavsky method, coated drunk for half the duration of filming. Just to keep it in mind the writer called Michael Konyves , just to monitor any future films (in his past, "The mystery of the mine of emeralds" and "The Descent - the center of the earth," the TV movie that I hope with all my heart never see). Two before him transposition of the company had tried but failed to complete the effort, which lasted a job, think, ten years.
In the period of Roman Boheme (!) Boogie is represented as a vaguely cotton arrogant, proud to own everything that is legal and illegal you can do (legal? the Malox? it was also Malox?), novels with titles that shit turds in Barney is particularly fond since it also reads in two an evening. The term cirrhosis of the actor gives the character here the inner awareness of an inescapable fate, bad luck of a giant that is to come, typical of who will be ousted by a Canadair: superlative.
Rachelle Favelle Brave, Minnie Driver and Rosamund Pike (Clara, respectively, the Second Mrs. Panofsky and Miriam), supporting actors with no real life, throw them, but decent and all other pussies. Needless to lament the disappearance of art Clara, which, like good boogie, the economy is judged particularly foreign film, or choosing to ignore the ego represented by the third-person narrator.


Ultimately I do not recommend to anyone to see this bad movie. Even those who do not read the book, just just if you have nothing better to do, although I think you had better make a jump in the library, in paperback with 12 € there the quarried.

Funny Invitation To A Party

Lilith

Cry of Women by Luciano Rizzato

Inside an open heart there is nothing. Tar, feathers, dawn drawn from a sole guardian, iron oxide red and transported by the wind as pollen, unaware that touches my lips amber. The first light of day cuts the pregnant cloud, dense, smoky, and slides into the gaping edges with his fiery dark quiet border, picture, finally bitter over the edge of the concrete, framing the lower grille.
enamel from toxic undone, by dint of scraping out the patina sandy walls were built as the walls of Jericho and I almost without breath to breathe in the midst of this slaughter. My voice once soft round, cut from the plexus in the contraction of the torn flesh that cries through you: save me! Stop me!
not that a Brahmin strained and the latest low point in trying to attract someone. The railway

crackles and bangs. There is always a passing train.

The living skin that falls from the cheekbone is a tide recedes.

He banged his head on the ground once. Then another. He hit his head on the ground, his head. Before I heard the faint crackling of the face satisfy the stone suddenly boiling m'entrava face. Then a blinding light jab on the nose just before losing consciousness. I woke up with his second shot on the dirt floor, but now I could not feel anything, though he could be imported while stuck on the ground, slamming those loins was not impossible that push me taste of sweat, cologne and kerosene. On the third day

m'infilò his fist in the ass.

It was not easy to come by, but then with a little 'of ketamine, all went well. The next day, when taken knowledge, had bandaged his chest and a dark spot and appicicaticcia at the breast, an accomplice of a throbbing pain and deaf. I woke up that night was already falling. For hours, I slammed the door screaming, calling my guardian, pleading, trying to bland, insulting the race, the smell, a face like an open mouth now like leather and chrome, exploded, the knuckles as carbon burning had given way to envy angelic bones, my request more and more feeble, to make me go out ... the nipple. Give me your nipple! But the railroad

crackles and bangs. Because there is always a passing train.

The days there are more. Tar inside an open heart. Gradually, more and more violent and detached, like a child tired of the novelty of his new toy. Piss and belts. Objects in mouth and rope. Ketamine, heroin, Valium, Rohypnol and Darkene. A razor, under the breast. Fists tits, always. Every day on my tits fists and kicks between the legs. Then he also took the ear piece. A shears in his right hand and my forehead resting on a patterned blanket that smelled of cat, held in place with your other hand.

Look nails, I think. Then the smell of smoke is more pungent. The one eye still open and starts to tear up the oxygen goes, finally, burning lungs, and everything in front of me fades es'accende crimson.

a train passes. Tu-tu-tum tum of the girders under the wheels of steel. Parade just behind these invisible walls, whistling and further away.

Funny Invitation To A Party

Lilith

Cry of Women by Luciano Rizzato

Inside an open heart there is nothing. Tar, feathers, dawn drawn from a sole guardian, iron oxide red and transported by the wind as pollen, unaware that touches my lips amber. The first light of day cuts the pregnant cloud, dense, smoky, and slides into the gaping edges with his fiery dark quiet border, picture, finally bitter over the edge of the concrete, framing the lower grille.
enamel from toxic undone, by dint of scraping out the patina sandy walls were built as the walls of Jericho and I almost without breath to breathe in the midst of this slaughter. My voice once soft round, cut from the plexus in the contraction of the torn flesh that cries through you: save me! Stop me!
not that a Brahmin strained and the latest low point in trying to attract someone. The railway

crackles and bangs. There is always a passing train.

The living skin that falls from the cheekbone is a tide recedes.

He banged his head on the ground once. Then another. He hit his head on the ground, his head. Before I heard the faint crackling of the face satisfy the stone suddenly boiling m'entrava face. Then a blinding light jab on the nose just before losing consciousness. I woke up with his second shot on the dirt floor, but now I could not feel anything, though he could be imported while stuck on the ground, slamming those loins was not impossible that push me taste of sweat, cologne and kerosene. On the third day

m'infilò his fist in the ass.

It was not easy to come by, but then with a little 'of ketamine, all went well. The next day, when taken knowledge, had bandaged his chest and a dark spot and appicicaticcia at the breast, an accomplice of a throbbing pain and deaf. I woke up that night was already falling. For hours, I slammed the door screaming, calling my guardian, pleading, trying to bland, insulting the race, the smell, a face like an open mouth now like leather and chrome, exploded, the knuckles as carbon burning had given way to envy angelic bones, my request more and more feeble, to make me go out ... the nipple. Give me your nipple! But the railroad

crackles and bangs. Because there is always a passing train.

The days there are more. Tar inside an open heart. Gradually, more and more violent and detached, like a child tired of the novelty of his new toy. Piss and belts. Objects in mouth and rope. Ketamine, heroin, Valium, Rohypnol and Darkene. A razor, under the breast. Fists tits, always. Every day on my tits fists and kicks between the legs. Then he also took the ear piece. A shears in his right hand and my forehead resting on a patterned blanket that smelled of cat, held in place with your other hand.

Look nails, I think. Then the smell of smoke is more pungent. The one eye still open and starts to tear up the oxygen goes, finally, burning lungs, and everything in front of me fades es'accende crimson.

a train passes. Tu-tu-tum tum of the girders under the wheels of steel. Parade just behind these invisible walls, whistling and further away.

Bench Fix Salon How Much Is Haircut?

Glue - Feltrinelli and sheets in the audience

Really. There are days that I'm holding. Do not want to talk about tomorrow's vote in Mirafiori, to what is central to the social protection of the last bastions of this country. I'm not saying that is yet another attack on our already great plutocratic rule of law.
It is not the life of the Marquis of Milan itself that will make me change my mind this, my final silence, as it can be romantically charming, delightful adventure. He has published Doctor Zhivago (Pasternak thanked the good mother that Russia could not even pick up the Nobel), certainly, and the Leopard (who else if spun by Tomasi Lampedusa ?!?). Diario in Bolivia. Posthumously. Entrusted to him by Fidel himself.
's story is the story of Feltrinelli against an Italy, a man who decided when to decide to side with the most uncomfortable and, as luck of birth, he risked his soul and that of his family to follow which was that ideal communist partisans bayonet and shelter during the Great War. The story of
Feltrinelli is the story of a terrorist. What are you doing? Storgata the nose now? Well, December 12, 1969 he fled into hiding, accused of being involved in the massacre of Piazza Fontana. In 1970 he founded the GAP (ie Partisan Action Group). Not enough? He died during an attempt to sabotage the outskirts of Milan. Perhaps an accident. Perhaps the Services, or the CIA.
really do not want to talk about truth. Maybe I'm not able. Years of media disinformation and bulimia have really leveled the ability of our indignation at the point of making an entire nation blind? A nation made of great men and women of great men and women who sits in silence to see die. I can not speak of truth because my words are never enough, not enough as the life of an anarchist who fought for the culture, for freedom.
are the words of an actor. It is not the story. These are the stories.
That thrill the base of the neck which is step brujo, who calls evil.
I am the voice of a man who lists the dead and the bomb was, that infamy with silence and inattention is the punishment of any kind.
'm torn flesh of the innocent which is not even allowed to take sides.
If you want the truth, seek it in white sheets spread out in the hall.
beaten to go pee.

Greeting Simo and I go away, I laugh a bit with Angela and the 10,000 steps recommended by Maura a dietitian, but before I walked home I percent.
wait for the green signal.
Really, I do not mean anything. Do not want to think about tomorrow's vote, after all what will never change? Are all these stories. Or history. Stories. or History?


http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giangiacomo_Feltrinelli
http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gruppi_d% 27Azione_Partigiana
http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Amnistia_Togliatti

Bench Fix Salon How Much Is Haircut?

Glue - Feltrinelli and sheets in the audience

Really. There are days that I'm holding. Do not want to talk about tomorrow's vote in Mirafiori, to what is central to the social protection of the last bastions of this country. I'm not saying that is yet another attack on our already great plutocratic rule of law.
It is not the life of the Marquis of Milan itself that will make me change my mind this, my final silence, as it can be romantically charming, delightful adventure. He has published Doctor Zhivago (Pasternak thanked the good mother that Russia could not even pick up the Nobel), certainly, and the Leopard (who else if spun by Tomasi Lampedusa ?!?). Diario in Bolivia. Posthumously. Entrusted to him by Fidel himself.
's story is the story of Feltrinelli against an Italy, a man who decided when to decide to side with the most uncomfortable and, as luck of birth, he risked his soul and that of his family to follow which was that ideal communist partisans bayonet and shelter during the Great War. The story of
Feltrinelli is the story of a terrorist. What are you doing? Storgata the nose now? Well, December 12, 1969 he fled into hiding, accused of being involved in the massacre of Piazza Fontana. In 1970 he founded the GAP (ie Partisan Action Group). Not enough? He died during an attempt to sabotage the outskirts of Milan. Perhaps an accident. Perhaps the Services, or the CIA.
really do not want to talk about truth. Maybe I'm not able. Years of media disinformation and bulimia have really leveled the ability of our indignation at the point of making an entire nation blind? A nation made of great men and women of great men and women who sits in silence to see die. I can not speak of truth because my words are never enough, not enough as the life of an anarchist who fought for the culture, for freedom.
are the words of an actor. It is not the story. These are the stories.
That thrill the base of the neck which is step brujo, who calls evil.
I am the voice of a man who lists the dead and the bomb was, that infamy with silence and inattention is the punishment of any kind.
'm torn flesh of the innocent which is not even allowed to take sides.
If you want the truth, seek it in white sheets spread out in the hall.
beaten to go pee.

Greeting Simo and I go away, I laugh a bit with Angela and the 10,000 steps recommended by Maura a dietitian, but before I walked home I percent.
wait for the green signal.
Really, I do not mean anything. Do not want to think about tomorrow's vote, after all what will never change? Are all these stories. Or history. Stories. or History?


http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giangiacomo_Feltrinelli
http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gruppi_d% 27Azione_Partigiana
http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Amnistia_Togliatti