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“You cannot leave waste unattended like that. It should have been cleared automatically as a matter of priority.
“It’s been over two weeks since Greenlight shut down and the site has been completely unattended to. It’s been left to rot.
“I have contacted the council and environmental health but I’ve been driving down to look at the site and I’ve seen no movement.
A Facebook user wrote to the council’s page: “The amount of flies in this area is disgusting and has gotten much worse over the weekend.
Another resident added: “We have a fly infestation in Jamestown/Milton area that has been going on over the weekend.
While another man wrote: “I woke up to eight in my kitchen this morning, after killing lots yesterday.
A council spokeswoman said: “The former Greenlight premises in Lomond Industrial Estate are currently under the management of the administrators and they have removed all recyclable material from the site and are now in the process of removing the rest of the waste.
A spokeswoman from RSM Restructuring Advisory said: “We have been working to clear the site at Lomond Industrial Estate as a priority.
“This work has included the removal of a significant portion of waste, with the remaining waste due to be removed over the coming week.
Why Have Transit Camps for Mizrahi Jews Been Written Out of Israeli History?
In 1951, a quarter of a million people were living in what was known as ma'abarot, 80 percent of them from Islamic lands. Most of the camps were dismantled by 1959. Ten forgotten years.
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Let’s talk about diabetics out of control and what the police are supposed to do about them.
The story is an easy one to understand. It’s about a young lady with diabetes and who sometimes gets out of control. The fact is she has called 911 six different times in the last two years. This sounds like she needs to get control of her diabetes.
In any case, the paramedics show up and one of them gets punched in the process. The cops are called and the police say that she is out of control. They manage to wrestle her to the ground, and then use a taser on her.
Now it sounds like her dad and she would like to sue. That will probably happen down the line. In the meantime, I ask these questions. Can she even remember being tazed? No. Did she suffer any permanent injury? No. Did the tazing did get this diabetic lady under control? Absolutely! Did the police and paramedics working together help save her life? Absolutely! Will they probably be sued and will be supported by a town that always think the police are wrong? You know the answer to that one.
With the space shuttles set to retire, NASA is looking to private companies like SpaceX to transport cargo--and eventually crews--to and from the International Space Station.
SpaceX has won the first-ever license from the Federal Aviation Administration allowing a private-sector spacecraft to re-enter Earth's atmosphere.
The California company says that next month it plans to launch its unmanned Dragon spacecraft into Earth orbit, where it will be traveling at speeds of greater than 17,000 miles per hour. With the one-year FAA license in hand, SpaceX will also be able to bring the spacecraft back home a few hours later and have it splash down in the Pacific Ocean, where it will be recovered.
The event will mark the first commercial launch paired with an officially sanctioned re-entry. The company said in its announcement yesterday that it will also be "the first attempt by a commercial company to recover a spacecraft reentering from low-Earth orbit." It has only been performed by the U.S., Russia, China, Japan, India, and the European Space Agency, SpaceX said.
The unmanned SpaceX mission, set for December 7, is a precursor to coordinated NASA and SpaceX efforts to eventually provide commercial trips to the International Space Station with cargo and crew, according to the FAA. NASA's space shuttles, which have been performing that mission along with related flights by Russia spacecraft, are scheduled to go into retirement early next year.
"NASA wishes SpaceX every success with the launch," NASA Administrator Charlie Bolden said in a statement.
The Dragon spacecraft will lift off atop SpaceX's Falcon 9 rocket. It will be the first flight under NASA's Commercial Orbital Transportation Services program, and SpaceX expects to make at least 12 flights to carry cargo to and from the ISS as part of a resupply services contract.
Why is Princess Anne spending so much time with her ex?
Decked out like some lively character from HMS Pinafore, Princess Anne took pride of place on the Buckingham Palace balcony last weekend, alongside husband Vice-Admiral Timothy Laurence.
A couple of days later, with the good Admiral back at his desk in Whitehall, the Princess, sternly clad in pale green dress and black court shoes (well, nobody ever accused her of being a fashion icon), was to be found sauntering with old flame Andrew Parker Bowles across the shaved green lawns of Royal Ascot.
Meanwhile, the rumour mill was cranking overtime with whispers about their friendship. With hubby hard at work, is the Princess Royal having daytime fun? Some wouldn't be surprised.
Parker Bowles, now 66, was the love of her life, squiring the Princess in his bachelor days while a would-be fiancee called Camilla was clinging grimly to his coat-tails. Though Anne had relationships with other men, the time she spent with the dashing cavalry officer 'changed her life', wrote her biographer.
Now, according to one report, her marriage to Admiral Laurence is 'on the rocks' and she is thinking of separating from him. The lure of her old love - a happily married man, it should be noted - has also played a part, according to the gossips.
The couple's drift apart has alarmed the Queen and she is said to be fighting to stop her only daughter divorcing, fearing it would be yet another own-goal for her fidelity-challenged family.
Commitment to their jobs is cited as the main reason for the doubts over the couple's 14-year marriage, with the Admiral spending his time in London while Anne bases herself at her home, Gatcombe Park in Gloucestershire.
The differences between man and wife are all there to see. She is 56, he's 52. She's bossy - some might even say pompous; he's reserved and gentlemanly.
At the Trooping the Colour ceremony, Anne covered herself in medals and chains and all the flim-flummery which goes with the royal rank of colonel in the Armed Forces. Meanwhile her husband, who outranks her in all but blood, wore the bare minimum to distinguish his naval position.
It's said Laurence resents the fact that, when among senior royals, he is treated as the equerry he once was, expected to open doors and mix the drinks. Contrast that with Brigadier Parker Bowles's demeanour on another day at Ascot this week, at ease in the company of the Queen and Zara Phillips, who is his god-daughter.
It also sounds a bit nerdy, an administrative role for a chap who's kept his nose clean and never said boo to a goose - whether royal or naval. Compare that with the red-blooded Parker Bowles, who injured himself so much in his helter-skelter days on horseback that he was hospitalised and had a tin plate put in his back - only to scramble back in the saddle to ride in a steeplechase.
Parker Bowles was gored by a wild boar while serving in Africa, and was renowned for his amorous antics back home, which were more French bedroom farce than James Bond. Good-looking, aristocratic, devil-maycare, red-blooded - the very antithesis, in fact, of the slightly stuffy Admiral Laurence.
And that's always been the attraction for Anne. When researching my book on her love rival Camilla, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that Parker Bowles 'was the best **** in town'.
He should have married Anne - but though deeply attracted to her during the days when both were footloose and fancy-free, he was barred from wedlock to her because he was Roman Catholic.
Still, their love affair in the early 1970s was turbocharged, right up until the day when Camilla - after waging a campaign of attrition lasting nearly seven years - managed finally to push her man up the aisle.
'Andrew behaved abominably to Camilla,' recalled another of his flames, Lady Caroline Percy.
But Camilla - who'd bedded Prince Charles only in order to get even with her errant fiance, according to some - finally got her way with a white wedding in the Guards' Chapel, across the road from Buckingham Palace. She wasn't best pleased when Anne's name appeared on the guest list.
Anne, on the rebound from her break-up with Parker Bowles, chose instead a milk-and-water substitute in Mark Phillips and married in double-quick time - only four months later. Inferior in breeding, inferior in regiment, inferior in the bedroom, he beat Parker Bowles only in the saddle, for Phillips was an Olympic horseman.
The marriage was soon over, though the divorce took a long time to come through. During that period, say friends, Anne and Parker Bowles rekindled their relationship (conveniently Andrew's wife, Camilla, was busy elsewhere, with the Prince of Wales, so he had time on his hands).
It might be argued that if they had known then what they know now, Anne and Parker Bowles could both have divorced, and then married each other. The bar to royal divorce and remarriage disappeared around this time, and a way could easily have been found to break the archaic rule which continues to ban marriages to Catholics (it still has to be done, but it will happen sooner or later).
Back in 1992, things looked different. Prince Charles was still married to Princess Diana, and in those days only a lunatic would have put money on his divorce and re-marriage to Camilla.
Therefore, as far as Andrew was concerned, he would remain married to Camilla - no matter what went on in the various bedrooms of Anne, Diana, Charles and himself - and the status quo would be maintained.
For it has always been the soldier's greatest strength that he never gave away a clue as to what was going on in his private life. He may have known all about his wife's affair with the Prince of Wales - as she knew about his with the Princess Royal - but each and every one of them kept their traps shut.
So Anne, with no prospect of settling down with the love of her life, took up with her mother's equerry, a beanpole of a naval officer whose father was a marine engine salesman, who was educated at a second-rank public school and who took a degree in geography at university.
Laurence, on secondment from the Royal Navy, had fallen in love with Anne and written her love letters. When the content of these emerged in public, the Princess, in typically forthright way, dealt with the embarrassment by announcing she was in love and getting married.
This must have caused no end of hilarity in the Parker Bowles household, since both Andrew and Camilla knew that 'one' did not marry sons of salesmen, with second-class degrees in geography and who, heaven forfend, happily bought their clothes from Marks & Spencer and did not have them made in Savile Row.
You begin to sense the alienation that must have burned within Tim Laurence as he mixed with such people for the first time. For he had earned promotion through the ranks by his skills, dedication to duty, sense of honour and natural modesty - all attributes lacking in those whose hands he was now shaking (and whose drinks he was used to pouring).
Anne, of course, remained above it all, more royal than royal.
Quite how this squares with marrying your mother's equerry while having an affair with a man whose wife is having an affair with your brother is hard to comprehend - but then, we are not royal.
Suffice to say, the latest reports of Anne's impending divorce from her husband of 14 years are wide of the mark. 'They live a semidetached life. They have separate interests and separate friends,' I am told. 'In that, they are no different from many other married couples of that age.
'Recently, they went off on holiday together, sailing round the Western Isles - hardly the act of a couple who are about to part.
Today's GOP demonizes any dissent, but one of its most influential forebears openly criticized WWII plans -- and just 12 days after Pearl Harbor.
When Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle said on Feb. 28 that Democrats would start "to ask the tough questions" about President Bush's war strategy, Republicans reacted predictably. Trent Lott accused Daschle of "trying to divide the country." Tom DeLay issued a one-word press release: "Disgusting." Bill Frist, the Tennessee senator who chairs the GOP's senatorial campaign arm, called Daschle's words "thoughtless" and "ill-timed." The charge amounted to something just this side of giving aid and comfort to the enemy.
They've since calmed themselves a bit, but the intensity of their choler raises a fair question: Were Daschle's remarks -- not a formal speech or even a press release, but rather a few sentences in response to some questions toward the end of a press conference that he'd called to discuss other topics -- so shockingly without precedent in American history that those blunt reproaches were deserved? More than that, what does history tell us about the appropriate parameters of loyal opposition after America has been attacked and while U.S. soldiers are at battle?
It turns out there is precedent for Daschle's position. That precedent comes from the aftermath of Pearl Harbor, the most direct analogy in our history to Sept. 11. And it comes, wouldn't you know it, from a Republican. And not just any Republican, but the icon of modern conservatism who was known during his lifetime as "Mr. Republican."
Ohio Sen. Robert A. Taft was a devoted conservative, an adversary of the New Deal, a spirited isolationist and, by 1952, the man whom the right, which harbored grave suspicions about the moderate Eisenhower's internationalist tendencies, was backing for the presidency. While he tended to focus his legislative labors on domestic issues, Taft -- his son and namesake is now Ohio's governor -- had made his isolationist views well known throughout the 1930s, and no GOP leader of the day had greater influence over his party's right wing.
After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the GOP faced pressures similar to those Democrats are under now. There were admonitions not to criticize the sitting administration, and declarations, immediately after the Japanese attack, that politics had to stop at the water's edge. But conservatives had detested Franklin Roosevelt, his New Deal and his foreign policy -- the lend-lease program and the destroyer deal with Britain in particular. And the events of Dec. 7, 1941, seemed to stifle their ability to dissent.
What, then, were they to do? Taft had his answer. He gave a speech to the Executive Club of Chicago arguing that it was precisely the duty of the opposition party to ask the tough questions. He didn't give this speech five and a half months after the attack, as Daschle did (and remember, Daschle didn't even give a speech). He wasn't speaking five weeks after hostilities began, which was how long it took DeLay to blast President Clinton on the war in Kosovo. Taft delivered his speech ... on Dec. 19, 1941!
"As a matter of general principle, I believe there can be no doubt that criticism in time of war is essential to the maintenance of any kind of democratic government ... too many people desire to suppress criticism simply because they think that it will give some comfort to the enemy to know that there is such criticism. If that comfort makes the enemy feel better for a few moments, they are welcome to it as far as I am concerned, because the maintenance of the right of criticism in the long run will do the country maintaining it a great deal more good than it will do the enemy, and will prevent mistakes which might otherwise occur."
Taft invoked Woodrow Wilson, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Francis Biddle, FDR's attorney general, as defending this right, and argued that "the duties imposed by the Constitution on Senators and Congressmen certainly require that they exercise their own judgment on questions relating to the war."
There was more, a lot more. Debates were raging in Congress at the time -- and, remember, American territory had just been attacked, bodies and wreckage still lay in the harbor, and U.S. soldiers were already in harm's way -- over questions like the conversion of industry to support the war and the best way to expand the draft. Taft weighed in on each, specifically opposing plans the Roosevelt administration had floated ("I see no use in sending boys of nineteen or twenty to war").
At great length Taft argued that the higher defense appropriations Roosevelt was seeking should lead to the end of both Keynesianism (New Deal economists "are confident that a people can spend itself into prosperity") and New Deal programs like the Works Progress Administration. Thus Taft was tying the war to domestic politics in a way that today's Republicans have also carped at Democrats for sometimes doing. Finally, there were shades of renegade Rep. Dan Burton, R-Ind. (who, angered at the administration's secrecy, has threatened the Bush White House with "war"), when Taft called for a congressional investigation into whether Cordell Hull, FDR's secretary of state, had informed Secretary of the Navy Franklin Knox of the contents of his famous Nov. 26 note to the Japanese. The note contained conditions that Hull knew the Japanese would never accept, and the suspicion was rife among Republicans that Hull, and Roosevelt, actually wanted the Navy to be ambushed at Pearl Harbor to stoke war fever among the populace. "Perhaps the fault at Hawaii," Taft said, "was not entirely on the admirals and generals." Mr. Republican, that Dec. 19, minced few words.
And his fellow Republicans got the message. According to historian Richard Darilek in "A Loyal Opposition in Time of War" (1976), Republicans entered 1942 ready to fight the administration head-on. Wendell Wilkie, the party's nominal leader, was an interventionist, but in a bid to placate the GOP's isolationist wing he appointed an America Firster named Clarence Boddington Kelland head of public relations for the Republican National Committee. On Jan. 8, Kelland delivered a speech in Salt Lake City on the importance of robust partisanship. Democratic National Committee chairman Ed Flynn countered by cautioning against the election of a hostile Congress. New York Gov. Thomas E. Dewey, who would run against FDR in 1944, warned of the existence within the administration of "an American Cliveden set ... scheming to end the war short of military victory" ("Cliveden set," a reference to the Astor estate in Britain that served as a salon for government ministers, was synonymous with "appeasers"). By the time of the Republican Lincoln Day dinners -- mid-February, just two months after Pearl Harbor -- politics in Washington, Darilek writes, were more or less back to normal.
Two points need to be made about Taft's speech. The first is that he was exactly right to make it. Who can possibly argue with Justice Holmes' statement, the one Taft quoted, that "we do not lose our right to condemn either men or measures because the country is at war"? Well, we know who can, but certainly the vast majority of the American public understands such a right to be a nonnegotiable principle of democracy.
The second is that it's virtually impossible to imagine a Democrat delivering a similar talk these last months without being labeled a traitor. Republicans have decreed that anything but blind support is beyond the pale, and the major media, in their coverage, have largely absorbed the idea that to criticize Bush on foreign policy is to flirt with signing the death warrants of American soldiers. This makes for a stark, and distressing, contrast with Roosevelt's time.
Taft's speech hardly caused a ripple. If the New York Times covered it at all, it did so in a small enough way to escape my notice as I looked through newspapers from that time. The Washington Post did mention the speech, but only at the tail end of a larger story that was mostly about Hull. In the American political system that existed then, Taft's right to speak his mind on policy was a given, and no high-ranking Roosevelt official launched a major public attack.
But imagine the frenzied spasms of today's Republicans and media if Tom Daschle had emulated Taft: asserting the right to dissent, hinting that Democrats might hold the administration's domestic policy hostage to bipartisan agreement on war aims, and calling -- on Sept. 23! -- for an investigation into why our intelligence agencies didn't know Sept. 11 was coming.
No historical analogy is exact, and some things were true then that aren't now, and vice versa. But the real difference between then and now, of course, is that today's hard right has made an art form of demonizing those who disagree with it and turning legitimate, necessary dissent into insurrectionist treachery. The next time they try that, Democrats should remind Republicans of a time when their own party, and one of their supposed heroes, thought differently.
Michael Tomasky is a political columnist for New York magazine.
Music mogul Jay Z has purchased what could be described as the flashiest champagne company in the world -- Armand de Brignac.
The Armand de Brignac champagne company -- which sells its shiny gold bottles for about $300 each -- has long been favored by the rap artist and was featured prominently in one of his music videos back in 2006.
He's often seen in pictures sipping the drink with his wife Beyonce Knowles, and the couple famously hosted a fundraiser for President Obama that featured a wall lined with hundreds of Armand de Brignac bottles.
The owner of the brand -- New York-based Sovereign Brands -- confirmed the sale this week. The price of the deal was not disclosed.
The champagne -- also called "Ace of Spades" -- is crafted and marketed by a family-run vineyard in France that traces its roots back to 1763. The company employs fewer than 20 people.
Bottles of Armand de Brignac champagne.
Jay Z used to be a massive fan of Cristal, but that changed in 2006 when The Economist published disparaging comments from the head of the company that makes the champagne, Frederic Rouzaud.
"What can we do? We can't forbid people from buying it," Rouzaud told The Economist, when asked if hip-hop artists were tarnishing the high-end brand.
When Jay Z heard of the comments, he immediately stopped sipping Cristal and quickly switched to Armand de Brignac.
"We used their brand as a signifier of luxury and they got free advertising and credibility every time we mentioned it," he wrote in his 2010 book "Decoded." "We were trading cachet. But they didn't see it that way."
The 44-year-old New Yorker, born Shawn Carter, rose to fame through his music and now has business interests in fashion, entertainment and sports.
Forbes ranks him among the most powerful celebrities in the world, alongside Oprah Winfrey and LeBron James. But his wife Beyonce tops the Forbes ranking and was recently named the top-earning woman in the music industry after making $115 million in 2014.
The 10 people who gathered at a home high in the Berkeley hills in January 1961 had no idea that their meeting would open a new chapter in U.S. history.
Nor could they have suspected that a sequel to their work would be the explosion of "green" activities in 2007 as a response to global warming.
I had been invited to that meeting by someone who introduced herself as Kay Kerr, Mrs. Clark Kerr. "A couple of friends and I," she said, "have been very disturbed about the filling of the bay. We're planning a meeting of conservation leaders to talk about it. We know your book, 'San Francisco Bay,' and we hope you'll join us." The two friends were Berkeley residents Sylvia McLaughlin and Esther Gulick. The meeting was at the Gulick home overlooking the bay. It included representatives from the Sierra Club, Audubon, Save-the-Redwoods League and local conservation groups.
Kerr and her friends laid out the problem: San Francisco Bay was growing steadily smaller. Its primary use, other than shipping, was for sewage and garbage disposal. On the afternoon breeze in Berkeley you could whiff the persistent "East Bay stink" -- the aroma from untreated sewage.
At night you could see the bay on fire where garbage was dumped in the shallows and set ablaze. The bay was being filled for airports, harbor facilities, freeways, factories, salt production, shopping malls and subdivisions.
The city of Berkeley had plans to double its size by filling 2,000 acres offshore. Other cities had similar intentions. If all the plans went forward, most of this superlative body of water would disappear.
So the three women asked the group meeting in the Berkeley hills: What can be done to save the bay?
One by one the conservation leaders responded. The Sierra Club was pouring most of its resources into opposing dams in the Grand Canyon and couldn't launch any new campaigns. The Redwoods League was busy saving the forests. Audubon was occupied with trying to preserve critical bird habitats.
David Brower of the Sierra Club concluded: "It looks like there will have to be a new organization. We'll give you our mailing lists and help you all we can."
So Kerr, McLaughlin and Gulick, to their surprise and dismay, were left holding the bag.
My own feeling was that any attempt to stop the filling of the bay would be hopeless. In 1961 there were almost no environmental laws on the books, and nobody had ever heard of an environmental impact statement. As an issue, the environment did not exist.
The post-war building boom was under way, and battalions of bulldozers were flattening woods, farmlands, orchards, hills and waterways. Any opposition was stonewalled with the mantra of that era: "You can't stop progress."