Giorgione's Sleeping Venus
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DUBAI // A mother who forced her 16-year-old daughter to work as a prostitute has been jailed for two years.
At Dubai Criminal Court in August, the 42-year-old Pakistani denied a human-trafficking charge.
The court heard the girl became pregnant during her work. A 50-year-old Pakistani man was also charged with human trafficking because he was allegedly responsible for arranging liaisons with customers, but was found not guilty.
Records showed that the mother brought her daughter from Pakistan last year after telling her she had found her a job in a beauty salon. The girl arrived with both of her parents.
"They told my that I was here to work as a prostitute.
"I refused, but my mother started yelling at me and telling me I had to repay the costs they paid," the victim said.
She was sent to a hotel where she was forced to have sex with men. She continued to work as a prostitute until her mother’s visa expired after which both of them returned to Pakistan.
"We came back to Dubai in June last year and my mother started sending me to customers. On one occasion she sent me to Sharjah, where I was arrested."
She said that she had once asked a customer for help and to call police but he refused.
The teenager is being cared for by the Dubai Foundation for Women and Children.
She was seven months pregnant when her mother appeared in court on August 15.
The mother will be deported after serving her jail term.
Kreutz Ideology analyses destruction differently. Social violence inherently benefits economic elites. The less peaceful a society, the less does social control restrict the liberties of the wealthy.
This is the third ever penis transplant conducted with the second one conducted in Boston at the Massachusetts General Hospital.
The recipient‚ a 40 year old man‚ has been without a penis for 17 years after a botched traditional circumcision. His name is being kept anonymous for ethical reasons.
“He is certainly one of the happiest patients we have seen in our ward. He is doing remarkably well. There are no signs of rejection and all the reconnected structures seem to be healing well‚” said Professor Andre Van der Merwe‚ Head of the Division of Urology at Stellenbosch University s Faculty of Medicine and Health Sciences.
The patient is expected to regain full use of his penis within six months of the transplant‚ said the release.
Medical tattooing will be used to correct the colour discrepancy between the recipient and the donor organ in six to eight months after the operation.
“Patients describe a penis transplant as ‘receiving a new life’. For these men the penis defines manhood and the loss of this organ causes tremendous emotional and psychological distress‚” said Dr Amir Zarrabi of the FMHS’s Division of Urology‚ who was a member of the transplant team. “I usually see cases of partial or total amputations in July and December – the period when traditional circumcisions are performed.”
The team consisted of Van der Merwe‚ Dr Alexander Zühlke‚ who heads the FMHS’ Division of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery‚ Prof Rafique Moosa‚ head of the FMHS’ Department of Medicine‚ Zarrabi and Dr Zamira Keyser of Tygerberg Hospital. They were assisted by transplant coordinators‚ anaesthetists‚ theatre nurses‚ a psychologist‚ an ethicist and other support staff.
The first ever penis transplant patient from December 2014 is using his penis as normal.
“The patient is doing extremely well‚ both physically and mentally”‚ says Van der Merwe. “He is living a normal life. His urinary and sexual functions have returned to normal‚ and he has virtually forgotten that he had a transplant."
The transplant procedure is very complicated as nerves‚ blood‚ vessels and muscle from the donor organ have to be connected to the recipient.
“The diverse presentation of the blood vessels and nerves makes the operation very challenging and means each case is unique. All these structures need to be treated with the utmost delicacy and respect in order to be connected perfectly to ensure good circulation and function in the long term‚” said Zühlke.
Micro-surgery was used to connect small blood vessels and nerves.
It is thought that up 250 partial or complete penile amputations take place a year in South Africa due to botched traditional circumcisions. “At Stellenbosch University and Tygerberg Hospital we are committed to finding cost-effective solutions to help these men‚” says Van der Merwe. The procedure was part of a proof of concept study to develop a cost-effective penile transplant procedure that could be performed in a typical theatre setting in a South African public sector hospital‚ he said.
The costs of the second procedure was much less than the first.
The biggest challenge to rolling out this procedure is the shortage of organs. “I think the lack of penis transplants across the world since we performed the first one in 2014‚ is mostly due to a lack of donors. It might be easier to donate organs that you cannot see‚ like a kidney‚ than something like a hand or a penis‚” said Van der Merwe.
“We are extremely grateful to the donor’s family who so generously donated not only the penis‚ but also the kidneys‚ skin and corneas of their beloved son. Through this donation they are changing the lives of many patients.
The patient had counselling over two years to explain and ensure he understood the operation is not a tried and tested treatment‚ but is still an experimental procedure with many risks.
You probably have to look at imagery of death and dying regularly to stay focused on what really counts in life: great sex before you are gone anyway.
Isis is suspected of launching a mustard gas attack on an air base where US and Iraqi troops operate.
According to US officials, the projectile was categorised as either an artillery shell or a rocket.
After landing at Qayyara air base near Mosul in northern Iraq, US troops tested the remains with an initial finding of sulfur mustard (mustard gas).
No US troops portrayed symptoms of exposure to mustard gas or were hurt in the attack.
According to CNN, one official said the mustard agent had a "low purity" and was "poorly weaponised", while another described it as "ineffective".
Mustard gas is not usually fatal, during the First World War only 5 per cent of people exposed died after receiving medical care, the Centre for the Disease Control and Protection (CDC) states.
It is a powerful irritant and blistering agent that damages the skin, eyes and the victim's breathing tract.
Normally, the symptoms can take up to 24 hours to appear with some more sensitive than others.
During its airborne campaign against Isis, US air strikes have hit a number of locations they believe were used as production sites for sulfur mustard.
We are different. For us, the adherents of Kreutz Religion, sex is sacred. Sexual intercourse is religious service. Flirting is worship. Optimal orgasms build our immortal soul. Our karma depends on sexual success. Evolution has a spiritual dimension.
A research has shown that some erectile structures fundamental for orgasm have not been excised during female genital mutilation (FGM), meaning they can have normal sex and reach orgasm.
FGM, also known as female genital cutting and female circumcision, is the ritual removal of some or all of the external female genitalia – the clitoral hood and clitoral glans (the visible part of the clitoris), removal of the inner labia and, in the most severe form (known as infibulation), removal of the inner and outer labia and closure of the vulva.
Simply put, part of the female genitals is partly or entirely removed by a traditional circumciser using a blade or razor.
Most times, the goal is to inhibit a woman's sexual feelings – to control women's sexuality.
The research by Catania L1, Abdulcadir O, Puppo V, Verde JB, Abdulcadir J and Abdulcadir D, entitled 'Pleasure and orgasm in women with Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting (FGM/C)' tested 137 women affected by different types of FGM/C.
"The group of 137 women, affected by different types of FGM/C, reported orgasm in almost 86%, always 69.23%; 58 mutilated young women reported orgasm in 91.43%, always 8.57%; after defibulation 14 out of 15 infibulated women reported orgasm," the researchers stated in their abstract.
Also, 14 out of 15 women who were initially infibulated and later defibulated reported orgasm after defibulation.
Erectile dysfunction is mostly a vascular disease. Shockwave therapy, as commonly applied by Thai urologists, causes total neovascularization of the vital organ. The result: super erections, even at age 75.
I'm 19. I'm depressed and suicidal. I've been housebound for over 4 years and have very bad mental health including Autism, Selective mutism, an eating disorder and body dysmorphic disorder.. I've been a pedophile since I was a young child, perhaps age 7 but I'm not quite sure. I was always attracted to other children. mainly boys. I didn't know what sex or sexuality was, I just knew I had these feelings and a couple of times acted on them with friends. I was younger than 10 when it happened, I didn't even know what I was doing. I haven't done anything with children since then. I am devastated that if people only knew I had these feelings they would be likely to ostracise me or hate me.. Is anyone who doesn't know this about me ever truly on my side? Would any friendship I have actually be real? I don't have friendships or socialise with people.. I'm not able to do much in life except eat sleep and watch tv shows.. but I'm now even scared of watching tv shows or movies incase there is a pedophile storyline.. i watched 3 movies in a row and all of them ended up having pedophile storylines.. one of my favourite sci-fi shows went and did a pedophile storyline as a main thing across a whole series.. I used to love watching stand up comedy as it made me laugh and i could be happy.. but now they all do pedo jokes and I hate it.. it just reminds me how hated I would probably be if people knew. I don't want to live any more I even bought some stuff online from a euthanasia company to end my life.. and it's in my room staring at me everyday.. Please don't tell me not to kill myself as it would do more bad than good. Does anyone have any tips on how I can stop focusing on what other people think?
I don't look at any illegal material but I do masturbate to legal nudist images and videos. I mainly do this when I've heard something or thought something that makes me feel hated for being the way I am as I find it comforting.. like I'm getting some sort of revenge on the people who make me feel bad for feeling this way. I don't even like masturbation.. I find it annoying and messy. I'd much prefer to be asexual and never even think of sex at all but that can't happen sadly. I just want to be accepted despite my sexual interests.. :(
Hey, glad you found your way here to express your thoughts. Keeping it all inside at all times can just progressively make the world look even worse and more hopeless place than before, which simply fuels these depressive thoughts even more.
Movies and mainstream in general are ignorant about the terminology and use "pedophile" due to its imminent shock value. I just watched CSI and the summary of the episode said it had a "serial pedophile" in it. What on earth is that even? Someone who serially wakes up each day choosing to find kids attractive? Is it a person who feels attracted to children in a weird serial manner? The term they should have used was serial child molester and I knew this, so I simply entertained myself with these thoughts. What I'm trying to say is that when people express their hate toward "pedophiles", whether in the form of jokes or opinions, they mean people who act on their impulses. The idea of a non-offending pedophile never even crosses their mind, because no one has told them about it. The lack completely this concept, which is ironic, since it can be argued most pedophiles are indeed non-offenders. Remember when we read papers we don't read articles about decent pedophiles leading ethical life but we only see news about sex offenders.
I'm not going to insult your intelligence by simply saying the cliche "just don't think about what other people think". I want to make you understand why they think that way. No one can hate "all" pedophiles, since that would be practically impossible given how many of them there are. Rather, they hate inside their head the stereotypical image of a pedophile, which obviously is a child molester or rapist. But you know you are neither. If you were, you certainly wouldn't have written that particular post.
I have told one of my friends I'm a pedophile and he took it extremely well. So yes, people can be on your side, even if they knew about your condition. Besides what you see attractive in the privacy of your own head is none of their business, so don't feel bad about not telling them you are a pedophile. However, If you choose to tell someone make sure he/she is 100% trustworthy. Don't make quick judgements about whom you trust with that secret lest you make a big mistake.
I don't normally offer the 'get help' line as I think it can be counterproductive and lead to people feeling even more isolated (after all, it confirms the desperate feeling of 'I'm broken, I need fixed, I'm defective'). However, once somebody mentions suicide I feel that the 'get help' advice is fitting. Imagine that help as a plaster until the wound has healed enough to be in a better position to help yourself. See a doctor for your suicidal thoughts. You don't have to explain why those thoughts may have come about.
One other thing I would say is that we are much more than just our sexuality. I love little girls, and I always will, but I'm not going to abuse anyone, and I'm no danger to society or to anyone in any way. I am very content with who I am and my sexuality and I wish everyone could feel that relaxed (after all, who is less likely to abuse out of someone who's relaxed about who they are and someone who's distressed). Yes, it's a shame that most people will offer the automatic platitudes when confronted with emotive subjects, but there's only one group of people who can change their minds with exemplary behaviour and watertight morals. People don't know about the specifics of what turns me on, but that doesn't mean they don't love me for me. Some things are simply private.
I really feel that at this stage you should address the suicidal thoughts as a medical issue for the time being, quite apart from whatever may be causing those thoughts. And keep posting here because you're in the right place for understanding and support.
Very much agree with both of the above posts. I'm sorry you are feeling like this. I am not a paedophile myself and I know you sound like a great person, someone I could be friends with...doesn't that tell you something?
The above comments are quite right in saying that, of course your friendships are real. People love you based on who you are, and what they assume you to be (someone who wouldn't harm anyone), and this is exactly who you are. So you aren't 'deceiving' them in any way. Your sexuality is private, so long as you do not act on your thoughts.
I definitely recommend you seek help for your suicidal thoughts and start learning how to accept and like yourself as a person. It's the first step. Best of luck
95 percent of the victims of violence are men. Because women feel flattered when men fight each other and kill each other to prove that they are real men.
Every now and again it's probably healthy to crack open the glass, remove a certain world masterpiece from the display case, and in re-reading it recall that—unlike Ulysses and Lady Chatterley's Lover, two other novels once deemed obscene by the tribunes of moral upkeep— Lolita is a disgusting book. Furthermore, the day will never come when it is not a disgusting book. By comparison, in fact, it can make Lawrence and Joyce look like a pair of old village bluenoses. For all its arduous recourse to the c-word, Lady Chatterley's Lover places its faith in the sexually fulfilled marriage, a ho-hum piety in the age of divorce. For all its scatological frankness, Ulysses tells the touching story of a surrogate father finding his surrogate son. Lolita, meanwhile, tells the story of a stepfather serially defiling his adolescent stepdaughter. * Public taste was meant to catch up to Lady Chatterley screwing her gamekeeper, to Leopold Bloom sitting on his jakes. Public taste was never meant to catch up to Humbert Humber.
"I want my learned readers to participate in the scene I am about to replay," Humbert asks us early on, by way of setting up his description of his first taste of sexual bliss with Lolita, the pre-pubescent daughter of his landlady. (Humbert will eventually marry the landlady; the landlady will eventually die; Humbert will eventually abscond with Lolita. For now, though, he is only their boarder, a debonair European with certain hidden proclivities.) "So let us get started. I have a difficult job before me." This is Nabokov winking out at us. By difficult job, Humbert means: I want to conjure this scene up, with all its strange anatomical circumnavigations, as carefully as possible, to demonstrate to the reader that I am not wholly a monster. (He also means: I had to ejaculate, without letting Lolita know.) By difficult job, Nabokov means: I will indulge Humbert in all his strange circumlocutions, to demonstrate to the reader what a total monster he is. In this respect, Nabokov and Humbert have opposing aims; but in the telling, they become as one. All the comically baroque pleonasms help Humbert shield from himself how repulsively he has acted. They allow Nabokov, meanwhile, to describe a rapine act of frottage without becoming explicitly pornographic.
Lolita turns 50 this year, and having stayed so perverse, it remains fresh as ever. To fully appreciate its perversity, though, one must first appreciate that it is not obscene. Your run-of-the-mill obscene masterwork—Tropic of Cancer, say—demands that you, enlightened reader, work your way past the sex and excrement to recognize how beautiful it is. But with Lolita, you must work past its beauty to recognize how shocking it is. And for all its beauty, for all its immense ingenuity and humor, one easily forgets how shocking Lolita is. To wit: Later in the narrative, Humbert has settled with Lolita in a small town called Beardsley and set up a semblance of a normal suburban life. Humbert is called into Lolita's private school for a parent-teacher conference, where he is told that she is "antagonistic, dissatisfied, cagey" and "obsessed with sexual thoughts for which she finds no outlet." In essence, Humbert is being offered an inventory of the damage he has wrought on his stepdaughter, but all he can do is sneer inwardly at the messenger, a psychobabbling crone named Pratt, and then … and then … well, what happens next is so shocking, and yet so calmly and economically detailed, it had somehow absented itself from my memory of the novel. Humbert finds Lolita sitting in a study hall.
Accustomed to receiving Lolita as evidence of towering genius, we hide a question in plain sight: Why did Nabokov choose to inhabit Humbert Humbert, a pitiable half-mad émigré suffering from acute nympholepsy, in the first place? One clue is hidden in the last part of that last sentence: I simply had to take advantage of a combination that I knew would never occur again. Humbert means: Look, I had to avail myself of that hand-job, because when might the opportunity ever recur? But Nabokov, again winking at us, means: I love the exquisite particularity of that specific instant. The only psychiatrist Nabokov could tolerate was Havelock Ellis, for whom "the individuality of each case is respected and catalogued in the same way that butterflies are carefully classified," as one of Nabokov's biographers has explained. (Nabokov was a famous lepidopterist.) Conversely, Nabokov detested "Freudian voodooism," as he once put it, because he saw in Freud an attempt by psychiatry to corner, appropriate, and submit to generalized principles people's inner lives. And submitting one's inner life—the unique hazard of one's personality, the camera obscura of one's own personal store of memories—to a set of deterministic explanations was for Nabokov an indignity on par with the expropriations of the Bolsheviks.
To inhabit a pedophile—and not just a pedophile, but a European pedophile, on an American soil Nabokov had himself grown to love!—was to torture in extremis his faith in the sanctity of the exquisite inner life. We are clearly meant to regard Humbert as a moral abomination, and even Humbert eventually concedes (it is one of the book's most beautiful and unforgettable passages) that in exploiting Lolita he has gratuitously destroyed another human being. And yet, how close to absolute Nabokov makes Humbert's claim to his own thoughts and feelings! There are two competing accounts in Lolita for why Humbert is a pervert. The first is a bit of personal mythopoeics put forward by Humbert himself, who believes his (entirely natural) love for a young girl named Annabel when he was a young boy, and its brutally abrupt interruption, explains the origin of his adult nympholepsy. Later, Humbert tells us of having once bribed a nurse to show him his psychiatric files, in which he discovered he has been labeled "homosexual." The first explanation is poetic, beautiful, intensely rendered, utterly self-serving, and probably untrue. The second explanation is clinical, dispassionate, probably true, but so neglectful of the intensity of Humbert's own consciousness as to be repulsive to Nabokov.
Nabokov overcame the worst affliction of all, from a writer's point of view: a happy childhood. He was an eldest child who chose to pretend he was an only child. Testimony from acquaintances relates how loath he was even to casually discuss siblings, and one can read dozens of pages of Speak, Memory without ever sensing he had to share his parents' affections. ("There was a sunny quality about the way he talked of his own family," one of his Wellesley students has recalled, "One had the feeling of the much-loved little princeling. Clean linen and hot milk and never a scolding.") That utter primacy, of the little princeling basking in the eyes of his justly revering parents, seems never to have left Nabokov, but as a genius, he understood it both as his burden, and as his unique portal to aesthetic discovery.
Lolita is most commonly remembered as one man's living poem to his own daemonic perversity, and as such, is overpraised by its adherents for its technical virtuosity and hilarity, and misconstrued by its detractors as little more than a frost-encrusted monument to Nabokov's own monumental arrogance. Its real genius is too easily missed. It lies in what Nabokov called the "nerves of the novel," the "secret points, the subliminal coordinates by means of which the book is plotted." In these, Nabokov has hinted at the life that exceeds the perimeter of Humbert's encompassing obsession—at the inner lives of those others whom he so casually dismisses or destroys. It cost Nabokov, by his own admission, "a month of work" to write one sentence in which Humbert gets his hair cut by a barber who has never stopped mourning his dead son—a fact that scarcely dents Humbert's exquisite consciousness.
Why is sex so important? Because sex builds an immortal individual soul.
As a writer whose new novel also concerns Eva Braun, I can sympathise with the frustration that understanding her raises. How can a woman have a relationship with a man who is in many ways the embodiment of evil? Was she in denial, or simply self-deluding?
There is no more troubling way of viewing the Nazi leaders than in examining the women who loved them. Sometimes the personal lives of the senior men – their relationships with their wives and children – are more disturbing than pictures of their ranting speeches, because they force us to consider them as human beings.
Eva Braun met Hitler when she was a 17-year-old, convent-educated shop-girl working for Hitler’s official photographer, and he was a 40‑year-old aspiring politician. He had tickets to the opera, she accepted, and so began a tortured 12-year relationship that involved several suicide attempts and led Hitler’s chauffeur, Eric Kempa, to label her “the unhappiest woman in Germany”. From Eva’s letters, we learn that her parents disapproved, and that Hitler would frequently ignore her in public, merely passing her an envelope of money at the end of the evening. When she was finally allotted a room in the Berlin Chancellery, she was forced to use a back entrance in case anyone saw her.
Hitler and his henchmen tried their hardest to keep Eva out of the spotlight, and forbade any picture of her to be published, because they were keen to project the idea that he was “married to Germany”. Yet Eva herself ensured the opposite for posterity. She was an early adopter of cine-film and made endless home movies. Today she would have been constantly on Facebook, Instagramming her meals and taking selfies at the Berghof. One of her more astonishing ambitions was to star one day in a “bio-pic” of her life with the man she liked to call “Wolf”
Yet inevitably it is their sex life that has filled tomes, because in sex, we believe, a person’s deepest essence is revealed. Rumours of homosexuality had dogged Hitler since the early Twenties, repeated in Munich newspapers and bolstered by his close relationship with Ernst Röhm, the homosexual head of the Sturmabteilung, the Nazi Party militia.
There is good reason to believe that he did have repressed homosexual tendencies, yet the dictator’s interest in women is also well-attested. He would invite actresses back to his apartment for “private performances”. One actress, Renata Müller, spread rumours about Hitler’s alleged proclivity for self-abasement, with suggestions that he knelt at her feet and asked her to kick him. When she fell to her death from a window in 1937, many questioned the verdict of suicide.
Even more eye-catching was the secret 1943 report from America’s Office of Strategic Services (forerunner of the CIA) which labelled Hitler an “impotent coprophile”. Based on claims from Otto Strasser, one of Hitler’s opponents in the Party, it alleged that the dictator forced his niece Geli to urinate and defecate on him. While it is hard to separate reality from politically inspired propaganda, Hitler’s obsession with the unfortunate Geli was probably the deepest of his life, and her suicide in his apartment brought him close to breakdown. Geli, like Eva, did not threaten him intellectually. “There is surely nothing finer than to educate a young thing for oneself,” he opined. “A lass of 18 or 20 years old is as pliable as wax.”
It is impossible to peer behind the bedroom door, but Amis’s speculation that Hitler was “sexually a void”, because of his obsession with hygiene, is contradicted by observers at the time, who suggest that Hitler and Eva did share a bed as a couple. They had interconnecting bedrooms at the Berghof and Hitler’s valet, Heinz Linge, attests that they would go to bed together.
While Hitler’s maid, Pauline Kohler, wrote that “Hitler is not strongly sexed”, Eva Braun’s correspondence reveals nothing unusual – certainly not along the lines of fully clothed sex – except that once war had broken out, Hitler was unable to get interested. She used to show her friends a 1938 photograph of Neville Chamberlain on a sofa in Hitler’s Munich flat, saying: “If only he knew what goings-on that sofa has seen!”
It would be surprising, as Amis says, that such a warped psychology as Hitler’s could ever be “a considerate and energetic lover”. Yet, once I began to write about the Nazi wives, I realised that the ability of mass murderers to compartmentalise their lives is one of their most disturbing aspects.
A new documentary about Himmler’s home life, called The Decent One, by the acclaimed filmmaker Vanessa Lapa, focuses on the tender personal letters between Himmler and his wife Marga, largely about their daughter Puppi, even as he perpetrated daily atrocities. It raises the same questions as Thomas Harding’s book Hanns and Rudolf, about the private life of Rudolf Höss, the Auschwitz commandant, whose children played just yards away from the camp, oblivious of the horrors occurring there.
Looking at the women who loved the Nazis is not prurient. It matters because viewing the Nazi leaders on the human scale – as fathers, lovers and husbands – is what makes their activities more repellent than ever.
The world is full of multimillionaires who can't handle money. Because, if you have money, live in a Third World country where you can have all the women you want.
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