#130th anniversary
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On June 7, 1893 a fire destroyed a part of the Mercado da Ribeira in Lisbon.
#Mercado da Ribeira#Time Out Market Lisboa#fire#7 June 1893#Lisbon#130th anniversary#Portugese history#interior#exterior#travel#vacation#Portugal#Southern Europe#architecture#cityscape#tourist attraction#landmark#Capilé#Pastel de nata with cinnamon#street food#ice tea#summer 2021#original photography#Lisboa
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Avatar rip and Zorin because I'm losing my sanity
#i have no ti.e#me#uhh#im Hoping to finish this ship art tonight#because tomorrow#my school will have its 130th anniversary#and this whole gala#and i decided to sing in school choir#and its going terribly#augghhthggggawhggsg
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Precious Lee at Vogue World Event In Celebration of Vogue's 130th anniversary
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not sure if what this article says is legit or if it will happen. we know how fickle airing dramas are nowadays and the popular thing is to just drop it without warning. i hope it doesn’t happen with this one tho.
The espionage-themed online drama "Bright Road" starring Wang Yibo, Li Qin and other young actors is expected to be broadcast on iQiyi this year. A tribute work to commemorate the 130th anniversary of the birth of Comrade Mao Zedong.
I mean. 2023 is insane. 3 movies and 1 drama? It’s a busy year for yibo fans indeed! 🤍 I wanna see WYB in his 1920s suit again please! It’s gonna be good!
#wang yibo#bright road#now i know why he couldn’t say NO to this project lol#i thought youku owned this project tho … ohwell… just give me yibo content please.
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Considering Mae West’s 130th birthday was in August and the anniversary of her death (22 November 1980) is later this month, the 16 November installment of the Lobotomy Room club is a tribute to cinema’s high empress of sex! And - because this is the Lobotomy Room film club (devoted to Bad Movies for Bad People) – rather than show one of her 1930s classics, we’re screening West’s infamous final movie Sextette (1978)!
Persuaded to make one last film, the 84-year-old diva made zero concessions to her age and cast herself as a much-lusted after bombshell Marlo Manners, surrounded by besotted male admirers (including 34-year-old future James Bond Timothy Dalton as her husband-to-be. The rest of the oddball cast includes Ringo Starr, Alice Cooper, Keith Moon, Tony Curtis and George Hamilton).
Yes, the mind-boggling, misbegotten musical comedy Sextette is an unintended camp classick which made The New York Times declare, “Granny should have her mouth washed out with soap, along with her teeth!" BUT: I recently watched the 2020 documentary Dirty Blonde, which proposed a kinder reappraisal of West’s reviled later films Myra Breckenridge (1970) and Sextette, asking the viewer why we are so horrified by West still flaunting her sexual appetites into old age. As film historian Jeanine Basinger argues, “There’s a wonderful courage and defiance” to West’s sheer stubbornness in taking what she had in the 1930s and trying to make it work in the 1970s. Judge for yourself over cocktails at Fontaine’s bar on 16 November!
Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies is the FREE monthly film club devoted to cinematic perversity. Third Thursday night of every month downstairs at Fontaine’s cocktail lounge. Numbers are limited, so reserving in advance via Fontaine’s website is essential. Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email [email protected]. The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered on time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest. Info.
#mae west#sextette#lobotomy room#dirty blonde#raunch queen#high empress of sex#bad movies we love#bad movies for bad people#bad movies rule#bad taste#shock value#lobotomy room film club#diva#kween#vintage smut#vintage sleaze
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i'll follow you everywhere while you work the room
summary: there's a gala and rebecca's been stressed about it. ted's been a doll, as per usual.
pairing: ted lasso/rebecca welton
word count: 1907
a/n: quick (unedited) tedbecca established relationship fluff i was inspired to write based off some lines of "once upon a poolside" by the national
i don’t know how you do it / tangerine perfume
Rebecca was exhausted. She’d spent the past month meticulously planning the annual charity gala. It was the club’s 130th anniversary. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t as big of a deal as, say, the 100th or 150th year since its establishment, but she wasn’t sure where she’d be in 20 years. She quite liked the idea of retiring and traveling with her darling love, who had been a great support to her throughout the entire stressful process.
“Yes, honey, that color palette looks perfect,” he’d told her, merely reaffirming her choices but it still made her feel better. He’d been full of things like, “Yes, baby girl, that sounds like a great food selection” and “I think a dessert bar is a wonderful idea, darlin’. People love a good buffet.”
Now she was moving around the venue, chit-chatting with various donors and fans, making herself extremely lovable even if she felt like ripping her hair out every time some rich old white man smiled at her in a way that made her feel slimy. But she smiled politely back at them, laughed at their jokes, took their “accidental” brushes of the arm in stride.
And then his fingers would ghost over the small of her back and she would feel relief flood her very veins. She never realized how tense she was until she became fully aware of his presence just off to her side. Sometimes he would stay so close to her that she warmed at the heat of him and other times he would leave her with those light touches before he went to go mingle somewhere nearby. He was never far from her.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was never not within his eyesight. He’d been keeping tabs on her the whole night, making sure to stay close by. She looked stunning in the black sequined dress she’d decided to wear that night so it was difficult to tear his gaze from her anyway. But he knew she’d been stressed about the gala and he wanted her to know that he was there with her, that she could lean on him if she needed to.
So, he’d dedicated his night to following her around as she charmed her guests. She was an expert, truly, at masking her disdain for these sorts of events. She’d told him she always felt like such a schmooze when she had to walk around smiling and laughing at jokes that weren’t funny to haggle money out of rich people. He’d told her it was for a good cause and that she was a very sexy schmooze before he’d kissed her thoroughly in an attempt to pull her thoughts away from the gala.
That trick only worked until they woke up in the morning and she’d be filled with dread once more at the day of worrying ahead. Although there hadn’t been a particularly hurtful tabloid article about her in a long time, she still got anxious about the press where big events were involved. They could be ruthless, he knew, and she did want to impress although she didn’t admit it to him. She told him she wanted everything to be perfect for the club, for their boys, even for him. But he was well aware that a major part of her anxiety revolved around the tabloids. One nasty and ill-informed headline could make or break a person, unfortunately.
He was there at every turn, keeping a watchful eye on the way her shoulders and back tensed depending on who she was talking to, taking note of every forced smile, every fake laugh. He would brush his fingers against the small of her back, down her arm, over her shoulders. And the most remarkable thing would happen right before his eyes– he would see her visibly relax. He’d, of course, heard that turn of phrase, or read it more like, but he couldn’t recall ever having seen it happen. Her shoulders would fall and the muscles of her back would seemingly unravel from the tight knots that had surely been torturing her. Her smile would morph into something more natural, more serene and the look in her eyes would turn peaceful. All because of his touch.
How was such a thing possible? He couldn’t fathom it. Never before had he garnered that kind of response from anyone based purely on touch alone. It was as if he had some sort of magic in his fingertips and it made him feel a bit lightheaded. Did she really love him that much?
He was her peace. The whole night she’d been running around trying to make everyone happy and making sure it all went according to plan, from the auction to the musical performance to the food to the mass exodus once the whole fucking thing was over. She’d noticed what he was doing about halfway through the night, conveniently popping up beside her wherever she went. It very nearly brought tears to her eyes to know that he was so utterly invested in her wellbeing. She’d heard whispers at some point, people saying that her besotted gaffer was trailing her like a lost puppy and that had made her quietly angry because of course he wasn’t. But then she’d begun to notice that he was somewhere near her during every conversation she was having, whether he showed up behind her or he was off to the side having his own conversation with someone else. She would look just slightly to the side and see him standing there in his suit, holding a flute of champagne and making someone laugh or giggle. He was nothing if not charming.
At the end of the night, after everyone else had gone except for the hired staff, she found him helping them clean up, his suit jacket gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his tie loose around his neck. He looked up at her from collecting trash off a table and smiled, a tendril of his hair falling down into his face, making him look ever more handsome. She melted for him over the smallest things, it seemed. She thought that after a few years of being together, she’d have gotten used to his smiles and his hair and his gorgeous eyes. But there she was, still entirely smitten with every little thing about him.
“Hey, you,” he said, tossing the garbage into a bag and leaving it to go to her.
“Hi,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he wound his around her middle, pulling her close to him. He breathed her in, the smell of her perfume a little citrusy with a hint of something floral.
“You okay?” he asked her, his tone lending tender concern.
She nodded and smiled warmly at him. There was never a moment in which he didn’t make her feel cared for. She was incredibly in love with him.
“Better now it’s over,” she told him.
“I bet,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he gazed into her eyes. He always got lost there. Those eyes of hers were like the sea– captivating and deeper than anyone knew, easy to drift into if he wasn’t careful. He guessed he’d made a habit of being reckless, in that case. “Think you could spare some energy for a dance, darlin’?”
He’d hoped to pull her for a dance earlier in the night so that they could’ve made people bear witness to how disgustingly in love they were, but she’d been rather preoccupied through the whole event. He looked at her with a subtle type of hope in his eyes and she could see the sparkle in them. She hadn’t understood what people meant when they said things like that– the sparkle in someone’s eye or a longing gaze– but now she did. He gazed at her with such longing it stole the air from her lungs, leaving her with the phantom of a breath on her lips every time she caught him looking at her that way.
“Even if I didn’t, I’d still dance with you, my love.” It was true. Even if she didn’t have a single drop of energy left within her tired bones, she still would have waltzed around the room with him as if it were the last thing she’d ever get to do.
He smiled at her and then looked in the direction of the DJ booth, giving a slight nod. Suddenly, the lights went dim and the music came in over the sound system.
She looked at him, her head tilted to the side, her eyebrows raised, a fond smile on her face.
“And if I had said no?” she teased.
“Well, I guess I was bankin’ on a yes,” he said before he leaned into her to press a sweet kiss to her lips. He started swaying them to the gentle rhythm of Elton John’s “Your Song.” She slipped off her heels and sighed in relief, leaning her head on his shoulder now that he was a bit taller than her. “I don’t know how you do it, Rebecca,” he muttered, turning his head so he could drop a kiss to the side of her head.
“I’ll be honest with you, darling, I don’t know how I do it either,” she said, her breath tickling his neck. “I think maybe I black out and suddenly become possessed by some ancient aristocratic spirit.”
“That’d be kinda neat,” he mused. “I mean, as long as I always get my babydoll back, that is.”
She laughed quietly and stood up straight, looking him in the eyes.
“Spirit-possessed or not, I’ll always come back to you, Ted.”
“And I’ll always be here waitin’ for you to come home. Spirit-possessed or not,” he said with a subtle smile.
She smiled back at him and pulled him into her for a slow, tender kiss, her fingers toying with the hair at the back of his head. He pressed her further into him, wanting to be unsure at what point they were two different bodies, two different souls. But their souls had melded into one, as far as he was concerned, the moment they both knew they loved each other. All at once, they had become two hearts in one. Never before had he experienced such a thing– to be so sure that someone had been made for him, for him to have been made for someone, and to have finally found her. He’d been beside himself with emotion in that moment, and she had kept his head above water. She was always there when he felt he was beginning to drown. He would spend the rest of his life expressing his gratitude through his love for her.
That night, in their bed, he held her as close as he possibly could with one arm wrapped around her waist while his free hand roamed the vast expanse of her softness. She was all curves and supple flesh and honeyed warmth. He rubbed soothing circles into the muscles he knew were tense earlier that evening and reveled in the sounds of her quiet sighs and lip-bitten moans as he worked the knots out of her. They fell asleep, limbs entangled and hearts beating in sync, knowing for certain that there was no universe in which they would ever want to be without each other.
#ted lasso#rebecca welton#tedbecca#ted x rebecca#rebecca x ted#ted lasso fanfic#tedbecca fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction#tedbecca fanfiction#cosmically connected#they are quite literally my only muse right now it's insane#i don't want to write anything else but these two in love fools
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Just after Christmas, the People’s Republic of China’s increasingly authoritarian leader-for-life Xi Jinping celebrated Mao Zedong’s 130th birthday. Xi led the Politburo’s Standing Committee in a requiem in the Great Hall of the People for the infamous Red Emperor, the greatest mass murderer in modern if not all human history. The members thrice bowed before the grand killer’s statue and remembered his “achievements.”
Mao’s thoughts are a “spiritual treasure” and would “guide our actions in the long term,” Xi said. The Chinese people must “work to enable our party to adhere to its original mission … maintain vitality and vigor, and ensure that our party never degenerates, never changes its color, and never loses its flavor.” Under Mao, Xi said earlier last year, the Chinese Communist Party developed a “brand new form of human civilization.”
Ironically, by strengthening his arbitrary rule, Xi is actually making an eventual counterreaction more likely. Ever-tightening repression poisons the entire system. Fear exiles honesty and accountability in policymaking, leading to more and bigger mistakes, including at the top. State centralization and politicization are reversing the very forces that spurred economic growth. The determination to indoctrinate as well as regulate already has spawned antagonistic youth movements that challenge authority. Political stability is likely to be only temporary; when Xi passes from the scene, the succession fight is likely to be more bitter and fraught.
Not everyone agrees with Xi. On a recent trip to China, I met an academic colleague who expressed profound pessimism, which he said many intellectuals and others shared. In the past, he observed, they at least could look forward to some change every five or 10 years, when a new party general secretary (and president) was chosen.
But no longer. Not only is Xi president for life, but the party is also rapidly reverting back to the habits of the Maoist era.
Yet Xi was not alone in reveling in the supposed achievements of the Great Helmsman. Mao’s birthplace in the southern Hunan province, which I’ve visited, has long been a major tourist destination. Today, it may be the one place in China where a dissident can covertly promote revolution. As a Nikkei report on the anniversary observance noted, “The younger attendees on Tuesday seemed particularly inclined to chant slogans considered more extreme in their rhetoric. Those included such slogans adopted by China’s Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution as ‘No crime in revolution!’ and ‘To rebel is justified!’”
However, as Xi concentrates his power, I wonder who these young visitors think they’re rebelling against.
Right now, Xi’s power seems unshakeable. But so did Mao’s during his lifetime. Almost immediately after he died, policies began to change—and had shifted on the ground even beforehand. Within a decade or two, the country was almost unrecognizable.
Some of the devotion to Mao was real, and he retains some fervent fans. When I visited his impressive mausoleum in Tiananmen Square a few years ago, the lines were long. Many people bought flowers from vendors before entering to set before Mao’s massive bronze statue in the entryway. Some visitors seemed genuinely overcome with emotion. However, capitalism ultimately triumphed: On exiting, everyone passed by stalls marketing overpriced Mao tchotchke.
That the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) continues to cling to Mao to maintain its revolutionary credentials is embarrassing, but hardly surprising. Mao remains one of China’s most recognizable symbols. His portrait hangs on the Gate of Heavenly Peace on Tiananmen Square’s northern edge. His mausoleum dominates the space and is much more impressive than Vladimir Lenin’s dark and dank resting place. And Mao’s face adorns China’s currency.
All this was built on a pile of corpses. The CCP consolidated power with campaigns against so-called counterrevolutionaries, landlords, and other enemies, killing 5 million or so Chinese. In 1950, Mao made the decision to enter the Korean War to save North Korean leader Kim Il Sung. Some 200,000 Chinese soldiers died, along with untold thousands killed by them in a war prolonged by two-and-a-half years. In 1956, Mao initiated the Hundred Flowers Campaign or Movement, in which he encouraged the people to speak freely. Apparently shocked after receiving criticisms rather than encomiums, he responded with the Anti-Rightest Movement, in which millions were killed.
In 1958, Mao’s fertile mind came up with his worst idea yet: the so-called Great Leap Forward, simultaneously collectivizing farming and decentralizing manufacturing. Estimates of total deaths vary widely, but perhaps the most comprehensive account came from a party member and Xinhua reporter. Yang Jisheng figured: “[T]he Great Famine brought about 36 million unnatural deaths, and a shortfall of 40 million births.”
Mao’s final flight into pure madness was the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. The murderous mix of party purge, civil war, and social collapse may have caused as many as 2 million deaths.
Mao’s death was almost as consequential as his life. Pragmatic revolutionary Deng Xiaoping won the resulting power struggle and moved China down the course of economic reform. However, Deng, like Mao, rejected political liberalization and orchestrated the 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown, which was followed by purging millions of party members.
The CCP recognized that Mao had made mistakes, but it was unable to let go of the legacy of the national founding father altogether. Mao was still 70 percent right, the official verdict decided. (Contrast the Soviet Union’s Nikita Khrushchev, who was able to take Joseph Stalin’s legacy down entirely, in part because Lenin provided a convenient alternative state founder.)
Even after Tiananmen, China remained far freer than under Mao. However, that was then. In almost every way, Xi has shoved his nation backward.
Independent journalists and human rights lawyers are gone. Internet controls are tighter. Repression of churches is more intense. Academic exchanges are more limited. Controls over Tibetans, Uyghurs, and Hong Kongers have metastasized. Companies host party cells. Business is being made to serve the CCP.
And Xi has greatly strengthened party and personal control and uses both propaganda and coercion to insist that everyone thinks like him. He has tried to control history, presenting an idyllic version of the party’s bloody past. There is a burgeoning personality cult, though it seems perfunctory, lacking the ardor and intensity that more often surrounded Mao, at least during the latter’s life.
An important problem with Xi’s retreat to Maoism is the absence of Mao. Give the latter his due: Charismatic and driven from the start, he took a weak and divided movement from defeat to triumph and cast off centuries of Western and Japanese imperialism. In contrast, Xi is a colorless apparatchik who carefully ascended a party structure created by others. He wants Mao’s control without having earned, brutally and bloodily, Mao’s power.
Opposition exists but is futile. Wall Street Journal reporter Lingling Wei reported on a meeting at which a forlorn liberal administrator who had worked on stock market reform “signaled me to a corner of the venue. … ‘The whole thing about getting listed companies to set up party committees,’ he said, ‘is a reversal of what we had tried to do.’ Then he walked away without saying anything else.”
Indeed, China may be slipping back toward the Soviet Union in terms of political sentiment, if not economic achievement. People are still much better off than before, but a sense of ennui, even despair, afflicts those who desire personal freedom to enjoy their material bounty and personal opportunity to shape the social order around them. Xi, like Leonid Brezhnev, insists that soulless apparatchiks are the center of society.
It appears to be the fate of every nation that the worst will get on top, sometimes. However, as Friedrich Hayek predicted, they will do so more often in communist systems.
China is proving the rule. There was Mao. Now there is Xi. With Xi celebrating Mao, hopefully there won’t be another.
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Crown Princess Mary’s Official Engagements in October 2023:
03/10: Opening of Parliament
03/10: The Mary Foundation Presidium Dinner
05/10: Visit to Danish Hospital Clowns
12/10: 50th Anniversary of BUPL
12/10: Meeting with the Crown Princess Mary Center Advisory Committee
15/10: Prince Christian's 18th Birthday - Balcony Appearance
15/10: Prince Christian's 18th Birthday - Gala Dinner
23/10: Visit to New York - UN Mission Reception
24/10: Visit to New York - UN Day Conferences & Promoting Denmark’s Candidacy for the UN Security Council 2025-2026
25/10: Visit to North Carolina - World Anti-Bullying Forum 2023
30/10: 130th Anniversary of Offside Social Gardens
31/10: Meeting with Rare Diagnoses Association
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Through the Years → Mary, Crown Princess of Denmark (803/∞)
30 October 2023 | The Crown Princess visited WeShelter's "Offsides Sociale Haver" on the occasion of the organisation's 130th anniversary. (Photo by Hanne Juul/Ro Slotø/Kongehuset)
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Good morning, Kelsey!! How was yesterday? I hope today is lovely!!
good morning, ashley! happy wednesday!!
i’m good! there’s snow literally everywhere, and i love it <3 yesterday was a rollercoaster! my cousin’s baby was born for real like right before 10 & my cousin had to have a last-minute c-section because he was so large !! (her husband clears like 6’4 so), but we still don’t know the name 😭 it’s just not…hank. other than that, i just did some proof-reading for that indie press and actually found that they were going to send a book to print with a whole paragraph and a half missing from the original text (it was a 130th anniversary re-release), so that was cool!! and also i obviously got a new permit…because i lost my other one.
today, just job-searching! i’m gonna try to see if i can nail down more formal details about a potential internship, but nothing too exciting beyond that.
how are you? how was yesterday? i hope today is great!!! 🩷
#my cousin is sleeping rn but why is she treating this name reveal like she’s a celeb#just send it omgggg#ashley ❤︎#✉︎ — confessions.
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St. John’s was devastated in the Great Fire of 1892 (8 July).
#St. John’s#Great Fire of 1892#8 July 1892#130th anniversary#Cabot Tower#Canadian history#Newfoundland#summer 2015#original photography#travel#vacation#tourist attraction#landmark#St. John's Harbour#Atlantic Ocean#architecture#cityscape#Signal Hill#ship#colorful façades#Canada
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happy 130th anniversary of the events of tuck everlasting
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In the series #CelineIsGoingToConcerts, I present you my latest adventure: Pixies at Olympia.
Just like the time I went to La Cigale I went more because of the concert venue, since I’ve heard about it so much when I was young and not living in the Capital, than the band, which I really should listen to a few songs before I do go to concerts.
Opened in 1893, the Olympia celebrated its 130th anniversary in 2023. Inaugurated on April 12, 1893, it makes it the oldest music hall in Paris still in operation today. The history of this legendary Parisian concert hall is linked to its performers, which has seen the likes of Edith Piaf, Jacques Brel, Barbara and Johnny Hallyday, as well as Billie Holiday, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. Although fairground attractions were offered in its early days, song soon made its appearance, notably through music-hall revues. In 1929 it was transformed into a cinema. But it was reborn as a music hall once again in 1954.
On a side note: We are usually just a metro stop or 2 from the venue (you’ve got to love this about living in the heart of Paris) but this time we just walk there.
#allinthenameoflove
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Former Prime Minister and King, Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, has issued a poignant warning against the erasure of history, emphasizing its role in fostering societal connections and individual self-esteem. Speaking at the "G.S. Rakovski" Military Academy in Sofia during the 130th anniversary celebration of the birth of Tsar Boris III, his father and an academy alumnus, Simeon expressed concern over the increasing trend of demolishing historical monuments.
Simeon, who served as the king of Bulgarians from 1943 to 1946 and later as the Prime Minister of Bulgaria from 2001 to 2005, underscored the unifying nature of history, stating, "History cannot and should not be erased or attempted to be erased; it is something that actually connects us all." He further cautioned against the negative implications of tearing down monuments, citing the loss of iconic structures such as the Arc de Triomphe and the pyramids if historical destruction had been a precedent.
The former monarch's remarks come at a time when debates around the removal of historical statues and monuments have intensified globally and domesticaly. He highlighted the importance of preserving historical landmarks as a means of understanding and learning from the past, rather than succumbing to attempts to erase it.
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220913 NCTsmtown Twitter Update
"NCT JENO attends 'Vogue World', a global event celebrating the 130th anniversary of the founding of Vogue, as the only Asian male artist! The show boasts a global star lineup including Kanye West, Doja Cat, and Kendall Jenner!"
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Anniversary limited edition: UNION GLASHÜTTE 1893 Johannes Dürrstein Edition Chronograph
UNION GLASHÜTTE celebrates 130 years and looks back on a great tradition. Despite powerful innovations over the years, the brand has retained its core value: since the beginning in 1893, UNION GLASHÜTTE has been producing watches which are famous for their quality, but whose price is still affordable. To mark its 130th anniversary, the brand presents a special edition limited to 300 pieces. The…
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#1893 Johannes Dürrstein Edition#Johannes Dürrstein#Johannes Dürrstein Edition Chronograph#news#Press release#Union Glashütte#UNION GLASHÜTTE 1893 Johannes Dürrstein
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