American Citizens to the land of America please continue taking to the streets and continue protesting the backwards electoral college until change happens. Urban streets weren’t just invented for cars. They were built as a free place where people can express themselves.

Don’t just let it pass. Hillary is still winning the popular vote; Trump ironically said himself that the electoral college is a disaster. His family didn’t seem look too happy on stage to announce his said victory; not to mention his son’s expressive faces during Trump’s electoral victory speech.

The constitution is a work in progress. The United States of America is a work in progress. It is the duty of every citizen to contribute to this work, by gracefully expressing our sentiments.

I could not be happier to see thousands of citizens taking to the streets to express their outrage at the electoral system, and its ability to allow a narcissistic product of the media that does not understand that his past public actions throughout only the past year, cannot be erased, and will only enable those who do not have the critical strength to make their own moral compasses, but instead to only be driven by false media. Only two days later we are seeing crimes of bigotry, undeniably enabled; by the electorate college system and the hollow, money-driven, superficial, individual it elected.

As the Miss Universe pageant taught us last year; the first announced ‘winner’ isn’t always.




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The Meaning of Life: On Dzhokhar Tsarnaev & The Society of the Spectacle

I am a global citizen, but more formally, as much as I would like to trade my passport for a U.K. one, also a citizen of the United States of America (USA). To be a true citizen however, I must actively take part in fashioning the development of this great nation and what it stands for. America classically stands for Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Sure these are lofty ideals, but America and its citizens, many of whom lay dormant, could try a bit harder to act like this is what it stands for.

Dhzhokhar Tsarnaev was born on July 22nd, 1993, in Kyrgyzstan. He’s my age. Escaping potential persecution by ignorance and lack of humanity across the Atlantic, Tsarnaev and his family (his parents, older brother, and two sisters) were granted asylum in the United States. Dhzokhar became a naturalised American citizen uncannily on September 11, 2012.

He lived an interesting and indirectly non-violent life like any other young high school transitioning to college kid, and seemed pretty grateful for his new life in America. He received a scholarship from the City of Cambridge, was on the wrestling team, and enjoyed eating Nutella.

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The following month after his tweet about Nutella, on April 15th, 2013, the Boston Marathon Bombing occurred taking the lives of three, including that of a young 8 year old boy, and significantly injured hundreds more. On May 15, 2015, Dzhokhar was found guilty and sentenced to death for being the final agent in orchestrating the Boston Marathon Bombing together with his elder brother, Tamerlan-Tamerlan who Dzhokhar seemed to unintentionally drive over to death in a stolen SUV in attempt to flee a police chase in Boston.

Dzhokhar and his family have repeatedly admitted that he is not guilty of his crimes against humanity. His sister and his mother recently painted by the media as dark and evil burka wearing gypsy witches (simply Google for such evidence or read Newsweek) have also claimed that Dzhokhar was framed by the US government.  Indeed, there is truth in every lie depending on your ability to see.

When you take into account Guy Debord’s theory of The Society of the Spectacle, Dzhokhar was framed by the US government to set-off pressure cooker bombs in Boston on April 15th, 2013. Dhzhokhar probably saw images, online and maybe even first-hand, of the civilian lives overseas the US government orchestrated to kill as collateral damage, often planned and predicted, in order to achieve a particular military objective. Not to mention Drones. On a note found in the boat where he was captured by the police, Dhozkhar wrote, according to CBS news, that ‘the [Boston] bombings were retribution for U.S. military action in Afghanistan and Iraq, and called the Boston victims ‘collateral damage’ in the same way Muslims have been in the American-led wars’.

An eye-for-an-eye never works, and it is the practise of this poisonous philosophy that keeps our poor soul spinning on the wheel of life. The courts have ruled Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, guilty. But we are all guilty of his crimes against our humanity. We are Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, we are Hitler. Killing Dzhokhar by lethal injection is not divine justice. It is only collective egotistical justice that would only poison our humanity even more.

We all have our ‘devils’ and our ‘angels’, but really they are both one in the same. We are all one soul. We just need to learn how to be friends with them. It is a great struggle, a struggle of conceptually blending the identity of every living thing into your own. To accomplish this, that is the greatest lesson we have been placed into our bodies for, called Life.

And with a more or less clear understanding of the meaning of life, I graduate from Cornell University, and thank Ithaca and the University environment for being rather conducive for such a necessary personal discovery, now ready, to truly live the life of the hand I have been dealt.

P.S. If you are consumed by The Society of the Spectacle and afraid of women wearing burka’s and head scarves, take a look at a picture of the Virgin Mary.

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Dzhokhar’s elder sister, Ailina, at a court hearing in New York. She herself has a number of criminal offenses on American soil.


A photo of the Virgin Mary who appears, according to stereotypical ignorant American standards popularised by the media, to have been Muslim according to her attire.

Also, as a fashion maniac this passage from The Thoughtful Dresser by Linda Grant is also very fitting supportive material for this post: ‘The next day was sorrow and anguish-for those who had died, listening to the terrible messages the soon-to-be-dead had left on their loved ones’ answering machines. Deep horror and dread, and then nausea. The skies were quiet and empty. London was unnaturally still. We didn’t go out, we didn’t attend parties, we were certain that we were next.

But what I remember best were the arguments, the shrill condemnation not of the men on the planes, guiding them towards their targets, but of American foreign policy and, as often as not, of Americans. ‘You just have to watch Friends,’ someone said to me, ‘to see that Americans are foolish and shallow people.’

So when I looked at those first post 9/11 editions of Vogue,all I could think was that they didn’t matter. That we had been sleepwalking through life; that we were this grotesquely fortunate generation, born after the war, who would enjoy whole lives of peace and prosperity and boundless good fortune, without fear or threat. Seeing a row of handbags in Fenwick a month later, all I could think of were those women in Afghanistan walking like frightened blue ghosts in their burqas through the pitted streets of Kabul.’