Bait bus gay sex
Many former members of Peoples Temple may remember me as a pastor of the Los Angeles church for several years. Before that time, though, I lived in Ukiah, working side by side with my brothers and sisters to demonstrate my commitment to the issues, to the church, to the cause. I recall once that I was suffering from a painful cool infection in my ears during a bus trip Ukiah to San Francisco. I was to sing in the choir, and I refused to provide in to the incredible pain and pressure in my ears. My eardrums burst while I was on stage singing, and blood and infection ran down my cheeks. I still did not give in. With a shocked expression, one of our nurses escorted me from the stage and laid me down on a mat. That was the “mind over matter” dedication that the Temple asked from us, or at least, that I asked of myself.
Later, support in Ukiah, Jim asked how my ears were doing. I told him the doctor said that the eardrums had grown endorse together perfectly. I fed into the money-making miracle machine. Yes, it was a miracle! Today I have steady ringing in my ears to remind me that I am that identical person and that the incident was very real.
I trust it was my dedication that
Yesterday, in what still feels like a targeted effort by scientists in a government laboratory to make me, personally, weep myself into blindness, Warner Brothers released the second trailer for The Goldfinch. If you’re not familiar, I’ll catch you up in just a second — but have a look, first:
Yes, as if it wasn’t enough to cast Finn Wolfhard — whom I own, in plush form — as a key ethics in a Donna Tartt adaptation, they had to travel and sling “Terrible Love” by The National behind all these scenes of tender adolescent yearning and dead-mom trauma. If they were trying to get together me, it worked. I will be there opening weekend with bells on and travel-paks of Kleenex stuffed into every pocket of my jacket.
But I digress. Let’s converse about that concise moment — at the 1:59 tag in the trailer above, and giffed below — where the protagonist, teenage Theo Decker, says goodbye to his best friend, juvenile delinquent and insouciant Ukrainian émigré Boris Pavlikovsky.
In the novel, this is how Donna Tartt describes the moment:
I was still babbling when Boris said: “Potter.” Before I could answer him
Content Guidelines for Recommendation Eligibility
Released: May 13, 2024
1. Introduction
Where do these Content Guidelines apply?
Snapchat is primarily a visual messaging app built to help people interact with their family and friends. But there are parts of the app where public content may reach a wider audience via algorithmic recommendations; such content is defined as Recommended Content. For example:
On the Stories tab, Snapchatters can view recommended content from professional media partners and popular creators.
On Spotlight, Snapchatters can watch content created and submitted by our community.
On the Route, Snapchatters can see Snaps of events, breaking news and more from around the world.
All content everywhere on Snapchat, universal or private, must adhere to our Community Guidelines and Terms of Service.
In order to be eligible for algorithmic recommendation beyond the creator’s friends or subscribers (for example, on Stories, Spotlight, or the Map), Content must meet the additional, stricter standards described in the Content Guidelines on this page.
How are these Content Guidelines applied?
We enforce these Conten
‘I’ve never asked for the confirmation of conservative white bigots’: Reneé Rapp on pop stardom, difficulty fans, and speaking her mind
“I looove to lie,” sighs Reneé Rapp happily, sounding like a kid who has just discovered a new favourite toy. She’s talking about using creative licence in her songs, and how she realised, while working on her second album, that she didn’t have to stick to the truth of her own exposure 100% of the time. But for a journalist, the admission – and her apparent glee about it – demands a follow-up: has she lied at all in the last 40 minutes?
I expect Rapp, 25, to wave away the question. Instead she pauses, seeming to give it real thought. “Have I lied? You know, I don’t ponder so,” she eventually concludes.
I’m still not sure if I accept her, but that’s part of the joy of Reneé Rapp. Whether you’re in her corporation or merely count yourself a fan, she gives the mark of being authentic, outspoken and honest, sometimes to her possess detriment. But then, there’s a moment – a glint in her eye, or an edge to her tone that tips it into deadpan – when you have to wonder: is she being for real?
We’re gathering at a cafe in King’s Cross on one of the first hot