By the end of the work day I’m exhausted and dirty…Back at the Labor Ready office, I have to wait nearly 30 minutes to receive my check. The job paid $8 an hour—minimum wage. For five hours of labor, I get $37.34 after taxes. I am not paid, however, for the four hours on call, or the time spent in transit to and from the job site, or waiting to get paid. None of this meets the legal definition of wage theft, but it sure feels like it.
"Customers can legally buy as many weapons as they want in Arizona as long as they’re 18 or older and pass a criminal background check. There are no waiting periods and no need for permits, and buyers are allowed to resell the guns. “In Arizona,” says Voth, “someone buying three guns is like someone buying a sandwich."
“…They need you to work as fast as possible to push out as much as they can as fast as they can. So they’re gonna give you goals, and then you know what? If you make those goals, they’re gonna increase the goals. But they’ll be yelling at you all the time. It’s like the military. They have to break you down so they can turn you into what they want you to be. So they’re going to tell you, ‘You’re not good enough, you’re not good enough, you’re not good enough,’ to make you work harder. Don’t say, ‘This is the best I can do.’ Say, ‘I’ll try,’ even if you know you can’t do it. Because if you say, ‘This is the best I can do,’ they’ll let you go. They hire and fire constantly, every day. You’ll see people dropping all around you. But don’t take it personally and break down or start crying when they yell at you.”
(Goma) – Rwandan military officials have been arming and supporting the mutiny in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) of Gen. Bosco Ntaganda, who is wanted for war crimes by the International Criminal Court (ICC).
Rwandan military officials have allowed Ntaganda to enter Rwanda and supplied him with new recruits, weapons, and ammunition. Ntaganda is sought on an ICC arrest warrant for recruiting and using child soldiers.
The role played by some Rwandan military officials in supporting and harboring an ICC war crimes suspect can’t just be swept under the rug. The Rwandan government should immediately stop all support to Ntaganda and assist in his arrest.
Allen isn’t really a son of Dixie. Like Bush, the prep-school scion turned rugged brush-clearer, he is a self-made Southerner. Allen grew up in a custom-built house on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean in a posh suburb of Los Angeles. His father, George Sr., was the Rams’ coach and a local celebrity, his mother a Tunisian-born homemaker of French and Jewish descent who dropped Arabic bons mots on her children. The closest the young Allen ever came to the South was on TV—a quirk his sister, Jennifer, noted in her 2000 memoir: “George loved Hee Haw,” the country-themed variety show. “His favorite character was the big, slow-witted Junior…There was also something mildly country-thuggish about Junior that I think George felt akin to.”
"The liberal magazine Mother Jones had put Walter Jones on the cover in early 2006, a few months after he had turned hard against the Iraq War. Jones’s press secretary at the time had told him that she believed Mother Jones was a Catholic magazine."
This is our favorite bit of knowledge so far from Robert Draper’s sketch of the 112th Congress, Do Not Ask What Good We Do.
Utahns have a joke about multilevel-marketing companies: MLM really stands for “Mormons Losing Money.” The notion of selling to one’s friends and neighbors is so intertwined with the culture that the final season of HBO’s Big Love featured an MLM subplot. According to the Salt Lake Tribune, Utah has the highest concentration of such companies in the country.
If you’re a subscriber—it’s a great deal! and cheap!—you may have already read Stephanie Mencimer’s investigation into Utah’s multi-level marketing companies and their close ties to Mitt Romney.
In 1979 another in a growing line of alien species hitched a ride on a fishing skiff from a remote village on Mexico’s Baja California peninsula to land on Rasa Island, a tiny sun-blasted wafer of rock in the Gulf of California. The invader was Enriqueta Velarde, a petite 25-year-old Mexican graduate biology student who looked 18, with a comely smile and an adventuring heart. It was the launch of her Ph.D. research into one of the island’s resident species, the Heermann’s gull, a petite, pretty bird about which almost nothing was known. In fact, little was known of the island beyond its desolate oddities: thousands of mysterious stone cairns and pathways thought to have been made by guano miners in the 19th century, three wooden crosses marking unremembered graves, a stone hut crumbling with the region’s frequent temblors.
On a warm, sticky winter morning, I waited nervously in a parking lot in Foshan, a city in southeastern China’s smog-choked Pearl River delta, for a man I’d never met. His name was Mr. Ou, and he ran the sprawling factory in front of me, a jumble of offices, low-slung buildings, and warehouses. Though the factory was teeming with workers, a Subaru SUV and BMW coupe were the only cars in the lot. Drab, gray worker dormitories loomed nearby, and between them ran a dusty road that led to the factory. At last a young man emerged from an office building. He motioned for me to follow him in…
For the last two years, Jeffery-James Halvorson, a 33-year-old used-car salesman, has been preparing his property outside Arlee, Montana, for the end of America as we know it. “Progressive taxation has failed,” he says, and when the dollar finally collapses, and the shelves at the Piggly Wiggly sit empty, and the oil companies sell every last drop of sweet American crude to China, people will migrate to the Big Sky en masse—and Halvorson believes his compound, where he lives with his cat, 4 dogs, 9 goats, 18 chickens, and an assault rifle, will be perfectly positioned for a new role as a refugee camp.
Fears of impending societal collapse are nothing new in northwest Montana. But Halvorson’s home is noteworthy for what it has become in the interim: the Orange Acres Dharma Station, a safe house, inspired in part by the television series Lost, where travelers passing through—or looking for work, or sightseeing, or just killing time before their Social Security check comes in—can find a soft bed, a warm shower, and some mini-golf, at no cost for three days. Longer, if they’re willing to put in a little work.