Friday, September 4, 2009

University of Kassel, Germany, is a Loony Bin: Prof. Dr. Christoph Scherrer Attempts to Rape

 

‘Germany’s Ph.D. Scandal: Were Degrees Bought?’

 

Of course, they were bought.

 

If they aren’t bought, you can offer your genitals for a degree in Germany. But this is ridiculous for top quality students who could get into Oxford or Cambridge any day.

 

At the University of Kassel, Germany, professors like Christoph Scherrer appear to have obtained jobs with purchased degrees. And, they’d rape whoever refuses to sleep with them.   

 

 

 

 

Germany’s Ph.D. Scandal: Were Degrees Bought? By Tristana Moore / Berlin Friday, Aug. 28, 2009     Getting a Ph.D. is the pinnacle of academic achievement, but appears that some aspiring students in Germany may have bribed their way to the top. On Aug. 22, German prosecutors revealed that they are investigating around 100 academics at some of the country’s top universities on the suspicion that they granted doctorates to dozens of unqualified students after taking bribes from a consultancy firm. The scandal has shaken Germany’s higher education system, revered abroad as one of the best in Europe.

 

The investigation follows a raid on an academic consultancy called the Institute for Scientific Counselling in the western town of Bergisch Gladbach in March 2008. At the time, the authorities uncovered a mine of information pointing to illegal activity and confiscated thousands of files, including contracts between the firm and lecturers, and evidence of bank transfers. Prosecutors in the city of Cologne say the institute helped doctoral candidates find a supervisor and paid lecturers to take on Ph.D. students. “Some Ph.D. students paid up to $30,000 to get their doctor titles,” Günther Feld, a senior prosecutor in Cologne tells TIME. “Many people had received mediocre results in exams and they weren’t eligible to do a Ph.D. in the first place.” (See pictures of Obama: The College Years.)

Under German criminal law, it is illegal for public servants — a group that includes university lecturers — to take money for granting advantages to one person over another. Prosecutors wouldn’t comment on the details of the case, but did say they are focusing their investigation on the teachers who took the bribes, rather than the students.

Some people involved in the Ph.D. scam have already been given jail time. One former director of the Bergisch Gladbach consultancy was convicted on bribery charges in July 2008 and sentenced to three and a half years in prison. He was found guilty of illegally helping more than 60 students get their doctor titles. A law professor at the University of Hanover who received money from the consultancy for accepting doctoral candidates was given a three-year jail sentence. The university authorities in Hanover have since tightened the rules on accepting Ph.D. students and have cracked down hard on those who illegally obtained their doctorates. (See pictures of the dangers of printing money in Germany.)

“We recently stripped nine Ph.D. holders of their titles,” Henning Radtke, Dean of the Law Faculty at the University of Hanover tells TIME. Those students are now appealing the decision. “This scandal is a disaster for Germany’s education system,” he says. “It’s completely unacceptable that some teachers have accepted bribes to take on often unqualified students to do a Ph.D.”

According to some experts, there is a rampant illegal trade in doctor titles in Germany, preying on people’s desire to gain the social kudos that comes with getting a Ph.D. “The investigation in Cologne is just the tip of the iceberg,” says Manuel René Theisen, professor of business administration at the Ludwig-Maximilians University in Munich. “Around a dozen academic consultancies have been on the market for years offering Ph.D.s for money.” Theisen says he estimates that of the 25,000 doctorates awarded each year in Germany, up to 1,000 are obtained through illicit means. “The consultancies advertise in trade magazines and they pretend to offer coaching for would-be Ph.D. students, but it’s a fairy tale,” he says. “People know when they read the adverts they can get their Ph.D. for money and not for their [academic] work.” Theisen says these Ph.D. scams are big business, with the rewards more than just an impressive diploma to hang on the wall: “People who buy their Ph.D. titles then go on to demand more money from their employers in their future careers.” (See 10 perfect jobs for the recession — and after.)

Prosecutors in Cologne are still investigating three of the former directors of the Bergisch Gladbach academic consultancy, which has now shut down. The consultancy had links with teachers across Germany and the authorities are currently probing lecturers working in several university faculties, ranging from law and medicine to economics and engineering. According to reports in the German media, universities in Berlin, Frankfurt, Hamburg and Leipzig have been drawn into the bribery scandal, but prosecutors refused to confirm the names.

If convicted of accepting bribes, lecturers could face a sentence of up to five years in prison or a hefty fine. Anyone found guilty of receiving a fake Ph.D. title could also be imprisoned on bribery charges. But prosecutors say some of the students weren’t aware that the fees they paid to the consultancy were being used to bribe teachers. It’s up to the individual universities to decide whether to strip the Ph.D. holders of their titles. (Read: “It Happened One Night in Berlin.”)

The bribery scandal is highly damaging to the reputation of Germany’s academic institutions. It’s a blow too for those people who are proud of the titles that they have achieved through hard work and determination. Doctorates are important status symbols in Germany, where dinner party guests talk about their Ph.D.s as readily as they do their jobs. But with the news that some people have been buying their prized titles, that source of pride has lost some of its shine.

 

http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1919339,00.html

[Via http://anticommunism.wordpress.com]

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Musings on multiples

“If I had to choose between getting off once with a guy or being by myself and getting off as many times as I want, I would rather be by myself,” I recently told one of my girlfriends.

I was reminded again last week of the fact that quite a few men don’t understand multiples. As in, orgasms. This fascinates me on some levels, and disappoints me on others. When I want to cum more, I want to cum (a lot) more!

I talked last night with a friend who has also been blessed with the gift of multiple orgasms. We started to speculate as to a guy’s perspective on the matter:

Is he intimidated by multiple orgasms because he doesn’t understand them?

Do they confuse him because he can’t relate from personal experience? (Men typically cum once and then need a recovery period before they can even attempt to try again.)

Is he in awe of multiples? Like there’s a unicorn in the bed? I’ve noticed that response from two younger guys that I briefly dated. They just looked at me with their eyes and mouths wide open in awe of what they had just witnessed. Then, they brought up how it must be because I’m in my sexual prime in my 30s. (No, it’s not. I could orgasm like this in my 20s.) I didn’t last long with either of those guys, but at least they didn’t shy away from the pussy and kept at it like I was a Whack-A-Mole game at Chuck E Cheese.

When I say that Lawyer Boy was the best lover that I have ever been with, a large part of that was that he made sure that I always got off as much as I wanted. He had a sixth sense when it came to my pussy, I guess. Every other guy in my life – and yes, I’ve been with my share of men – has left me hanging at one point or another. And, some guys have left me hanging every time we were together. That’s just not right. Not right at all!

Research from the Kinsey Institute found that approximately 15% of women can have multiple orgasms. So, if you are with a woman who falls in that very fortunate category, what should you do?

Communicate beforehand. The new guy knows that I like to get off a lot and that I can have multiples. But, I don’t know if he knows what that means from a hands-on perspective. Maybe he thinks that I can only get multiples from vaginal or anal sex? (Not the case.) Maybe he thought that was something I only enjoy when I’m alone? (Multiples are perfect anytime!)

If a guy asks me, “Did you orgasm?” The answer is almost always, “Yes.” But, for me, that’s not the right question!

These are the right questions:

“How many times?”

“Are you done?”

If I don’t get up, I’m not. If I go to grab a toy, I’m not. If I say, “no,” I’m not! I just don’t get how any of that is confusing!

As a girl, if you are exploring your ability to achieve multiples, I recommend doing that on your own first. Once you’ve mastered the art, then you can better replicate it with a guy in the room.

For a guy, if you care about the girl you are sleeping with (as I hope you would), then talk to her in advance. If you don’t feel comfortable broaching the subject with her before you have sex, then look…listen…and feel when you are in bed with her.

After she has her first orgasm, what does she do? If she reaches for water, gets up to go to the bathroom, moves her body (whole body, not just that region), goes to please you or kiss you, then she is probably done. If she stays in exactly the same position, starts to touch herself or is moving her pussy in front of you, then she is probably not finished.

At that point, it’s okay to ask if she wants more. Or, just try to touch her again and see her response. Ladies, please let your men know what you like and what you don’t. If you are satisfied, say so. If you aren’t, then find a tactful way to switch positions, ask for more attention, suggest trying a toy, or whatever would make you happy.

What if you are having vaginal sex and your woman can only achieve multiples with you inside her? That’s a tough one. When the female cums, it’s only natural that the guy wants to do the same, right? So, guys, you have a choice:

1. Either you need to channel your thoughts so that you do not cum until she is good and ready and on her last orgasm (that will require self-control from you and communication with her); or

2. You need to have a toy ready and feel alert and comfortable enough to put that toy inside her after you pull out. (That requires a different kind of self-control since the hormone levels of a man after he cums make him sleepy.)

Whatever option you choose, the goal here is for everyone to have a good time. “One and done” might work for you, but does it work for your partner? I can’t answer that, but I hope that you can!

How have you dealt with multiples? Comment, tweet, text or e-mail . Oh, and if you comment, you don’t need to use your real name or e-mail, if you don’t feel comfortable doing so. The spam filters are good, but anything that seems real will get through.

Next Post: Threesomes or my date with Philly Matt (depends on my mood). xoxo

[Via http://citygirlblogs.com]

SEX MOVIE

5

di Sean Anders

Un ragazzo accompagnato da due amici attraversa mezza America per un appuntamento sessuale.

Film sciocchino e assai volgare. Però, va detto, decisamente un’altra cosa rispetto ai vari Epic Movie, Disaster Movie, film dementi più che demenziali. Il titolo originale è infatti Sex Drive e non Sex Movie, traduzione stupida (associata a un sottotitolo ancora più stupido) che vorrebbe accostare il film ai titoli suddetti. Comunque, storia delle più banali. Nerd diciottenne ancora vergine, sbeffeggiato in famiglia dai due fratelli machissimi e sul lavoro dai colleghi ha l’opportunità della vita: un appuntamento bollente con una splendida figliola conosciuta on line. Ma la splendida figliola sarà veramente una figliola ? Volgare oltre il cattivo gusto –  la sequenza con protagonista uno scroto ci fa ancora accapponare la pelle -ma anche a tratti divertente, Sex Movie non è parodia di nulla, a differenza dei malriusciti Epic e Disaster Movie, semmai vuole inserirsi nel solco di American Pie e film simili, con una buona dose di politicamente scorretto e bramando lo stesso incredibile successo. Molte gag sono risapute, altre semplicemente squallide e le situazioni sono un po’ sempre quelle: performance sessuali “deviate”, gag fisiche nel senso più corporeo che si possa pensare, doppi sensi  più esibiti che dichiarati. Più La rivincita dei Nerds che Porky’s ma il livello è piuttosto bassino. Non male colonna sonora e interpreti, soprattutto il protagonista, Josh Zuckerman, giovane attore per lo più televisivo, simpaticamente goffo, nerd perfetto

[Via http://simonefortunato.wordpress.com]

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

BALL THOUGHTS with Coach Eddie 'Puffin' Cockfight #2: Let's talk about the balls.

By Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight

Semi-employed college football coach

During the college football season, King Cockfight has asked his much-closer-than-comfortable relative Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight to write a weekly column on the sport for his Weblog.

A former standout walk-on fullback at Jacksonville State, Puffin is head coach of the NAIA Division II Southwest New Mexico A&M Skeet-Shootin’ Owls — or, more popularly, “Skeet-Owls” for short. He is currently serving a 25-year ban from coaching at NCAA schools for recruiting violations stemming from an embarrassing incident in which he took an NCAA investigator to the same strip club in which he was (rightfully) accused of taking recruits and often their families.

With his column, Puffin hopes to regain his credibility as a coach, open conversation of a lesser sentences for his past wrongs, gain more visitation access to his eight illegitimate children, and spread awareness about the troubled and often tragic lives of men who find themselves addicted to the sight to half-nude women jiggling aimlessly to the rap-stylings of Lil’ John.

Aw skeet skeet goddamn.

One the reasons I decided to write this column for Cousin King — at least, I think he’s my cousin — is because these kids I recruit these days use the Internet a lot — at least from what I hear.

And the text-messaging. Before the big bad college football big brains decided the text messaging between coach and the kids was not in the best interest of the “student”-athlete,  I “used to” get ‘em all the time.

It always be like “i’ll cum play 4 the skeets-owls if u get me a bag o WEED, coach” and “u best get me some pussee if u want me 2 play defunseve back!!!!”

And I’d text, “Yeah, I can get you some puss!

“But you’d better watch out!”

Well, not before. I’d do it after. Like twenty minutes or so after.

You don’t want to spook the goofy little fucker.

Let me put it to you all metaphorical and shit:  One of the biggest benefits of being an athlete is your dick is going to be worked over like a catfish at a Sunday supper in Arkansas.

The women — they want your cock like it squirts solid gold.

But it doesn’t. It squirts  semen.  Semen makes babies.

But what the ladies don’t realize is that not every fuckin’ guy who played some ball past high school is some kinda moral Super-Christ with money.

Hell,  I get ‘em all the time because I’m a football coach. They think I’m some sort of freakin’ genius whose never dealt coke in his life, and they ask me naive little shit like “Why do you wanna do it right here in the club?” and “Aren’t you wearin’ a condom?” and “Isn’t that your wife watchin’ us do it — from like three feet away?”

(I’m always doin’ the chatty ones.)

But sooner rather than later they realize that fuckin’ somebody who is better than average at a fuckin’ children’s game ain’t gonna get let all those dreams out their head — and the next thing you know they’re tryin’ to carve those dreams out of your junk with a knife or blow them out and onto your bullet-riddled corpse with a gun.

Look at what happened to poor Stevie McNair, or Ricky Pitino, or Lee Corso.

Oh, wait, Corso was a stroke.

Fuck it. Whatever. Think twice before you stick your dick in somethin’.

My life has been so cold, dark, and hard.

Cousin King said he’d like me to pick a few games each week for the rest of the season. I asked him how much he’d want me to gamble,  but he told me it’d probably be best not to talk about hat in public, so I won’t.

Oregon vs. Boise State

Look, I’m all for intriguing carpet decisions, but blue turf? That’s just fuckin’ diseased and disgustin’.

Sure, Oregon looks like a buncha butt-hungry ferries out there in their fancy speed-tested uniforms that weren’t shat in in the 70’s by team of massive assholes or incontinent bastards like my Skeet-Owls, but fuck–okay theirs are better.

Anyway, I’s just kiddin’ ’bout that blue turf thing — I don’t really give a sweatin’ fuck what color their field is.

This one’s close, so I’ll just pick against the team whose home state last shat out a dirty fuckin’ stripper who gave me clap.

The pick’s still Oregon.

Alabama vs. Virginia Tech

Look,  I’m not sayin’ that Alabama isn’t a good team without a lot of depth, but,  speakin’ from personal experience, it’s hard to win when one of your starters got shot the week before the game.

Sure, for Brandy Deaderick, it was just a forearm wound from a robbery and it seems like he’ll be fine eventually, even if he doesn’t play this week. But the kids get real down about it, you know, because one of their friends have gotten shot. Real depressin’ for ‘im. Kids are weak like that, and shit.

Plus, in my case, I decided to play the goofy little fucker and he nearly bled out by the end of the third quarter and got abdomen juice all over his fuckin’ uniform.

That’s what you get for making the hand-off before you take the money, son.

Life lessons and shit!

Virginia Tech.

Louisiana Tech vs. Auburn

Chris Todd should be in motherfuckin’ NAIA where he belongs. I kept tryin’ to make ‘im a Skeet-Owl after last year — told ‘im he didn’t have to have a shoulder to play quarterback out here, told him I’d get him some of that nice Indian reservation pussy, told ‘im I’d get ‘im hooked the finest cocaine you can find in the Mideastern-Southwestern portion of the Left Coast.

But no, he said he wasn’t comin’.

And now he’s gonna get raped at home by a motherfuckin’ WAC team.

Well, at least they from Louisiana! God’s state, sonbitch!

Geaux other other other other other other other other other other other other Bulldogs!

Woof woof!

Louisiana Tech.

BYU vs. Oklahoma

You know what I like about Mormon bitches?

(The remainder of this section has been redacted in cooperation with an ongoing NCAA investigation.)

Oklahoma.

NAIA Pick of the Week: #12 Baker vs. #16 Missouri Valley

You think because I coach in this league that I actually pay attention to this motherfuckin’ faggot bullshit?

I’ll pick Missouri Valley. That’s least queer soundin’ one, I guess.

Eddie “Puffin” Cockfight is the offensive-minded head coach of the Southwest New Mexico A&M Skeet-Owls.

http://www.jacksonsun.com/article/20090902/NEWS01/909020307&referrer=FRONTPAGECAROUSEL

[Via http://kingcockfight.wordpress.com]

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[Via http://pic1or2.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

He-motions (this is life)

It takes some beating

Playing this game, being sorry for cheating

Bleating, sorry, I love you sorry I love even though I never cheated

My hearts still beating, bleeding, beating and eating

Memories of the unlived feeding, breeding,

Holographic realities and reasons,

Meanings drip feeding like old dogs leave me

Needy

Kneeling, praying, keeling, prostrate with face straight

Can’t open the flood gates,

They dump and jump to a first date

Wait

Adrenalines hit and run race gathers pace

I feel dumb, dazed, is this a phase or am I just

Phased

Have you lost your flavour Ade?

Loved like Musiq but I got played

Turn up the volume put words on parade

Actions on fade,

Her love pulses like filament in my brain

Wanting out under a shade

Another man’s on the ram raid

And I’m damned in the fight game

I want you to fight Ade

Made up mind she took my knife away

Didn’t take my life away

I just want to hide today

Island hideaway

No man is an island hey

Lost in my thoughts, life is a ride OK

I get it

Cold nights, coughing crying, sweating

Dismembering memories yet remembering instead of forgetting

Fretting, abetting meandering feelings she’s already at the stage of forgetting

Deleting me so she can get him

Or let him get in

Lies unfold, narratives yet to be told

Yet myself I scold

Thought I was bold

But as every hour gets old, her pasture new takes a choke hold

I can’t breathe,

Thought I was a man made at the end of the weak

I took hate through hushed speak

Folk spat vocal daggers and arrows

It took the Mick with swagger of Jagger

Poisoned arrows broke the fertile leaving it fallow

Give me the gallows that’s the last place I’d get any depth

Strength I didn’t have any left

Yet faith generated my breath gave me defiant strength by ordinance

I couldn’t capitulate for an audience

3 strikes rule has caught me up

I see it as progression for blessing on the Re- up

Can’t birth a smile but my eyes be up

Looking to the sky while ready to die

Living truth keeps me alive

And while I wander in the garden of why

I wont complain

This is life and if that sugar dissolved from my cup today

I’d pray

Meditate and wait

Negatives would corroborate

Feelings would regurgitate

But if Stressing leads to Blessing

Its my duty to participate

[Via http://poetic7poetry.wordpress.com]

The Atmosphere Is Thin

He loved her. At first glance, she didn’t leave a big impression. Her presence was muted, her voice a thing to be sought, and her smile fleeting. She seemed to disappear, lose herself in big groups. When he first met her, they hardly spoke. But in times when they found themselves alone together, she would shine. There was a knowing behind her dark, round eyes. Her plush red lips parted, almost as if to divulge a dark secret, or perhaps to take a puff of a cigarette which would often stay lit between her fingers. The clouds of smoke only added to the mystery, the musk of the cigarettes almost a perfume which quite suited the girl.

Her focus on him was intense. He imagined she was trying to memorize his face, to savor the moment as if refusing to forget even a second of life. It unnerved him – the understanding in her eyes as she pieced together what type of person he was. She remained silent. Only her ample lips spread into a smile, as if to invite him to speak. So he spoke. He spoke of the weather, and of the monotony of life; he was well versed in the ways of small talk. She simply nodded and quipped when appropriate before the others rejoined them.

There were other occasions in which they bumped into each other. This happened so frequently that he found the courage to invite her to coffee, just the two of them. “Yeah, sure,” her voice was clear.

They met late afternoon a week later as promised at a quaint coffee house. It was a humid, August day, yet the girl was clad in a long-sleeved cardigan and jeans. “Aren’t you hot?” He inquired politely. “I’m used to it,” she shrugged, but this did nothing to hide her discomfort. He made small talk again, as he assumed she was guarded, both physically and mentally. Her answers were short, as if not to give anything away.

She raised her hand to touch her hair, to tuck a piece behind her ear, when her sleeve slowly rolled down. She saw him staring, his expression a mix of confusion and worry. Her eyes betrayed sadness, but her red lips smiled. And so his guard dropped. He began to talk of his interests – movies, books, things that bothered or worried him. He found that once he began, it was impossible to stop. She was a listener, and an insightful one at that. He asked her questions, to which he often recieved answers that stunned him or left him wanting more. He found that she had never been guarded; she was almost an open book, though one you had to really pick through to understand the beauty of the plot, the characters, and the conflicts. He was ecstatic when he found he could make her laugh. The sound was genuine, not rehearsed like many girls often do to make their laughs coquettish.

And it seemed natural that they would sleep together. He was surprised to find that she did not really sleep, though he immediately fell victim while holding her – as if he was meant to hold her. Sleep and dreams came swiftly with her in his arms, but often he would try to stay awake. She seemed unreal; so much so that he was almost afraid she would disappear from his arms if he were to close his eyes. In the bedroom naked, they would talk about anything and everything, as if their nudity left them exposed in more ways than the obvious. He wanted to take in all of her, and memorize her curves and lines. His fingers carefully traced the scars on her arms, some old but many fresh and healing. She seemed uncertain as she waited for his reaction. He said nothing, but held her closer in hopes that maybe they would merge and he could reveal the secrets behind her eyes and lips. And he dreamed.

[Via http://postitnote.wordpress.com]