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Post by sherlok on Mar 30, 2011 23:11:38 GMT -5
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Post by artemis on Mar 31, 2011 4:31:42 GMT -5
I know that after smb famous dies, all kinda stories appear, but lets see....
"Was Liz Taylor born in Cheshire after her parents went to a sleazy swingers' party?
Her life was full of drama on and off the screen.
And if extraordinary claims are to be believed, that was exactly the kind of existence Elizabeth Taylor was born into.
For although it has always been said that the film star was brought into the world at her parents’ North London home, claims have emerged that she was actually born at a wild party in Cheshire – and an elaborate cover-up ensued to hide a web of scandalous behaviour.
The actress, who died last week at the age of 79, was the daughter of a fashionable young American couple living in England in the 1930s.
Art dealer Francis Taylor, and his wife Sara, who had been an actress before she married and retired from the stage, regularly attended disreputable gatherings in the village of Hartford, it is alleged.
Guests were said to be ‘the swingers of their day’.
And according to the grandson of a woman who mixed with the wealthy families who lived in the village, after one such party, the baby arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the night.
Such was her parents’ concern that they should cover up where they had been, the couple rushed back south to register her birth in London.
The source’s grandmother, who worked at local houses in the 1920s and 30s, even suggested that the switch had been part of a cover-up over Dame Elizabeth’s paternity – and that her real father was actually the millionaire Conservative MP Victor Cazalet, who became her godfather.
The allegations were made by a 75-year-old farmer, who set them down in a letter to local historian Mark Bevan last year.
He wrote: ‘My grandmother hated Elizabeth Taylor. I asked why and she said that it wasn’t really her, it was her horrible parents.
‘They were the swingers of their day. Her mother was suspected of affairs and her father was a practising homosexual.
‘As it was illegal at the time he couldn’t risk being caught in London, so they came up to Hartford in a large Buick car which wealthy Victor Cazalet bought for them.’
Several executives at the chemical firm ICI are thought to have had houses in the village, which is near Northwich.
Dame Elizabeth’s mother Sara is said to have attended a party at one while heavily pregnant in February 1932.
The letter added: ‘Elizabeth was born unexpectedly in the night.
‘However it couldn’t be known where, so they rushed back to London and Elizabeth was registered as born in London next morning.’
Her birthplace was registered as the couple’s home at the time, No 8, Wildwood Road, Golders Green.
However, the farmer claimed that Dame Elizabeth knew the truth and once said that she had been born in Hartford – then added that this was Hartford, Connecticut, in the U.S.
He alleged that the continued role of Mr Cazalet in Elizabeth’s life led to rumours that he had secretly fathered her in one of her mother’s alleged affairs.
However, the farmer declined to discuss the recollections of his deceased grandmother any further.
Mr Bevan, a former local newspaper editor, admits that he has found no more documentary evidence linking Dame Elizabeth with Hartford but hopes other locals will be able to corroborate the account.
‘I have no reason to doubt the story’s authenticity,’ he said. ‘When this came up I was astonished by it – it’s an astonishing gem.’
He does not know at which house the actress was said to have been born, but suspects it was in an exclusive enclave that is called The Crescent.
Pat Hatfield, from Hartford Civic Society, said: ‘I haven’t heard anything about Elizabeth Taylor being born in Hartford before, but I’m fascinated and shall do some research.’ "
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Post by artemis on Mar 31, 2011 4:35:06 GMT -5
Poor real ASHLEY...
"'My sexual abuse hell': Actress Ashley Judd reveals distressing childhood in new memoir
Ashley Judd was once one of Hollywood's highest paid women and moved from one amazing on screen performance to another.
But she hid deep secrets from her childhood that had left her with deep psychological scars, that now, in her new memoir, she finally feels strong enough to open up about.
Judd has confessed that she was abused repeatedly and suffered a traumatic childhood.
In her new book All That Is Bitter & Sweet, the actress reveals details of her torturous childhood that led to her considering taking her own life.
Ashley says she went to 13 different schools between ages five and 18 and grew up feeling unloved and unwanted as her singer mother Naomi and sister Wynonna travelled around the country trying to make a name for themselves.
Her parents divorced when Ashley was four-years-old and the actress admitted to suffering from depression from when she was as young as seven.
The 42-year-old says the first of the many sexual assaults she endured was when she was still living in Kentucky, where Naomi had moved the family after her divorce from Michael Ciminella.
The National Enquirer reveals how Ashley recalls in graphic detail being pulled into a dark, empty store by an older man who offered her a quarter to play a pinball machine.
The vivid memories of how he grabbed her and molested her while putting his tongue in her mouth.
She managed to fight the perpetrator off but says when she revealed her trauma to adults in her life, no one believed her which left her devastated.
Ashley writes in her tome that her mother's volatile relationships with men were very disturbing to her growing up.
The Double Jeopardy star said she was traumatised when she was exposed to inappropriate sexuality and heard loud sexual noises coming from a room in her home.
She also witnessed Naomi involved in fights with men, including once when her mother pulled a gun.
Ashley recalls playing with the weapon and loading bullets into the chamber, spinning it, cocking the trigger and holding it to her head.
While the beauty was still in high school, she won a teen modelling competition that gave her a prize of a two-month contract in Japan.
She was hoping this would be an opportunity to get away from the misery of her life and have a fresh start.
But during the modelling trip, she had inappropriate advances from one of the managers and a male model tried to force her to perform oral sex on him.
To further add to her distress, when accepting a ride from a Frenchman during her stay, he attempted to rape her in his car.
Throughout all of her trials and tribulations, Ashley remained resolute and attended the University of Kentucky where she learned her craft and made the move to Hollywood where she became an acclaimed actress.
Starring in movies like Kiss the Girls, De-Lovely, and most recently the comedy Tooth Fairy.
The joy of Ashley's life has come in the form of Scottish race car driver Dario Franchitti.
They married in 2001 and split their time between Franchitti's native Scotland and a farm in Tennessee on a large estate that she shares with her mother and sister.
Ashley says she still suffers from bouts of deep depression and explains in her book that she finally decided to get help for her emotional issues and checked herself into Shades of Hope rehab centre in Texas.
During her stay at the compound, Ashley wrote that her therapy sessions revealed suppressed memories of childhood incest she says she suffered at the hands of a family member - although she does not name the relative.
Ashley says she wrote the book to encourage other abuse survivors to speak out without feeling shame and stigma about depression, codependency and other adult-child issues.
A publishing insider told The Enquirer: 'With the support of her husband Dario, Ashley's found the strength to let the public know the horror of her youth'.
The source added about the book: 'It's sure to become a best-seller. There's no question the revelations could have lasting effects on her relationship with her mother and other family members. But Ashley is comfortable with her decision to write this courageous book.'
The book has already received critical acclaim and words of support from her famous friends like Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Morgan Freeman.
Archbishop Tutu said: 'As I read her account of her childhood, I ask 'How could one so traumatized, so abused in childhood, become the woman we know, so caring, so altruistic, so compassionate, so concerned for others, and so joyful?'
In 2002, Ashley said she found her true calling - as a humanitarian and advocate of those suffering in neglected parts of the world."
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Post by artemis on Mar 31, 2011 13:40:26 GMT -5
"Marc Jacobs Executive Sues Over Oppressively Gay Work Environment
The recently fired chief operating officer of fashionl label Marc Jacobs International has sued his boss for, among other things, making employees look at gay porn and perform pole dances. If true, these allegations could rock the staid, buttoned-down world of fashion.
Patrice Lataillade has worked for LVHM, Marc Jacobs' parent company, since 1996, and he was Marc Jacobs International's chief financial officer from 2002—and CFO from 2006—to 2010, when he was fired. In a complaint he filed yesterday in New York Supreme Court, Lataillade claims he was unlawfully terminated for complaining about the hostile work environment created by Marc Jacobs' president Robert Duffy (pictured at left above).
"Examples of Duffy's conduct which created a hostile work environment include," the complaint says, "his displaying gay pornography in the office and requiring employees to look at it; his production and dissemination of a book which included MJI staff in sexual positions or nude; [and] his requirement that an MJI store employee perform a pole dance for him." Duffy married his boyfriend Alex Cespedes last year in a Provincetown, R.I., ceremony that featured naked models.
In addition to the alleged sexual hijinks, Lataillade claims that Duffy "uses company funds for personal expenses," doesn't "censor what he does or says," and "behaves as if he has no obligation to follow LVMH's rules of conduct or law." When the company drafted a sexual harassment policy in 2010, the complaint says, it never distributed it out of "concern that it would anger Duffy."
Lataillade—who is straight and married—also raises some, um, less substantial complaints about Duffy that suggest that he is perhaps unfamiliar with mores in the fashion world. Duffy's "use of a photograph of a nude man on Twitter," for instance—and apparent reference to an episode where Duffy posted some naked party pics and then discontinued his Twitter account—doesn't really strike one as actionable. And if you consider "use [of] a nude photograph for a billboard advertisement" as contributing to a hostile work environment, then you really shouldn't be in the fashion business.
In a statement, a spokeswoman for Marc Jacobs said: "The allegations contained in the complaint are false. Patrice Lataillade was terminated as CFO and COO of MJI for serious matters unrelated to the allegations contained in the complaint. MJI, LVMH Inc. and Robert Duffy will vigorously defend the case in court."
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Post by artemis on Apr 1, 2011 8:43:17 GMT -5
"Ashton Kutcher Involved With One Of His Stepdaughters
Considering actor Ashton Kutcher has been photographed getting a little too close for comfort with his stepdaughter, is it wise that his wife and fellow Kabbalah member, Demi Moore, 47, leave her girls around him so often, especially while she is away working on film sets.
Rumors are swirling around Hollywood of an intimate relationship between Kutcher and one of Moore's daughters. One would hope this is not true, as she is underage. However, credible sources in the entertainment industry are insisting it is true.
Moore is not very firm with Kutcher. Two women have come forward insisting they had affairs with him, during his marriage to Moore. However, Moore's publicists has desperately tried to spin the story as the couple having an open marriage."
"However, (Demi) Moore uses the crazy cult, Kabbalah, which is under criminal investigation, to keep Kutcher brainwashed, but word in Hollywood is he wants out. He is the more popular one in the marriage, which has benefited Moore's profile, but public sympathy has significantly waned in light of their self-inflicted troubles."
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Post by artemis on Apr 2, 2011 8:23:28 GMT -5
"Source Close To Britney Spears Says She’s Still Crazy
Yo, remember when those GMA promos for Britney Spears‘ performance came out and I was like, “Something is not right with our queen, you guys?” Sadly, I was right. A source close to Britney has just blabbed to some newspaper that the pop star is less like her spunky 1999 self and more like “a zombie” these days.
The sources account of an unhealthy and unstable Britney:
“She’s very fragile. Up until a few months ago she was still heavily medicated and popping up to ten pills a day. It’s like she has to be wheeled from one place to another. She can’t be trusted to do anything on her own. Whether she is performing or recording it’s the same. Sometimes she’s like a zombie. Her mood swings are unreal too. It is four years since she famously cut off all her hair and hit rock bottom. But as recently as last year she was still pulling the same stunt – hacking her hair off with scissors when she wanted attention from her staff and loved ones at home. She has lost a lot of weight for her comeback but then releasing pictures like those take any deserved credit away because they are so far removed from what she really looks like. And it’s not just the pictures – it’s like they are airbrushing her whole life.”
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Post by artemis on Apr 2, 2011 8:29:36 GMT -5
"All night parties. Hotel rooms rented for years to store her gym gear. What REALLY happened to the millions Madonna pledged to Malawi's children
Cycling home through the African night, his feet bare and wearing only ragged shorts and a grubby shirt, a crop farmer stops under the stars to give his views about the latest scandal involving Madonna, a woman whose lifestyle could hardly be further removed from his.
And yet his views are worth listening to, for this is Yohane Banda, the biological father of the Malawian boy adopted by the Material Girl when she decided to add ‘poverty-chic’ to the long list of fads she has followed in her 30-year career.
And in the darkness, Yohane, a pleasant, mild-mannered individual, gave me some news for Madonna: his son David, five — who now lives with the singer — is about to have a new half-brother or sister.
For Yohane had just returned from taking his new wife to a rural clinic to give birth. Yet he does not expect David or Madonna ever to see the child.
‘She took my son away for ever,’ says Yohane. ‘Madonna is only interested in herself.’
Yohane is not alone in feeling cheated.
Once dubbed Saint Madonna of Malawi, the American singer is now at the centre of an astonishing feud in the land to which David Livingstone, the British missionary, first brought Christianity almost 150 years ago.
It involves allegations of sexual shenanigans, millions of dollars squandered on parties and high-living and claims that Madonna was allowed to adopt her Malawian children — she also took on a girl called Mercy James, now five — on the basis of promises that are, so far, unfulfilled.
And at the centre of the scandal is the fact that the school Madonna promised to build here has been abandoned. Where it should have been standing, this week there was nothing but a dusty field.
To understand the background to this story — and the depth of anger of the local people — we must go back five years to when Madonna first came to Malawi.
While Dr Livingstone arrived on the shores of Lake Malawi at the end of a five-year African odyssey, Madonna did things rather differently — and more extravagantly.
Travelling by private jet and accompanied by her personal trainer, public relations men and high-powered lawyers, her appearance was described by local politicians as a ‘gift from heaven’.
Determined to adopt an African child, despite having her own two children from separate relationships, she toured orphanages in search of the perfect addition to her brood.
Announcing plans to set up schools, orphanages and medical centres, the singer pledged millions to the country.
And though all non-Malawians have to be resident for 18 months before adopting a child, Madonna duly left on her private jet with little David Banda, who had been temporarily placed in an orphanage after his mother died and his father was unable to provide milk for the baby (there is no bottle-feeding in the African bush).
At the same time, Madonna announced that she was setting up a charity called Raising Malawi, run through her Kabbalah religious centre in Los Angeles, which would build a school for orphaned girls.
What she was less keen to advertise was the fact that all local Malawians she employed would have to be instructed in Kabbalah.
Having offered such largesse, the law was waived a second time in 2009 when she adopted Mercy — a Malawian girl whose mother died in childbirth and whose relatives’ claims on the child were dismissed.
Today, however, local feelings towards Madonna are much changed. It was announced this week that her school for girls was being scrapped, more than three years after work began and staff were hired to oversee the project.
In a statement issued by her office, the singer said: ‘There’s a real education crisis in Malawi. Our team is going to work hard to address this in every way. I’m frustrated that our education work has not moved forward in a faster way.’ At the same time, Madonna dismissed the entire board of directors of Raising Malawi, claiming that $3.8million (£2.4million) had been squandered without a brick being laid at the school outside Lilongwe, the country’s capital. (The singer reportedly donated $11 million of her own money to the charity.)
So what’s going on? Why are these orphaned children now being denied care after so much fanfare?
To find out, I travelled to Malawi — and discovered the truth is far more complex and disturbing than Madonna’s explanation.
My findings also unearthed allegations that her fascination with Africa has run into the sand — a fad to be cast aside when she lost interest.
Certainly, that’s the view of staff summarily fired by the pop star this week. All have been forced to sign gagging orders by her lawyers, promising that they will take to the grave any secrets they have about the singer and her operations.
ut sources close to the staff refer to Madonna’s own wastefulness and extravagance, pointing out that they were forced to hire two rooms at the country’s most upmarket hotel for three years — simply to store the singer’s gym equipment in case she ever returned.
Branding Madonna ‘racist’ for implying that African corruption was to blame, they also point to the role of one of Madonna’s closest advisers, who oversaw Raising Malawi from his offices in Los Angeles.
He is Philippe van den Bossche, who was the executive director of Raising Malawi until he resigned from his post last autumn. He got the job with Madonna around the same time he was having an affair with Tracy Anderson, the singer’s personal trainer, who accompanied her on her six trips to Malawi.
According to sacked staff members, he spent money in a manner that would not have embarrassed an African dictator. Flying out first class to Malawi regularly, he took up residence in the same exclusive hotel where Madonna used to stay.
His parties became the stuff of legend. Thrown at least once a month, they involved more than 100 guests at a time being plied with vintage wines, rare malt whiskies and fine cognacs. The parties often lasted until dawn, with all bedrooms block-booked to prevent other guests prying.
At the same time, Madonna’s aide opened offices in the most prestigious office block in Lilongwe, furnishing the charity’s luxurious premises with African artefacts and offering his staff astonishing perks.
Each member of his eight-man executive team was supplied with annual membership at the capital’s exclusive golf club and leisure resort, costing thousands of pounds a year. They were also provided with luxury cars; indeed, two vehicles were assigned to staff that didn’t even exist.
Meanwhile, the charity’s local director, also something of a party-lover — who is the sister of Malawi’s vice-president — was a prime beneficiary of these perks.
Anjimile Oponyo, who worked at the United Nations Development Programme in Africa before being appointed to run Madonna’s Malawi school project, was allowed virtually free rein financially — and wasted hundreds of thousands of pounds.
As well as paying a local journalist £1,000 a day to count how many times Madonna and Malawi were mentioned on the internet, Oponyo paid more than £100 a day for three years to hire luxury vehicles.
In a country where the average wage is less than ten pounds a week, she ignored pleas by other staff to take the cheaper option of buying a car, saying she wanted to be able to change her vehicle regularly, which paying by the day enabled her to do. Like her boss, she was also an enthusiastic party organiser, staging events at restaurants, the golf club, as well as countless bars and restaurants, for elite politicians and businessmen in the country.
Details of some of the allegations of lavish spending also emerged in a Global Philanthropy Group audit commissioned by Madonna. Now consulting her lawyers, along with the rest of the fired staff, Oponyo was this weekend in New York plotting her next move.
She, too, is banned from speaking publicly about her time with Madonna. But friends insist she had spent less than one million dollars in funds, using it for offices, vehicles and staff over the past three years. They say all her expenditure was passed by Madonna’s aides in Los Angeles.
And the sources close to Oponyo suggest that Madonna’s decision to scrap her plans for a girls’ academy in Malawi are not solely related to educational issues, but rather money.
‘After the initial fuss she created about Malawi, lots of money was raised,’ one source told me, speaking on condition of anonymity during a clandestine meeting in a Lilongwe restaurant.
‘Public donors and celebrities passed on money. That was enough for us to get started, get a staff and draw up plans for the building. But only £5 million was raised through Madonna’s charity for a project that was going to cost £11 million.’
A local journalist, who first broke the news in 2006 that Madonna was planning to adopt a local child, points out that all the perks for African staff were written into their contracts — but that large amounts were wasted flying in ‘experts’ from the U.S. to advise on the project.
And now the lawsuits are piling up. With her Malawian staff suing for unfair dismissal and local politicians in uproar about what they see as Madonna’s broken promises, the singer is threatening her own legal action to recover some of the money wasted so far.
At the same time, the pop star’s beloved Kabbalah Centre headquarters in Los Angeles, which she helps fund — and uses to distribute her fortune to charity projects such as Raising Malawi — is being sued for £15 million by a wealthy heiress, who claims she was duped into donating money to its coffers.
Courtenay Geddes, who inherited billions from her industrialist father, claims in a lawsuit that ‘while looking for spiritual enlightenment, personal growth and improvement, she was manipulated by the Kabbalah Centre, which took advantage of her sincere, trusting nature to deprive her of her monies’.
The legal document adds: ‘The Kabbalah Centre has a historical pattern and practice of defrauding people by soliciting monies for various projects that never come to fruition. Geddes is but one of numerous people who have been taken advantage of.’
This week the singer issued a statement which said: ‘I remain deeply committed to helping the children of Malawi ... and I realise that the plans we had in place for the Raising Malawi Academy for Girls simply would not serve enough children.
‘My original vision is now on a much bigger scale. I want to reach thousands not hundreds of girls. I want to do more and I want to do it better.
‘While I am grateful to all the people who have given me guidance and support up until now, we are in the process of implementing several changes and additions to the management of Raising Malawi in the U.S. and Malawi.’
She continued: ‘This is a larger challenge than I thought, but I welcome it. We are currently determining the size, location, staffing and curriculum of the schools. I will continue to monitor the process of reaching these goals here and through my ongoing visits to Malawi.’
Certainly, she’s raised awareness of poverty in Malawi, with many aid projects set up to help children as a result.
While the millionaire singer continues to insist she is involved in Malawi — she still funds other projects for children there — perhaps the last word in this tawdry dispute should go to Yohane Banda, standing beside his rusty bike on a dirt track in the African bush.
‘I hoped my boy would be given an education and then given back to me,’ he said.
‘He may be better off for money with Madonna, but he should be with his family.
‘I’d just like my son back to live with the new baby coming. I’m the only one not to get any cash. But money isn’t everything.
‘Perhaps this rich lady should learn that.’
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Post by artemis on Apr 2, 2011 8:42:19 GMT -5
I know that doesnt belong here but...
"Gwyneth Paltrow’s ancestors are better than your ancestors
Gwyneth Paltrow has discovered a fascinating family fact while tracing her roots for hit U.S. TV show Who Do You Think You Are? - her great great great grandfather was a beloved Jewish holy man.
The actress tracked her ancestors back to Barbados while taping the show, which airs in America on Friday night (01Apr11) - but the biggest surprise came when she returned to New York and discovered her great great great grandfather was a “master of Kabbalah” - the mystic Jewish offshoot Paltrow studies today.
Documents show he was “a miracle worker” who once saved his community from a raging fire through his faith.
She said, “This is all kinda blowing my mind.”
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Post by artemis on Apr 2, 2011 8:45:39 GMT -5
"Are U.S. government microwave mind-control tests causing TV presenters' brains to melt down?
A bizarre spate of television presenters dissolving into on-air gibberish has sparked claims that the U.S. military could be to blame.
In four high-profile cases, the latest involving fast-talking Judge Judy, the presenters have started off speaking properly but have then descended into undecipherable nonsense - looking confused and unstable.
The frequency of the 'attacks' - and the fact that recorded examples of the mental meltdowns have been popular on websites - has led to conspiracy theorists pointing the finger at shadowy government experiments.
A popular theory being circulated online blames the U.S. Military’s supposed research into using microwaves as a mind control weapon.
America has never admitted conducting such research but proponents say the effects - produced by microwave signals stimulating the brain with fake images and voices - exactly mimic those displayed in the recent on-air breakdowns.
As to why the Pentagon might be targeting U.S. television presenters, the microwave theorists are less clear.
The phenomenon, which has provided internet video sites with some of the oddest footage for months, has now claimed one of America’s most highly paid broadcasters.
Judith Sheindlin, the fast-talking judge on Judge Judy, was taken to hospital on Wednesday after she began speaking a nonsensical string of words during a live recording of her courtroom TV show.
Studio insiders said Sheindlin, who earns £28 million a year for a show that is the most watched programme on American daytime TV, was sitting on camera and 'started saying things that didn’t make any sense'.
Sheindlin then announced she needed to stop as she didn’t feel well and asked a crew member to call an ambulance.
The 68-year-old lawyer was released from hospital the following day but a spokesman said medical tests had not revealed what caused her garbled speech and double vision.
Her verbal breakdown is the fourth such recent case and the odd coincidence has prompted feverish speculation over the cause.
No video has been released of the Judge Judy incident but footage of the other three has rapidly gone viral on the internet.
The first victim was Serene Branson, a Los Angeles reporter for CBS, who delivered a completely incoherent piece to camera on the Grammy music awards last month.
The presenter was unable to get out her words and continued to struggle to speak for around 10 seconds outside the Staples Centre before producers cut to a video.
She said later: 'My head was definitely pounding and I was very uncomfortable, and I knew something wasn’t right. I was terrified and confused.'
Her doctor later said she had suffered a complex migraine whose symptoms mimic a stroke.
Her case was followed by a Canadian news reporter whose report on his country’s contribution to the military campaign in Libya suddenly collapsed into gibberish.
Mark McAllister of Global Toronto News told viewers that the Canadian defence minister had confirmed that 'more than sifty four 18 fighter jets are spending about as much as 20 and ready to assist 600 hundred, hundred deployed over the an-amount needed'.
His piece-to-camera went on to become even more odd before he signed off.
His employers later confirmed there had been no problem with the autocue but McAllister had also suffered from a migraine.
In January, Sarah Carlson of WISC-TV in Wisconsin was also struck. She started out fine in her report on Wisconsin’s challenge to Barack Obama’s health care reforms, but it soon became apparent that she was having trouble forming words and the camera switched to a startled-looking co-presenter.
Unlike the others, Carlson, 35, has a history of seizures, but America’s army of conspiracy theorists are unconvinced by the medical explanations."
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Post by lucy on Apr 2, 2011 18:27:02 GMT -5
With the talk of Kabballah, I had channel surfed last night and on Joy Behar show, Roseanne Barr was hosting the show and one of the guests was Sandra Bernard, and there was talk about the audit on Madonna's Spiritual Center, and they joked about their days in the Kabballah and how much of a rip off these "centers" are. Making jokes about it and it has me wonder what those celebs were being used in making it a "popular" belief system. No surprise that Gwyneth is a descendant of a "master"....Where do you think today's "celebrities" come from?
They are only famous because their ancestors were players in the system.
Nothing new under the sun.
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Post by artemis on Apr 3, 2011 5:27:12 GMT -5
Check out actress CELIA IMRIE CIA's ordeal:
"My electric shock nightmare at the hands of the CIA's evil doctor
Living as an actor is rather like living life on the trapezes in a circus. Every time you jump on, you have to pray that when the time comes for you to jump off there is another trapeze swinging your way.
I have been very lucky. So far they have kept swinging by and over the years I have had more than my fair share of roles on stage and television, including Upstairs Downstairs, The Darling Buds Of May, Dinnerladies, Acorn Antiques and Cranford.
Then there are the films, parts that have, to my surprise, given me quite a saucy reputation. After Calendar Girls, people might well think of me as something of an exhibitionist. I am not.
n fact, the scene where we had to take off our clothes was a source of great concern. It was shot one actress at a time - and it was my bad luck to be called ahead of Helen Mirren, Julie Walters and the rest of that wonderful cast.
I arrived at the studio feeling quite ill. It was as though I was in some horrible dream, wading through treacle. With a thundering heart, clutching my dressing gown around me, I made my way down to the set. Even I couldn't put it off for ever. I tried to imagine that somehow I wasn't really taking my clothes off and that, anyway, no one would ever see the film. How wrong I was, even if some strategically placed cupcakes preserved my modesty.
There was nothing understated about my part in Nanny McPhee either. Before it was released, the film was shown to a sample audience of children and they were terrified by the sight of my non-surgically enhanced bosoms.
The studio decided that there was nothing else for it but to airbrush out a large percentage of my cleavage - a move that cost the production company £150,000.
It is hard to believe, then, that as a child I dreamed of being a sylph-like dancer. While other girls swooned over The Beatles and the Rolling Stones, I worshipped Rudolf Nureyev and Isadora Duncan.
It was a yearning that was to lead me almost to the grave before I was 15 - not that I had any idea at the time. I pored over ballet books and magazines, and practised whenever I could. I was going to be a dancer.
My mother Diana was a trueblue aristocrat, descended from William the Conqueror and listed in Burke's Peerage. My father David, from a poor Scottish family, was a doctor.
I pressed them to let me attend ballet classes, to which they agreed. Always stubborn and wilful, I had my career planned. I would go to White Lodge, the junior branch of the Royal Ballet School in Richmond, South-West London, and serve my time in the chorus before being discovered, finally dancing in the arms of Nureyev, who would worship and probably marry me.
I practised and went in for every exam, bounding through the grades until I was good enough for my teachers to send me, aged 11, to audition for a place at the Royal Ballet School.
Waiting anxiously at home for the results to arrive, I yearned for the day when I would be whisked away from our home in Surrey to start my new life as a ballet student. One week. Two weeks. A month. But the letter never came. I knew something was wrong, so went searching for it, breaking into my mother's bureau. There it was.
Trembling, I slid the already opened letter from its envelope and read the fatal words: 'Celia is very good and advanced for her age, but sadly she is going to be too big ever to become a dancer.'
Too big? I was shattered. Surely this could not possibly be true? All right, so I might be too large at this moment, but I had seen diet adverts in newspapers. Surely if I worked hard enough at not eating, I would get small enough for the whole judging panel at the Royal Ballet School to get fat themselves - eating their words.
Over 18 months I lost an astonishing amount of weight. It was noticed first at six months by our nanny, known as Pop, when we had to try on summer clothes for our annual family holiday near Bognor Regis, West Sussex. After that I realised I was being watched at mealtimes.
I would look at myself in the mirror and, even though I was something near a skeleton, I didn't think I had gone far enough. In despair and I am sure with some embarrassment - my father being an eminent doctor - my parents brought in a child psychologist.
I was 5ft 2in and weighed 4st. What was the problem? Why couldn't they make me eat?
In those days there was not the excess of food there is now. People ate three pretty meagre meals a day if they were lucky, with no snacking in between.
Many people in those days were malnourished, but not through personal choice. So it was a mystery to the experts to find someone who had decided not to eat, just as it might have been then to find someone who was obese.
I was sent for a brief spell in the local hospital, where, bewildered by a condition they had not seen before, staff simply offered me three meals a day, which I politely refused.
After a few weeks, I was released to spend Christmas with my family.
I was happy to come home, but, far from being cured, I now knew that in future I must find even better ways of avoiding eating. I became sly. I worked out every way to dispose of food. I was so successful at it that soon I was little more than a carcass with skin.
Desperate now, my parents decided to send me away to St Thomas' Hospital in London, to enter one of the special wards belonging to the Department of Psychological Medicine. And once there I was placed under the care of world-famous psychiatrist William Sargant. I was 14.
Now, more than 20 years after his death, Sargant is notorious for his work for MI5 and the CIA, particularly its covert MK-ULTRA mind control programme.
Even then, Sargant was a world expert on brainwashing. Today his books are said to be studied by Al Qaeda. His work has links to the mysterious death of CIA biochemist Frank Olson after being given LSD; the Jonestown massacre in Guyana, where 900 people killed themselves; and to the mind-bending and occasionally lethal drug experiments performed on unwitting human guinea pigs at the Porton Down research centre in Wiltshire.
Sargant's methods were simple: electric-shock treatment and insulin-induced comas leading to continuous narcosis, or deep-sleep therapy, complete with taperecorded 'brainwashing' orders being played at the patients from beneath their pillows. And to think that all this came free on the NHS!
The hospital building is still there and even today it sends a chill through me when I pass it on my way to Waterloo station, the Imax cinema or the National Theatre. It is a gloomy, dark red-brick edifice, the green and white ceramic tile lettering still declaring it to be the Royal Waterloo Hospital for Children and Women, although today it houses the Schiller International University, a private American college.
From outside the Imax, you can see the window where I would sit waiting for my mother to emerge from Waterloo station, hurrying across the road, looking frantic. She was the only one who came to see me and I often wonder whether anyone else in the family even knew about her rushed, desperate visits. After all, I was the black sheep of the family.
At 14, I was the youngest in the ward. Most of the other patients were middle-aged women suffering from depression. From my bed, I watched them howling, moaning and screaming, fighting with the nurses. I thought: 'I don't want to be mad. I must get out of here.'
The doctors and nurses did their daily rounds. Twice a week or so, we were treated to a bedside visit from the Great Man himself.
Sargant still features in my nightmares. He was brusque and cold, and he never talked directly to you. Instead he issued orders over your head, talking about 'this one' and 'that one'. But that was preferable to making eye contact with this proud, incorrigible man with his dark, hard, evil eyes. I have only seen eyes like that on a couple of other people in my life.
After Sargant left the ward, the nurses would start preparing the horrors he had prescribed for the day - the electro-convulsive therapy. Friends have asked what it was like to have electrodes put either side of your skull before huge surges of power were fired through your brain, while you squirmed and wrestled and shrieked and moaned and dribbled into the pillow. But the truth is I don't remember.
I do, however, remember vividly watching the woman in the next bed when it was her turn to be assaulted in the name of health. I remember every sight, sound and smell. The huge rubber plug jammed between her teeth; the strange almost silent cry, like a sigh of pain; the shuddering contortions and jerky gyrations of the tormented body; the scent of burning hair and flesh.
I remember also the famous Narcosis Room, a ward where patients were forced into a drug-induced sleep for days while tapes played instructions to them from under the pillow.
Whenever I have been asked about Sargant's Narcosis Room, I can describe it perfectly. I used to sneak out of the ward to peer through the portholes in the swing doors, and gaze at dead-looking women lying on the floor on grey mattresses, silent in a kind of electrically induced twilight.
When people ask if ever I spent any time inside, I used to reply 'No', for I do not remember that ever happening.
But it recently occurred to me that everyone, in order to be put into the Narcosis Room, would first be drugged and that although I saw many women come back to the ward from there, I never saw any patient emerge from the place awake. You went in asleep and you came out asleep.
I don't think anyone who was treated by Sargant's sleep therapy was at any time aware of going in or coming out of that room. While inside, you were totally unconscious. So maybe I was in the Narcosis Room. I could not possibly know.
It is probable, I realise now, that I did go in. Like the electric shocks, I presume it definitely happened to me, though I can only recall it happening to others. I was certainly injected with huge doses of insulin. These injections are now understood to be one of the methods Sargant used to kick-start his sleeptherapy process.
I cannot know whether his mindcontrol methods worked on me as I do not know what the tape recordings under my pillow were telling me to do.
Some years back, I tried to find my hospital records, to see whether I could find out the limits of my treatment and if I had been in the Narcosis Room. I wanted to know the exact instructions on the tape constantly playing under my pillow, Sargant's wishes drummed relentlessly into my young, unconscious brain.
Unfortunately, my search was in vain. When Sargant left St Thomas', he illegally took away all his patients' records. By the time of his death in 1988, every single piece of paperwork about his inhumane treatment of us, the human guinea pigs, had been destroyed. So I will never know the absolute truth.
I do recall being given massive doses, three tumblers a day, of Largactil, an anti-psychotic drug. The effect of this drug was startling. My hands shook uncontrollably for most of the day and I'd wake up to find clumps of my hair on the pillow. But the worst consequence was that everything I saw was multiplied by four. When Sargant came into the room, I saw four of him. It was horrific and terrifying. Even simple tasks such as picking up a glass of water became impossible. The drugs had turned me into a victim.
As she increased the dosage one day, I overheard one nurse saying to her senior that I was exhibiting a 'dangerous resistance' to the drugs. Dangerous for whom, I wonder? Who could tell in that terrible place where, as far as I can see, the truly insane were the workers rather than the patients.
Sargant used to say that every dog has his breaking point - the eccentrics just took longer. I suppose my 'dangerous resistance' was what he was talking about. I like to think that I was one of those eccentric dogs he did not manage to break.
Many years later, I went with friends to see a film called Coma. It was a secondrate thriller starring Michael Douglas and Genevieve Bujold, in which Bujold discovers a ward full of patients suspended in hammocks in druginduced comas. When we came out into Leicester Square in London, my friends were laughing at the silliness of the plot, but I had the shakes and it took me some days to recover.
They probably thought I was coming down with something. In fact it wasn't until years later that I saw the link and realised why that film had upset me so deeply.
Whatever Sargant might have thought, my eventual cure was nothing to do with him or his bizarre techniques. The events that saved me from my self-induced anorexia came about in a very simple way.
Two things happened in short succession. First, one of the nurses, quite improperly I am sure, said to me one morning: 'You do realise that your selfish act of starving yourself means you are stealing the bed of a truly sick, possibly dying child?' She described other stricken children she had treated - those with polio and cancer.
She had no idea but what she said was more powerful than any of Sargant's insulin injections and taperecordings. My conscience was well and truly pricked.
A few days later, my dance teacher came to visit me. I didn't know the true reason at first but when I did, it was to send a chill through my barely there flesh. Miss Hawkesworth had been told that medical opinion was agreed that my weight was way below that which could possibly sustain life for any length of time. I would not survive the few weeks until Christmas.
Unlike do-gooders who tiptoe around the subject of illness and death, Miss Hawkesworth said: 'I came to visit you because they told me you would die in two weeks and I thought I ought to say goodbye.'
I had spent three years with everybody telling me: 'You must eat. You will eat. If you don't eat you will fade away. Please eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.' And so I didn't. Now here was a new order - 'You will die!' Die? How dare anyone tell me what to do. I wasn't going to die just to please them.
Whenever I am issued with an absolute order, my instinct has always been the same: do the opposite. And thanks to Miss Hawkesworth, I decided there and then I would not oblige these horrible, self-appointed gods of psychiatry and die just to satisfy their theories. Slowly, I started to eat.
I reversed the action that had been my secret weapon against them, and in twisting it round, it became my new secret weapon against them. I decided I would show them that they knew nothing about me. Plus, I was not going to let anyone think that my selfishness was responsible for depriving a sick child of treatment.
I later returned to school, somewhat changed in appearance. During a consultation with my psychiatrist, I had said I would like to have a baby one day, and hoped that would still be possible since I had upset the usual order of puberty.
Specialists at St Thomas' decided to give me a massive dose of oestrogen to kickstart the process. The trouble was that practically overnight it sent me from being flatchested to a 38in doubleD cup.
So, resembling a teenage brunette version of Jayne Mansfield in a fright wig, I took my O-levels and got the same number as Princess Diana (you can look it up if you're so interested).
I left school the day I turned 16, the earliest day I legally could. Determined to follow a life on stage, preferably with some dance connection, I applied for and won a place at the local drama school. I was on my way.
Years later I was talking to actor Nicholas Lyndhurst's wife Lucy. She had trained and become a professional dancer, even appearing with the Royal Ballet.
'A lot of it was hell,' she told me. 'Not at all what I had thought it would be. It often made me very unhappy.'
She described the strife and tension, the painful muscles, bleeding toes, rivalry and starvation diets. For the first time in my life I wondered if I had been fortunate by being forced out of dance and into acting.
I felt a tremendous surge of relief. I started to wonder what had impelled me to chase a desire that had almost killed me at 14. Now, I finally knew that my life had gone the right way. I had taken the best possible path.
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Post by artemis on Apr 3, 2011 5:33:42 GMT -5
Another "suicided" one...
"Model leaps to her death over anguish about children as Onassis curse strikes again
Behind the high iron gates of her double-fronted villa in a suburb of Antwerp, Belgium, the world’s richest young woman pursues a dream of domesticity.
Every morning Athina Onassis helps her two stepchildren get ready for school and fusses over their breakfast. Two maids assist her with the household chores before she leaves in a chauffeured Rolls-Royce to watch 14-year-old Fernando at football practice, or to supervise ten-year-old Vivienne’s riding lesson. In the evening, she likes to watch DVDs with her husband, the debonair showjumper Alvaro ‘Doda’ Alfonso de Miranda Neto.
Last night, however, the 26-year-old billionairess was struggling to cope with the discovery that, despite her dedication to what is described as a ‘simple, healthy life’, she is the latest victim of the ‘Onassis curse’.
The sole surviving heiress to her grandfather Aristotle Onassis’s shipping fortune, she grew up hearing tales of the scandals, tragedies and sudden deaths that have played out in the splendour of her family’s great estates and on Skorpios, their private Mediterranean island.
It is a legacy that Athina blamed on their incredible extravagance, and one that she has tried to avoid in the six years since she married the reportedly impecunious but doting Doda, 38.
The Mail on Sunday has learned, however, that her contented routine has been shattered by horrific news from Doda’s hometown of Sao Paulo, Brazil, where just over a week ago his ex-lover Cibele Dorsa hurled herself to her death in the early hours from her luxurious seventh-floor flat.
To Athina’s embarrassment, the beautiful but troubled 36-year-old actress and Playboy model left behind suicide notes in which she bitterly complained about an arrangement under which the heiress and Doda are bringing up Vivienne – Cibele’s daughter by Doda – and Fernando.
The boy was born to Cibele during her first marriage, to Brazilian businessman Fernando Oliva Snr. She agreed to hand over the children to Athina and Doda, but missed the youngsters so unbearably that, as she said in one of her last notes, it felt as if ‘my heart has been cut out’.
‘Cibele decided to do this. It was her decision to allow the children to live with Athina and Doda,’ Mr Oliva told The Mail on Sunday. ‘Her life was very complicated. She was a working actress, emotional and unstable. With Athina and Doda they have a very simple and healthy lifestyle.’
Alexis Mantheakis, a former aide to Athina’s father, Thierry Roussel, said last night: ‘It seems the Onassis curse has struck again. I am sure everyone thought they were taking the best decisions but, according to her last messages, Cibele was despondent that she had given up the children.
‘This poor woman saw herself as Athina’s rival but she had little to fight her with except her looks. She felt she was no match for this billionaire heiress who was younger and had enormous riches, fame and power.
‘The Onassis money caused nothing but problems. I am sure the children will grow up in a good environment but the question is whether anything can make up for the loss of the mother who loved them very much.’
Shortly after she discovered that Doda was dating the then 17-year-old Athina, Cibele impulsively poured her heart out to me during a late-night meeting in 2002 at her Sao Paulo flat.
‘Doda and I were happy. The only problem was money,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t make much but he has a passion for expensive horses.’
He met the heiress at a Belgian equestrian school where, allegedly, she was bowled over by what Cibele described as Doda’s sex appeal. ‘He is incredibly charismatic,’ she said.
Athina was only three when her mother Christina died of a heart attack. ‘She is the last surviving heiress of this jinxed family,’ says Mantheakis.
Cibele is depicted by her first husband, Mr Oliva, as a fragile woman, all too aware, he says, of her inadequacies as a mother. He took over the care of Fernando when the boy was about three, he says. And she agreed that Doda would be the better parent for Vivienne.
‘She couldn’t take care of the children,’ Mr Oliva contends. Fernando Jnr moved to Belgium in 2009. ‘He asked if he could live with his sister,’ says Mr Oliva, who confirms that Cibele approved the plan and that Doda thoughtfully tried to persuade her to stay in close touch with both children.
‘He was very good to her. He went on supporting her until the end.’
Recently Cibele suffered what Mantheakis calls ‘the final straw’. She was engaged to a Brazilian TV presenter, Gilberto Scarpa, and they were due to marry this month.
But on January 30, he tumbled to his death from the window of her flat in an apparent suicide. Cibele later wrote on Facebook: ‘To live without my two children and without the love of my life has wounded my whole self.’
A Brazilian magazine reported that it had received a statement from Doda, saying: ‘I don’t have to defend myself against criticism by Cibele.
‘I have many emails from her, praising me as a father who never failed to give her moral and financial support.’
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Post by artemis on Apr 3, 2011 7:36:41 GMT -5
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Post by goro on Apr 3, 2011 13:25:48 GMT -5
I think he is also a member of the center. About ten years ago I attended an open house at that center in New York, and it was horrible. At the end of a benign sounding hour long presentation during which a sexy young 'rabbi" in a yarmulke pronounced that Kabballah could give you "everything you ever want - wealth, happiness, health" at the end of the session these sexy mind controlled girls went around to all the men and pressured them to immediately sign away $1000 or more on weekend workshops; and the sexy young men went after the women, especially the middleaged, lonely and unhappy looking older women. Then in the "bookshop" afterwards the same characters came out to solicit receptivity and start doing hypnotic programming on people just casually looking at books. And they DO sell books printed in Hebrew and try to get you to buy them because just "Scanning" the letters is supposed to bring you enlightenment. Bunch of crap. I'm sure this "driver" is her local handler while Lourdes is in New York. Good find, Artemis - and of course very disturbing.
PS After I attended that one hour presentation they had higher ups at the Kaballah Center in New York calling me about every two weeks at home - and I hadn't even given them my phone number! I have a background that has brought me, um, a certain amount of attention, and it looks liek someone cross=referenced me on that "list" and targeted me for further solicitation. They called for about FIVE YEARS even though I never spent a penny on them.
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Post by lucy on Apr 3, 2011 17:15:00 GMT -5
Kabballah and Freemasonry are very much alike. I had done research from sources that were exposing the garbage of both. I don't remember which is older, but they are both manipulative.
At a glance, Lourdes reminds me of a darker complected Miley type. Probably all conceived in the same demon spawning facility.
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