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Richard Branson Dresses As Beautiful Lady After Losing F1 Bet

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Richard Branson, creator of the Virgin conglomerate which owns all of your airplanes and music-makers, lost a bet with fellow billionaire Tony Fernandes. The result is the terrible monstrosity you see here.

Way back in 2010 (remember then? I can't remember then. SO SO long ago) Branson owned a Formula One team as well, called Virgin Racing. Fernandes, Asia's version of Branson, also owned his own F1 outfit, Team Lotus. When you both own F1 teams and airlines and have billions in the bank, the only gentlemanly bet is obvious.

Whoever's F1 team won more points would be forced to act as a flight attendant (female, of course) on the winner's airline. Team Lotus finished higher in race positions than Virgin Racing, and today, three years later, it was time for Branson to pay the piper.

Branson had his legs shaved (he didn't shave his own, that's only for the Poors), put on some ravishing red lipstick, and put himself into a skirt and what appear to be fishnets for his stint as a stewardess.

Sir Richard went about doing what flight attendants normally do on an Air Asia flight, until it got to the part where he was supposed to serve drinks. From the AP:

But he earned a reprimand from AirAsia chief Tony Fernandes after he deliberately dumped a tray of orange juice on Fernandes' lap.

...

"He looked at me, I said, 'don't you dare,' and the next thing I know, he tipped the whole tray on me," Fernandes added. "He and the girls mopped it up, but I was walking around the flight in my underwear for a while because I didn't bring another pair of trousers."

Yes, somehow Richard Branson with lipstick smeared all over his face was not the worst part about this trip. You also got to experience the joy of watching Tony Fernandes walk around in his underpants. For those that don't know Tony Fernandes, he looks like this:

Just imagine that tubby magnate walking around with no pants on for more than an hour while trapped in a metal tube.

You're welcome.

Images via Getty

San Francisco Area Homes Are Sinking Into the Ground

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Homes in a Lake County subdivision are being abandoned as they slowly sink into the ground.

At least eight homes have already been abandoned, and another ten are on notice of immediate evacuation in the hilltop community about 100 miles north of San Francisco.

One Lake County couple, who have lived in their home for 11 years, first noticed cracks in their walls in March. Within two weeks, their 600-square-foot garage broke off of the house and fell ten feet below the street. Unlike the instantaneous Florida sinkholes, these homes can move "many feet in one day and just a fraction of an inch the next."

The hill under the community, with sweeping views of Clear Lake and Mount Konocti volcano, is now threatening to swallow all 30 houses in the subdivision, and officials aren't quite sure why.

"That's the big question," county public works director Scott De Leon told the Examiner. "We have a dormant volcano, and I'm certain a lot of things that happen here (in Lake County) are a result of that, but we don't know about this."

Further confounding officials has been the appearance of plentiful water "atop the hill in a county with groundwater shortages." One cause may be the area's damaged public water system, which received repairs on Friday. At least two leaks were repaired by experts, and officials continue to monitor the system with periodic leak detection tests.

But the slowly sinking homes appear to exceed the boundaries of the Postal Service creed (along with Brooklyn and Saturdays), and USPS is refusing to deliver mail to the homes.

"It's a slow-motion disaster," resident Randall Fitzgerald told reporters.

[via, photo via Getty]

Beautiful Photos from Argentine Town That Was Underwater for 25 Years

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Epecuen, Argentina was once a popular lakeside resort town, known for its saltwater baths and spas. It was especially popular among Argentine Jews from nearby Buenos Aires, who found the lake, which had 10 times more salt than the ocean, and was buoyant, similar to the Middle East's Dead Sea.

But then in November 1985, after a series of wet winters, the lake flooded the town. A retaining wall failed and the salty water submerged the streets. Now the waters have receded, exposing what remains of the former resort.

The Associated Press's Natacha Pisarenko took these photos as she followed a tour guide through the ruins.

He picked a good day to retire.

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He picked a good day to retire. After overseeing a successful impromptu spacewalk to fix an ammonia leak at the International Space Station, beloved Candian Commander Chris Hadfield transferred command to Russia's Pavel Vinogradov. Hadfield and two other crew members expect to return to earth tonight.

Man Sued for $2 Million for Cat Murder

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A 29-year-old man is facing a $2 million lawsuit after trashing an Upper East Side teacher's apartment and murdering her three-year-old Siamese cat.

Joseph Ari Chiesa, the guy no one will ever invite to a party again, had been invited to a birthday celebration at college friend Jessica Barrish's East 86th Street apartment. Chiesa had already allegedly been "guzzling booze, asking to snort cocaine, and calling a neighbor 'fat' from the balcony," when the host and her friends left the building to continue partying at a second location.

According to the lawsuit, Chiesa managed to stay behind alone. At this point, he quickly took things up a notch, smashing lamps, stealing a $3,000 bracelet, and, of course, murdering the cat. According to the Post, Chiesa "repeatedly whacked the cat against a chair and a window screen."

When Barrish returned home, she found blood spattered all over the walls and living room couch. Cassie, the cat, managed to hide in the bedroom, where she died from the injuries.

In October, Chiesa pleaded guilty to aggravated animal cruelty and served four months in jail, but Barrish, who shares the rent controlled apartment with her mother, wants $2 million in property damages and mental suffering, plus a protective order to keep Chiesa away from the building.

[via, image via Getty]

Shooting broke out at a Mother's Day parade in New Orleans, with the Times-Picayune reporting at lea

NYT Tech Columnist David Pogue Marries PR Flack Girlfriend

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: After years of unethically covering the industry which his girlfriend advertises for a living, New York Times tech elder David Pogue attempted the impossible by trying to make an honest woman of a PR rep: the two married this weekend in California.

We hope the nuptials will mark a new start for Pogue, who has relegated himself into the Kooky Uncle corner of technology writing, after reportedly hitting his wife with an iPhone—that very same device that's earned him so much cash over the years—and carrying on with OutCast Agency rep Nicole Dugan, whose job it is to promote and mislead the public about the very same companies Pogue chronicles. In a nice wedding gift from the Times, it referred to him in the notice as a "journalist."

Disclosure: Gawker Media property Gizmodo once helped Pogue locate his lost phone.


This “Space Oddity” Cover From the Space Station Is Amazing

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Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield has spent the past five months as the commander of Expedition 35 aboard the International Space Station. While in space, he's made sandwiches, washed his hands, and wrung water from a wet towel. But on Sunday afternoon, Hadfield provided the internet with his most amazing video yet: a cover of David Bowie's 1969 classic, “Space Oddity.”

Unfortunately, the cover will be Hadfield's final gift to the internet, at least from space; Sunday evening, he handed over control of the ISS to Commander Pavel Vinogradov, the leader of Expedition 36.

[h/t Buzzfeed]

To contact the author of this post, email taylor@gawker.com

New Fatal Virus Infects Two in France, Likely Spreads Person-to-Person

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A deadly new strain of Coronavirus, a SARS-like respiratory virus, has now spread to France, where it has infected at least two people. But it gets even more exciting. After the French health ministry's confirmation of the second infection, the World Health Organization announced that it's likely that the virus can be passed person-to-person.

"Of most concern... is the fact that the different clusters seen in multiple countries increasingly support the hypothesis that when there is close contact this novel coronavirus can transmit from person to person," the World Health Organization said on Sunday.

France's first confirmed case was a 65-year-old man who had just returned from a vacation in Dubai. The second confirmed case was a 50-year-old man who shared a hospital room with the first victim.

The virus, which causes pneumonia and sometimes kidney failure, has been detected in Jordan, Saudi Arabia, the UK, Germany, and France. So far, there have been 33 confirmed infections with 18 deaths, including nine alone in Saudi Arabia.

As scary as it sounds, the WHO cautioned that there's no current concern that the virus will lead to a full on Contagion-like scenario.

"This pattern of person-to-person transmission has remained limited to some small clusters and so far, there is no evidence to suggest the virus has the capacity to sustain generalised transmission in communities."

So no need to stockpile supplies and lock yourself in your home, at least not yet.

[Image via AP]

To contact the author of this post, email taylor@gawker.com

80-Year-Old Grandmother Killed by 88-Year-Old Roommate on Mother's Day

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Vivian Schronce, an 80-year-old grandmother and great-grandmother, had just returned to her home in Gaston County, North Carolina from Sunday morning church service when she was shot and killed, allegedly by her 88-year-old roommate, Charles Edwin Venn

According to police, the shooting occurred after Schronce confronted Venn about his drinking – police report Venn drank at least two beers while Schronce was at church. During the argument, Venn reportedly fired his handgun several times, striking Schronce once.

“Any time you add alcohol and firearms, it's just a deadly mixture,” [Gaston County Police Captain Jay] Human said.

The Gaston Gazette has a heartbreaking interview with Schronce's daughter, Leanne Catoe. Catoe told the paper she'd just given her mother a haircut on Saturday, so she would look good for Sunday's Mother Day's church service.

“I sat in church beside her, and I had this weird feeling and I scooted closer to her,” Catoe said.

After church Catoe’s 80-year-old mother kissed her and told her to come by for pot pie.

Catoe drove to the grocery store and saw an ambulance go by as she headed back to her mother’s home. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Catoe hurried to her mother’s home to find paramedics doing CPR on her mother.

“And all I could say was, ‘God, no. God, no.’ And then we get to the hospital and they said that she’d been shot,” Catoe said. “Why would anybody shoot a grandmother, a great-grandmother?”

“She’s all I had,” Catoe said. “I’m not ready to be the matriarch of this family.”

Venn is being held without bond in Gaston County Jail and faces a first-degree murder charge.

[Gaston Gazette/Image via My Fox 8]

To contact the author of this post, email taylor@gawker.com

Monday morning on The View, Barbara Walters will announce that she's officially retiring from journa

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Monday morning on The View, Barbara Walters will announce that she's officially retiring from journalism next summer.

Here's the Official Trailer for Season 4 of Arrested Development

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The trailer for the fourth season of Arrested Development is finally here. Not that the show has been lacking hype; in just the last week alone, Netflix announced plans to set up Bluth's Original Frozen Banana stands in select cities, and a quote from the show was used as an insult in the Canadian House of Commons.

All 15 of the fourth season's episodes will be released on Netfliz at 12:01 AM PST on May 26.

Americans Are Consuming Breakfast at an Unsafe Speed

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When "fast food" was invented back in the 1950s or whenever, we were cautiously optimistic. A ground hamburger patty and french-fried potatoes served in less time than it takes to raise and slaughter a cow, plant a field of potatoes, and build a fire? Sure, why not? But today it seems that Americans have forgotten how to take their time with their food.

Breakfast: the most American of all meals. Hell, you can go to Morocco or Japan or Russia or Botswana and find something resembling dinner, but only in America can you get a proper breakfast consisting of 1) eggs 2) bread product 3) meat substance and 4) cheez. Big Breakfast is a $50 BILLION industry here in America. Fortunes are won and lost by catering skillfully to Americans' taste for consuming 1,500-calorie meals before 9 a.m. But is the high pressure competitive atmosphere of USA Breakfast tearing us apart, as social beings? From Ad Age:

"You can have the 1950s breakfast to go now," said NPD Group VP Harry Balzer, noting that the average time spent eating breakfast is 13 minutes.

Assuming that "the 1950s breakfast" is actually a misnomer for "the 21st century American breakfast in which a stack of pancakes is treated as a 'side order' or, even more shockingly, some sort of bastardized burrito in which to wrap sausage and eggs," 13 minutes is just not safe.

Take your time, America. You're bound to choke.

[Ad Age. Photo: Simon Doggett/ Flickr]

Unemployment Stories, Vol. 34: 'I Want to Scream at the World'

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Officially, 11.7 million Americans are unemployed, including 4.4 million who've been jobless for more than six months. Millions more have dropped out of the labor force entirely. Each week, we bring you true stories of unemployment, straight from the unemployed. This is what's happening out there.

Not even a statistic

My story could sound like any of the others, and yet it has its own quirks. Where my story differs, is at first, I was unemployed by choice. I would receive no benefits, and quickly thereafter I realized those benefits extend to sympathy, and understanding when applying for new jobs.

I lived somewhere in the rustbelt, and just prior to everything collapsing around us, my wife lost her job. Her job had been a pretty decent engineering job, but over time the quality of the employer had degraded. Layoffs were announced, work was increased, pay and benefits were cut. She lasted through the first and second round of layoffs, but by the third round she was among those walking out with a box on a Friday afternoon.

We quickly exhausted our savings as I continued to work and she was collecting unemployment while looking for something, anything. It took some time and even a brief work-induced separation as she landed a job out of state. I stayed behind as I was still employed and trying to sell the house. Selling the house took an inordinate amount of time and I continued to work in one state, and my wife had an apartment in another.

The house finally sold, and luckily for only a minor loss. Probably the last real bit of luck I had.

I quit my job, packed up the last of the belongings and moved to join my wife. I was naive; I moved from a smallish rustbelt town (that was only getting smaller), to a much larger city without any job. I had thought quitting voluntarily, a solid work history, and an employer who was happy to provide a recommendation were all I needed. I was wrong. I had spent the past decade working my first real job out of college. I had grown while working there, from just another office jockey, to a department manager. I was someone who was able to have a voice, even if a small one, in the company. My history didn't matter. My record of saving money for the company, of increasing revenue, of increased responsibility didn't matter. What mattered was the term unemployed, and that my social network was now in a state nearing 2,000 miles away.

At first I had a couple of job interviews as I placed my resume online, searched out local companies that I thought were a good match of my skills. I spent time online reading articles on job hunting, interviewing and the like. I had a few promising interviews and then after about three months the calls just stopped. I've been unemployed since. It has been over three years now.

I still look, I still apply. I have had three interviews since those first three months. One position was with a Fortune 500 company, and I thought I had a chance. I had an email interview, a phone interview and two in-person interviews. After the two week flurry of activity it was silence. I still think about what I said or did that was enough to kill my reentry into the workplace. Was it something I said? Was it something I DIDN'T say?

And just this month I had a phone interview. A brief phone interview. The person screening the resumes was setting up appointments for another person. We spoke for twenty minutes, and the screener on the other end asked for a few final questions as they were "filling out the appointment calendar", and I was asked why I was looking to leave my employer. I answered honestly, that I was unemployed. The screener said "Oh, I see..." and the line clicked dead moments later.

I was quizzed on my experience, my education, and even about the pay range. I had called back from a different phone trying not to hyperventilate. Was it just my cell phone, was it a glitch on the phone system? I was transferred to the person, and before I was finished saying "Hello" the line clicked dead again. I never got a chance to interview for the job because someone sneered over the word unemployed. I was acceptable to interview for the job just minutes prior.

I know I'm one of the lucky ones. I KNOW IT! My wife is employed, I have a roof over my head, and we can pay our bills. Yet I'm still bitter.

I don't show up on a government report. I'm not even a statistic. I don't matter to the numbers that come out from the government every month. I did everything I was supposed to growing up. I worked hard, went to college and earned a degree. Supported my spouse, and we made the best decisions we knew along the way. Yet I sit in front of a computer typing away about how now three, no shit, now four years later I'm among the ranks of the long term unemployed.

What has four years of unemployment done?

My motivation is decimated. I still search for a job, and send out countless resumes but the rejection is a forgone conclusion. It has to be since receiving a rejection notice is not part of the process anymore. I think I now search and apply out of a sense of obligation.

I'm far more introspective. Analyzing and overthinking everything, and carrying around a degree of skepticism that I have never known before.

I feel guilty. I left a middle class job without a plan, and without a new job. It is my fault for not preparing for the future? It is difficult to enjoy the same activities I did before. Starting any new hobby or activity is nearly as difficult because part of me doesn't feel I should do well or enjoy it after a very brief time. It reaches even beyond hobbies and exercise...I want to believe my wife when she tells me that I'm doing everything I can, that it isn't my fault, but I don't believe it. Even if she does.

I'm more isolated than ever before. It is a combination of factors: I'm far away from where I grew up and went to school, I don't have coworkers, and going out is difficult when spending even an extra dollar brings about feelings of shame. Even phone calls with old friends and family are terse, and a bit tense. I invariably hear suggestions, or an offhand comment about “the lazy unemployed moochers” and I end up feeling like a liability even in conversations with old friends.

I've done some concrete things. Beyond saying that I search for jobs and apply for jobs. I learned new software packages. I've done personal projects. I've attempted to freelance by networking with friends and family. I've attempted to volunteer. All to no avail.

I want to scream at the world, to vent, to rant, and have someone look at me when I finish, and say, "You know, you're right. Be ready to start Monday." It hasn't happened for several years, and I'm not sure when, or if, it will again.

A hopeful story

Over the past ten years, after a number of IT manager jobs, I knew a dead end was approaching. I was assigned to our company's first Sarbanes-Oxley project for financial controls in 2003/2004. While I met a number of smart, good people, I saw a chasm of failure for my company's getting to compliance. I was hopeful we wold pass muster with our external auditor (Big 3), but worked recklessly long hours to be sure my (public) company wouldn't get a black eye from the SEC.
I never worked so hard to ultimately take a cannonball for my company - six material deficiencies out of hundreds of financial controls. It was truthful but not well-received by people who, a year earlier, were convinced the SEC would find nothing. In short, I committed career suicide.
At the time (2005), I had paltry call options, a decent 401(k), and had been divorced for several years, with large bills and debt. In my exit interview, through what I can only say was divine intervention, I received a 17-week severance by not being vengeful or vindictive, but by stating my accomplishments and how I didn't earn a rating that would get me fired.
I was left with a tough choice: try to find work in New York City, close to my kids, or to move elsewhere, lose 30% of my salary, and mercilessly target people and companies who (still) needed securities and IT analysis personnel. Luckily I got the job - at at 30% discount.
Forward five years - the analysis work I'd done, as well as customer retention and project management, served my company well. I was (luckily) able to help fund my kids' college education. Then, the bottom fell out when I was no longer needed by our CEO. Again, I was fortunate to get a severance (13 weeks this time) and in late summer, 2010, I had given up on networking and resumes. The market was dead.
In late August I found my dad had a relapse of colorectal cancer. I stopped looking for work. My brothers and I stayed with him for many weeks until his death on November 19th.
Job searching at this time was fruitless. My brothers and I settled my dad's estate (not huge, but able to keep us going another year) and we all went to our homes after Christmas. For me, the next three months elapsed like many of the stories here: not enough food, desperation, hopelessness.
I tweaked my LinkedIn profile (went Pro for $39/month) and larded it with every legitimate accomplishment I could substantiate.
Two months later, I interviewed with a good company. They offered, I accepted.
I am not sure whether you'll find this a hopeful story, but it is for me. Thank You.

Prayer for the non-religious

I was the valedictorian in my high school. I was the sort of kid that wanted to be a whole bunch of different professions, everything from archaeologist to veterinarian to the President of the U.S. I had not yet decided what direction I wanted to go when I graduated high school, so my plan was to "go to college and decide", I would surely be able to figure out where my true passion was while in college, right? Besides, with my parents and family and teachers and guidance counselors, I felt like I had no choice. Of course the valedictorian goes on to college. Not going to college was not an option for me (at least, at 18 I felt that way). I was a people-pleaser with no genuine career ambitions. Here I am with a liberal arts degree, Human Development with an emphasis on Gender Studies. I took classes that interested me, this is where it landed me. I wish I had known that I had an option to not go to college. I am working an internship with a website development company now, because my life partner works here and was able to convince his boss to let me intern.

I am living in an expensive city. Sometimes we can't afford food. We are living off of my partner's income, which is not enough to cover our basics. My student loans take a huge chunk of money from us every month. I know I would qualify for deferment, but at this point, I don't think that I will be in a better place career-wise in six months, a year, five years. Why defer the loans when it just means we will be scraping by for even longer? I would rather pay for student loans now and get out of debt as soon as we can so that this weight is not hanging over me.

I was a student that did everything "right". In high school, I got straight A's. I joined every club my school offered so that I had enough extra-curriculars to get into a "good college". I got scholarships (not enough to cover all of my tuition, though). I went to college. I was told these things were the keys to financial success, to being able to provide for my loved ones. I really want to adopt kids, own a house and let go of the constant worry I feel currently. I don't think I will be able to live the type of life I want to live.

I don't have insurance because my partner and I are not legally married. Right now, when I get sick or injured, I pray. I am not even religious, but that is what I do. I pray that my simple home remedies and self-healing methods will be enough. I dread the day that they aren't.

I am just taking each day as it comes at this point, trying to be present and grateful for what I do have. I wish I had known that I didn't need to go to college. If I had not gone to college, we would be much better off financially, because we wouldn't have the expense of my student loans every month for the next ten years. I am angry that a choice I made when I was 17 can have such an impact on the rest of my life. I am angry that every adult in my life made me feel like I HAD to go to college, that I had no choice in the matter. I had no boundaries when I was 17, I didn't think for myself. I did what adults told me to. I was a "good" kid. I listened to my parents, I got perfect grades, I was told that for all of my being "good" there would be a reward at the end: I would get into a good college, so that I could get a good job, so I could be financially stable. I should have been a bad kid and not cared about my grades and just focused on having fun, because I am actually worse-off because of my conformity to "the rules".
I wish I had gone to a trade school. If I had learned to be a hair stylist, a nurse, a mechanic.... At least I would have a useful set of skills. I still might not be able to land a job or have a career but at least I could help my friends and family in a concrete way. Right now I am just a useless mooch.

Tragic comedy

I left my job back in February 2012 to administer an estate of a family member (my mother) who had died unexpectedly and left a collective mess. I wanted to do both, job and estate but the company I worked for suddenly demanded that I relocate across the country to their home office. Against my better judgement I decided to answer the wishes of my family and resigned my FTE position to fulfill the legal requirements of the estate.


I was highly sought after while I was employed with calls from recruiters coming almost daily. I have a double degree with twenty-plus years of experience working for healthcare manufacturers. When I resigned I thought I would finish my estate work and get back into the game. Not! I have hit wall after wall with one common reason for rejection, I am unemployed. As stupid as it sounds, I am now poison for any open FTE position. My enemy is the HR department who doesn't know what they need to fill the position so they make their decision based on my present employment status. I see less experienced people get hired at higher salaries for the positions I applied and there is no platform for rebuttal. The stories I can tell about the interviews I am granted could fill a book. Sadly, it would be a tragic comedy.

So in the real world today it is not what you know or who you know, it comes down to where you are in employment status that will land you your next job.

I don't fault them

I have been reading these all along, and finally have decided to share my story. It really begins in May of 2007 when my son was born. Shortly after that, I was promoted to a very good position at the finance company I worked for. I was pulling in a big salary, commissions, bonuses, car allowance, as far as the job goes, I was set.
My personal life was also set, married to the love of my life, a young son, we were living were we wanted to be, and more importantly, we were doing it all on our own and in our own way. We lived in South Carolina, a thousand miles from both of our respective families in the Northeast. When my son was born, my wife and I decided she should quit her job, and that way she could focus on our son, on our family, and our lives.
In July of 2007, the first wave of layoffs hit the company. I felt secure, there were only 4 people who did what I did plus my direct manager in the country, and the company at that time had more than 3,000 employees. Then September came, and the second round of layoffs. I was spared, but was the only one left. At that point, it seemed like a race, people liked me, and wanted me around, they really did just try to make me feel comfortable, wanted, and as a valuable employee.
Then came January 2008. I can't say I was blindsided, a good executive at the company gave me a good heads up at a Christmas party. The company had two phone calls set up, one for the safe people, the other for those who were to be let go. I was at a basketball game of my alma-mater the night before the call, and I just remember emails and text messages as everyone tried to figure out who was on what call and what it all meant. My wife was visiting family in MA, and I was all alone. The next morning, I called in, and right away, the executive at the other end thanked us for our service, and informed us of their tough decision.
I don't fault them for that.
I put the phone on mute, called my wife, turned off my computer and waited for the phone calls to come in. I was lucky, I got to keep some of the stock options I was offered, was offered a very generous severance package, and was free to do what I wanted with the rest of my life.
After two months, I realized that wasn't going to be as easy as it sounds. My wife was able to get some work at her old job, but only part time. We survived through the summer, and at that point, we realized we may need to expand our searches. We had been left a house from a deceased family member in Western Massachusetts. We looked for jobs first in South Carolina, and second there. I came to realize that I was classified as either a person who would be bored with the job I was applying for because it wasn't demanding enough, or someone who lacked the specific experience employers could afford to hold out and wait for.
I don't fault them for that.
My wife ended up getting a job in Massachusetts, and we moved. I didn't work from January 2008 until October 2009. However, I didn't just sit around and sulk. I applied for every job under the sun, even had some promising interviews, only to watch another wave of financial uncertainty ruin any chance of expansion or risk at the banks I applied to.
That time will always be the favorite time in my life. Generally speaking, fathers don't get a chance to know their children as well as I know my son. We spent every day together, every hour during that time. It just came to a point that I needed to work, we were finally beginning to run out of money.
I took a job with my father-in-law, as a carpenter. I wasn't great at it, but I didn't hurt myself, anyone else, and the buildings got built, and as of now, they are still standing. Thankfully, his clientele of wealthy New Yorkers looking for summer homes in the Berkshires never dwindled. In April of 2010, I started to think about my future. The company would be mine if I wanted when he retired. I could deal with that. But I wasn't sure that's what I wanted.
I had always been a part of the literary festival at the university I attended. I was allowed to pick an author every year. So I picked a current author I had enjoyed, and got to be the peon who drove him around, and showed him the sights of rural South Carolina. We spoke a lot on that visit. About our lives, about what we wanted and who we were. He told me about going back to school to get his undergrad degree in his 40s, the previous spring he had finished his MFA. I spoke with a professor friend of mine about this, he talked about getting his MFA in his early 30s, married, with a young son, just like me.
Driving back to Massachusetts after that trip I thought about who I was and what I wanted. I had always had an interest in law school, and I probably would have done that if I was not offered that first job in the financial sector after undergrad. I bought a book on studying for the LSAT.
I just finished my third semester of law school. I absolutely love what I am doing right now. I spend the week at school and go home to be with my wife and son on the weekend. It's really not much more travel that I had during my job before he was born. I won't lie, that part sucks.
I would not have this opportunity if it wasn't for the love and understanding of my wife. I would not have this opportunity if it wasn't for the strength and inspiration I get from my son. I never would have taken this risk if I hadn't spoken honestly to the author, and to my friend. I wouldn't be here if I was not laid off in January 2008.

Sic of it

10 years ago [I] knew the economy was gonna tank when i graduated with a 3.6 g.p.a. in media art and couldn't find a job to save my life (when the economy takes a down turn advertising is the first thing a business cuts, hence no work for noobs). A year later i ended up working at a coldstone creamery owned by a pair of people bad at running a business (the place was between a bus stop and a train station and we BARELY made money in the summer). I was for all intents and purposes the Manager, except i couldn't hire and fire or nor did i have the official training to be the manager.

6 years ago I moved to another state with my parents because i couldn't afford to live on what i was making and the job i thought was waiting for me wasn't there (hiring freeze). I now live in a state with one of the higest rates for unemployment. I haven't worked for pay since, though i've been doing a lot of volunteer work to fill the hours because i honestly stopped looking. I go to the interview in a suit with a professional resume and they look at this HUGE gap on my resume and toss my name in the trash meanwhile a guy who walks in in ripped jeans tons of piercings and a ratty t shirt and gets a job because he's already working somewhere else (that actually happened by the way).

I can't find work because i no one will hire me, no one will hire me because I CAN'T GET WORK

and i'm effing sic of it

Previously

The full archive of our "Unemployment Stories" series can be found here.

[Thanks to everyone who wrote in. You can send your own unemployment stories to: Hamilton@Gawker.com.]


Are You a Journalist? Ask the Treasury Department and Israel

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The Newseum, a gargantuan space in Washington, DC, dedicated to educating the public about the workings of journalism, unveiled a new exhibit today: a cutting-edge interactive demonstration of how pressure groups control what gets published.

As of Friday, the Huffington Post's Michael Calderone reports, the museum was planning to add 84 new names to its memorial wall for journalists killed on the job. This morning, at the official presentation, there were 82 names.

The two missing names were those of Hussam Salama and Mahmoud al-Kumi, who were doing camera work for Al-Aqsa TV when they were killed by an Israeli airstrike in Gaza. Al-Aqsa is run by Hamas, and so by the transitive property is officially listed by the United States Treasury Department as a terrorist organization. Nevertheless, as Calderone wrote:

[T]he Committee to Project Journalists, Reporters Without Borders and The World Association of Newspapers and News Publishers “all consider these men journalists killed in the line of duty.”

Human Rights Watch has also said that the two Al-Aqsa cameramen were journalists and therefore should not have been targeted.

“Just because Israel says a journalist was a fighter or a TV station was a command center does not make it so,” Sarah Lee Whitson, the group's Middle East director, said in a December statement. “Journalists who praise Hamas and TV stations that applaud attacks on Israel may be propagandists, but that does not make them legitimate targets under the laws of war.”

The Newseum itself supplied those citations, on Friday, explaining why it was including the camera crew on the list. Today? The CPJ et al. haven't changed their positions. But the Newseum has, aligning itself with the Weekly Standard, the Anti-Defamation League, the Simon Wiesenthal Center, and the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies—officers of which, BuzzFeed reported, had let the Newseum know they would "consider pulling their annual policy summit from the venue."

Philadelphia Abortion Doctor Found Guilty of Ghastly Murders

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Kermit Gosnell, the Philadelphia abortion doctor accused of murdering one patient and numerous babies in a filthy clinic later described as a "baby charnel house," was just found guilty on three out of four counts of first-degree murder in the deaths of four babies.

Witnesses testified that Gosnell would routinely deliver live babies in his clinic before killing them by severing their brain stems. The doctor was also found guilty of involuntary manslaughter in the overdose death of a former patient. He will now face the death penalty in his upcoming sentencing hearing.

In recent days, the Gosnell case has been a flashpoint for media arguments, with conservative outlets claiming their leftist counterparts refused to give due coverage to Gosnell in an effort to protect abortion from critics.

[Image via AP]

"While the college is not commenting on why Ferguson was dismissed, he said it was 'absolutely' rela

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"While the college is not commenting on why Ferguson was dismissed, he said it was 'absolutely' related to the student's unorthodox use of a chicken in art."

IRS Didn't Just Hunt the Tea Party: Liberal Churches Also Targets

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Republicans are still furious over IRS scrutiny of non-profit groups with "Tea Party" and "patriots" in their names, but the life of the scandal depends entirely upon the political affiliation of the hundreds of other groups investigated by tax officials.

Only 25% of the 300 scrutinized groups seeking non-profit status were reportedly affiliated with right-wing causes. Whether the rest aligned with left-leaning causes like abortion and climate change will not be known until the entire list is released. The IRS told Gawker today that the full list has yet to be made public.

President Obama said he only learned of the Cincinnati office's tactics on Friday but "will not tolerate it." Republicans in Congress are calling for investigations.

IRS examinations of politically vocal non-profits is not new—the most recent outrage to make the national news was in 2006, when tax officials threatened and persecuted liberal churches during the presidency of George W. Bush.

But as the harassment of both liberal and conservative churches in 2004 and 2006 shows, it is sometimes difficult to create a partisan scandal out of some bureaucrats interpreting the ridiculously vague tax code prohibitions on non-profits engaging in political campaigns.

In today's White House briefing, Obama spokesman Jay Carney did at least remind the press that a Bush appointee was in charge of the IRS during the 2012 campaign season. That's when about 300 new 501(c) applicants were reviewed by compliance officers at the Cincinnati IRS office overseeing the thousands of new self-declared non-political non-profits.

But with new evidence from internal IRS watchdogs that non-profit groups with conservative, anti-government and anti-tax names had been scrutinized since 2010, the Tea Party is back in the news for the first time since it was blamed for the Republicans' dismal showing in November 2012.

The IRS has yet to reveal the non-Tea Party non-profits investigated in 2012, but at least one other politically motivated wave of harassment was revealed in 2006, when tax officials went after a liberal church in Pasadena.

All Saints Episcopal Church was threatened with the loss of the church's tax-exempt status because the congregation allegedly heard political speech from the pulpit. The church's then-rector, the Reverend George F. Regas was accused of being anti-war in his sermons.

These sermons took place during the 2004 presidential campaign between George W. Bush and John Kerry. During the Bush Administration and many presidencies before it, actively agitating against one of Washington's wars will get the IRS sniffing into your business—even when your stated business is not for profit.

The witch hunt of liberal churches happened under the leadership of IRS commissioner Mark Whitty Everson, a Republican appointed by George W. Bush in 2003. Another Bush appointee, Douglas Schulman, headed the IRS during the scrutiny of Tea Party groups seeking non-profit status in 2012. Schulman's term ended on November 11, after the 2012 election.

At the same time IRS compliance agents were demanding all papers and email related to sermonizing in the liberal Pasadena church, right-leaning churches across the country aggressively registered voters and brought Republican candidates to Sunday services to give campaign speeches. One such non-political campaign speech was given by Pastor Mac Hammond of the Living Word Christian Center in Minnesota, while introducing fringe right-wing Congresswoman Michele Bachmann:

"Many of you know Michele, know of her pursuit of the United States Congressional seat," Pastor Hammond said from the pulpit just two weeks before the 2006 midterm elections. "But you know we can’t publicly endorse as a church and would not for any candidate, but I can tell you personally that I’m going to vote for Michele Bachmann, because I’ve come to know her, what she stands for, and I want her to share her testimony with you tonight."

That kind of "we can't but I'm doing it anyway" winking political work is common to the world of American 501(c) organizations. In 2008, the IRS reported that 75% of the non-profits prohibited from political campaigning were campaigning for political parties, candidates and measures. Since the Moral Majority days when lower-middle-class suburban and Southern whites gave Ronald Reagan two terms, the Republican party has openly embraced white churches as election partners.

And in cities where the fables of religion hold less sway, the wealthier and better-educated residents have shown little interest in going to church unless it's wrapped up in the feel-good social justice of community gardens, gay clergy and environmentalism.

"Unfortunately, § 501(c)(3) does not explicitly define 'political activity,'" the Houston Business and Tax Journal wrote in a 2008 report. "Nor is it defined in other sections of the Code that discuss political organizations. The resulting ambiguity has made it difficult for tax-exempt organizations to confidently advocate for their causes and for the I.R.S. to investigate and review an organization’s taxexempt status."

That the IRS under a Republican administration deliberately targeted liberal California churches has been forgotten in the manufactured outrage of the Republican Party's Tea Party-IRS scandal. That the IRS was still under the control of a Bush appointee during the 2012 scrutiny of new non-profits that self-identified with the Republican Party's Tea Party movement is also little mentioned, because the president is a popular Democrat.

During the 2006 scrutiny of liberal churches, it was a Democrat congressman who demanded investigations into the IRS practice of targeting non-profits with Democratic leanings:

Rep. Adam B. Schiff (D-Burbank), who unsuccessfully tried to launch a Government Accountability Office investigation into the IRS' probes of churches nationwide last year, called the summons "a very disturbing escalation" of the agency's scrutiny of All Saints.

"I don't want religious organizations to become arms of campaigns," he said. "But they should be able to talk about issues of war and peace without fear of losing tax-exempt status. If they can't, they'll have little to say from the pulpit."

The Internal Revenue Service press office told Gawker on Monday that a full list of scrutinized groups and political terms would be sent by email, if it's ever released at all.

[Photo via Getty Images.]

The Barbershop Closet

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I was at the barbershop around the corner from my apartment a few Fridays ago, getting my weekly skin fade. When my barber cuts my hair, he generally turns my chair away from the mirror, which is frustrating for someone like me who likes to check the progress of the person who is altering my appearance (I have a feeling that thwarting feedback as he works is precisely why he does this). The shop is a narrow room with four stations arranged in an L; my chair was the short arm of the L.

I was facing a station about 10 feet away, where a statue of a man was standing up and eating. I think it was French fries. His back looked like armor even through his T-shirt. He had handfuls of bubble ass, like something devised by a queer R. Crumb. He was black. He stared in the mirror as he ate, oblivious to my fixation.



A few minutes later, he made his way to the empty chair closest to mine. The shop would be a cramped coffee shop, an anemic boutique. If you’re sitting in one chair, you can reach the one across from you with your leg without even trying, as I learned when my barber swung me about 90 degrees and my foot hit statue man’s in the process. He apologized. I looked at his open face, a youthful and beautiful answer to the question, “What if Djimon Hounsou and Dawn Robinson from En Vogue had a baby?” He looked back at mine.



“Hey, you look like that wrestler,” he told me.



Please be referring to John Cena, please be referring to John Cena, whom I find so fucking hot that he hurts to think about, I didn’t say.



“Which one?” I asked.



“You know that guy...he’ll be on TV rapping?” he said. He waved his palm in front of his face and popped his neck in rhythm. I’m not familiar with John Cena’s music or his dancing, just his deliciousness. 



“Hmmm, I don’t know...”



“Who’s that guy?” he said to what I’m assuming was his friend who was standing next to us.



“John Cena.”



“John Cena, that’s right!”



I was flattered by this guy’s attention even though its “no homo” caveat went without saying. I had to restrain myself from thanking him and telling him to get inside of me. I didn't mention that the last time I heard this was a few months ago on a weekday afternoon and via the beer goggles of a drunk woman hitting on me in the independent drug store by the Graham L stop.

“Oh yeah,” I told him. “I’ve heard that before.”

Meanwhile, my barber gently rubbed shaving gel onto the lower part of my scalp before delicately holding my skin taut against a straight razor. Kelly Rowland's "Kisses Down Low" blared too loudly for me to hear his breath in my ear.

I’ve been going to my current barber since around Christmas. I like him a lot. I just text him from hime when I want to get one of his $15 cuts, and he’ll let me know when his chair is empty: “Come through.” The shop caters to a mostly black and Latino clientele—the first time my barber cut me, he tried to shape up my hairline with a straight razor and I stopped him, explaining, "I'm white. I can't do that." He laughed. The overall effect on my head isn't radically different from what happens when I buzz my head myself the same length all around: in my barber's hands, it goes from very short (No. 2 buzz) on top to nonexistent. It's just detailing, really.

My current barber and I have intermittent conversations but they are never forced and he never pries. One time I asked him if he considers his job his art. He does. Sometimes he talks vaguely about the change he's seen in this part of Williamsburg, just a few blocks from the Lorimer L. He grew up here and never left. The city came to him.

Mostly, we listen to the radio, and I value that time to catch up Hot 97’s playlist as I am rarely in a car these days. Sometimes I just listen to his interactions with whomever else is in the shop, these contorted conversations straining over the blaring treble of the broadcast. Sometimes his son calls and he'll stop the music to chat on speakerphone. Recently, his son called asking about The Honeymooners, which he saw referenced on The Family Guy. "What does 'Pow, right in the kisser' mean?" a prepubescent voice squeaked. "It means he wants to hit her," said my barber, turning grave. "But he doesn't actually hit her."



I think about being gay in the barbershop all of the time, but I never talk about it. I haven't lied nor would I. It just hasn't come up. My barber is the only person that I see on a regular basis, exchange more than a dozen words with (unlike, say, the baristas at the coffee shop at the end of my block), but am not out to. I am not intimidated by him—though he can be gruff and is often loud, his manner is typically as gentle as his hand.

The guys who populate his shop tend to be more respectful than most I’ve encountered in similar environments. Before I had my barber’s number, there would be times that I needed a cut when he just wasn’t around so I’d go to the shop a few doors down, which was newer, yet somehow more rundown. I never heard anyone say anything homophobic in there, but the sexism was unbearable. One day a woman in tight jeans and an ample ass walked by and shut down the place. It was as if these guys hadn’t seen a female in years, and it's not like she was done up or a circular model or anything. One guy left the shop to follow her. The ensuing discussion on bitches was punctuated by the guy cutting my hair proclaiming, “I pray to God that when my daughter grows up, she won’t have an ass.” But if she does, then what?

 I didn't ask.

The guys in the shop I go to now talk about women, of course. I assume they say things that they wouldn’t if said women were in their company, but there is something lighter and more amused in the collective tenor. My barber told me about attending March’s Freestyle & Old School Extravaganza at Radio City Music Hall. He is Puerto Rican, I am not, but I grew up in South Jersey, so Latin freestyle was a big part of my childhood. “Stevie B is one of my favorite artists of all time, period,” I told him. "Oh, he was there," he said, hurrying past the music to focus on the social scene. He told me about meeting a woman who was pressuring him to make out in the balcony.

“I'm not trying to do that," he said. "I hate kissing in public, I’m not even like that,” he said.



“Oh, I am!” I could have responded. “I am always making out with guys in clubs. I am always that guy.” (It’s not something I’m particularly proud of but four out of five times, I’m that guy.) Declaring my gayness could have contributed to the conversation. But it wasn't exactly necessary, and I didn't do it.

I would never lie about being gay unless I found myself interrogated in Uganda. I like to think that I’d combat hatred wherever and whenever I’m faced with it, but situations are harder to sit through than ideals are to conceive. If someone said something about faggots, I’d have to say something back, but I’d fucking hate the awkwardness that would follow while the rest of my hair was cut, or the awkwardness of my half-cut, kicked-out head. I'd hate to find out that my barber is a bigot who doesn't deserve my gay money. I'd hate to have to cut off this good thing we have going. I hope we never have to discuss Mister Cee.

For all I know, though, my barber is already aware that I’m gay. Strangers are sometimes confused about my sexuality, probably owing to my size and the way I dress, but I believe that any ambiguity is generally quashed by the time I am done speaking an entire paragraph. At the barbershop, though, I am uncharacteristically terse.

And so I was when the statue attempted to engage me further. I had an excuse this time, though: I was high on his unwitting flattery. I dropped 16 years and started high-fiving myself and arguing with myself about how to sustain the conversation and if it could possibly even go in a direction that would satisfy me in the end.

In contrast to strife-ridden me, he was affable and seemed content, like someone who was just growing out of a high schooler’s enthusiasm for everything. He sprawled as much as a person could on a barber's chair, thoughtlessly comfortable. There was an openness to him that, in a different context, I would explore the fuck out of. He couldn’t have been over 25.

He talked and I bent over in my head. My external response to him consisted of a Morse code of nods and smiles, which probably looked pretty gay, actually. He talked about how big John Cena was, and I was like, “Drool, I knowwwwwww,” internally. This guy had an enviable frame himself, which he acknowledged when he told me about his fitness regimen and accompanying diet.



“I only eat four things,” he started. “Pussy..."


And then, I didn’t hear the other three things because, “Pussy,” just kept looping in my head as I rolled around the floor of my skull laughing. Maybe I saw his lips say "chicken breast" as one of the other three things, but who knows. I was distracted by pussy. Pussy. Pussy. Pussyyyyy. Pussy. Puss puss pussyyyyy. Like Grace Jones in Boomerang.



“Yo, this fat chick tried to give me her number last night,” said this flawless being who was sculpted by several gods in a collaborative effort. He was addressing my barber now. He had moved on. “I didn’t take it, though, and now I’m kicking myself.”



“I got one of those, too,” my barber said.

"Oh my god, I just fucked a cub before coming here,” I could have said. “He was probably 5'8", 210 lbs., and hairy as fuck. Thick. Juicy. You can smell him on me. Literally, if you want.” But they wouldn’t have wanted and I’m not sure if my contribution would have enriched that conversation anyway.

[Image by Jim Cooke, photo via Shutterstock]

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