Cmc Quotes

[at CMC West Coast 2011, on 1 Samuel 14] If just a few of you would step up and be like Jonathan ... as you step out in faith, you know what's going to happen? There'll be people like Saul who'll say, "God's doing something through that guy, God's doing something through that girl. I want to be a part of that.

There is a big difference between the circulation of money as a mediator of commodity exchange and money used as capital. Not all money is capital. A monetized society is not necessarily a capitalist society. If everything revolved around the C-M-C circulation process, then money would be merely a mediator, nothing more. Capital emerges when money is put into circulation in order to get more money.

Marx defines the commodity form of circulation (commodity—money —commodity, or C—M—C, for short) as an exchange of use values (the use of shoes against bread, for example) which depends essentially upon the qualities of the goods being exchanged. Money functions here as a convenient intermediary. We now encounter a form of circulation, M—C—M, which begins and ends with exactly the same commodity. The only possible motivation for putting money into circulation on a repeated basis is to obtain more of it at the end than was possessed at the beginning. A quantitative relation replaces the exchange of qualities. Money is thrown into circulation to make more money — a profit. And money that circulates in this way is called capital.

I stood before the group. “Whose fault was this?” I asked to the roomful of teammates. After a few moments of silence, the SEAL who had mistakenly engaged the Iraqi solider spoke up: “It was my fault. I should have positively identified my target.” “No,” I responded, “It wasn’t your fault. Whose fault was it?” I asked the group again. “It was my fault,” said the radioman from the sniper element. “I should have passed our position sooner.” “Wrong,” I responded. “It wasn’t your fault. Whose fault was it?” I asked again. “It was my fault,” said another SEAL, who was a combat advisor with the Iraqi Army clearance team. “I should have controlled the Iraqis and made sure they stayed in their sector.” “Negative,” I said. “You are not to blame.” More of my SEALs were ready to explain what they had done wrong and how it had contributed to the failure. But I had heard enough. “You know whose fault this is? You know who gets all the blame for this?” The entire group sat there in silence, including the CO, the CMC, and the investigating officer. No doubt they were wondering whom I would hold responsible. Finally, I took a deep breath and said, “There is only one person to blame for this: me. I am the commander. I am responsible for the entire operation. As the senior man, I am responsible for every action that takes place on the battlefield. There is no one to blame but me. And I will tell you this right now: I will make sure that nothing like this ever happens to us again.” It was a heavy burden to bear. But it was absolutely true. I was the leader. I was in charge and I was responsible. Thus, I had to take ownership of everything that went wrong. Despite the tremendous blow to my reputation and to my ego, it was the right thing to do—the only thing to do. I apologized to the wounded SEAL, explaining that it was my fault he was wounded and that we were all lucky he wasn’t dead. We then proceeded to go through the entire operation, piece by piece, identifying everything that happened and what we could do going forward to prevent it from happening again.

Girls at Shoreline said Rich looked like L.L. Cool J. They called him Richie D., and around that time, Warren began to call himself Warren G. Erik wore his baseball cap just tilted perfectly to the side and also knew every song by Too $hort and was impressed that Warren knew the lyrics so well. Rich and Erik and D’Arcy beat him into the Crips and, after this initiation by pummeling, they said, “You’re part of the family now.” Though older boys in View Royal may have scoffed at Warren G. and “his whole gangster act,” older boys were unaware of the care and attention he brought to his outfits, which were, perhaps, both costume and disguise. He favored white. The color was distinctly his own, and it set him apart from his fellow gangsters, the members of the CMC (Crip Mafia Cartel). For the members of the CMC, blue was mandatory, red forbidden. White was Warren’s personal choice, and an unlikely one, for black may have better created the look of a badass he aspired to. At 5’4 and 115 pounds, Warren was far from a thug, and in fact could not have been cuter and, despite his knowledge of lewd song lyrics and his tempestuous domestic situation, innocent. Never has a boy looked more as if he wandered out of a fairy tale. His eyes were immense, and his eyelashes were long, and his expression was earnest and longing and always, always hopeful. He was possessed of the certain androgynous beauty that appeals so strongly to girls who have not yet turned sixteen. Like heartthrobs of past and present (that year it was Leonardo DiCaprio), Warren G. appeared neither manly nor mean, and in fact, his soft beauty suggested he might really need to be saved.

The primary sources used in this book also include selected and reprinted party documents of the Central Committee, CMC, and CCP regional bureaus.48 Some PRC governmental documents also have been released in recent years.49 The second group of sources consists of the writings, papers, memoirs, and interviews of Chinese Communist leaders.

to chamfer = to cut at a right angled edge or corner to make a symmetrical edge

Word of the day: mansuete = tame

priapic = relating to male sexuality and sexual activity.

The guards at the CMC were predominantly white and they reveled in using race to pit the prisoners against each other. The way Michael saw it, the enemy wasn’t black or white. The enemy was the state.

Manciple = person in charge of buying provisions for a college, an Inn of Court, or a monastery.

Unentailed property not restricted as to course of descent upon the owner's death

Canted, penche ou parler avec hypocrisie

Sie müssen schlafen aber Ich muss tanzen. BM

A comber , a long curling sea wave or a person or machine that prepares cotton or wool for manufacture by separating and straightening the fibres.

Sere, shrivelled