In the past ten years, the sexual slave trade has been picking up dramatically in popularity. “Importing” women and children from other countries for the purpose of sex has grown to become the third largest money-maker for organized crime, with an estimated 14,500-17,500 slaves being shipped into the United States each year (Hodge, 2008).
As an educator I notice today's children have very little imagination and do not know how to play. All of this started around the invention of video games. I don't remember when it came out but I remember the old Atari 64 game system. We used to have it but of course that's gone along with the old Beta Machines for video cassettes. LOL.
Banned Book Reviews #2
Written by jesus_zealot (who is no longer with us)
When I was little, my grandmother would read me Little Black Sambo, by Hellen Bannerman, though one thing eluded my understanding: how do tigers turn into butter? I could never quite wrap my mind around that, but I simply accepted it as fact.
I just read an awesome blog by someone... *thank you* whom touched on a great point about this.
My neighbor always says, “If you don’t know Spanish already, you’d better learn it, because the Latinos saved Phillips; we owe them that much.” In the 1990’s, a wave of immigration increased the Hispanic population of the Phillip’s neighborhood by over 500% (U.S. Census Bureau, 2000). Today, once vacant Lake Street retail space is occupied by Latino-owned businesses.
Here are some of my thoughts as I continue to live my life.
I was going to write a blog about too much government but I decided to scrap that
I have come to notice some things about humanity in general. Let me know if you think something different.
The children of today and I am speaking of those who are born in the 21century are different.
Just found out I'm not eligible for the current scholarship since I didn't register in April. Oh, well. Wish Fast Web had said that, but I love writing anyway. And there's always later, right? Hope you are enjoying my ramblings. I've been reading EdibleWoman's blog, which is fabulous, for those of you who haven't read it. Do so!
Now. Many of you have, I'm sure, but it bears repeating.
My father was never in the picture as far as raising me. He was a check and a frozen image in a picture that my mother showed me occasionally. He wasn't a drunk or abusive, he was just a broken, sad man afraid to take a chance when my mother got pregnant unexpectedly.
