2010 Florida Governor Race Election R...

2010 Florida Governor Race Election Results a " Rick Scott Wins | The News of Today

There are 3120 comments on the thenewsoftoday.com story from Nov 3, 2010, titled 2010 Florida Governor Race Election Results a " Rick Scott Wins | The News of Today. In it, thenewsoftoday.com reports that:

Posted by Jason Moore on Nov 3rd, 2010 and filed under Featured News . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 . You can leave a response or trackback to this entry Florida Governor The 2010 Florida Governor Race has been a close one ever since the primaries ended.

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Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3417 May 2, 2014
When I said good-night to her to-day she seemed suddenly unaccountably distracted and moody. What was occupying her?

"I am sorry you are going," she said when I was already standing on the threshold.

"It is entirely in your hands to shorten the hard period of my trial, to cease tormenting me—" I pleaded.

"Do you imagine that this compulsion isn't a torment for me, too," Kate interjected.

"Then end it," I exclaimed, embracing her, "be my wife."

"Never, Severin," she said gently, but with great firmness.

"What do you mean?"

I was frightened in my innermost soul.

"You are not the man for me."

I looked at her, and slowly withdrew my arm which was still about her waist; then I left the room, and she—she did not call me back.
Karley Sciortino

New York, NY

#3418 May 2, 2014
Last night, over dinner, I was caught off guard when a female friend of mine—a bookish writer who’s rarely the type to talk explicitly about sex—said to me,“I think guys with really tiny penises should be made to wear a warning.” She continued sternly,“It’s the worst when you meet a guy you’re really into, the chemistry and flirtation are wonderful, and then you find out he has a small dick. I just think, for god’s sake, I wish I would have known, so I could have avoided investing all that time and energy.”

I have to say, it felt like I was living inside an episode of Sex and the City. Specifically the final episode of the first season, when Samantha starts dating a lawyer named James, only to find that his penis is so tiny that she can’t even tell when it’s inside her. As she sobs at this revelation in a bathroom stall, Charlotte tries to remain optimistic by asking,“Is he a good kisser?” To which Samantha responds:“Who ... cares! His dick is like a gherkin!”

Like most women, I carry around my own small-penis story, to be shared at moments precisely like this. It was a few years ago (I've changed a few small details to protect his identity), and I had a crush on a 28-year-old filmmaker who frequented the bar I worked in. After months of flirtation, he finally invited me to the screening of a short film that he’d written, directed, and starred in. I went, and actually got butterflies in my stomach while watching him on the big screen. Look how cute he looks, moving around, and saying things like that!, I thought to myself while trying to imagine him naked. But then came the scene where his character made a joke about having a small dick. I might have let the joke slip by unanalyzed if it weren’t for how he went into lengthy detail about the years of insecurity he’d suffered because of his tiny penis, confessing that he special-orders tiny condoms online, because even the smallest condoms available in stores are too baggy and just slip off. All of this was in the name of comedy, of course, but as everyone in the theater around me roared with laughter, I found myself thinking: Only a man who actually has a microscopic dick would ever write a joke like that.

We all know that humor is a coping mechanism. And maybe I had enough of a warning sign. But despite this, I agreed to go on a dinner date with the filmmaker the following week, because, well, I really liked him.

Before I finish my story, I should probably mention that I don’t really mind small dicks. Don’t get me wrong, there’s something very beautiful and majestic and virile about the sight of a large, erect penis. But aesthetics aside, once the sex is underway, it doesn’t necessarily make that much of a difference. Anyone who’s seen Blue Is the Warmest Color knows that sex can be transcendentally hot and orgasmic with no penises involved at all. Clearly, it’s chemistry, passion, and technique that matter most. Thus, my problem with small dicks isn’t that they result in a lack of pleasure, but rather that they can be kind of, well ... awkward.
Karley Sciortino

New York, NY

#3419 May 2, 2014
In the past, whenever I’ve gone to bed with a guy and realized he had a small penis, I immediately became worried that he was embarrassed or uncomfortable, which, of course, made me feel uncomfortable for him, which then made the whole situation uneasy. I also always become hyperaware that if I sleep with a guy with a small penis only once, it’s going to appear as if I didn’t want to see him again because of his size. Maybe the reason I worry about these things is because women have a nurturing instinct—we naturally want to care for and encourage—or maybe I’m just a very anxious person. Either way, I totally empathize with the insecurities of less-endowed men, because there’s just nothing they can do about it. For everything else, we have plastic surgery—girls (and guys) can suck stuff out and stick stuff in and so much more if we get really desperate or insecure about a body part. But a man with a small penis? You have to play the hand you're dealt.

But back to the filmmaker. Our date turned out wonderful—he was funny, successful, hot, blah blah blah—the perfect guy. So we get into bed, and I move my hand down, and there it was—a baby carrot inside his tighty-whities. It was probably the smallest I’d ever touched, with the unfortunate luck of being both short and slim. I sort of expected him to acknowledge it—especially given his film’s epic tiny peen monologue—but instead he just flipped me over and spanked me. He was really dominant in bed, which totally turned me on, and his confidence prevented me from having to feel any vicarious sexual anxieties, as I had with most of the small-dicked men of my past. At one point he even told me to “choke on it.” In my head I was like,“I could probably fit five of these in my mouth without triggering my gag reflex,” but I just went along with it and made fake choking sounds, because why not? It was hot, and fun, and sex is theater most of the time anyway. And when I recounted our sex to my friends, it was always something like,“I slept with this guy, it was awesome. Oh, and he had a really small dick ... but it wasn’t an issue.”

He and I went on to sleep together for a few months. At the time, neither of us were looking to get into a committed relationship, which allowed for us to have one of those pressure-free, fun flings that are often the most uninhibited and hedonistic of romances. We even had a threesome once, with another girl he was seeing at the time, and at the end of the night, when she and I were both lying on our backs in post-orgasmic bliss, he smiled down at us and said casually,“The little dick that could ... am I right?!”

I don’t want to sugarcoat it: I know that for some girls, including my bookish writer friend, small dicks are a dealbreaker. And that’s fine, because we all have our own personal preferences. I won’t deny that I’ve been in situations in the past where a guy’s lack of size certainly didn’t help matters. However, I can sooner imagine myself seriously dating a guy with a small dick than I can a guy who’s shorter than I am—that’s just me.

In the case of the filmmaker, he made up for his size in other ways, by being attentive, skilled at talking dirty, and gifted with his hands and mouth. And yeah, when it was inside, it kind of felt like nothing, but honestly a lot of dicks feel like nothing to me, unless they’re really big, at which point they often just become painful. Penises—they’re all or nothing! Also, I tend to be wary of very well-endowed men—those guys who since high school have been hearing girls shriek “Oh my god, it's so big!”—and as a result, think all they have to do is show up, whereas smaller and normal-size guys tend to be less lazy. But that’s for another column.
short fat juicy

Spring Hill, FL

#3420 May 2, 2014
thank you Kate

your stuff is better than most but will take as top garbage since Shill id dead

again thank you Kate



United States

#3421 May 2, 2014
Ya'll need to get a room....as padded one....
bring em on

United States

#3422 May 2, 2014
Funny how the Mob brings out their elite bull shceters to try to disrupt the flow of the truth on these bogs.

Funny how the Fox News channel had their main former war mongler on last night telling his brother Jeb to Run Jeb run!

And then when AXED if he'd talked to brother Jeb about his running for president "dubya" said not he hadn't.

Can "youse" with brains say "bull shcet?"

These war mongering bass poopers don't break wind without comparing the velocity of the spheres of expulsion!

Kate Carraway and Karley Sciortino you pieces of excrement just keep right on pumping your feces - after all you have got to do something or you will be like that famous loosing race horse.

the one who started, farted, fumbled and fell..........

The only people you can fool is the fools and they are already in your camp.

Remember it was your Saudi Prince kissing idol Dubya who said "you can fool some of the people all of the time and those are the ones we want to concentrate on." He was obviously talking about your sorry wreck tum!

Mayb e next week we'll have the communist columnist Leslie Marshal blogging her bull schet on here who knows!

United States

#3423 May 2, 2014
Mention James Casey and POW.....OUT COMES CRAZY....

Spring Hill, FL

#3424 May 2, 2014

away by the greats

United States

#3425 May 3, 2014
I got this on Panama City News Topix:

over8years wrote:
Panamaed, I too have had the misfortune of dealing with being "Panamaed" as you describe it. The past 8 years have been truly eye opening with regard to the extent of corruption and extra-judicial "punishment" that can be doled out by those with the power around here.
I have spent the last eight years combating every kind of entrapment attempt imaginable. I even had an ex-special forces dude get a job with me and within the first week he was trying to get me to come to his house so he could show me how to make homemade IEDs and chloroform grenades. I did notify homeland security on that one just in case it wasn't a sting operation.
Now there is non-stop coercion to try to force me into one specific local church that I will not name now. Not to get me to go to church. The goal is to get me to go to one specific church. One of my family members has become involved in this church and their attitude and behavior has changed greatly since. They are sober now which is a good thing. Everything else about their behavior change has been negative. They have black and white thinking now, us against them. They are literally working themselves to death and refuse to relax because "ain't nobody got time for that!". They constantly judge everyone. Are miserable 99% of the time. Lie constantly and about everything. They even changed the way they dress.
Upon witnessing my loved one's change in behavior I began researching cults. Every single criteria for a destructive cult is met with this "church". I attempted to write reviews about the church to warn others before they tried the church and my reviews got erased. Obviously the church has connections in high places.
To those reading this please do not think I am against churches or religion. Religion is very important to me. There are, however, distinct differences in normal religious churches and cults. Cults attempt to control every single aspect of your life. That is what is happening to my loved one. This is destructive and corrupt to the core.
Anyway..........Panamaed, you are not alone in this fight. I am with you unfortunately. I am sure there are others as well.
Peace to all

Well......a few years ago my uncle who has Top Secret Clearance called me an insurgent. I didn't really think anything of it until much later and I started doing research online and it seems to me what is happening in my case is Counterinsurgency policing. C3 policing like they are using up in Springfield Massachusetts.

Cointelpro x's 10!! Some of what is going on really cannot be legal. I am not going to get into that here though.

Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3426 May 3, 2014
It’s the space between things that’s truly important. That’s what committed self-actualizers will tell you; so will graphic designers insisting on negative space, and stylists who are all like,“Less, less, less, less…” pulling off bracelets and pants. It’s never the thing itself, but the stuff—the lack of stuff—around the thing. Falling asleep, I often find a convincing, semiconscious simulacrum of cozy peace by imagining a nonscientific, crayon-drawn version of a light field, and then focusing tighter and tighter on the black empty places in between the things. That is what’s important, right there.

By now, as mid- or late winter or whatever it is approaches, still months until fireworks holidays, and until some liquid-jasmine physical atmosphere makes us more able to be with our bodies, and with each other (hugs through piles of down aren’t the same), the allotment of collective ritual opportunity has mostly been spent. Ritual is always limited for us, a casualty of everything else that happened, for the young and secular and very much online who occupy so much of our time creating new versions of good and fulfilling lives. Ritual, like real, physical, people-and-concrete communities, can’t be counted among the experiential, cultural things that have been (equitably or not) replaced by some aspect of technology. A human need that is, I think, as in us as it ever was, the practice of welcoming, organizing, confirming ritual has been forced to wait it out under a ten-foot wave until we decide how far we can (or, will) go with our inboxes and social-media posts as extensions and expressions of not just ourselves, but also the solemn end—the waaay end of our feelings. That undefined space around and between the “things” is more important, yeah, but those things, the markers and parameters that define both types of spaces, are there for a reason.

Yesterday I sat in front of my laptop, my body a tense C-curve and my paper cup of coffee a Starbucks serif, clicking through a photo gallery of this church I thought I might go to on Sunday. It’s the same denomination that I was raised in, and what I wanted from it is basic nostalgic comfort, and probably some approximation of a set of values that I keep in a glass-door trophy case in the hallway of my memory palace. I miss it.

I’m into this stuff, into real-time, on-purpose meaning-making, but this kind of attempt at creating ritual by sort of re-creating it based on previous experiences more often happens online. Most of the rituals that we’ve come up with to replace what has been collectively lost somewhere else already feel supernormalized: posting baby pics on Facebook is, I guess, what’s “done” now, with “It’s done” and “It’s not done” always being the ordering philosophy for any sort of social interaction, whether in person or online. But then your baby is on Facebook the same way fleeting YouTube stuff and 10 percent–off coupons are on Facebook, and that’s when this new, aggregated version of normal still feels temporary and shifting. It’s an appropriate, if still anxious, middle ground of convenience and celebration, of making and remaking meaning together.

Birth, death, marriage, divorce, coming of age, accomplishments, and failures all require real acknowledgement and recognition. We need a way to ritualize and symbolize that makes use of both our humanity and the reality of how lives play out. Birthdays are the easiest, with the routine of abbreviated Facebook messages for the public confirmation and validation, and multi-’moji texts, for the private loving-up. It’s easy, because the tone of the thing itself isn’t usually in conflict with the way it’s celebrated online. Still: I just sent my friend a season of a TV show via iTunes for her birthday, which is in most ways better than giving her a box of what will too quickly turn to shit, but clicking toward and downloading a prezzie on your birthday must be a step in the vertiginous march toward the void.
Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3427 May 3, 2014
For a while—real years, by now—I’ve been rereading Moby Dick every winter. It’s not my favorite book, and it’s not a cute read to skate over in an afternoon; I read it every year, and will keep reading it every year, as a dull protest against having nothing else to do to mark time. Otherwise, my entire adult life feels too much like a mostly uninterrupted, mostly unmarked length of heavy rope, unfurling through a routine of work and hanging out and moving between the two, and I guess also waking up and falling asleep. It’s all being recorded, meticulously if abstractly, online, and I’m sure interruptions and markers will eventually emerge from all of the space around them, even if they’re not so obvious to me now, and even if I feel like I need them to reveal themselves sooner.
Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3428 May 3, 2014
From Girls to “Grown Woman”(and more important stuff, too, but I’m here for the peppermint gum and sparkly pencils of girl stuff, OK?), 2013 was a big year for girls. Here is the girl year in review, along with some non-committal predictions for 2014.


Listen, girls were on it from day zero, but in 2013 “Word of the Year” deciders, the think-piece community, and every mom discovered (but maybe didn’t understand? I don’t know) the significance of what has always been a fundament of self-representation and self-expression in girl world. So cute!


Big eyebrows are always the answer. If that “eyebrow thickness as economic indicator” theory holds, that means that Cara Delevingne’s nu-Moss influence could be responsible for more than making it just fine-fine to wear a onesie to the airport. In 2013, thick, mega, for-real eyebrows—to be clear, not the “more” version of a clean arch; I mean face-dominating aesthetic pillars—moved from a niche idea to a regular thing.

Related: Kim Kardashian’s baby, North West—who I found out late was a girl; didn’t anyone else see North, the 1994 Elijah Wood fantastamaboringa?—has some legit eyebrows, which meant Kim was accused of waxing them, which is both absurd and mean. Also, I guess Kim is another aspect of the year in girls, so I’ll just wedge her in here.


The ways in which real and fictional women are and are not likeable was a question both asked and sort-of answered in pop culture this year, liiiike when some Breaking Bad watchers decided that Skyler White was unfairly wife-ing up Walter’s final-season menace parade (Anna Gunn, the actress who plays Skyler, wrote a solid op-ed about it), and in “you in danger, girl” movies liiiiike The Bling Ring and Spring Breakers, and in Claire Messud’s book The Woman Upstairs and its “would you be her friend tho” review cycle, aaaaand liiiiike the likability battle between a Jennifer Lawrence and an Anne Hathaway. I just want everyone to be safe and happy, so I think I have pirouetted myself out of this discussion, but it seemed interesting for the rest of you this year.


I guess it was those Clare Vivier bags that really did it? My ancient and beloved ID bracelet precludes me from wearing too many initialized accessories, but this variety of explicit, Instagramable personalization was a rager in 2013. As a sub-head here, I guess I should mention those designer logo riffs on tees and hats, buuuuut they seem a lot more cynical and less on-zeitgeist than “THESE ARE MY LETTERS! THIS IS ME!” so let’s leave it at that.


This is my list, and I will do whatever I want, and I choose Chelmillionaire as my personal Nike Sky Hi-light of the year in girl. Chelsea’s stupid-sounding but deeply funny and perfectly self-indulgent podcast Call Chelsea Peretti started in 2012, but I didn’t get into it until earlier this year, so it counts—plus girl is on Brooklyn Nine-Nine doing more comedy with her iPhone case in the background than exists in total on other shows, plus-plus she has reached the all-caps-y zenith of Twitter. Year of Chelsea.
Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3429 May 3, 2014

Juicing was correctly identified this year as the quintessential girl food trend, beating out gluten-free everything because gluten-free is still food. Juicing is cute because it’s tasty, expensive, and ostensibly healthy but often very, very, very sugary—thus owning all four food-related Girl Quadrants.


Cracking open the style piñata of 2013 girldom reveals a few weird 2012 repeats. We’re still with the “who, me?” ripped jean-knees, the ubiqui arm parties (that’s Man Repeller for a few inches of multi-media bracelets), and the embellished, bejeweled, printed, cropped, and cut-up sweatshirt, which held its post-Kenzo heat steady this year. This was a nice outcome because nothing is more ideally wearable and appealing than a sweatshirt, but it was also a little sad because I want sweatshirts with puffy arms and awkward cuts to be available to me as a “visiting my parents” closet choice, and not a replayed, overdone fashion thing.

Anyways, this year was really about THE POINT: pointy nails, pointy rings, and pointy bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, in zigzag, lightning, diamond, and spike formations—delicate and gold and tiny in scope but jutting every which way. I guess pointy-toed pumps were also back, but D’Orsay flats easily overwhelmed them, at least in my vision. Also, on the issue of 2013 rings, I’m not so sure about the ones that ride way up above the knuckle. What do you think? They’re weird, right?


And HAIM too, but they fit in my subtitle less neatly. Much of the serious music and music-industry discussion in 2013 swung around those three girls like ribbons on a maypole, between “Royals”(actually 2012 but you know what I mean), the Sinead stuff, the beige latex panties,“Wrecking Ball,” and the kitty-cat and birthday party Instagrams, and even considering the concern-trolling, beauty standards, pop wars, something, something, something, they seemed to just… handle it.


If I had written this last week when I was really supposed to (my schedule is on a three-to-seven day delay because I got so, so sick), Queen B would have been the pink-on-black flag planted firmly on Girl Mountain. But now it feels weird to end on something so obviously the pinnacle of the year in girl, so how about I put Bey second to last? Sure.

Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3430 May 3, 2014

This month sometime Hello Giggles boss @sofifii tweeted,“I think a 2014 trend is going be grown women sleeping with teddy bears and childhood blankets.” This is also my prediction for 2014. I recently discovered that I have a blankie that I not only sleep with but also bring with me to my desk in the morning to make my 5 AM wake-up feel a lot better. I’m pretty sure that a renewed (or new, I guess, either way) sense of self-care and self-reliance—which includes a commitment to basic tactile comfort in order to generate the mind and body energies required of a 2014-style, self-sufficient, independent, cool-customer “Grown Woman”(callback!)—will be important. I mean maybe not with actual teddy bears, but let’s take an opportunity to be alone with ourselves and our soft things once in a while (I recommend Friday nights), so next year’s girl in review will be about how we all did amazing stuff at work, were kind to each other, had fun, and went to bed all exhausted but done.

United States

#3431 May 3, 2014
I have a series of New York IP Addresses and links to Boeing and a very strange foreign Vacuum Industry player.
Seems Boeing, L3 Communications, Lockheed Martin and Deloitte are trying to overthrow U.S.

United States

#3432 May 3, 2014
The FISA COURT has notice....no more plausible deniability

United States

#3433 May 3, 2014
I will post all the details tomorrow....MAY THE 4TH BE WITH YOU!

United States

#3434 May 3, 2014
I'm not talking Hoover either, Judge.
Suck Gestion

United States

#3435 May 3, 2014
Hey Kate Carraway..........

You are so full of chet your eyes are brown..........

The real Kate Carriway knows how to spell her name!!!
Kate Carraway

New York, NY

#3436 May 3, 2014
Twitter, generally and probably temporarily, is uncomfortably easy. Like Sunday afternoons, like an unencumbered ego, anything at all can surge forward to fill the empty space, and everything will. On this particular platform there are fewer rules and better access and bigger fonts, and there is super obvious, super excellent usability and an ever-widening acceptance of Twitter—by adults, I mean, because kiddos prefer Instagram and Snapchat—that make for a looseness, a malleability, a tremulous potential that is realized by a cross section of people matched only by, I don’t know, iTunes?

Twitter, as a platform and product and social network, doesn’t deserve what it usually gets, critically and collective-culturally speaking, which is either the Franzen-panic of people who don’t understand it, and don’t seem to want to understand it (but why? It’s so fun!), or the defensive, sometimes smug-ish ownership of Twitter (this also happens across the internet at large) and its socially mediated meritocracy by people who do.

The most emphatic positions in favor of Twitter, and all that looseness, malleability, and potential, are so singular and insistent; it sometimes feels to me like online self-righteous FOMO-horror, like an inverse of the social-internet suspicious, a self-serving and anxious decision that Twitter is not an but the alternative to a scarily splintering and reforming cultural economy. It also acts as some kind of necessarily profound sociocultural endgame and, at the same time, a venue where existing, maybe-exiting systems of value and rank are disappearing into smoke, where previous ways of having and sharing ideas are second to the specially Twitter-styled. This kind of defense always feels to me, to use an annoying objective-correlative, like a Britney Spears video, one (there are several) that takes place in some apocalyptic bathhouse environment—all dark but shiny, just deeply, teenage-ly satisfied in its big-talk retreat from the established cultural standards.

This kind of stuff, the paradigmatic oppositions, online and print, old and new, whatever, persist even though they are thoroughly ahistorical and don’t really make any kind of sense. They also don’t address the truly important questions and arguments about what different media and cultural spaces offer, and to whom. Like, as a for-instance: regardless of everything it might give or take from writing and thinking and the physical and intellectual space to do it, Twitter is still very much about certain, if implied, hegemonies. That anxious, FOMO-y need to affirm Twitter as our thing leaves out how much of the Twitter experience, in particular when it comes to self-representation, is dictated by our little circles of whoever we do Twitter with, in the same way it always has been.

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