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The Guardian
24-04-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
Did Albanese fall off a stage or not - and why do people keep talking about it?
Hi Caitlin, something has been bothering me lately. Did prime minister Anthony Albanese fall off a stage or not? It depends if your definition of 'falling' is stepping into midair and then rapidly dropping to the ground. If it is, then yes, he did. You'd be hard pressed to have missed this viral moment, but to recap: earlier in the campaign, the prime minister was standing on a stage at a Mining and Energy Union conference in the Hunter region of New South Wales. Sign up for the Afternoon Update: Election 2025 email newsletter While posing for photos, he made a move to the left and suddenly – to the dramatic gasps of the audience – lost his footing and descended from the stage like a pin falling into the ocean. As he went, he gripped on to a tall man's arm for support, who quickly jumped into gear and helped him up with the assistance of two others. Once safely upright, he gestured to the audience that he was fine and broke into a sheepish grin. Thanks Caitlin, but I still feel as lost as a politician trying to make their way across a reasonably well-lit stage. Why is Albanese's stumble such a big deal? The story could have ended there, with a few awkward photos and puns about a major 'stumble' in Labor's campaign. Alas. I don't know if Albanese's masculinity was bruised. I don't know if he was afraid that 'taking a fall' (which is very distinct from falling) would highlight the fact that, at 62, he is just five years away from pension age. Whatever it was, the PM simply couldn't admit that he fell over. When asked about the video footage on ABC radio, he sought to deny, deny, deny, telling listeners he 'stepped back one step' and 'didn't fall off the stage'. (I did not know stepping required the assistance of three people.) 'Just one leg went down, but I was sweet,' Albanese insisted. Of course, the Coalition also noticed Albanese's mishap and Peter Dutton milked it for all it was worth, repeatedly telling reporters his opponent was a liar for being unable to admit that he fell off a stage, and is therefore untrustworthy as a How much can the Coalition talk about one misstep? Considering it happened in the first week of the campaign and we are now in week four, it is somewhat wild we are continuing to discuss this. But discuss it we are. Speaking in Melbourne on 10 April – a week after the fall – Dutton called Albanese a 'liar who can't be trusted'. 'The prime minister lied about falling off the stage for some reason. I mean it was on camera, it's quite amazing,' he said. The Liberal party's official Instagram page has posted almost a dozen memes and videos of the incident, including footage of Dutton saying last week 'if I fell off the stage, I wouldn't lie about it'. That fits in with Dutton's broader line that the prime minister is 'loose with the truth' and not able to 'lie straight in bed', with the opposition raising alarm over what he has called mounting a scare campaign by Labor over Medicare funding. Sign up to Afternoon Update: Election 2025 Our Australian afternoon update breaks down the key election campaign stories of the day, telling you what's happening and why it matters after newsletter promotion Has Albanese finally admitted that he put a foot wrong? He has contorted himself into a pretzel – backflipping from refutation, to jest, to dismissiveness, back to refutation. There was a small glimmer of light at a business breakfast in Perth on Thursday morning, when Albanese reportedly joked that the incident was the worst moment of his campaign trail, describing the whole event as funny. Could he finally simply laugh it off? Could he embrace his weaknesses as a strength, to accept that to fall is to grow? No. When asked about his comments at a later press conference in Newcastle, he quickly bit back, telling a reporter it was a 'joke' and to 'chill out'. 'I did not fall,' he maintained, repeating his story that he 'stepped off' the stage before making a deeply painful dad joke. 'I stepped off the stage and I didn't fall over on the backside. I stumbled. That's what happened. I laughed about it at the time, I've laughed about it since, it's no big deal,' he said. 'I fell for Newcastle a long time ago. It's a great place.' So there you have it. He stepped, he stumbled, he laughed, he was sweet. He did not fall. Nothing to see here, folks.
Boston Globe
24-02-2025
- Politics
- Boston Globe
‘We dream of peace': Three years into war, Ukrainians in Mass. find refuge but worry about future
Popova has settled into a life in Quincy, where she works for the city's school system. She and her children start every morning by speaking on the phone with her husband, who is barred from leaving Ukraine because of a strict Natalia Popova and her two sons. (Natalia Popova) Natalia Popova She is one of the some Related : Advertisement Still, the effects and realities of the war follow them. Most immigrants have loved ones still in the country, and their days are filled with constant worries about their family and friends, some of whom must seek shelter in bomb shelters while immigrants here go about their daily lives. Many said they can't escape the constant, devastating news about the grinding conflict, the biggest on the continent since World War II. It has 'It was the most difficult in the first years — to accept the situation and realize that it happened,' Popova said. 'Like, how could it happen in the 21st century?' 'Of course we want peace, but of course we also want justice for all the crimes done by Russian people,' Popova said. 'We dream of peace, but we don't trust our neighbor.' Advertisement For 26-year-old Marina Zharkovska, who lives in Boston, the immediate fear is about maintaining a legal status in the United States. Zharkovska arrived in the United States in 2024 under a federal program, Uniting for Ukraine, that allowed Ukrainian immigrants to move here temporarily. But since Trump It's important for Ukraine to fight for its independence, she said, given that it has been recognized as sovereign and has 'deep historical roots.' 'We have lost too many lives and our friends to just give Russia what it demanded at the beginning,' she said. In addition to working at a Brookline hotel, she founded a social theater program that helps Ukrainian adults and children traumatized by the war. 'Even here in America, after arriving, I have seen that people are deeply traumatized and do not know how to cope,' she said. Zharkovska, too, said she experiences anxiety from exposure to the war, and wants 'to use her experience to make people healthier and happier here.' Still, every day away from the country is difficult. Like many other Ukrainian expats, Zharkovska has loved ones in the country, including her mother and numerous relatives and friends, some who are on the front lines. She said she prays daily for them, along with those who have died in the war. For Maryna Vernyhora, a 32-year-old Boston resident, reminders of war are present in day-to-day life. After moving to Boston through the Uniting for Ukraine program in July 2022, Vernyhora said she has experienced flashbacks from Russian attacks. She owned her own company in Kyiv that helped people start their own businesses. On the day of the Russian invasion, the company was supposed to hold a grand opening for a business in one of the largest shopping centers in Europe. Advertisement Instead, the single mother woke up at 4 a.m. to what she thought were fireworks outside her window. After her neighbors started calling her, she realized they were missiles, and that she and her 6-month-old daughter needed to evacuate from 'It was like a horror movie, but you don't want to watch this movie because you want to live your normal life like it was before,' she said. Vernyhora stayed with friends in the city of Drohobych for six months. Now, she works as a marketing manager for a pharmaceutical company and is not certain she would want to return to Ukraine. The forest where she used to walk her dog every morning is now filled with land mines, and she said life would not be 'the life that it was before.' 'You ask your friends how they are, and they're sitting for eight or 10 hours in the shelter,' she said. 'It's a part of life now for Ukrainians, and I don't want my friends and relatives to live this life. We want to live our life like it was before — without war, we had a really good life.' Even for Ukrainians who have been in the United States for decades, the drawn-out conflict hits close to home. Marianna Epstein, 68, who moved from Kyiv to Massachusetts more than three decades ago, still has relatives, classmates, and friends in the country. 'Almost everybody has lost somebody,' she said. Advertisement Marianna Epstein, who immigrated from Ukraine more than 30 years ago, at her Newton home. Epstein has family and friends there. Erin Clark/Globe Staff Epstein, who lives in Needham, said she retired from her career as a software engineer earlier than she planned because she wanted to dedicate all of her time to helping Ukrainians. She founded The project is on pause for now, she said, because the 'needs have changed of what we communicate to our politicians.' Almost three years after evacuating Kyiv in March 2022, Popova is now in her second semester of studying health science at Bunker Hill Community College. Each week, her children attend the Even as they go about day-to-day life, Popova and her children still experience anxiety and post-traumatic stress from having to 'live in the basement' due to constant bombing when the war started. Any kind of peace that may be in the future won't bring back the thousands of lives lost and impacted by the war, she said. 'Seeing the consequences of war, seeing broken lives, injured people, killed children, broken dreams and plans of people,' she said. 'Ukrainian voices should be heard, because behind every family's story, every man's life, there are many stories.' Emily Spatz can be reached at
Yemen Online
19-02-2025
- Politics
- Yemen Online
‘They called us enemies of God': Yemeni journalist describes torture in Houthi jail
The National - Today, he sits in black suit and tie which covers the scars inflicted on him during eight years of detention and torture by Yemen's Houthi rebels. Abdulkhaleq Imran was abducted nine years ago after Houthi militias seized Yemen's capital Sanaa and overthrew the government. He was detained along with eight other journalists, and sentenced to death five years later. "Calling it a death sentence legitimises it, and limits its meaning. It was a religious fatwa [edict]. I am at risk at all times," he told The National on the sidelines of the Yemen International Forum in Amman. Mr Imran was released in a UN-mediated prisoner exchange two years ago, but not before he suffered psychological and physical torture that caused irreversible damage to his health. Heart disease, liver enlargement, kidney and joint infections, a slipped disc, respiratory infections and nerve pain are some of the ailments that Mr Imran hides beneath his sleek outfit. But the pain appears on his face every time he tells his story or shifts in his seat. "I was placed in solitary confinement, in a cell that's less that one-by-one metre big. It was filthy, cold and grim. When they took us out, they would hang us up against the wall and crucify us, beating us until we bled, then deny us medical help," he said, using the lanyard of his conference ID to demonstrate. Just after they took over, the Houthis cracked down hard on the media, which they accused of undermining their ideological cause and belief that they are the righteous leaders of Yemen. "They beat us not to extract information from us. They had all our data on our phones and devices. They beat us because we posed an existential threat to them." Mr Imran said that the constant transfer of prisoners like him from one place to another was sometimes a risk to their lives, as they were kept at locations that could be struck by forces fighting the Houthis. "They used us as human shields when they put us in weapons depots. Being moved it was as if they were transporting us from hell to Hades." Brainwashing Although his case was widely covered by international NGOs and media, Mr Imran says one of the lesser-known facets of the torture inflicted on the Houthis' prisoners was psychological. "They would play tapes for hours, from sundown to 12am, of a religious Houthi leader who would pray out loud for our demise and for our lineage to disappear. They called us not only enemies of the state, but enemies of God," he said. During these attempts to brainwash prisoners, Mr Imran said, the religious leaders would refer to them as "hypocrites and apostates". When asked whether he considered telling his captors that he was convinced by their rhetoric so that they would stop torturing him, he replied: "Never. Sympathising with your abuser is becoming devoid of dignity." Mr Imran says it was his and his colleagues' deep belief in their rights as journalists that helped them to remain resilient during their time in captivity. After he was released, Mr Imran says he found his family living in tents, among the 4.5 million people displaced by the 10-year-old war. Search for justice One of the men Mr Imran says abused him and his colleagues personally is Abdulkader Al Murtada, head of the Houthi prisoner exchange committee and negotiator. Mr Al Murtada was sanctioned by the US last year after the UN found that he was complicit in "inhuman treatment", based on prisoners' testimonies. Mr Imran and his freed colleagues are still searching for justice. "We are currently making efforts to file a lawsuit before the national judiciary against leaders of the terrorist Houthi militias who committed war crimes and crimes against humanity against us," he said. In targeting Mr Al Murtada and the leader of the militia, Abdulmalik Al Houthi, Mr Imran hopes to see his torturers on trial at the "international level". He says that even if the Houthis fall and their grip on Yemen weakens, he does not want to see the men who tortured him escape accountability. "This is the only way to protect journalists, civilians and society as a whole from a repeat of such crimes," he said.
Yahoo
10-02-2025
- Automotive
- Yahoo
I inherited $110,000. The first thing I bought was a convertible — here's how I saved, invested, and spent the rest.
Susan von Seggern used a $10,000 inheritance to buy a convertible and start saving for a home. She turned her initial inheritance into significant wealth, investing in property and a brokerage. Last year, she received another inheritance of $100,000, which she's used mainly to fix up her home. This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Susan von Seggern, a 56-year-old publicist and CFO in Los Angeles. It has been edited for length and clarity. My grandmother indirectly helped me become financially smart by leaving me $10,000 when she died in 1993. While on her deathbed, she couldn't satiate her four grandchildren with sumptuous meals anymore, so she literally brought some fortune into our lives in her last bittersweet days. I was 25 but wise enough not to waste the money on something that would only gratify me for the short term. Instead, I bought a convertible I had been eyeing for a long time and devised a plan to save money for a future townhouse. They shaped my parents into people who'd spend their money only if absolutely necessary. My money foundation was based on spending and investing money wisely. In my early 20s, I drove an old Nissan Sentra around Los Angeles. I longed for a Geo Metro LSI convertible but knew that taking anything from the money I was making at that time as a publicist was impossible, and the only other option was going into debt. The risk of opting for either was greater than the happiness I would've experienced from buying this car. Once I received $10,000 from my grandmother, I sold my Nissan for $2,000 and combined that with my inheritance to buy the convertible. I'm so glad I bought the car I wanted with great features, not a car other people wanted me to buy. I chose a car based on my desire, budget, and preference. I kept saving this specific amount until the end of 1995 as if I were paying a car payment. I had a minimalist lifestyle, so I could save even more sometimes just by spending or not spending intelligently. All my drinks, parking, and business lunches were paid for due to having an expense account through work. Things just kept aligning financially for me after I used the inheritance. No matter what I wanted to buy, I'd find myself having that amount saved because of how I utilized my money and saved it. After saving for a few years, I set aside about $25,000 to cover the down payment, which was $17,500, for my first condo and other related expenses, such as moving and furniture. I bought the condo for $175,000 in 1995. My husband and I started a boutique PR agency together, which we ran until it was extinguished when the dot-com bubble burst and also due to the 9/11 recession. The condo's value increased gradually, and I secured a home-equity loan for $75,000. With that, I settled my agency debts. The condo's value accelerated to around $400,000, and my loan also increased to $225,000. I sold the condo in 2007 for $715,000, which wouldn't have been possible without my inheritance money. After I paid the agents and the bank, I was left with around $450,000, which I used to pay off my then-to-be fiancé's debts, which were about $50,000. I put the $400,000 in a brokerage account and let it grow. When the pandemic hit, the market crashed, and we lost 10% of the total. We bought a new home in 2021, paid a $160,000 down payment, and were left with $200,000. After purchasing and moving expenses, we had $160,000 left, which we put into our brokerage account again. We balanced our mortgage out every month with it and the profits we were generating. The equity value of our new house is around $300,000. We've been making use of the $100,000 for various purposes. We spent around $25,000 on our house, including a new roof, AC unit, and water heater. We also invested around $20,000 in my husband's startup and spent around $10,000 on medical purposes. Both my husband and I are still working. This inheritance is more than enough for us to handle our future and present personal and professional needs and wants. Read the original article on Business Insider
