• Over 200,000 people deleted Uber after #deleteUber - Business Insider

    Même les géants du web sont vulnérables aux conséquences des mouvements sociaux surtout quand elles sont bien orchestrés.

    3.02.2017 - More than 200,000 people deleted their Uber accounts after a weekend of outrage aimed at the ride-hailing company, according to The New York Times.

    Furious Uber riders had deleted the app after the company continued operating its service at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Saturday, creating the perception that it was undermining a taxi strike in protest of President Trump’s immigration ban.

    Dans son nouveau livre Super Pumped The Battle for Uber Mike Isaac raconte comment la campagne #deleteuber lancée par un seul militant a couté des millions à la plateforme #Uber.

    Super Pumped The Battle for Uber, Mike Isaac, W. W. Norton Company, 2019, ISBN 978-0-393-65224-6

    Chapter 21

    As Travis fought his way onto the Trump business advisory council, a Chicago tech worker named Dan O’Sullivan still believed Donald Trump was full of shit.
    The president spent his entire first week arguing with the press over the size of his inauguration crowd. (“The biggest ever inauguration audience!” Trump’s press office announced, an obviously false statement.) Trump was a buffoon, O’Sullivan thought, an idiot foisted upon the office by an electorate poisoned by Fox News. By the time he left office, O’Sullivan prayed, Trump would be thwarted by his advisors and accomplish little of what he promised on the stump in 2016.

    The Long Island–born son of a nurse and an Irish telephone lineman, Dan O’Sullivan grew up worlds away from Trump’s gold-plated tower in Manhattan. He was proud of his blue-collar background. His great-great-uncle, Mike Quill, co-founded the Transport Workers Union in New York City back in 1934. Quill’s ties to the Communist Party earned him the nickname “Red Mike.” On the night of his sister’s birth, O’Sullivan’s father was out on strike with fellow linemen in the Communication Workers Union.

    After kicking around schools in Long Island and Maine, Dan O’Sullivan landed in Chicago, a place he liked though knew little about. At six-foot-three and pushing 220 pounds, O’Sullivan looked like a different kind of lineman—more Chicago Bear than Bell Atlantic like his father. He picked up a Chicago accent quickly, cutting short his “U’s” and “A’s.” His nasally vowels gave many the mistaken impression he was a native Chicagoan.

    O’Sullivan dreamed of being a writer, and started freelancing political pieces for Gawker, Jacobin, and other left-leaning outlets. To pay the bills, he landed in a call center at a tech company, a lower-level peon answering angry customer support questions. The work was depressing, but he spent his off-hours pursuing his passion, hustling for opportunities to write.

    More vivid than his dreary call center job was O’Sullivan’s digital life on Twitter. He mostly used it to follow political accounts and news and to connect with other writers. He started chatting with other leftists and joking around with people who began as anonymous avatars in his Twitter feed, then slowly grew to become his online friends. Even as Dan despaired at Trump’s popularity and success, at least he could make fun of Trump’s buffoonery with his friends on Twitter.

    O’Sullivan cherished his digital anonymity. He was opinionated and crass on Twitter, and knew his obscenities towards Trump might not please his employer. And if he had to find a new job, some of the esoteric, vulgar in-jokes he shared with Twitter friends wouldn’t thrill a recruiter.

    Still, Twitter was worth it. He chose a handle for himself, a pun his online friends could remember him by: @Bro_Pair.

    The order came as night fell on Friday, January 27, a week after Trump took the oath of office. Effective immediately, Trump was closing the nation’s borders. Singling out predominantly Muslim countries, he barred refugees from places like Syria, which was in the midst of a violent civil war that was driving thousands to seek asylum from potential slaughter.

    “We don’t want them here,” Trump said, referring to so-called “radical Islamic terrorists”—his name for Muslims—during the signing ceremony. “We want to ensure that we are not admitting into our country the very threats our soldiers are fighting overseas. We only want to admit those into our country who will support our country, and love deeply our people.”

    Trump had presaged such a proposal at the end of 2015 on the campaign trail, in which he called for a complete restriction of all Muslims from entering the United States as a response to bloody terrorist attacks in San Bernardino, California and Paris, France. Christians and other religious practitioners, he said, should be granted immigration priority over Muslims seeking asylum. The Muslim ban played extremely well at rallies. Trump’s base loved it. At the time, of course, politicians from both parties condemned the idea as inhumane and unconstitutional. But the outrage at the time passed almost as quickly as it arrived.

    Now it was 2017, Donald Trump was the president of the United States, and he was following through with a campaign promise. Among ardent Trump opponents like Dan O’Sullivan, the Muslim Ban brought forth all of the rage that had simmered since November 9. The announcement confirmed that Trump would be every bit as monstrous as they had imagined.

    That energy wasn’t squandered. Millions of people across the country rushed to airports and other places where immigrants seeking asylum might be turned away by the TSA, ICE, or other federal agencies. Thousands of lawyers arrived clad in neon yellow hats and T-shirts to offer pro bono legal advice to immigrants stuck in limbo. Throngs of protesters flooded baggage claim areas and TSA security lines with chants of outrage against Trump, carrying hastily written cardboard signs and posters with pro-immigrant messages.

    As the protests continued through Friday night and into Saturday morning, the Muslim community of taxi drivers in New York banded together to strike at the airport, in part to show solidarity, and also to give America a glimpse of the country without Muslim workers. “NO PICKUPS @ JFK Airport 6 PM to 7 PM today,” the New York Taxi Workers Alliance posted to its Twitter account shortly after 2:00 p.m. Saturday afternoon. “Drivers stand in solidarity with thousands protesting inhumane & unconstitutional #MuslimBan.”

    As taxi workers organized, employees in Uber’s New York office watched and began to worry. People were traveling to airports in droves, often using Uber to get there. JFK was slammed, its terminals were drawing one of the largest crowds in the country that weekend. If passengers kept Ubering to JFK in large numbers, Uber’s “surge pricing” would kick in. That meant people would be charged multiples of the base fare—two, three, four times as much or even greater—just to go and protest. Managers in New York and San Francisco could predict the negative headlines if surge pricing kicked in: big bad Uber fleecing honest citizens during a humanitarian protest.

    Uber didn’t need that headache now. A manager in San Francisco gave New York the all-clear to turn off surge pricing for Uber trips to JFK. Later that evening, @Uber_NYC sent a tweet: “Surge pricing has been turned off at #JFK Airport. This may result in longer wait times,” the tweet read. “Please be patient.”

    The tweet would end up costing Uber millions.

    O’Sullivan couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
    Election night had broken him. He wrote a final piece for the leftist magazine Jacobin on the Trump victory—a half-delirious meditation on Trumpism and the forces it took to bring America to propel such a man to victory—and subsequently swore off political writing for good. He wandered the empty streets of Chicago in a stupor after the race was called, sensing a deep depression coming on, one that would carry into 2017 and add another ten pounds to his frame.

    The swearing-in ceremony in January was painful to watch. He winced as the group of tycoons and robber barons surrounded Trump at the Capitol, celebrating the triumph of evil over good. The travel ban carried out less than a week later seemed sadistic to him. The cruel execution of the announcement perfectly symbolized Stephen Miller and Steve Bannon—two of Trump’s most xenophobic, nationalistic advisors—and their desire to inflict pain on immigrants.

    But O’Sullivan felt a glimmer of hope as the news reported crowds of people gathering at the airport to protest Trump’s unjust ban. Thousands of other people like him, fed up with fear and anger, were fighting the administration through protest, one of the most American acts there is. And as @Bro_Pair, he scanned his Twitter account and monitored chatter from reporters, newspapers, and his digital friends who, too, were speaking out against the president. As Saturday wore on, @Bro_Pair noticed a tweet from the New York Taxi Workers Alliance scroll through his Twitter feed, noting their strike on the JFK airport. He appreciated the solidarity.

    A few minutes later, he noticed another tweet—this one from Uber, claiming it was shutting off surge pricing at JFK.

    Up until that point, O’Sullivan had never really liked Uber. He had passively followed its various controversies; everyone in tech did. To the leftist O’Sullivan, Travis Kalanick was an avatar of Silicon Valley’s capitalist id, concerned only with user and revenue growth, not the lives of everyday workers like himself. He used Uber occasionally—it was, after all, a great product and very convenient—but always felt guilty afterwards.

    But at that moment, seeing Uber’s tweet pass through his feed, he saw it as an act of subversion—a betrayal of solidarity. O’Sullivan and others interpreted Uber’s tweet as company trying to profit off the backs of striking cab workers, a cash grab during a vulnerable public moment. Even beyond the immediate circumstances, the tweet reminded him of his larger ideological grievances towards Uber, and the core of how its business operates. The contract-based labor model that eschewed directly employing drivers. The campaigns against drivers who wanted to unionize. To him, this faceless, monolithic tech company would never defend its Muslim cab drivers. O’Sullivan couldn’t pinpoint whether it was his deep, familial ties to organized labor, the frustration he felt towards his shitty call center tech job, or the deep-seated need to fight back against Trump. He just snapped: he had had it with Uber.

    Sitting alone in his cold apartment in the dead of a Chicago winter, he started typing a response to Uber’s tweet, still fuming with anger. “congrats to @Uber_NYC on breaking a strike to profit off of refugees being consigned to Hell,” @Bro_Pair tweeted, “eat shit and die.” He quickly followed up with an idea for a hashtag, something people could add to their angry tweets about the company: “#deleteUber.”

    “Don’t like @Uber’s exploitative anti-labor policies & Trump collaboration, now profiting off xenophobia? #deleteUber,” he tweeted. O’Sullivan dug into Uber’s support pages on its website to figure out how to actually delete his Uber account, a feat that was surprisingly difficult and required filling out a form and sending it to engineers at the company. O’Sullivan started tweeting out screenshots and links to the online account deletion form, making it simpler for others to find it and delete their own accounts.

    The hashtag began to resonate. Others tweeted angrily at Uber, joining @Bro_Pair. People started adding #deleteUber to the end of their tweets. As seething Americans sought an outlet for their helpless rage, the idea that Uber was not just subverting the protest but actively trying to profit from it was maddening. Hundreds of people started replying and retweeting @Bro_Pair’s tweet, catching the attention of other angry onlookers. Hundreds turned to thousands, which turned to tens of thousands of people chanting, digitally: #deleteUber.

    To O’Sullivan’s amazement, people started tweeting their screenshots of their account deletions back to him. “You’re fascist colluding scabs,” one user’s screenshot said. “Taking advantage of the taxi strike in NYC is a disgusting example of predatory capitalism and collusion with an overtly fascist administration,” another user wrote, tweeting back at @Bro_Pair. Another person added: “Catch a rideshare to hell.”

    O’Sullivan was dumbstruck. Celebrities were tweeting him screenshots of themselves deleting Uber. The press started calling him for interviews. He had tapped into a rage shared by more people than he had realized. Most immediately, those who retweeted him expressed anger towards the Trump administration and its discriminatory actions. But deleting Uber went beyond that; it became something people could do, an action they could broadcast as part of their protest, a repudiation of tech culture, of fake news, of Silicon Valley—the industry that many believed duped Americans into electing Trump in the first place. To #deleteUber wasn’t just to remove a ride-hailing app from one’s phone. It was also to give a giant middle finger to greed, to “bro culture,” to Big Tech—to everything the app stood for.

    As O’Sullivan logged out of the @Bro_Pair account on Twitter and turned off his computer later that night, he felt a twinge of happiness for the first time in months. #deleteUber was trending across Twitter around the entire world. The press was covering the fallout, and Uber was scrambling to try and contain the damage.

    “Okay I have to go to bed,” @Bro_Pair tweeted. “But this has been the only good thing I’ve seen come from hashtags ever. thank you all, keep it going.”

    He signed his tweet with a hashtag: “#deleteUber.”

    All hell broke loose at 1455 Market Street.
    As the #deleteUber hashtag gained traction, engineers had account deletion requests flood in by the thousands from across the world. Up until that point, the company had received few deletion requests. Everyone loved the product, and those who didn’t merely erased the app from their phone without deleting their account. There was no automated mechanism in place to handle such requests. By the time @Bro_Pair’s protest spurred a mass revolt, Kalanick was forced to assign an engineer the task of implementing a system to process the flood of account deletions.

    Uber’s public relations team scrambled to try and convince reporters that Uber wasn’t breaking a strike but actually trying to help protesters get to the JFK protests by eliminating surge pricing. Kalanick had attempted a mealy-mouthed apology that weekend, noting that he planned to raise Uber’s issues with the travel ban the following week with President Trump in person. He was days away from the first meeting of Trump’s policy council of executives. But the statement had the opposite effect, instead reminding people that Kalanick was actively working with the administration. Outsiders saw Kalanick’s position as a tacit endorsement of Trump. Eventually, his own employees began to see it that way, too.

    “I understand that many people internally and externally may not agree with that decision, and that’s OK,” Kalanick said to employees in an email. “It’s the magic of living in America that people are free to disagree.”

    His thinking on keeping his seat on the council didn’t last long. In the span of a week, more than 500,000 people deleted their Uber accounts entirely, not counting the incalculable others who simply deleted the app from their phones. Uber’s all-important ridership growth curves—for years always hockey-sticking up and to the right—started turning downward. Kalanick began to sweat.

    Lyft, at that point running out of money and on the verge of surrender, benefitted enormously from the backlash. People began to ditch Uber and switch over to Lyft. (Protest felt good, but people still needed to be able to call a car sometimes.) Lyft’s executives then pulled a well-executed PR stunt, publicly donating $1 million to the American Civil Liberties Union over four years, making themselves look like white knights while Uber was groveling before Trump.

    The resultant surge in ridership brought Lyft back from the brink of failure. At last showing positive signs of growth, Lyft soon attracted investment from Kohlberg Kravis Roberts, the private equity firm, buoying the ride-hailing company with more than a half-billion dollars in additional capital.

    Lyft’s fundraising sunk Kalanick’s spirits. He had spent the entire summer trying, and failing, to defeat his largest competitor in China. And now, just as the new year began, his chance to kill his strongest American opponent had slipped away as well. He was so close to rubbing John Zimmer’s nose in defeat. No longer.

    Less than a week later, at the Tuesday all-hands meeting, multiple employees confronted Kalanick for keeping his position on Trump’s advisory council. Two different engineers asked him what it would take for him to step down from the position, a question he repeatedly dodged. But by Thursday, with ridership losses mounting and employees fast losing faith in their leader, Kalanick acceded.

    With less than twenty-four hours before he was scheduled to be at his first advisory council meeting at the White House, a call was arranged between Kalanick and President Trump so he could tell him he was withdrawing from his position.

    The call was brief and awkward; Kalanick apologized and gave a pitiful explanation. Trump grumbled through it. The two men had never met before, but Kalanick ended the call knowing that he had annoyed the president of the United States.

    Later that day, he wrote a conciliatory email to staff, noting he had left the council, though for many both inside and outside of Uber, the concession felt too little, too late. It didn’t stop the downturn of Uber’s growth numbers, either, as ill will toward the company continued to damage the brand and overall ridership. But for the moment, Kalanick had neutralized the immediate threat and knocked Uber’s name out of negative headlines.

    For the moment.

    #capitalisme #USA #boycott #taxi

  • Le Dark Tourism
    Ne vous arrêtez pas avant 30 secondes de visualisation.
    Belle étude indirecte de la MORT @aude_v @lan02

    Ambroise Tézenas a parcouru le monde pour découvrir ce qu’on appelle le « dark tourism » ou « visiteur de la désolation ».

    Ça me rappelle les personnes qui allaient sur la frontière turque en 2012 pour voir les bombardements à distance en Syrie.
    #antarctique #népal #syrie #auschwitz #pripiat #fukushima #tsunami #jfk

  • La finance expliquée - Joseph P. Kennedy : l’escroc, le père de JFK, et le régulateur

    On m’a raconté que la fortune du clan des Kenndys était amassé par des opérations de contrebande d’alcool pendant les années 1920 de la prohibition états-unienne. Je suis resté dubitatif . L’histoire est trop belle et simple pour être entièrement vraie.

    Alors j’ai cherché un peu. Voilà quelques résultats.

    Un épisode moins connu de l’histoire de Joseph Kennedy se situe entre juillet 1934 et septembre 1935. Le Président Roosevelt le fait alors élire à la tête de la toute nouvelle Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), l’agence fédérale américaine chargée de réguler les marchés financiers, qui existe encore aujourd’hui. Kennedy, qui espérait un ministère, accepte, mais annonce qu’il démissionnera une fois les bases de l’institution posées.

    Le choix de Kennedy déclenche un scandale qui donne à Roosevelt l’occasion de répondre par l’une de ses plus célèbres répliques. Quand on lui demande pourquoi nommer un tel escroc, Roosevelt répond : « Takes one to catch one » (il en faut un pour en attraper un).

    The bootleg politician : He could have anything he wanted, except the thing he wanted most. So Joe Kennedy used his money and the vast influence it bought to promote the next generation. But how had he made the fortune that bought the presidency ?

    In the Twenties, rumour had it that Kennedy was a bootlegger, importing and selling illicit liquor. Doris Kearns, the only historian to have access to Kennedy’s papers, found scant evidence there to support the claims made by, among others, the gangsters Frank Costello and Meyer Lansky of large underworld deals. But Kennedy went into the Prohibition era with large stocks of liquor from his father’s stores, and on the day it ended he had three lucrative franchises for British whisky and gin, a company to important them, and a network of retailers already in place. It was the work of a man who knew well where the subterranean rivers of illicit booze had run during Prohibition, but kept the knowledge close. His papers guard it still.

    Après avoir trouvé cette information l’opinion suivante me semble peu crédible. Elle correspond bizarrement bien á ce que raconte Wikipedia (en).

    Was Joseph P. Kennedy a bootlegger ?

    Think “The Wolf of Wall Street” rather than “The Godfather”.

    Joseph P. Kennedy, Sr.

    A recurring story about Kennedy is that he made money in bootlegging, the illegal importation and distribution of alcohol during Prohibition. Although there is no hard evidence of this, Kennedy did have extensive investments in the legal importation of spirits. The “bootlegging” story itself may be traceable to Canadian distiller Samuel Bronfman and to New England bootlegger Danny Walsh and his crime syndicate, which did in fact smuggle spirits across the Canadian–American border during this period. Post-Prohibition, Bronfman had a bitter rivalry with Kennedy in acquiring North American liquor distribution rights.[29]

    At the start of the Franklin Roosevelt administration, Kennedy and Congressman James Roosevelt II founded Somerset Importers, an entity that acted as the exclusive American agent for Haig & Haig Scotch, Gordon’s Dry Gin and Dewar’s Scotch. It is rumored that they had assembled a large inventory of stock, which they supposedly sold for a profit of millions of dollars when Prohibition was repealed. Actually, it was not until long after Prohibition ended that Kennedy sold his company Somerset.

    La source suivante est mons crédible qu’un journal professionnel, mais elle ajoute quelques éléments plausibles à l’histoire du bootlegging .

    How the Kennedy Empire was Built

    On January 29, 1919, the Eighteenth Amendment was ratified. It prohibited the manufacture, sale, transportation, or importation of “intoxicating liquors” for “beverage purposes.” For Joe, the law represented an opportunity to make huge profits.
    – He formed alliances with crime bosses in major markets, among them Boston, New York, Chicago, and New Orleans. These would come in handy years later when his son was running for national office. Among his mob associates was Frank Costello, former boss of the Luciano crime family, who bragged, “I helped Joe Kennedy get rich.” Sam Giancana, who would later figure prominently in Jack’s presidency, called Joe “one of the biggest crooks who ever lived.”
    – Joe bought liquor from overseas distillers and supplied it to organized crime syndicates that picked up the liquor on the shore. Frank Costello would later confirm that Joe had approached him for help in smuggling liquor. Joe would have the liquor dumped at a so-called Rum Row - a transshipment point where police were paid to look the other way - and Costello and other mobsters would then take over. They distributed the liquor, fixed the prices, established quotas, and paid off law enforcement and politicians. They enforced their own law with machine guns, usually calling on experts who did bloody hits on contract.
    –Columnist John Miller wrote, “The way Costello talked about Joe, you had the sense that they were very close during Prohibition.”
    – By the mid-1920s, Fortune estimated Joe’s wealth at $2 million. Yet since Joe had left Hayden, Stone in 1922, he had had no visible job. While he made hundreds of thousands of dollars manipulating the market, only bootlegging on a sizable scale would account for such sudden and fabulous wealth.
    – Joe used the profits from his bootlegging operations to fuel his continued stock market speculating, and finance his efforts in the film industry.

    Le site sur Jacky Kennedy confirme une chose : la fortune de Joe Kennedy connaissait une croissance énorme pendant la prohibition, mais il n’y a pas de sources fiables pour confirmer son engagement dans des affaires précises. On sait aussi qu’il n’a pas occupé une position ou mené des affaires justifiant un tel succès financier pendant cette période. L’impression qu’il y a eu quelque chose se concrétise.

    Joe’s Smuggling Past - Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

    Frank Costello

    On January 29, 1919, Congress approved the Eighteenth Amendment, and the era of Prohibition began. For Joe Kennedy, it was an opportunity to make a financial windfall. There was no shortage of private citizens and speakeasies willing to pay top dollar for smuggled liquor. To facilitate his new business, Joe formed alliances with mob figures in Boston, Chicago, New York, and New Orleans. Among his associates were Frank Costello, former head of the Luciano crime family, and Diamond Joe Esposito, an extortionist and bootlegger who belonged to Chicago’s notorious Black Hand. Joe would buy liquor — mostly scotch — from foreign distillers, who would deliver it at specific safe spots — areas where local police and politicians had been paid to look the other way. From there, organized crime would pick up the shipments and distribute it to their clients.
    Onward and Upward

    Smuggling was extremely profitable, and by the mid-1920s Joe’s personal fortune was in excess of $2 million — the equivalent of more than $15 million in today’s money.

    Finalement Time nous apprend comment Joe Kennedy a corrompu Winston Churchill dans le but d’obtenir des contrats lucratifs. C’était bien avant qu’il devienne ambassadeur des USA en Grand Bretagne.

    The Secret Boozy Deals of a Kennedy, a Churchill, and a Roosevelt

    Another set of finances surrounding this trip involved Winston Churchill. In September 1933, as the Kennedy group prepared to leave for London, Winston began a series of stock investments in two seemingly obscure American firms tied directly to Joe Kennedy: Brooklyn Manhattan Transit and National Distillers Products Corp. These Churchill stock investments were clustered around the Kennedy trip—executed both shortly before the Chartwell visit and in the months afterward—and were known only to a few, perhaps not even to Randolph. Where Winston got the money for such investments is not clear from available documents. On their face, however, these transactions seemed remarkably risky for a man who had lost much of his fortune in bad investments, who feared he might lose his beloved home, debt-ridden Chartwell Manor, and who had previously relied on friends to bail him out financially.

    Winston’s involvement with the American liquor industry emerged shortly after Kennedy began selling British whiskey, archival records show. In March 1934, Churchill was able to invest $5,850 (approximately $101,000 in today’s currency) in National Distillers Products Corp. – the same American company that awarded its New England franchise to Joe Kennedy. Later that year, Winston managed to buy some more of the same stock for $4,375 (about $76,000 in today’s currency).

    Soon after both purchases, Winston sold his National Distillers stock, earning a neat little profit, records show. The paperwork for these transactions was handled by the Vickers da Costa brokerage firm, which included Churchill’s brother, Jack, as a stock broker and partner.

    Winston’s stake in BMT—the private New York City subway line associated with Kennedy, Baruch, and others in their speculative investment “pool”—was even greater and proved more complex. In the two weeks before Kennedy left for England, September 11–26, 1933, Winston repeatedly bought BMT in batches of 100 shares for a total purchase of $21,725 (approximately $380,000 in today’s currency). Records show no other BMT exchanges for Churchill for another ten days, not until after the visit of the Kennedy entourage to Chartwell. The following day, however, Winston started cashing out. He quickly sold about two-thirds of this stock by October 11, 1933, making a substantial 10 percent profit within just a month of his investment.

    The idea for Winston’s BMT stock transaction apparently came from Kennedy’s friend and business associate Bernard Baruch. “I bought seven hundred Brooklyn Manhattan T around 30, sold four hundred around 35, and am sitting on three hundred,” Winston wrote to Baruch on October 15, 1933, shortly after entertaining his American visitors at Chartwell. “Many thanks for the fruitful suggestion.”

    Les associés américains avaient prévu de se faire de l’argent une fois que l’achat d’une ligne de métro New Yorkais par la mairie allait se savoir et faire monter leurs actions. Ils invitaient Churchill à prendre part á cette opération pour le convaincre de les soutenir à obtenir un contrat favorable avec les producteurs de whiskey.

    Le site americanmafia.com sait que la famille kennedy touche toujours d l’argent grâce à ce contrat.

    The Rise & Fall of Organized Crime in America

    Those who had arranged to import alcohol from overseas became legal distributors after Prohibition ended. The Kennedy Family still gets royalties on every imported bottle of Scotch brought into the United States because of a deal their bootlegger patriarch, Joseph P. Kennedy arranged well before the end of Prohibition.

    Alors quelle est la base historique de la fortune des Kennedys ? Il y a la vente de drogues légales, le délit d’initiés, des affaires obscures avec la mafia des années 1920 et d’autres transactions au dépens des autres. Plutôt « The Wolf of Wall Street » que « The Godfather » ? J’ai des doutes.


    Pourquoi est-ce qu’il est si difficile de trouver la vérité sur les familles riches ? On découvre entre autres méthodes une voloté ferme de leur part d’attirer l’attention du public sur leurs affaires plus croustillantes qu’importantes . Joe Kennedy était connu pour son affaire avec #Gloria_Swanson, l’histoire de JFK et Marilyn Monroe est légende, il y a les François-Henri Pinault et Salma Hayek, Jean Todt et Michelle Yeoh, et patati et patata ...

    Les vraies affaires restent dans l’ombre des archives secrètes.

    #prohibition #USA #mafia

  • « Did John F. Kennedy admire Hitler ? » | Haaretz


    John F. Kennedy admired Hitler as a young man and felt fascism was right for Germany, according to a new book in German that mines the future president’s diaries.

    According to Spiegel Online’s article on the book, the 20-year-old Kennedy pondered on August 3, 1937: What are the evils of fascism compared to communism? On August 21 he added that the Germans had been ganged up on.

    The book is “John F. Kennedy Unter Deutschen” ("John F. Kennedy Among the Germans") – featuring travel diaries and letters between 1937 and 1945. The work, edited by Oliver Lubrich, documents three visits by Kennedy to Germany – in 1937, 1939 and 1945. “At first glance, one could get the impression that Kennedy endorsed fascism and even admired Hitler,” Spiegel writes. (...)

    The book quotes Kennedy as saying that the Nordic peoples appeared superior to their southern neighbors. Meanwhile, he called Germany’s highways, built by the Nazis, the best in the world.

    Even after the war in Europe, Kennedy reportedly had positive things to say about Hitler. According to Spiegel, on August 1, 1945, he wrote that anyone visiting places like Hitler’s residence in the Bavarian Alps could imagine how Hitler would be recognized as one of the most important people who ever lived. Another time, he wrote that there was something mysterious about Hitler – that he was made of the stuff of legends.

    #JFK #Hitler #histoire #nazisme