AIR BRUSH MAKEUP SYSTEM

Imagine - if you can - not having a conscience, none at all, no feelings of guilt or remorse no matter what you do, no limiting sense of concern for the well-being of strangers, friends, or even family members. Imagine no struggles with shame, not a single one in your whole life, no matter what kind of selfish, lazy, harmful, or immoral action you had taken.

And pretend that the concept of responsibility is unknown to you, except as a burden others seem to accept without question, like gullible fools.

Now add to this strange fantasy the ability to conceal from other people that your psychological makeup is radically different from theirs. Since everyone simply assumes that conscience is universal among human beings, hiding the fact that you are conscience-free is nearly effortless.

You are not held back from any of your desires by guilt or shame, and you are never confronted by others for your cold-bloodedness. The ice water in your veins is so bizarre, so completely outside of their personal experience, that they seldom even guess at your condition.

In other words, you are completely free of internal restraints, and your unhampered liberty to do just as you please, with no pangs of conscience, is conveniently invisible to the world.

You can do anything at all, and still your strange advantage over the majority of people, who are kept in line by their consciences will most likely remain undiscovered.

How will you live your life?



"Most psychopaths are male, although the reasons for this sex difference are unknown. Psychopathy seems to be present in both Western and non-Western cultures, including those that have had minimal exposure to media portrayals of the condition. In a 1976 study anthropologist Jane M. Murphy, then at Harvard University, found that an isolated group of Yupik-speaking Inuits near the Bering Strait had a term (kunlangeta) they used to describe “a man who … repeatedly lies and cheats and steals things and … takes sexual advantage of many women—someone who does not pay attention to reprimands and who is always being brought to the elders for punishment.” When Murphy asked an Inuit what the group would typically do with a kunlangeta, he replied, “Somebody would have pushed him off the ice when nobody else was looking.”

The best-established measure of psychopathy, the Psychopathy Checklist-Revised (PCL-R), developed by University of British Columbia psychologist Robert D. Hare, requires a standardized interview with subjects and an examination of their file records, such as their criminal and educational histories. Analyses of the PCL-R reveal that it comprises at least three overlapping, but separable, constellations of traits: interpersonal deficits (such as grandiosity, arrogance and deceitfulness), affective deficits (lack of guilt and empathy, for instance), and impulsive and criminal behaviors (including sexual promiscuity and stealing).

Three Myths
Despite substantial research over the past several decades, popular misperceptions surrounding psychopathy persist. Here we will consider three of them.

1. All psychopaths are violent. Research by psychologists such as Randall T. Salekin, now at the University of Alabama, indicates that psychopathy is a risk factor for future physical and sexual violence. Moreover, at least some serial killers—for example, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy and Dennis Rader, the infamous “BTK” (Bind, Torture, Kill) murderer—have manifested numerous psychopathic traits, including superficial charm and a profound absence of guilt and empathy.

Nevertheless, most psychopaths are not violent, and most violent people are not psychopaths. In the days following the horrific Virginia Tech shootings of April 16, 2007, many newspaper commentators described the killer, Seung-Hui Cho, as “psychopathic.” Yet Cho exhibited few traits of psychopathy: those who knew him described him as markedly shy, withdrawn and peculiar.

Regrettably, the current (fourth, revised) edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Text Revision (DSM-IV-TR), published in 2000, only reinforces the confusion between psychopathy and violence. It describes a condition termed antisocial personality disorder (ASPD), which is characterized by a longstanding history of criminal and often physically aggressive behavior, referring to it as synonymous with psychopathy. Yet research demonstrates that measures of psychopathy and ASPD overlap only moderately.

2. All psychopaths are psychotic. In contrast to people with psychotic disorders, such as schizophrenia, who often lose contact with reality, psychopaths are almost always rational. They are well aware that their ill-advised or illegal actions are wrong in the eyes of society but shrug off these concerns with startling nonchalance.

Some notorious serial killers referred to by the media as psychopathic, such as Charles Manson and David Berkowitz, have displayed pronounced features of

Throughout it's history, the Seventh-day Adventist Church has benefited from
the impress of many notable members and leaders; men and women who have shaped
the movement and built it into the institution it is today. In the last half of
the twentieth century one of those leaders has been Charles E. Bradford,
evangelist, pastor, administrator, and first African-American president of the
North American Division.

Elder Bradford, or "Brad," as he is known to many throughout North America, has
served the church during some notable times in the church as well as in
society. And in the 10 years since he and his wife, Ethel, began to enjoy their
retirement in Spring Hill, Florida, his four and a half decades of service for
the church are still notable.

The Journey Begins
Charles Bradford was the last of eight children born to Robert and Etta
Bradford. "My dad was an evangelist and pastor," he notes, "so we were almost
nomadic." Although born in Washington, D.C., Bradford says his first memories
come from the time the family lived in New Rochelle, New York, where the elder
Bradford pastored a district of three churches.

"As cities go," remembers Bradford, "[New Rochelle] was just about as free of
racism as you could get." There were no "White" Adventist churches in the area,
so Whites and Blacks worshiped together. But no Adventist school in the area
meant that Bradford and his siblings attended public school. New Rochelle being
a suburb of New York City, its White population, Bradford recalls, was not
"threatened" by Blacks. They were "gracious people, genteel society people," he
recalls. "The school principal was a fine gentleman who would ask if
we were being treated right." Still, it was in New Rochelle that Bradford got
his first taste of racism. "I was kind of a sensitive little kid," he reflects.
"There were a few bullies in school who would insist on calling me racist
names. Sometimes I'd run
home weeping, and my mother would say, 'What's the matter?' And I'd say, 'They
called me "Blackie.'" And she'd say, 'Well, you are; you surely are.' Then
she'd say, 'Look at your father; he's the finest man I know, and he's Black.
You ought to want to be like him.'
"So when I went back to school, I'd say, 'Sure, I'm Black, just like my daddy,'
and I never felt in awe of anybody. That was the end of that."

Bradford got his secondary and college education at Oakwood College in
Huntsville, Alabama. When asked about the people who influenced his life, in
addition to his parents, college professors, and pastoral mentors he remembers
the Ebenezer Adventist Church in Philadelphia, which he attended as a youth. "I
was in a church that took care of its young people," he says. "They had clubs,
groups of women who would say, 'Our kids are going to Oakwood. We will pay
their train fare, send them little care packages, and bring them back home.'
You can't beat that; a young person remembers that."

Although he grew up in a pastor's home, Bradford didn't entertain thoughts of
being a minister at an early age. "I came to be a minister only gradually," he
observes. Encouraged to pursue a career in medicine, he went to Oakwood, and
once there eventually became convinced that God wanted him to enter the
ministry. During Bradford's last year at Oakwood the evangelist W. S. Lee came
to
present messages for the school's Week of Prayer. On Sunday Lee had been
invited to preach at one of the Protestant churches in town. As he walked past
the outdoor basketball courts where young men were shooting baskets, he stopped
and asked, "Anybody like to go with me and have the prayer?"

Bradford answered, "I'll go." And after the service, on the way back to campus,
Pastor Lee asked Bradford to join him as an intern in the Arkansas-Louisiana
Conference. Bradford helped Lee with a series of evangelistic meetings in New
Orleans, then he was assigned a district that covered the cities of Baton
Rouge, Hammond, and Covington, Louisiana, in the newly organized Southwest
Region Mission. After six years in pastoral ministry in Louisiana and Dallas,
Texas, Bradford was called to the Central States (Regional) Mission as an
evangelist and departmental director. After an evangelistic series, when the
pastor of one of the St. Louis, Missouri, churches retired, Bradford was asked
to provide
leadership to that congregation. He remembers that some of his well-meaning
colleagues thought leaving departmental work to pastor a local congregation was
"beneath" him, that it would sidetrack his career path as a departmental
director. In response he told them, "The local church is where I cut my
eyeteeth. This is where I was born. I was under that old school that said,
'Whatever the
brethren ask you to do, you do.' "

A few years later Bradford went to the Northeastern Confer