Forging new meaning at Penn State

A mural on College Avenue in State College, Pennsylvania, features former Penn State football coach Joe Paterno. Artist Michael Pilato put a halo over Paterno after the coach's death. When an investigation found that Paterno helped cover up child sex abuse by a former assistant coach, the halo was painted over. Beaver Stadium, with a seating capacity of more than 106,000, is home to the Penn State football team. On the first day of classes, Penn State students talk on the phone and study outside the HUB, the student union center. Wide receiver Evan Lewis, No. 37, gets ready for a drill with teammates during football practice on Tuesday, August 28. The Nittany Lions face Ohio at home under the direction of new head coach Bill O'Brien for the first game of the season on Saturday. A videographer films the Penn State Nittany Lions during football practice. Students walk through campus on the first day of class on Monday, August 27. The campus is home to more than 40,000 students. A car parked in a garage on campus has a license plate message directed at the former Penn State football coach. A man sits on College Avenue, the main drag that is lined by shops and restaurants. The jury chairs in the courtroom where Sandusky stood trial sit empty at the Centre County Courthouse in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. Sandusky was found guilty of 45 counts of sexual abuse of young boys over a 15-year period. Sandusky has yet to be sentenced. A student studies on campus. Penn State head football coach Bill O'Brien speaks to the media during a press conference at Beaver Stadium on Tuesday, August 28. O'Brien will lead the Penn State football program for the first time on Saturday. "Peachy Paterno" ice cream sits in the freezer at the Berkey Creamery on campus. The "Sandusky Blitz" flavor has been removed. The clock tower of the Old Main building peeks through the trees on campus. The Blue Band, with a roster of more than 300 students, practices on the first day of school. Coach O'Brien speaks to the media. "No matter what happens on the field, these guys have developed an unbreakable bond." A Paterno cutout stands inside a storefront window on College Avenue. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Penn State students rally to redefine their school after being plagued by scandal "Now it's not just football, it's about the school," senior Tyler Franks says Students say they will always remember victims and also have pride in school Some students say they won't be proud to support football State College, Pennsylvania (CNN) -- A roar echoes through the arena. From the packed stands a chant begins: "We Are." Voices boom louder in response: "Penn State." For nearly 10 minutes, the chants reverberate. This is not a football game, or any sports event. It is the freshman convocation, the official welcome for the incoming class. More than 7,000 new students are in the Bryce Jordan Center making themselves heard. They are here. They are here despite a scandal that has damaged this school's reputation, brought unprecedented sanctions from the National Collegiate Athletic Association, jailed a former football coach for sex abuse and prompted an ongoing investigation into allegations of a coverup by top officials. Emotional return to gridiron for Penn St New PSU coach: You run & hide or attack PSU player: I'm not leaving this team Bowden: 'Not rejoicing' over win record But they are here. They are proud. Some are also angry. As their chants grow louder and they wait to hear new President Rodney Erickson welcome them, some stand. They are decked out in blue and white, with shirts that say "I still bleed Blue and White" or "Penn State Proud." Others strike a different chord. "WE ARE... PISSED OFF" one shirt says. Another has NCAA written on the front -- the C replaced with the Bolshevik hammer and sickle. Underneath it says: "National Communist Athletic Association." "Overstepping Their Bounds And Punishing The Innocent Since 1906" is printed on the back. These freshman did not live through the last year of turmoil at Penn State. But they face the same question so many others on this campus are struggling to answer: What does it mean now to say "We Are Penn State"? For many, the phrase will unite them like never before and allow them to speak for themselves instead of listening to others define them. For some, the phrase has become a badge of shame. It is still their rally cry, one that will be tested and scrutinized all year, but perhaps never more than on Saturday when the Penn State football team starts its season for the first time since 1966 without Hall of Fame coach Joe Paterno. Penn State alum: 'We are more than this tragedy' The chants that ring out in the Bryce Jordan Center are echoed along the main streets of campus during the first week of school. They are the culmination of nine months of unrelenting anger and frustration. It is the first time the students have come together since former assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky was found guilty of sexually abusing 10 boys over a period of 15 years. As the convocation begins, a group of freshman girls whisper among themselves, wondering if his name will come up. It doesn't. Well, not outright. "You are part of one of the best universities in America, an institution that is known nationally and internationally for excellence in teaching, research and service," Erickson says. "Unfortunately, over the last nine months, Penn State has also become known for a number of other issues that have, in many cases, overshadowed the many outstanding activities at Penn State. I assure you we are addressing those challenges and I promise you that we will emerge as a stronger, better university." Penn State alum: We deserved NCAA penalty That task will be challenging. Two former university officials still face charges for allegedly lying to the grand jury that investigated Sandusky. Paterno was fired by the Board of Trustees for failing to take his knowledge of the scandal to appropriate authorities. He died two months later. After the lurid details of sexual abuse that emerged at trial, and a scathing report on how the university handled it, few kind words about the school are uttered outside of State College. That, in part, is why the incoming class is so important, says student body president Courtney Lennartz. She speaks plainly to the freshmen: "You stuck with Penn State when times were tough. That's something that takes a special kind of person. During a time when so many others turned their back on this university, you still believed in us. You believe in our core values -- honor, integrity, philanthropy and knowledge -- which, despite what some may say, are forever unwavering. And for that, I am eternally grateful." Penn State to give back trophies The energy is palpable; the students are fired up. Samantha Gavrity, from Staten Island, New York, says the spirit she feels inside the arena is part of the reason she chose Penn State. The astronomy and astrophysics major says she never considered switching schools. She knows she will get a top-notch education here. "The students here are more passionate about everything now," she says. "If anything, that's a good quality in a student body, that they still really care. It shows how much they love the school." It will be up to her and her many classmates to carry the torch as the school reshapes its identity. "Now that you're here, it's really up to all of us," Lennartz tells the freshmen. "We are responsible for continuing the incredible legacy that so many have paved before us. It's a unique moment in our university's history, and as a result, there's never been a more important class than yours." 'We are joined at the hip' Across campus, near the famed Nittany Lion statue, thousands pack the university's Recreation Hall. It is the night before classes begin, and freshmen line the stands of the gymnasium that is home to one of the top volleyball teams in the country. Most athletic facilities off-limits to public at PSU games It's the last event of Welcome Week. They are here to learn the fight song of the 157-year-old university -- words they will be asked to shout from the bleachers of Beaver Stadium. The school's Blue Band cues up the songs. The cheerleaders and dance squads pump up the crowd. And then the freshmen are introduced to someone who knows more, perhaps, than anyone about the odds these students face: the new football coach. "This is a special night for me," says Bill O'Brien. "Because if you think about it -- myself and you, we're joined at the hip. Because we both committed to come to Penn State during what many people say are tough times. "I don't see tough times," he says, looking out at the crowd decked out in blue and white. "I see this." The stands shake and rattle. It is apparent that the season-opening football game on Saturday signifies Penn State's chance to prove the world wrong, that there is more to this school than the scandal with which it has become synonymous. But tucked away on a corner bleacher is one young woman who is not standing. Her head is down, buried in her purse. During a short lull, she darts for the exit. "I can't take it. I can't fake it," she says outside in the hallway. "I know everyone is so excited, but I just can't pretend I'm proud right now." Ali, an 18-year-old, whispers quietly outside that she isn't sure how much more she should say. She's afraid of what could happen if she gives her full name because she has no other school to go to and doesn't want any trouble. "I didn't get accepted anywhere else," she says. "I have no choice but to come here. And I just can't sit in that room. After what I've heard all summer, after all the questions from friends and family. I thought I could do it, but I can't. What happened here is so awful and if in any way the administration looked the other way, that goes completely against the things I want in a school." She hurries off just as O'Brien gives his parting words. "We expect a home-field advantage like no other," he says. "We expect for Ohio University to come in here and not know what hit 'em." The crowd erupts. "So, let's stay committed, let's be loud and proud, and let's get this thing going," he says as the marching band strikes up. As the freshmen exit, the chants continue. They walk back toward their dorms, but the shouts can be heard in the distance: "We Are." Just outside the building, the last remaining students respond: "Still Penn State." Pride in school rankings, not football scores The day before classes start, Tyler Franks and Kaya Weaver sit on the edge of where campus ends and downtown begins. Nearly every storefront boasts a sign that says "Proud to support Penn State football." Weaver and Franks, who are both seniors, epitomize that sentiment. They are Penn State "blue and blue," as they say here. They represent the third generation in their families to come to State College. Franks says he has been waiting nine months to finally talk about all that has happened: How his school has been branded, why he thinks Penn State will rally back stronger than ever, why there is so much more to Penn State than the scandal that has enveloped it. Penn State player: I'm not leaving "We're going to show the world this is what Penn State is, especially come football season," he says. "Even if we win four games this year, the stadium is going to be packed because of the loyalty we have to the school. Now it's not just football, it's about the school." The bells of Old Main chime in the background. It's the weekend, and the fight song rings out. The administration building may be the best-known sight on campus besides the football stadium. It was here that riots took place after it was announced that Paterno had been fired. But as Weaver and Franks quickly interject, it is also the place where 10,000 people gathered with candles in their hands for a vigil for Sandusky's victims. Both seniors recall that powerful moment. That is the snapshot they want people to remember, not the misguided actions of a group one night last winter. Franks says the depictions of his fellow classmates as blindly worshipping football -- and surrendering their values to that culture -- are not true. He points to a campus dance marathon known as THON, a yearlong charity event that raises millions of dollars for pediatric cancer. "Everyone talks about the culture here. There is a culture at Penn State, but it's not a bad culture. That's not why this stuff happened. The culture at Penn State is a community that is just unbelievable. What we do for THON, that's the culture at Penn State." The THON effort, run by the fraternity and sorority IFC/Panhellenic Council, culminates in a weekend marathon with participants dancing for 46 hours straight. Despite the scandal, the group brought in a record yearly total of $10.6 million last year. In its 40 years on campus, says the group's public relations chairperson, Cat Powers, it has raised more than $89 million. The organization is a clear source of pride here. It is mentioned at every event during Welcome Week and heralded by students and alums. Still, football has long received top billing. So it's no surprise the impact of the scandal is felt on campus. "I know a couple of people who transferred out of here because their internships were being impacted," says Kelly Mullen, a senior from Scranton, Pennsylvania. "Because of the role that football and Joe Paterno played in Penn State history, it's affecting basically everything Penn State stands for -- even though it shouldn't." Other students agree that football is king. But they are quick to rattle off school rankings (No. 45 for best schools in the U.S and No. 13 for public schools by U.S. News and World Report). They talk about top-notch research programs and their work with Space-X to revolutionize space travel. They want people to know that Penn State is about more than jocks and winning titles. You can tell they relish the chance to gush. They're tired of what everyone has said about who they are and what they stand for. And they are frustrated, they say, to have been branded in many ways without the chance to defend themselves. "It's not only about the football team, it's about our school regaining the strength that we've seem to lost a little bit," says Weaver, one of the third-generation Penn Staters. "There comes a point when enough is enough. It's time for us to turn around and say, 'Well you've had all this time to say things about our school, now let us show you, not tell you, how great of a place we really are.'" A scoop of controversy, and a new legacy In the center of campus, on the first day of school, students congregate at the Berkey Creamery. It's one of the most popular spots on campus, and a post-football game tradition. Thomas Palchak, who has managed the creamery for 26 years, is also a Penn State graduate. He met his wife in a lab behind the creamery and their son attended school here, following in their footsteps. Twenty years ago, the creamery wanted to invent some new ice cream flavors. It tweaked a peaches-and-cream recipe and dubbed it "Peachy Paterno." A slew of other flavors made here were named after campus icons and staples. One of them -- "Sandusky Blitz" -- has been scrapped now. But the Paterno flavor still packs the freezers at the creamery, despite complaints and angry phone calls at Palchak's home over the past months. "The flavor was meant to be a recognition of off-the-field, academic contributions, which were well known in that time," Palchak says, and, he believes, should still be recognized. In the wake of a scandal that left many questions swirling about the coach known affectionately as JoePa, his status has become somewhat murky. His statue outside the football stadium was taken down. His name was removed from Nike's child-care center, and his status as major college football's winningest coach is erased. The debate over the ice cream is one thing. But for Palchak, the scandal and the implications being drawn aren't something to take lightly. He believes a lot of unwarranted hatred is being heaped upon the university day after day. "This was an individual, retired from the university, and he committed these awful deeds and he was tried and convicted and is now in jail. In a normal justice situation, he's going to pay for his crime and it is done," Palchak says. "But in this situation, what you see now is the collective community being penalized for the sin of one single person." Palchak knows there's no escaping what happened here -- they will live with it forever. He just wishes people would recognize that not everyone associated with the school is to blame. "It's now part of the DNA of the university, just like ... the Kent States of the world," he says. "This is now a part of us. We just have to look at it, learn from it and move on. But it has to be said that this became a very, very unfair portrayal of the university instead of the one individual." That frustration is shared widely here. Perhaps the only thing more upsetting is when outsiders say the school is ignoring the victims in the sex abuse case by cheering and defending Penn State. "Of course I feel bad for the kids, the kids that are now adults that this happened to. I don't think there is one person who doesn't feel that way," says Tyler Franks, one of the third-generation seniors. "But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to show pride and love in my school." Come Saturday, students will likely come out in force to do just that. Things will be different, of course: from the players on the team, to their uniforms, to the expectations of what success will mean in the upcoming years. It will also be the first time in 46 years that Joe Paterno will not lead the team out of the tunnel and onto the field. "It's going to be weird, but it's going to be cool that we're a part of two legacies," says Franks. "Joe Paterno, the end of his legacy, and the start of Bill's legacy here. It's sad and exciting." It is, in many ways, the writing of a new chapter. It will define anew what it means when crowds outside and inside the football stadium shout at the top of their lungs, "We Are Penn State." Kicking off a new era of football at Penn State, with a hope and a prayer

Sandusky sentencing is under way

Former Penn State coach Jerry Sandusky spoke out from jail on the eve of his sentencing and blamed a well-orchestrated conspiracy for his conviction. NBC's Michael Isikoff reports. By By Danielle Leigh and M. Alex Johnson, NBC News BELLEFONTE, Pa. — Former Penn State University assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky arrived in court Tuesday to face sentencing on 45 counts of abusing 10 boys he met over 15 years through his charity for troubled children. Sandusky was transported to Centre County Court from jail in a sheriff's patrol car shortly before the hearing. His wife, Dottie, was in attendance. Sandusky, who was defensive coordinator and for many years the presumed heir-apparent to legendary Penn State football coach Joe Paterno, could be sentenced to as little as 10 years in prison or a maximum of more than 400 years at the hearing, which was scheduled to begin at 9 a.m. ET. Sandusky's lead attorney, Joe Amendola, told NBC 10 Philadelphia on Monday that Sandusky planned to make a statement proclaiming his innocence. At least one of his victims also was expected to address the court. Sandusky surprised his own lawyers Monday evening when he released an audio statement on the Penn State student radio station blaming a widespread conspiracy among police, Penn State administrators and the media for his conviction. It was the first time the public had heard Sandusky, who didn't testify at his trial, speak extensively since his conviction in June.  "They could treat me as a monster, but they can't take away my heart," Sandusky said in the three-minute statement. "In my heart, I know I did not do these alleged disgusting acts."  Related: Full statement from Jerry Sandusky Related: Audio of Sandusky's statement on Penn State student station ComRadio It won't immediately be known what Sandusky says in court. Under the same rules he imposed during trial, Cleland is allowing no communication from the courtroom until the hearing has concluded. More content from NBCNews.com: Sandusky insists he's innocent, alleges conspiracy Military suicides: Can fish oil help? Visit Detroit at your own risk, police union warns Detroit police chief resigns amid sex scandal Wedding brawl aftermath: Man charged with assaulting cop Video: Kony 2012 filmmaker: 'I was not in control of my mind' Follow US news from NBCNews.com on Twitter and Facebook

Nobel physics prize highlights quantum optics

STOCKHOLM — Frenchman Serge Haroche and American David Wineland have won the 2012 Nobel Prize in physics for inventing and developing methods for observing tiny quantum particles without destroying them. The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences cited the two scientists Tuesday "for ground-breaking experimental methods that enable measuring and manipulation of individual quantum systems." Haroche and Wineland, both 68, work in the field of quantum optics, which deals with the interaction between light and matter. "Their ground-breaking methods have enabled this field of research to take the very first steps towards building a new type of super fast computer based on quantum physics," the academy said. "The research has also led to the construction of extremely precise clocks that could become the future basis for a new standard of time." This year's Nobel Prize announcements got under way Monday with the medicine prize going to stem cell pioneers John Gurdon of Britain and Japan's Shinya Yamanaka. Each award is worth 8 million kronor, or about $1.2 million. Copyright 2012 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Hundreds feared dead in Syria attack

Syrian rebels ride a motorcycle during a patrol in the town of Tal Abyad near the border with Turkey on Friday. NEW: Opposition member fears hundreds killed in bombings; the death toll is unclear "This is the largest blast I have ever felt since the uprising began," one man says Syrian state-run media have not reported any bombings near the air force compound Opposition: At least 31 people are reported dead across Syria on Tuesday (CNN) -- Dual car bombs exploded near an air force intelligence compound outside Damascus overnight, an opposition group said Tuesday, though it's unclear how many people may have been killed. "We fear that hundreds of regime forces have been killed in this attack because the compound hosts a large number of regime forces," said Rami Abdulrahman of the opposition Syrian Observatory for Human Rights. "We also fear for the lives of hundreds if not thousands of anti-government detainees that are being held in the basements of the air force security compound." Syrian state-run news agencies have not reported any such blasts in Harasta, the Damascus suburb where the intelligence compound is located. Tensions build in Syria Turkish shells rain on Syria Rebels attack army barracks in Damascus Turkey-Syria ties strained by violence But the blasts were among a barrage of explosions, gunfire and shelling reported from the Damascus area early Tuesday, suggesting the civil war may be zeroing in further on the Syrian capital. "This is the largest blast I have ever felt since the uprising began," said Omar al Khani, an opposition activist. "One of my windows is blown out, and neighbors' plates were knocked down from the table to the ground." Less than half an hour later, al Khani said there was another explosion, followed by intermittent gunfire as a thick plume of smoke unfurled across Damascus. Violence in Harasta continued in the form of shelling, opposition activists said. At least one person was killed and several homes destroyed "due to the heavy and indiscriminate shelling" of the suburb, the Local Coordination Committees of Syria said. And in the Damascus suburb of Daraya, at least 25 unidentified bodies were found burned, the LCC said. The group reported at least 31 people dead across the country Tuesday. CNN is unable to independently confirm reports of casualties or violence because the Syrian government has restricted access by international journalists.

Ex-soldiers enlist Afghans to craft military themed flip-flops

John Brecher / NBC News From left: Andy Sewrey, Matthew Griffin and Donald Lee (displayed on the computer via Google hangout from Los Angeles) run Combat Flip-Flops, headquartered in Issaquah, Wash., and made in Afghanistan. By Jeff Black, NBC News Whether fighting Taliban in the remote mountain valleys of Afghanistan or snowboarding down a double-black-diamond run in the Cascade range, you want your brothers with you. And the same goes for starting a small business selling flip-flops inspired by military service and the Afghan people. That's why West Point graduate-turned beachwear entrepreneur Matthew Griffin, his brother in-arms Donald Lee and brother-in-law, Andrew Sewrey, joined together to deliver a new twist on beach footwear -- Combat Flip Flops. Griffin and Lee served two tours as special ops Army Rangers in Afghanistan together from 2003 to 2006. Lee also was involved in the 2003 invasion of Iraq. The idea for Combat Flip Flops, which sells high end togs with names like the AK-17 for men and Bombshell Light for women, is headquartered in a one-car garage a stone's throw from a salmon stream in the foothills outside Seattle. It started like many things in that part of the country do, with a cup of coffee. Soldier who lost 4 limbs in Afghanistan returns home to hero's welcome In 2010, Griffin had returned to Kabul as a medical training and equipment supplier to the Afghan military when he met an American who managed a shoe factory at a business conference. The factory was set up by Afghan families who'd been running shoe factories for years and were able to obtain U.S. government contracts to make footwear for the U.S. military. Best coffee in Kabul? "He asked if I wanted to try the best cup of coffee in Kabul," Griffin said. "Being from Seattle we said all right we'll give that one a day in court." John Brecher / NBC News Combat Flip Flops, made in Afghanistan, displayed in the garage of Andy Sewrey in Issaquah, Wash. Afterward, during a tour of the factory floor, which he found clean, organized with well-trained workers in uniform, the engineering management grad said he began thinking about ways to help the Afghan people over the long term.  "What is going to happen when we pull out. If you have a factory, that is going to let people feed their family. Each worker supports about eight or nine other members of their family." Then, he said, he saw a worker, putting a flip flop thong through a combat boot sole. It was meant as a joke for coworkers, but it instantly caught Griffin's attention. The idea for Combat Flip Flops was formed: He'd help the Afghan people he had grown to admire for their selfless hospitality and independent spirit and do his part for economic stability in the country by creating sustainable jobs. He registered the Internet domain name when he got back to his hotel room. NBC's Lester Holt answers your questions about Afghanistan Griffin returned to his home in Washington state, and learned that his wife Michele's sister, Kristy, was getting married. Her groom was Andy Sewrey, a Montana-bred construction manager and bass player in a metal rock band (Sunder) who the first time they met showed up to a family barbecue with a six-foot potato cannon. The two learned that they both snowboarded, but each worried that the other wasn't quite at the same level of expertise  (They each feared the other would be a "dork" on the slopes). Finally, after Sewrey was married, the two agreed to join each other for some early spring skiing on the steep side of Snoqualmie Pass, about a half hour drive from their homes in Issaquah. Mohammad Ismail / Reuters Afghan employees work at the Boot Factory in Kabul in Sept. 2012, where Combat Flip Flops are made. Sewrey said the two shredded the mountain like never before that day, "pushing every possible open gap." "That just kind of changed things," Sewrey said. "It was like OK, you're cool. This is my brother. " Griffin shared his idea of Combat Flip Flops with Sewrey. And Sewrey, who had studied art and design in college, began making sketches. Griffin introduced his new brother in-law to his brother-in arms, Lee, who grew up and still lives in Los Angeles and also studied art and design. Lee had worked in Internet marketing in the shoe industry before joining the Army after Sept. 11, 2001. 'Cuckoo's nest' As Lee describes his work in the elite special ops force, "Griff was in the cuckoo's nest and I was the cuckoo." Griffin planned, organized and prepared his team to coordinate air strikes from B1 bombers and attack helicopters, and Lee was on the ground calling in the coordinates. Lee and Griffin became friends on their first tour of duty with the 75th Ranger Regiment, in an operation called "Winter Strike." It was a snowy assault on Al-Qaida and the Taliban in remote mountain villages. The idea, Griffin said, was that enemy couldn't hide at high elevations anymore because American forces would send people to go get them. "There's no support. Helicopters have a hard time reaching there so it's men with boots on the ground and packs and cold weather gear going up into the mountains and doing their job," Griffin said. The mountain Afghans let the Rangers live in their homes and stay in their schools. They helped them start fires to stay warm, and even brought in stoves. The Rangers drank tea with the elders. "They literally fed us their food that they had to survive for the rest of the winter," Griffin said. "There is a basic level of humanity to that. I don't care whether you're Christian, Muslim or Jewish, there is a compassion there for other human beings. I felt that from Afghans." It was this feeling for the Afghan people, to keep them working when the bulk of the American forces depart in 2014, that ultimately became the idea behind Combat Flip Flop. Right now, the company consists of Griffin as CEO, Sewrey as president, and Lee as Web design, sales and marketing guru and about 30 Afghan workers. As the security in Afghanistan crumbles, 'Nightly' returns to an orphanage that Brian Williams first visited in 2009 to find girls with big dreams who are focused on getting into college. Some people think the name is too militant, but Griffin says those people are missing the point. It tongue-in cheek, more of a fun marketable brand for flip flops that anyone can wear. In a trip last month to Kabul to inspect the factories, Sewrey said he also witnessed the pride and dignity of Afghans. Sweeping dirt "There you see guys, maybe he has a little shop selling naan, out in the morning on the side of the road. The dude is out there sweeping the dirt. It's dirt. Nothing, but more dirt. There's dirt on dirt on dirt. And there's a guy that's like this is my business I'm going to sweep my dirt. You'd see that all over town. They really care about what they're doing." Combat Flip Flops is a small startup that sells their rugged and colorful footwear starting at $65. The company has lined up retailers in Europe and North America, but 90 percent of its sales are online. Flip flops made in Afghanistan are expected to begin shipping in mid-December. The first run of 2,000 men's models have already sold out, but orders are still being taken for later shipments and women's sandals.  The trio has also received permission from the family of the leader of the Northern Alliance, Ahmad Shah Massoud, a political leader and Afghan fighter who was named a National Hero by the Afghan government, to sell T-shirts with his likeness. Massoud, nicknamed the "Lion of Panjshir," is acclaimed for helping driving the Russians out of Afghanistan. Osama bin Laden is suspected to have ordered Massoud's assassination on Sept. 9, 2001. Griffin and Sewrey traveled to Massoud's hometown in the Panjshir  Valley last month and met with his brother and son. The stylistic shirts will be revealed soon, with a percentage of the profits going to the Massoud Foundation. They also have plans for new Afghan inspired flip-flop designs using sheep and goat leather.  "We really think that through jobs and economic stability we can do something for the Afghans," Griffin said. "Do we think that flip flops are going to solve Afghanistan's problems? No. But we're trying to show people that it's possible for a foreign business to work with the people there, and have fun doing it." More content from NBCNews.com: Visit Detroit at your own risk, police union warns Detroit police chief resigns amid sex scandal Wedding brawl aftermath: Man charged with assaulting cop Search for missing Colorado schoolgirl expanded after backpack found Analysis: What to expect at Sandusky's sentencing Video: Kony 2012 filmmaker: 'I was not in control of my mind' Follow US news from NBCNews.com on Twitter and Facebook

theGrio: State Rep. wrote slavery 'a blessing' for blacks

Arkansas Republican Rep. Jon Hubbard is currently running for a state House seat, and his 2009 self-published book, entitled Letters to the Editor: Confessions of a Frustrated Conservative, has resurfaced and is attracting a lot of attention. In the book he states that slavery may "have been a blessing in disguise" for blacks. Hubbard writes: … the institution of slavery that the black race has long believed to be an abomination upon its people may actually have been a blessing in disguise. The blacks who could endure those conditions and circumstances would someday be rewarded with citizenship in the greatest nation ever established upon the face of the Earth." (pages 183-89) And Hubbard doesn't stop there. The Arkansas Times reported Friday morning on Hubbard's extremism. The right-wing conservative has argued that black students lack discipline and ambition, even claiming that "white students dropped to the level of black students," through the integration of schools. … one of the stated purposes of school integration was to bring black students up to a level close to that of white students. But, to the great disappointment of everyone, the results of this theory worked exactly in reverse of its intended purpose, and instead of black students rising to the educational levels previously attained by white students, the white students dropped to the level of black students. To make matters worse the lack of discipline and ambition of black students soon became shared by their white classmates, and our educational system has been in a steady decline ever since. (Page 27) Hubbard questions, "wouldn't life for blacks in America today be more enjoyable and successful if they would only learn to appreciate the value of a good education?" The Arkansas lawmaker follows up the previous comments with another question: …will it ever become possible for black people in the United States of America to firmly establish themselves as inclusive and contributing members of society within this country?  (page 187) According to the New York Daily News, state GOP chairman Doyle Webb called Hubbard's book "highly offensive."  Republican Rep. Rick Crawford has also called it "divisive and racially inflammatory." Hubbard, a vocal advocate for more strict immigration policies, states on the front page of his website that "perhaps the most important pledge I can make to the people of District 58, the citizens of Arkansas, and to myself, is to do whatever I can to defend, protect, and preserve our Christian heritage." With such controversial views, it remains to be seen whether or not Hubbard will be elected to an Arkansas state House seat this fall. Follow Carrie Healey on Twitter @CarrieHeals.

Greece braced as Merkel flies in

Protesters hold anti-German banners near parliament before the visit of German Chancelor Angela Merkel in Athens. Greece is facing heavy austerity cuts to meet international bailout conditions Police in Athens are ready for protests at a visit by German leader Angela Merkel Critics see Merkel as the main enforcer of EU-imposed austerity measures As of May 2012, 53.8% of Greeks younger than 25 were unemployed Athens, Greece (CNN) -- Greek authorities were braced for protests Tuesday as German Chancellor Angela Merkel visited a country where many view her as the cause of their suffering. Labor unions and Syriza, the radical-left opposition party, are planning demonstrations in Athens outside parliament, where the German leader is due to arrive, despite police banning protests. Merkel will meet with Greek Prime Minister Antonis Samaras during her six-hour visit. Critics see Merkel as the main enforcer of the EU-imposed austerity measures that have left a large number of Greeks unemployed and streaming to soup kitchens for a hot meal. Before her visit, Merkel told CNN that she knows the austerity measures have been hard on some. "It's very bitter obviously, sacrifices need to be made," Merkel said. "But I think these are necessary measures that have to be taken, I think it was not easy for anyone to impose those measures on them but these, I think, have been made on the background of great experience." Greece fears unrest during Merkel visit Greece budget help: Lease media center Anger in Athens over austerity In return for international bailout funds, Greece has agreed to the austerity program and labor market reforms -- measures that have led to violent street demonstrations in the past. The Greek government is seeking new ways to implement budget cuts of 11.5 billion euros ($14.49 billion) to ensure the country receives another international bailout installment later this month. To comply with the belt-tightening measures, salaries have been cut for many workers, pensions and benefits have been slashed and unemployment rates have soared. As of May 2012, 53.8% of Greeks younger than 25 were unemployed, according to Eurostat, the statistics division of the European Commission. One woman stopped in Athens and asked about her feelings about Merkel's visit voiced her frustration. "To come and do what? Why should she come? They should just get rid of her and all the rest of them with her." But Rafael Voulgarakis, a university student, welcomed her. "It is clearly positive, because as we know Germany is the largest power in Europe at the moment and one of the largest powers in the world," he said. "It is clear that the support of Ms. Merkel is good for our country and is needed." German Foreign Minister Guido Westerwelle told Bild newspaper last week that Greece deserves "fairness and respect." He suggested that Merkel's visit represents a show of eurozone solidarity between those nations which are fiscally healthy and those that are debt-ridden and battling with savage cuts and social unrest. Christoph Weil, a senior economist at Commerzbank, told CNN that Merkel's visit to Athens comes as a "surprise" and that there was "a significant risk that Greece will exit the euro in the next two years." However Wolfango Piccoli, director of Eurasia Group, says the risk of a Greek exit from the eurozone remains "marginal" at the moment and that the Troika will provide Greece with the next tranche of bailout funds to meet its debt obligations. But Piccoli warns that Greece will have to undergo stringent austerity measures before creditors will release any funds. He told CNN: "The vast majority will come from an additional round of cuts to wages and pensions. It's going to be almost 8 billion euros of the 13.5 billion euros coming from that. The total cut is 11.5 billion euros and then 2 billion euros of additional taxes." On Monday, the Eurogroup -- a meeting of eurozone finance ministers -- convened in Luxembourg to give the green light to the European Stability Mechanism, the 17-nation currency bloc's permanent bailout fund. Spain is expected to be the first country to make a request for financial aid from the ESM. CNN's Elinda Labropoulou contributed to this report.