Sometimes, one witnesses trivial events with a powerful and unambiguous meaning inside -at least, for oneself-; events that, in addition, are hard to convert into words: it touches your heart, let put it in this way. The feeling is like a dark and fatal abyss suddenly opening beneath your feet, and disclosing a vast truth unattainable to reason or to the general acknowledgement.
In the bus to home I have this girl sitting behind. She is in her early twenties, I guess. In one of the stops, a guy -who happens to know her- gets on the bus, sits next to her and starts doing chit-chat talk. Quite soon, the girls gets off. She is sitting next to the window, so the guy makes some room for her... But she does not say anything, nor any "excuse me", "sorry"... They are behind me, as I said, and it is not like I saw it, but listened to it. I guess her body language was enough to have the guy receptive -enough- to let her out.
As she was leaving the bus, the girl said: "see you in facebook"... I came home reflecting of such an artificial encounter, lacking of spontaneity: pure modern conventionality. The girl, for sure, that's my view, has learned how to play the game.
**
Early this morning, I gave a speech to the some of the boys and girls I happen to share the office with. You know how these things work: the office is indeed not an office, but a place to talk, chat, relax, drink tea, and so forth. Our office is the only one like that in the Department: other offices are quieter because people feel "more relax" in ours, as the environment is relaxed and slack. It is not supposed to be like this, you say, you are said, of course, and everybody being bothered by the noise and unconsiderate activity gets crossed about... Most important, nobody has seriously attempt to done anything, apart from bitching about or jump into unproductive arguments. These cases end bad always. It is not as much easy problem as it might look like. For sure, I won't fix it: these kids will kill me first.
Anyhow, apart from the option of ear-plugs (which I have), I try to ask for consideration, over and over again, any time I get particularly bothered or I think their behavior is clearly "out of line", no matter how repeatitive.
Early this morning, during one of the usual stuff, I looked at them, some looked at me and knew, but gave me the look-back that a naughty child gives his mother or his friend's mother: the one that shows, first, that he knows he is wrong and, second, that he does not give a damn. So, I started my speech. It took me 1 minute and I say: "can you just avoid the screaming, the stentorian laughing and talk lower with consideration to the me... Or the rest?... Can you?". I only got a clear answer from one of them, being the rest just acknowledging my words so I could finish soon. So I started again. Some of them finally talked and said what they thought. Some of them not.
The most interesting reply to me is this: "Can you just tell, in a nice way, "hey, guys, lower your voice, maann!", or something like this, but not with speeches, because I get very uncomfortable".
Why? Why this young fellow get uncomfortable when somebody honestly express his feelings?... Interesting, hm?
This is to me an extra example of the stubborn laws of convention. Too much education, too much technology, too much globalization but, at the end, it is just that these kids have being taught and learned how to play the game! How to be warm and comfortable inside the circle of fire: the circle of conventions. How to laugh, what to reply, how to look... Just think of the cheesy byes people give to each other at the end of a conversation, a meeting or something, with a -umpleasant (for me)- cadence that let the bye dye slowly and syrupy: "... Byyeeeeeeeeeeeeee".
As I said, these two events gave me much more than what I have been able to write about... Signs of identity of today and yesterday... And ever.
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Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Offense, second example
In this state of mine of particular sensitivity, the second example that got me crossed has to do, once again, with privatization, cuts and unreasonable positions.
Next Wednesday will be November, 30, and for such day a strike has been called against Governmental cuts in the public sector. I am not following it very much. It seems, however, that groups of Marxist ideology are really interested, as the pending strike got actively advertised during the UCL demonstration a couple of weeks ago. The Socialist Worker predicts 3 million "workers" in the streets next Wednesday; the balloting process undergone in several unions shows a clear support of the strike from those who voted, although the turn-out is generally meagre.
Around the SOAS patio today, in the University College London, the propaganda has already started. I read this pamphlet: "Eurozone melts down: no cuts, against privatization". And there brings out a map of the "Eurozone" of black color and dripping like it were made of fresh ink. The funny thing is that UK is fully present (although it is not in the Eurozone), Spain is half out of the picture and, of course, Portugal is entirely out... .
It seems obvious that this time the authors of such foetus don't have much money nor any willingness to invest the smallest amount of time to produce something intellectually decent. It seems to me that such propaganda is the product of the typical extremist group. And that is what crosses me. I can understand the drama of officials of the Food and Drug Administration facing reductions, suppressions, remodelations or, directly, receiving a termination notice. But I cannot feel any sympathy for a bunch of kids with nothing better to do, dangerous, showing no empathy to other fellows and with overflowing current bank accounts.
Fuck them!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Next Wednesday will be November, 30, and for such day a strike has been called against Governmental cuts in the public sector. I am not following it very much. It seems, however, that groups of Marxist ideology are really interested, as the pending strike got actively advertised during the UCL demonstration a couple of weeks ago. The Socialist Worker predicts 3 million "workers" in the streets next Wednesday; the balloting process undergone in several unions shows a clear support of the strike from those who voted, although the turn-out is generally meagre.
Around the SOAS patio today, in the University College London, the propaganda has already started. I read this pamphlet: "Eurozone melts down: no cuts, against privatization". And there brings out a map of the "Eurozone" of black color and dripping like it were made of fresh ink. The funny thing is that UK is fully present (although it is not in the Eurozone), Spain is half out of the picture and, of course, Portugal is entirely out... .
It seems obvious that this time the authors of such foetus don't have much money nor any willingness to invest the smallest amount of time to produce something intellectually decent. It seems to me that such propaganda is the product of the typical extremist group. And that is what crosses me. I can understand the drama of officials of the Food and Drug Administration facing reductions, suppressions, remodelations or, directly, receiving a termination notice. But I cannot feel any sympathy for a bunch of kids with nothing better to do, dangerous, showing no empathy to other fellows and with overflowing current bank accounts.
Fuck them!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Offense, first example
I have been quite unproductive for the last few days; quite a few, to be truthful. I feel bad about it. This life of mine resembles that of Harry Haller, I reckon, I mutter to myself. It must be a moment of certain fragility because everything makes me feel crossed easily. And I know nothing good can come out of this.
I take offenses easily. I will give you two examples.
The first one is handed by this Greek guy from the Department, a newcomer, who sent this petition-for-signature email to everybody: " The Greek Government plans to change the public character of NOA [National Observatory of Athens] and convert it into a private institution, to the contrary of the status that other similar institutions have around the world. It also plans to suppress by the next year the annual state funding of NOA by 30 %. (...). If we do not act now it will take several decades to recover and rebuild what we have achieved so far (...).
Oh, God!... Puag, disgusting!
No: what it will take several decades to recover and rebuild is the current state of life in Greece and that of its people. Two or three generations down the stream of life will be paying for the debts of the current generation and the crimes of their politicians and business man, all friends. I don't know if there is any written and immutable law of how "other similar institutions" should be funded by public money, but certainly the status of Greece is not precisely similar to that of other countries. In a list of priorities, if you intend to save social benefits or the health system, at least partially, there is no room for NOA.
It is the usual bullshit, what can I say?... Why is privatization necessarily wrong? Why privatization necessarily means that "what we have achieved so far" will be destroyed?
Privatization is a taboo word, a useful talisman for the cheesy intellectual argumentation in fashion! Privatization is a narcotic, a mystic word that, when pronounced, automatically casts a spell upon those who listen and gets them out of their minds. A classic case of hypnosis. "Madagascar" and "Constantinople" are such words in Woody Allen's The Curse of Jade Scorpion, for example.
No: what is entirely wrong is that the Greek government lied about the financial status of the country in order to join the Euro with or without harborers and these criminal people are not going to pay for it... How are we preventing then such things to happen again as much as possible?
The savings of so many millions in and OUT of Greece are at stake and one has to listen to such bullshit and propaganda!
The petition comes from here and it has been starting by the NOA itself. Apparently, if you provide your details and email, and you join the site, you can start any petition and as many as you wish. For example, this lady from Colorado started her war against Keeping Up the Kardashians. Every fool has his moment of glory.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I take offenses easily. I will give you two examples.
The first one is handed by this Greek guy from the Department, a newcomer, who sent this petition-for-signature email to everybody: " The Greek Government plans to change the public character of NOA [National Observatory of Athens] and convert it into a private institution, to the contrary of the status that other similar institutions have around the world. It also plans to suppress by the next year the annual state funding of NOA by 30 %. (...). If we do not act now it will take several decades to recover and rebuild what we have achieved so far (...).
Oh, God!... Puag, disgusting!
No: what it will take several decades to recover and rebuild is the current state of life in Greece and that of its people. Two or three generations down the stream of life will be paying for the debts of the current generation and the crimes of their politicians and business man, all friends. I don't know if there is any written and immutable law of how "other similar institutions" should be funded by public money, but certainly the status of Greece is not precisely similar to that of other countries. In a list of priorities, if you intend to save social benefits or the health system, at least partially, there is no room for NOA.
It is the usual bullshit, what can I say?... Why is privatization necessarily wrong? Why privatization necessarily means that "what we have achieved so far" will be destroyed?
Privatization is a taboo word, a useful talisman for the cheesy intellectual argumentation in fashion! Privatization is a narcotic, a mystic word that, when pronounced, automatically casts a spell upon those who listen and gets them out of their minds. A classic case of hypnosis. "Madagascar" and "Constantinople" are such words in Woody Allen's The Curse of Jade Scorpion, for example.
No: what is entirely wrong is that the Greek government lied about the financial status of the country in order to join the Euro with or without harborers and these criminal people are not going to pay for it... How are we preventing then such things to happen again as much as possible?
The savings of so many millions in and OUT of Greece are at stake and one has to listen to such bullshit and propaganda!
The petition comes from here and it has been starting by the NOA itself. Apparently, if you provide your details and email, and you join the site, you can start any petition and as many as you wish. For example, this lady from Colorado started her war against Keeping Up the Kardashians. Every fool has his moment of glory.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Brit rap
I am not at all interested in technology, i-pads, i-pods, i-phones or kindles, play or wii. I really don't give a shit. Nor about facebook or twiter and have not got seriously into linkedn. I have a prehistoric phone which is mute and silenced and sometimes made me wonder if it really works. I don't follow fashion, I don't know how. I don't know a place suitable for myself, really. I have not found myself... Really... Still... Yet. I sometimes fell the awful feeling of getting old before blossom; it is the dusk before the dawn.
My daily days do not help, as I am in touch with boys and girls 5, 7, 10 years my junior. The technical files of singers, city workers, business men, even divorce young ladies are full of people younger than me. You have the feeling of growing up when TV hosts and footballers are generally younger than you, but those times are long ago gone. Time is a bitch.
The feeling does not improve when I open a window in my time wall and look outside into subcultures, into other stuff. It is like being even older and pretending to be otherwise without a spirit.... Agg! Let me drop this baloney for another time.
My lurking into modernity this weekend dragged me to this. It is not like I am scandalized or something; it just makes me so depressed. On a different frame, I listened to different young artists, mainly from the hip-hop culture here in the UK, or in London: Giggs, Dizzee Rascal, Professor Green or Ed Sheeran. It is a very-easy-to-listen-to music. I say to myself: this is not rap! I look at the clothes, the style, the culture and it is so hot, but so traditional, so predictable. So depressing.
In 2004 I spent my first long weekend in Atlanta. I think it was after a walk along the Peabody boulevard that we found ourselves in a negro disco with gogos fully naked on swings, semi-naked people dancing on stage like they were having sex and music like this. I think I thought: "how the hell can you explain Western philosophy to this people". It was the real underground.
The new Brit hip-hop music (I like very much this, this, this and this) might be rude and unwelcome sometimes, (talented too), with excessive fucking words and a certain proclivity to the gang culture and the outlaw behaviour, but it has nothing real. It is an artificially-created culture (and not quite promising, let say). It is a gentle and sweet music, too much in hands of fashion and conservatism. It is on X-factor! With Tulisa Contostavlos as Ambassador.
Last Thursday, on a pub in Great Portland Street, on the contrary, the Sex Pistols performed. I read in the tube what one of them said: "do you know what the problem is? Simon f***ing Cowell".
There are people who never change. And I am glad it is so.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT)
My daily days do not help, as I am in touch with boys and girls 5, 7, 10 years my junior. The technical files of singers, city workers, business men, even divorce young ladies are full of people younger than me. You have the feeling of growing up when TV hosts and footballers are generally younger than you, but those times are long ago gone. Time is a bitch.
The feeling does not improve when I open a window in my time wall and look outside into subcultures, into other stuff. It is like being even older and pretending to be otherwise without a spirit.... Agg! Let me drop this baloney for another time.
My lurking into modernity this weekend dragged me to this. It is not like I am scandalized or something; it just makes me so depressed. On a different frame, I listened to different young artists, mainly from the hip-hop culture here in the UK, or in London: Giggs, Dizzee Rascal, Professor Green or Ed Sheeran. It is a very-easy-to-listen-to music. I say to myself: this is not rap! I look at the clothes, the style, the culture and it is so hot, but so traditional, so predictable. So depressing.
In 2004 I spent my first long weekend in Atlanta. I think it was after a walk along the Peabody boulevard that we found ourselves in a negro disco with gogos fully naked on swings, semi-naked people dancing on stage like they were having sex and music like this. I think I thought: "how the hell can you explain Western philosophy to this people". It was the real underground.
The new Brit hip-hop music (I like very much this, this, this and this) might be rude and unwelcome sometimes, (talented too), with excessive fucking words and a certain proclivity to the gang culture and the outlaw behaviour, but it has nothing real. It is an artificially-created culture (and not quite promising, let say). It is a gentle and sweet music, too much in hands of fashion and conservatism. It is on X-factor! With Tulisa Contostavlos as Ambassador.
Last Thursday, on a pub in Great Portland Street, on the contrary, the Sex Pistols performed. I read in the tube what one of them said: "do you know what the problem is? Simon f***ing Cowell".
There are people who never change. And I am glad it is so.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT)
Anniversaries
Today, more Spaniards than ever are called to the ballot boxes -in fact, they have been voting since 10 am until... 8 pm, I guess. Well, 9 pm, since the time in Canary Islands is one hour behind. T
The date was refused, inquired, talked about initially for some reasons, on the grounds of being the anniversary -one year more- of Francisco Franco's death. The general finally died in the night of November 20th, 1975, event expected from at least a year back, since he suffered a thrombophlebitis attack.
The influence, real and psychological, of Franco on the Spanish society is massive, even today. The guy has been death for 36 years (I wasn't even born at the time), but the pillars of the national skeleton he created are essentially intact (DNI, Social Security System, Tourism, Traffic Civil Guard, Care System). Some other pillars are even in worst shape: judges controlling politician are not independent, but are elected by them (following the socialist reformation of Judicial Law in 1985), and the Nationalism or Regionalism has elevated the problem of national identity to all institutions and administrations.
Franco has been an obsession for Spaniards in democracy; certainly, much before 2004. I don't quite understand why. Anyhow, the wounds from Franquism seem to be now more inflamed than ever as. A huge part of the blame is on PSOE; during a disastrous period 2004 - 2011, started with the most horrendous terrorist attack in Europe in all history (to this day, unexplained and unsettled), the until-today (let's hope, we only have to wait a few more hours) party in Government (PSOE) maliciously helped open injuries again by, for example, enforcing laws "of national memory" which were not in its electoral program, absolutely unnecessary, to my view: an unfair and pure political movement out of any touch with reality. There was this judge, very-well renowned internationally and a very-well known, shameless brass-neck, for example, who just a couple of years ago ordered to exhume Franco's body to verify his death (!!!)... Despite the fact that millions watched his funeral on TV.
This anniversary has for PSOE similar connotations in one sense to that of 20-N in 1975, to my view: a time closed to non-existence. Not long ago, the PSOE celebrated 100 years in the Parliament. There is not much to boast about, though, because during the times of Franco PSOE was almost nonexistent. "100 years of honesty", said their propaganda; and some used to add: "And 40 in vacation". If PSOE did not exist at Franco's death time as a real, organized political structure, today seems to be falling apart. PSOE can only show a haggard countenance, it has no other one, not a single side of trustfulness and authenticity; PSOE has become a victim of its own dishonesty, unlawful techniques and incompetency.
**
What most people do not know is that precisely on another Nov 20, in 1936, Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera was executed to dead in a prison in Alicante. He was the founder of Falange.
**
For me, Nov 20 has a special meaning. A day before, last year, I arrived in London. I exhausted the 2-week notice, left my previous work office at 11 am and found myself in London, Russell Square tube station, around 7 pm. That's it. One year has gone by!
But on Nov 20th, I met M. for a pint and a cold walk-around looking for Camden People's Theatre. The day in London has been today alike to that day:cold and misty, misterious and promising. A beautiful autumn day. It is my anniversary, my special anniversary. If I had to save one thing this year... Only one, ok? That would be it; a person, a woman: M.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
The date was refused, inquired, talked about initially for some reasons, on the grounds of being the anniversary -one year more- of Francisco Franco's death. The general finally died in the night of November 20th, 1975, event expected from at least a year back, since he suffered a thrombophlebitis attack.
The influence, real and psychological, of Franco on the Spanish society is massive, even today. The guy has been death for 36 years (I wasn't even born at the time), but the pillars of the national skeleton he created are essentially intact (DNI, Social Security System, Tourism, Traffic Civil Guard, Care System). Some other pillars are even in worst shape: judges controlling politician are not independent, but are elected by them (following the socialist reformation of Judicial Law in 1985), and the Nationalism or Regionalism has elevated the problem of national identity to all institutions and administrations.
Franco has been an obsession for Spaniards in democracy; certainly, much before 2004. I don't quite understand why. Anyhow, the wounds from Franquism seem to be now more inflamed than ever as. A huge part of the blame is on PSOE; during a disastrous period 2004 - 2011, started with the most horrendous terrorist attack in Europe in all history (to this day, unexplained and unsettled), the until-today (let's hope, we only have to wait a few more hours) party in Government (PSOE) maliciously helped open injuries again by, for example, enforcing laws "of national memory" which were not in its electoral program, absolutely unnecessary, to my view: an unfair and pure political movement out of any touch with reality. There was this judge, very-well renowned internationally and a very-well known, shameless brass-neck, for example, who just a couple of years ago ordered to exhume Franco's body to verify his death (!!!)... Despite the fact that millions watched his funeral on TV.
This anniversary has for PSOE similar connotations in one sense to that of 20-N in 1975, to my view: a time closed to non-existence. Not long ago, the PSOE celebrated 100 years in the Parliament. There is not much to boast about, though, because during the times of Franco PSOE was almost nonexistent. "100 years of honesty", said their propaganda; and some used to add: "And 40 in vacation". If PSOE did not exist at Franco's death time as a real, organized political structure, today seems to be falling apart. PSOE can only show a haggard countenance, it has no other one, not a single side of trustfulness and authenticity; PSOE has become a victim of its own dishonesty, unlawful techniques and incompetency.
**
What most people do not know is that precisely on another Nov 20, in 1936, Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera was executed to dead in a prison in Alicante. He was the founder of Falange.
**
For me, Nov 20 has a special meaning. A day before, last year, I arrived in London. I exhausted the 2-week notice, left my previous work office at 11 am and found myself in London, Russell Square tube station, around 7 pm. That's it. One year has gone by!
But on Nov 20th, I met M. for a pint and a cold walk-around looking for Camden People's Theatre. The day in London has been today alike to that day:cold and misty, misterious and promising. A beautiful autumn day. It is my anniversary, my special anniversary. If I had to save one thing this year... Only one, ok? That would be it; a person, a woman: M.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Weekend soccer
I've just read that Maradona's mother has passed away. Her name was Dalma Salvadora Franco, 81, known as Donia Tota. It is never too late to meet people. RIP.
Donia Tota, kissing her son.
**
In Germany, I am glad to hear that Raul Gonzalez keeps rolling on as the team captain of Shalke 04. He has scored 1 this weekend in a 4-0 victory against Nuremberg. Against the tantrum of Yannick Noah this Saturday in Le Monde against all Spanish sport, I would oppose the stamina and resilience of Raul: pura casta, something the French knows nothing about. (Besides, dear fellow, la potion magique is a French invention, so keep it for yourself. We will prefer el balsamo de Fierabras, better and older).
In Germany, as well, the match Colonia - Mayence has been cancelled following the suicide attempt of the referee.
**
I read an article on the truncated emergence of soccer as a mass-sport in the United States during the 20s, with the American Soccer League. The report is truffled with names of work and professional reference, that reflect clearly the power and paramountcy of the American industries: New Cork Fields, Boston Wonder Workers, Bridgeport Bears, Betlehem Steel; and witth the names of players, time-ago disappeared, many of them emigrants: Archie Stark and Bill Harper (Scotland), Billy Gosalves (Portugal), Micky Hammill (Ireland) and Bert Patenaude (France-Canada).
It is always good to meet new people on weekends... Dead or alive.
**
I have not commented yet on the 1-0 result out the England-Spain last weekend. I remember vaguely a game Belgium - Spain in the previous heats for the Euro Cup 2008. Spain needed a victory to be in and by the minute 75 the score was 1-0 against. Under heavy rain and in a hostile environment, the team managed to score twice in ten minutes by playing soccer like angels. It was the beginning of a winner team and a fresh, new style.
I just hope the team has not lost themselves yet. After the first half of the game against England, 0-0, if I were the couch (no difficult to imagine: like Del Bosque, I was born in Salamanca!), I would have said to them: "Look, you have been playing for 45 minutes alone, but you won't win if you don't score. Go ahead, keep trying, go on, it is a matter of time, score! The sooner you do it, the better for me, because I want to try different alternatives. I won't do it before you score, so go ahead and give me as much time as you can. But this game must be won by you and it is your battle. You started it, you finish it... We want a victory. Now, any problems? Any comments? Any suggestions?... ". And after, I will give them my tips.
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Saturday, November 19, 2011
The Guardian report
M. usually reads the starting column of Tim Dowling in The Guardian magazine of the weekends, which I sometimes do, as well. Today, Dowling gave me the idea of telling stories in the blog, as opposed of merely dropping my mental insights (sometimes, depositions) as I usually do. I shall try.
The role of quizzes in Britain does somehow surprise me. People seems to love this stuff and take it seriously. The quizz Tim Dowling attended was to the benefit of a charity promoting equality in African Schools and was hosted, attention, by Jeremy "Paxmao". Each table was "captained" by a celebrity, Bruce Dickinson, Louis Theroux or Larry Lamb.
A party for notes of the same harmonics, isn't it?
**
Kristen Wiig would have feel as much out of place as Tim Dowling did. "It was tough walking into a workplace where everyone knew each other", she said to Emma Brockes. I guess I would have to see Bridemaids, despite my huge disappointment with The Hangover last weekend. Horrendous, awful movie.
**
Billie Piper does not seem to be a at peace with herself, I feel. She does not like her face, nor her jaw, nor her etc. She dislikes her man's hands. I look at her picture and say, "oh, yes, she has man's hands", and the Seinfeld episode comes to my mind.
**
I heard sometimes that you only need 17 seconds to judge and categorize a person you first meet. David Lammy seems a good person, a man cut out from a black-and-white photograph 40 years ago. His militancy in the Labour Party seems to me an automatic process of sedimentation, an obvious place to where he has been naturally poured off after his background and personal life trial. I might be in disagreement with his judgements, but I find his analysis quite interesting and his experience moving. And like his writing.
**
Zoe is a beautiful name for a girl. It comes from a Greek word meaning "Life". In fact, the term "azoic" is applied to the elements in the column V of the Period System, of which the captain is N. Nitrogen is the part of air who does not bring life, pure a-zoe, as opposed to oxygen, zoe, which confers a life-allowance certificate.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT)
The role of quizzes in Britain does somehow surprise me. People seems to love this stuff and take it seriously. The quizz Tim Dowling attended was to the benefit of a charity promoting equality in African Schools and was hosted, attention, by Jeremy "Paxmao". Each table was "captained" by a celebrity, Bruce Dickinson, Louis Theroux or Larry Lamb.
A party for notes of the same harmonics, isn't it?
**
Kristen Wiig would have feel as much out of place as Tim Dowling did. "It was tough walking into a workplace where everyone knew each other", she said to Emma Brockes. I guess I would have to see Bridemaids, despite my huge disappointment with The Hangover last weekend. Horrendous, awful movie.
**
Billie Piper does not seem to be a at peace with herself, I feel. She does not like her face, nor her jaw, nor her etc. She dislikes her man's hands. I look at her picture and say, "oh, yes, she has man's hands", and the Seinfeld episode comes to my mind.
**
I heard sometimes that you only need 17 seconds to judge and categorize a person you first meet. David Lammy seems a good person, a man cut out from a black-and-white photograph 40 years ago. His militancy in the Labour Party seems to me an automatic process of sedimentation, an obvious place to where he has been naturally poured off after his background and personal life trial. I might be in disagreement with his judgements, but I find his analysis quite interesting and his experience moving. And like his writing.
**
Zoe is a beautiful name for a girl. It comes from a Greek word meaning "Life". In fact, the term "azoic" is applied to the elements in the column V of the Period System, of which the captain is N. Nitrogen is the part of air who does not bring life, pure a-zoe, as opposed to oxygen, zoe, which confers a life-allowance certificate.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT)
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The claw of cocaine
The paradise of cocaine in Europe is Spain. Someone is describing the story of cocaine in brutal and naked strokes. Perez Abellan is a virtuous story teller of crime and his reports are excellent. It's bad to say, but I have lots of fun listening to him. Cocaine is the "drug in fashion" and "a total corrupter". There are lately in the country services door-to-door of tele-coke. In my beloved country, the amounts of this drug are as vast as the sands of the desert. (In the North, the world of ETA swarms around it). The cocaine is apprehended sometimes and locked in cells, basements or cabinets in Police dependences. But it is rarely burned. The drug is normally stored in such compartments without being routinely tested and it is ignored whether the coke keeps being coke or has been replaced by sugar. Like that. From time to time, we learn about this cases: years ago 150 kg of cocaine vanished from a Police office in Seville and this very last weekend, more than twice that amount has been robbed from a Safety deposit in Malaga. They are not isolated cases and some people doubt the official versions. Precisely, after many years of inquires, not a single grame of the coke abducted in Seville has been found (!).
In another sense, there are gangs of criminals getting specialized in parasiting dealers by briberies or, directly, by means of robbery and extorsion: definitely, it is a much, much cheaper and safe way to become rich than producing, distributing and selling it.
The 80s was especially a dark age for the youth, as many of them fell into the claws of the cocaine and heroine. I was a kid, but I could even testify putting together the cluster of memories that reached my ears or eyes. Today, I think many of us know the case of at least one individual in their late 30s or early 40s, more or less close, who died or survived to that period. The adult who survived is a train wreck, suffering from chronic diseases of the nervous system and a myriad of physical problems.
The persistance of cocaine in the underground has been related to some crimes commited by common men or women, apparently without any motive. One example is the crime occurred in a church late in the last September in Madrid: one man, 34, killed a pregnant woman, wounded another and then shooted himself in the mouth.
The investigations have found no relation whatsoever between the victims and the criminal... . However, it is widely known that if cocaine is consumed in large quantities for long periods, it will make the victim prone to a variaty of psychiatric problems, paranoia, among them... .
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In another sense, there are gangs of criminals getting specialized in parasiting dealers by briberies or, directly, by means of robbery and extorsion: definitely, it is a much, much cheaper and safe way to become rich than producing, distributing and selling it.
The 80s was especially a dark age for the youth, as many of them fell into the claws of the cocaine and heroine. I was a kid, but I could even testify putting together the cluster of memories that reached my ears or eyes. Today, I think many of us know the case of at least one individual in their late 30s or early 40s, more or less close, who died or survived to that period. The adult who survived is a train wreck, suffering from chronic diseases of the nervous system and a myriad of physical problems.
The persistance of cocaine in the underground has been related to some crimes commited by common men or women, apparently without any motive. One example is the crime occurred in a church late in the last September in Madrid: one man, 34, killed a pregnant woman, wounded another and then shooted himself in the mouth.
The investigations have found no relation whatsoever between the victims and the criminal... . However, it is widely known that if cocaine is consumed in large quantities for long periods, it will make the victim prone to a variaty of psychiatric problems, paranoia, among them... .
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Tuesday, November 15, 2011
What is funny and what is not
I enjoyed very much the National Theatre production in the Adelphi Theatre this evening, One man, two guvnors. A generous display of energy and hard work, I presume: it has to be difficult to give oneself in like that every night. Well, acting is about this, I guess. Perhaps, the interpretation is excessively centred in Corden at times, and lacks of rhythm at moments; but the output is good. A very funny comedy with a good interpretation and a gigantic physical work of some actors. Had fun.
The seed, original comedy, The Servant of Two Masters, is due to Carlo Goldoni (1746). The life of this man is... Italian, let's say... Fellinisque. Goldoni was born in Venice, and his life and work seems essentially modern: chaos, paradoxes, censure and public scandals and brawls. The man endured 86 years of life and for the last 30 he lived in Versailles, amongst the daughters of the King of France, teaching Italian. After the French Revolution Goldoni loses his Royal pension -granted by Louis XV- and dies in 1793 in dire poverty, abandoned as a rabid dog. The funny part in the fantastic comedy of his life is that the day after his death the National Convention decided to restore his pension, unaware of his death.
There is no better comedy than Life itself. Reality sometimes surpasses Fiction. Again and again. V. made me laugh today when she remembered the story of Cicciolina, the Hungarian porn star in the 80s who made it all the way to the Italian Parliament with her Party of Love. Burlesque, grotesque, funny, scandalous... Ok... . However, that IS Life; it was the Heart of Life beating through, nothing else.
But I agree with V. in that there are parts in the Comedy of Life who are not funny at all. The resignation of Berlusconi has come with elements of buffoonery that strike me. The grotesque scene of a group of people singing his fall to Handel's Hallelujah outside the Quirinale is just astonishing. The fact that his resignation has been celebrated as that of any petty dictator instead of an elected politician in a democratic state deserves, unfortunately, more pity than celebration, more worries than joys.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
The seed, original comedy, The Servant of Two Masters, is due to Carlo Goldoni (1746). The life of this man is... Italian, let's say... Fellinisque. Goldoni was born in Venice, and his life and work seems essentially modern: chaos, paradoxes, censure and public scandals and brawls. The man endured 86 years of life and for the last 30 he lived in Versailles, amongst the daughters of the King of France, teaching Italian. After the French Revolution Goldoni loses his Royal pension -granted by Louis XV- and dies in 1793 in dire poverty, abandoned as a rabid dog. The funny part in the fantastic comedy of his life is that the day after his death the National Convention decided to restore his pension, unaware of his death.
There is no better comedy than Life itself. Reality sometimes surpasses Fiction. Again and again. V. made me laugh today when she remembered the story of Cicciolina, the Hungarian porn star in the 80s who made it all the way to the Italian Parliament with her Party of Love. Burlesque, grotesque, funny, scandalous... Ok... . However, that IS Life; it was the Heart of Life beating through, nothing else.
But I agree with V. in that there are parts in the Comedy of Life who are not funny at all. The resignation of Berlusconi has come with elements of buffoonery that strike me. The grotesque scene of a group of people singing his fall to Handel's Hallelujah outside the Quirinale is just astonishing. The fact that his resignation has been celebrated as that of any petty dictator instead of an elected politician in a democratic state deserves, unfortunately, more pity than celebration, more worries than joys.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Silvia & Jaime
I have followed the suggestion of Federico Jimenez Losantos and watched a few video clips of Jaime Bayly and Silvia Nunez del Arco in MegaTV from Miami. I don't know what to think. It is daring and "different" on one side, but... Narrow-minded and excessively narcissistic on another. I guess that his relationship with his young wife Silvia cannot be judged only by what is seen on television. They throw intimate stuff to the audience and try to conjure up rumors, gossip and lies by explicitly bringing thorny issues up and sugar it with comedy gigs and self-based cracked jokes, and playing around, acting around.
It must be a river running underneath them, something more intimate than the standard intimacy. As Harold Pinter once said to Paul Johnson: "What happens inside a marriage is only known for sure by the wife and the husband". This it is, yes.
I don't feel much sympathy for Bayly, though. To begin with, apart from the phony content in it, I don't like the way he treats his wife. There is something obscene about it. The girl is just 21 and Bayly is the only man in his life. How did he meet her? It seems she does not mind or does not notice, but I do. The relationship looks very modern (the girl-writer, 24 years of age of difference, being Bayly a bisexual and having an ex-wife and a previous homosexual relation of 8 years with a man), but it stinks to the old, pure male chauvinism.
Will Bayly be the next person to deceive Losantos?
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
It must be a river running underneath them, something more intimate than the standard intimacy. As Harold Pinter once said to Paul Johnson: "What happens inside a marriage is only known for sure by the wife and the husband". This it is, yes.
I don't feel much sympathy for Bayly, though. To begin with, apart from the phony content in it, I don't like the way he treats his wife. There is something obscene about it. The girl is just 21 and Bayly is the only man in his life. How did he meet her? It seems she does not mind or does not notice, but I do. The relationship looks very modern (the girl-writer, 24 years of age of difference, being Bayly a bisexual and having an ex-wife and a previous homosexual relation of 8 years with a man), but it stinks to the old, pure male chauvinism.
Will Bayly be the next person to deceive Losantos?
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Eccentric
My first time in the UK was the summer of 2009. My first time in London. It was a very nice, first impression. Before, from my tens on, London and the UK was an English course book in a cloud of unbeatable incapacity to learn the language. London was a pack of red double-deckers, a promised land of gentleman and old ladies at tea at 5 o'clock, Agatha Christie, Paul McCartney and an endless countryside of green, green grass roamed about by Mary Poppins, Dick van Dyke and a couple of kids. That was England to me.
The world of Jimmy Savile -as I found out this weekend- was the England of my fantasies. I watched the documentary in the BBC and kept saying: "these times are long, long gone". However, that world was even dead before Jimmy, I realized. In a single look at the movies in the Public Library I found 3 or 4 like The Last of England (1987), on the same theme: the end of tradition, the end of English society par excellence, in the 60s, 70s or 80s. Each decade was supposed to be a breaking abyss, I don't know... .
Life goes on, nevertheless. My friend S. -a man born on November the 11th- is pointed me out for the last couple of years to extraordinary productions of the English as history or fiction dramas, series, sit-coms. The last ones, Jekyll and Sherlock, both BBC productions, S. highly recommends. These productions maintain the flame of what England is, as Jimmy Savile probably did... For me, subconsciously.
I discovered Sir James Savile this week and swallowed the pill of his legendary life in a sigh and a tear, shortly after his death.
It is never too late to underline a vision: the right and freedom to be unique, eccentric... . Even if Hell breaks loose.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
The world of Jimmy Savile -as I found out this weekend- was the England of my fantasies. I watched the documentary in the BBC and kept saying: "these times are long, long gone". However, that world was even dead before Jimmy, I realized. In a single look at the movies in the Public Library I found 3 or 4 like The Last of England (1987), on the same theme: the end of tradition, the end of English society par excellence, in the 60s, 70s or 80s. Each decade was supposed to be a breaking abyss, I don't know... .
Life goes on, nevertheless. My friend S. -a man born on November the 11th- is pointed me out for the last couple of years to extraordinary productions of the English as history or fiction dramas, series, sit-coms. The last ones, Jekyll and Sherlock, both BBC productions, S. highly recommends. These productions maintain the flame of what England is, as Jimmy Savile probably did... For me, subconsciously.
I discovered Sir James Savile this week and swallowed the pill of his legendary life in a sigh and a tear, shortly after his death.
It is never too late to underline a vision: the right and freedom to be unique, eccentric... . Even if Hell breaks loose.
Jimmy Savile, RIP (1926 - 2011)
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Jeremy Paxmao
I was watching Have I got news for you last Friday night and found the last objectionable interview sketch of Jeremy Paxman to Pavlos Geroulanos, the Greek Minister for Culture and Tourism. I don't know what Paxman had in mind -one can assume he knows what he is doing-, but his remark was so simplistic and offensive than even comedians Paul Merton and Ian Hislop got surprise, which might not be an easy thing to achieve.
I think Paxman has already spent too much time in the BBC. I can imagine one got a distorted impression of oneself eventually. Why is it you have become so shitty, Jeremy? Would you have the guts to talk like that to your Queen, the old lady? Hm.... .
I am not considered myself prudish nor would like to be a sanctimonious. On the contrary, I feel that if you get your cheek slapped, you should slap back, twice and stronger if you can. That could make fair what it is not. Jeremy Paxman must be paid with the same coin. I encourage all visiting him to do it. It might not be easy, but it cannot be very difficult. He has proved himself to be a good ofense giver; let us see if he is as good as a taker.
Here we have our friend Jeremy who, after working 34 years in the BBC -a network proud of his equi-distance and moral relativism in analyzing political and social issues, in the name of objective information-, chucked out the garbage of dishonesty to all Greeks in the face of one of their Ministers, based on a feeble argument. Why? Because only 345 declared to have swimming pools in their houses in an area where 17,000 were actually recorded. Is that sharp journalism, Jeremy?... Sharp shit, I call it.
It occurs to me that perhaps there is a law (laws are the Powerpoint of bad politicians, the rustic baton of authoritarians: they are nothing without them), a law that gives public benefits to all with incomes less than 30,000 euros a year and, perhaps, one can imagine, there is another law demanding taxes and stuff to those having a swimming pool. Could it be? At the end, who wants to pay taxes? Who will say "no" to money? Do you think people are stupid? There are weird cases still -I am one of them-, but not too many. You are not one of them, I am sorry. Do not get confused, Jeremy, the same would happen in Britain or France or German or the United States, as indeed already happened. We are not that different from each other. History proves it. We are not better than apes. The chimpanzees and us have a common ancestor, did you know that?
Let us remember, why not, the extreme inhumanity -it was not any riot or protest- in the very London in August. Kind of nice, huh? Following your deep, profound course of reasoning, what would you have to say about the British then? I can help you: "why is it you British are so uncivilized?".
If I were the Minister of Culture and Tourism of Greece I would have replied: "Mr. Paxman, let me answer you: we Greeks are as much dishonest as you British are greedy. You are proud of centuries of Piracy in the seas and Colonialism on shore (Here, a pause). C'mon Mr. Paxman, you are more than that, I presume. I will give you answers if that is what you what, but let us talk seriously. Or would you prefer to talk about the Elgin marbles, for example, in your childish style?".
I said it before and I say now. Greece should leave the Euro and the case must be judged: the guilty should spend a long, long time in prison. But, let people of Greece alone! How many of them do you think, Jeremy, were aware of the scam of their Government? Do you think they knew?
I find it hard to believe.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I think Paxman has already spent too much time in the BBC. I can imagine one got a distorted impression of oneself eventually. Why is it you have become so shitty, Jeremy? Would you have the guts to talk like that to your Queen, the old lady? Hm.... .
I am not considered myself prudish nor would like to be a sanctimonious. On the contrary, I feel that if you get your cheek slapped, you should slap back, twice and stronger if you can. That could make fair what it is not. Jeremy Paxman must be paid with the same coin. I encourage all visiting him to do it. It might not be easy, but it cannot be very difficult. He has proved himself to be a good ofense giver; let us see if he is as good as a taker.
Here we have our friend Jeremy who, after working 34 years in the BBC -a network proud of his equi-distance and moral relativism in analyzing political and social issues, in the name of objective information-, chucked out the garbage of dishonesty to all Greeks in the face of one of their Ministers, based on a feeble argument. Why? Because only 345 declared to have swimming pools in their houses in an area where 17,000 were actually recorded. Is that sharp journalism, Jeremy?... Sharp shit, I call it.
It occurs to me that perhaps there is a law (laws are the Powerpoint of bad politicians, the rustic baton of authoritarians: they are nothing without them), a law that gives public benefits to all with incomes less than 30,000 euros a year and, perhaps, one can imagine, there is another law demanding taxes and stuff to those having a swimming pool. Could it be? At the end, who wants to pay taxes? Who will say "no" to money? Do you think people are stupid? There are weird cases still -I am one of them-, but not too many. You are not one of them, I am sorry. Do not get confused, Jeremy, the same would happen in Britain or France or German or the United States, as indeed already happened. We are not that different from each other. History proves it. We are not better than apes. The chimpanzees and us have a common ancestor, did you know that?
Let us remember, why not, the extreme inhumanity -it was not any riot or protest- in the very London in August. Kind of nice, huh? Following your deep, profound course of reasoning, what would you have to say about the British then? I can help you: "why is it you British are so uncivilized?".
If I were the Minister of Culture and Tourism of Greece I would have replied: "Mr. Paxman, let me answer you: we Greeks are as much dishonest as you British are greedy. You are proud of centuries of Piracy in the seas and Colonialism on shore (Here, a pause). C'mon Mr. Paxman, you are more than that, I presume. I will give you answers if that is what you what, but let us talk seriously. Or would you prefer to talk about the Elgin marbles, for example, in your childish style?".
I said it before and I say now. Greece should leave the Euro and the case must be judged: the guilty should spend a long, long time in prison. But, let people of Greece alone! How many of them do you think, Jeremy, were aware of the scam of their Government? Do you think they knew?
I find it hard to believe.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Friday, November 11, 2011
Non vi e alcun dubbio
During our daily exchange of disagreements and burning words, my dear friend V. was on the verge of collapse today as she suddenly looked at me, her eyes goggling out of the sockets: "Oh, my God!... I did not know this!... You know who said the same you just said?... Berlusconi!!!".
Sometimes I am able to close my mouth a little and listen to her and always learn. She painted the final story of Silvio as sad. I can see it coming darker. Silvio, listen to me: forget about getting yourself a position in Canale 5 after your resignation, if you are thinking of that. Negotiate with your wife, undergo the ordeal of purification and come back to her.
The story of this man is grotesque. You laugh in the noisy turbulent of events: "Non vi e alcun dubbio", said the President Napolitano [that Berlusconi will leave], in an attempt to send a positive message to the markets about the certain resignation of Berlusconi shortly.
But once the whirlwind of events has passed, and the silence of the night descends, you feel ice in your veins and there is nothing to laugh about. Silvio: you got nuts. If you have any sense of self-respect, try to go back to your wife as the most important business in your life. Otherwise, you will die as a lonely bancomat and History won't treat you fairly.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Sometimes I am able to close my mouth a little and listen to her and always learn. She painted the final story of Silvio as sad. I can see it coming darker. Silvio, listen to me: forget about getting yourself a position in Canale 5 after your resignation, if you are thinking of that. Negotiate with your wife, undergo the ordeal of purification and come back to her.
The story of this man is grotesque. You laugh in the noisy turbulent of events: "Non vi e alcun dubbio", said the President Napolitano [that Berlusconi will leave], in an attempt to send a positive message to the markets about the certain resignation of Berlusconi shortly.
But once the whirlwind of events has passed, and the silence of the night descends, you feel ice in your veins and there is nothing to laugh about. Silvio: you got nuts. If you have any sense of self-respect, try to go back to your wife as the most important business in your life. Otherwise, you will die as a lonely bancomat and History won't treat you fairly.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Cuts, Poppies and Frankie Cocozza
Yesterday, the 9th of November, I spend about 1 hour, from 11.30 to 12.30, roving the brewing demonstration -against, what?- outside the University of London Union (ULU) building, in Torrington Place. The display of policemen was big and that of photographers even bigger. The participation was not massive. I don't know how to make an estimate; 10,000, I read. Maybe, half of that?, about that?
I keep wondering who organized it and how. What kind of support do they have? How much money? Why that big media support? All we students have received at least 2 mails encouraging us to join the march in the previous days. Apparently, the data is filed once you registered and the ULU is allowed to use it, albeit you can get your name unsubscribed by "making click on a link".
As far as I can understand, the UCL Head Office is the first interested in throwing its cubs against the Government on the grounds of cuts and fees. Given the precedence of Malcolm Grant against Cameron, I would not be surprised. I don't understand the link between cuts in public spending and increasing the fees to students. If the money going into public Universities needs to be cut, as far as a Government democratically ellected thinks, why the UCL has necessarily to increase the taxes to students? There is an advert in the tube: "Just because we can increase the taxes, does not mean we do it". Exactly. I am sure not everything running at UCL is efficient; the opportunity should have been used to make changes and improve... Significantly enough: the protest is rather against cuts, but not against fees. Why are the students not demonstrating against the University?
The rest is pure propaganda, the market, the privatization, the same old marxist ideas.... What?? Got any doubts? Within the Empire of the Law and an independent Justice, got any doubts? Capitalism is BETTER that anything else.
To a large extend, the demonstration yesterday was a shout from the left to hail marxism or whatever form of socialism and slander capitalism. The message and the placards were unanimous in this. And the Sea of Rage was not entirely absent.
I must confess that the first of these two photographs breaks my heart tenderly. I turned 34 last Sunday; I could advertise the message, because my life now is the opposite of each sentence, one by one; furthermore, I feel tied up and not at all free. The snapshot with the boy wearing a "Che"-T-shirt behind the placard and next to the group of The London School of Economics is so f***ing odd, so coool.
The reformation of Education -or whatever- by means of white papers is old stuff. I had fun recording too different opinions about it:
**
There is something political about the English soccer players wearing the poppy in their shirts this Saturday in the up-coming game in Wembley against Spain. That's how I see it. But, what I say, ha, ha, what would you expect, Mr. Blatter? If you organize a friendly game for the Remembrance weekend, what would you expect?
I read in The Sun that Prince William was kind of furious and sent off a letter to FIFA bosses. I think it is kind of nice. I just hope he did not do it just because he has lost friends in battles and was "particularly incensed" about it. A Prince, a King must be cold as hell.
The English should know that this coming Saturday their National Team is playing against a group of Spaniards with a significant problem to identify themselves as belonging to the same nation. At least, part of them. The UK veterans showed angry recently at the findings that the HMS Belfast Ship Museum has been kicked out from Olympics posters by photoshop. In Spain, on the contrary, we feel ashamed to remember any single part of our -sometimes- brilliant War History... .
**
I find outrageous the case of Frankie Cocozza. It seems that all that matters -even to his father- is that he has lost a life opportunity (sic). (To do what?, I wonder). Nobody seems to be worried about this teenager who is on drugs, goes on binge drinking all week long and finds natural to have tattooed in his ass his female conquests. A natural thing... .
Of course, it all can be a put-up strategy: you know, the bad results of X-factor lately, the unfair decision last Sunday about Cocozza against other guys, and so on. Even sadder.
My friend J. -he has 2 PhD, one in Physics and another in Chemistry; and it's a long time no see!- used to praise Blade Runner: "It's fascinating:", he used to say, "a world where Governments do not exist and we are run by big Corporations".
The time is come.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I keep wondering who organized it and how. What kind of support do they have? How much money? Why that big media support? All we students have received at least 2 mails encouraging us to join the march in the previous days. Apparently, the data is filed once you registered and the ULU is allowed to use it, albeit you can get your name unsubscribed by "making click on a link".
As far as I can understand, the UCL Head Office is the first interested in throwing its cubs against the Government on the grounds of cuts and fees. Given the precedence of Malcolm Grant against Cameron, I would not be surprised. I don't understand the link between cuts in public spending and increasing the fees to students. If the money going into public Universities needs to be cut, as far as a Government democratically ellected thinks, why the UCL has necessarily to increase the taxes to students? There is an advert in the tube: "Just because we can increase the taxes, does not mean we do it". Exactly. I am sure not everything running at UCL is efficient; the opportunity should have been used to make changes and improve... Significantly enough: the protest is rather against cuts, but not against fees. Why are the students not demonstrating against the University?
The rest is pure propaganda, the market, the privatization, the same old marxist ideas.... What?? Got any doubts? Within the Empire of the Law and an independent Justice, got any doubts? Capitalism is BETTER that anything else.
To a large extend, the demonstration yesterday was a shout from the left to hail marxism or whatever form of socialism and slander capitalism. The message and the placards were unanimous in this. And the Sea of Rage was not entirely absent.
I must confess that the first of these two photographs breaks my heart tenderly. I turned 34 last Sunday; I could advertise the message, because my life now is the opposite of each sentence, one by one; furthermore, I feel tied up and not at all free. The snapshot with the boy wearing a "Che"-T-shirt behind the placard and next to the group of The London School of Economics is so f***ing odd, so coool.
The reformation of Education -or whatever- by means of white papers is old stuff. I had fun recording too different opinions about it:
**
There is something political about the English soccer players wearing the poppy in their shirts this Saturday in the up-coming game in Wembley against Spain. That's how I see it. But, what I say, ha, ha, what would you expect, Mr. Blatter? If you organize a friendly game for the Remembrance weekend, what would you expect?
I read in The Sun that Prince William was kind of furious and sent off a letter to FIFA bosses. I think it is kind of nice. I just hope he did not do it just because he has lost friends in battles and was "particularly incensed" about it. A Prince, a King must be cold as hell.
The English should know that this coming Saturday their National Team is playing against a group of Spaniards with a significant problem to identify themselves as belonging to the same nation. At least, part of them. The UK veterans showed angry recently at the findings that the HMS Belfast Ship Museum has been kicked out from Olympics posters by photoshop. In Spain, on the contrary, we feel ashamed to remember any single part of our -sometimes- brilliant War History... .
**
I find outrageous the case of Frankie Cocozza. It seems that all that matters -even to his father- is that he has lost a life opportunity (sic). (To do what?, I wonder). Nobody seems to be worried about this teenager who is on drugs, goes on binge drinking all week long and finds natural to have tattooed in his ass his female conquests. A natural thing... .
Of course, it all can be a put-up strategy: you know, the bad results of X-factor lately, the unfair decision last Sunday about Cocozza against other guys, and so on. Even sadder.
My friend J. -he has 2 PhD, one in Physics and another in Chemistry; and it's a long time no see!- used to praise Blade Runner: "It's fascinating:", he used to say, "a world where Governments do not exist and we are run by big Corporations".
The time is come.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The break
The solutions so far implemented for countries like Greece or Italy are as much old as the river side, as much boisterous and empty as a hollow bell made of brass: technocracy, unity, consensus, blah, blah, same old, same old.
Nevertheless, precisely now that angry men, young and old, beg for democracy against the dictatorship of the market (sic), I feel it is very convenient to point out that these interventions in those two countries are just a wipe-out of democracy: a clean, sharp break. People are just washed away the process. We could see it clearly if we dig a tunnel in time, 250-years long, back into the absolute spirit of despotism.
Feeble, detachable Democracy... .
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Nevertheless, precisely now that angry men, young and old, beg for democracy against the dictatorship of the market (sic), I feel it is very convenient to point out that these interventions in those two countries are just a wipe-out of democracy: a clean, sharp break. People are just washed away the process. We could see it clearly if we dig a tunnel in time, 250-years long, back into the absolute spirit of despotism.
Feeble, detachable Democracy... .
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Rogers, Row and Munchen
Being as I am a utterly ignoramus, I learned this weekend about a character named Jim Rogers, an investor, business man and financial commentator, whatever these are. Only read an interview but, naturally, I can jump on conclusions based on impressions: he is a reckless, ruthless, cold bastard. According to Paul Johnson's definition, Rogers is an "intellectual", someone more worried about ideas than about people. Rogers does not like to lose and is obviously a successful winner. He is a gifted winner. I am sure he is and has been a quite hard-working chap, although Soros' praise does not help much -another ruthless bastard.
Jim Rogers is an offensive rich, born to be rich: he does not know how to do another thing. He suits the profile. He became a millionaire soon and when asked "does money bring happiness?", he answers: "I don't have a boat, nor any plain and just own one house. I wear the same clothing for years and I just bought a car because my wife asked me to". Exactly, Mr. Rogers: you are a stingy rich. That is why you could save your freedom. I guess your wife (the first or the second, the ones you despise now) did not like the idea of jumping in a too-popular New York taxi cab after a luxury dinner with friends.
You need to understand, Mr. Rogers, that not everybody is born for business; one might have other drivers in life. People like money generally, but most of the people also like spending money. Most die without being immensely rich. Most of the people don't have to wait until they are 69 to realize that children are a blessing. You might be happy now with your Baby Bee, aged 3, but be careful: the girl will grow and she might turn against you, and you will be too old then, or too alone. Let me ask you one blunt, daring question: if your Baby Bee were bad at languages, what would you say about the "spirit of the emigrants"? If the pre-school reports were bad and your Baby Bee were a calamity, instead of number 1, what would you think then?
**
Too-lucky, too-successful, too-crazy Jim Rogers have many alter-egos in the common men and women around us. One might be John Row, 64, whose profile I found in The Guardian magazine this weekend: "I spend my time either pootling around festivals or going into prisons and schools as a writer-in-residence". Row wears a magic snowy long beard, covers his head with a creamy top-hat and holds a hazel stick a woodsman gave to him 15 years ago in return for a story.
He said: "A 10-year-old once said to me, 'You must have a lot of money to go all the places you go'. I've never had more than two pennies to rub together. The trick is finding something you like to do (...) and you can go anywhere you want"... Something you like to do. Something you like to do... An old quest, in pockets, sounds and love.
Philosopher Rogers gives the same advice. But in a negative way. He invites the young to be a cold, ruthless beasts against "professors and parents". (I chuckle). Not everybody is as farsighted as you, sir. Precisely, the big problem of many young adults today (to whom you invite to become peasants or gardeners in China) is daydreaming: we do not know what we want.
**
Last Monday night -I think... Yes, last Monday- I got lost on purpose in the streets beyond King's Cross. I walked half an hour and, when tired, I stop at the first bus stop to go to Finsbury Park and back home. The "trick-or-treat" boys made my waiting lighter.
The bus route was as errant and dark as my walk, and so the people in it. At least, that was my impression. After 5 minutes, a young woman stepped in with a boy suffered from autism whose name was Munchen. Munchen could not have his hands quite, and the lady struggled to clamp them among hers... Oh, how futile our reason is! How vane and blank!... Can an autistic boy laugh, I wonder? Can an autistic boy smile?... . What a wonderful job! To have the brainless smile and laugh: the whole Universe condensed in a short, ephemeral smile or a mad laugh. I guess that is Life about, all that really matters.
The view and story of Munchen and the woman, dark as everything else, carries the spark of Love in the Mystery of our Lives.
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Jim Rogers is an offensive rich, born to be rich: he does not know how to do another thing. He suits the profile. He became a millionaire soon and when asked "does money bring happiness?", he answers: "I don't have a boat, nor any plain and just own one house. I wear the same clothing for years and I just bought a car because my wife asked me to". Exactly, Mr. Rogers: you are a stingy rich. That is why you could save your freedom. I guess your wife (the first or the second, the ones you despise now) did not like the idea of jumping in a too-popular New York taxi cab after a luxury dinner with friends.
You need to understand, Mr. Rogers, that not everybody is born for business; one might have other drivers in life. People like money generally, but most of the people also like spending money. Most die without being immensely rich. Most of the people don't have to wait until they are 69 to realize that children are a blessing. You might be happy now with your Baby Bee, aged 3, but be careful: the girl will grow and she might turn against you, and you will be too old then, or too alone. Let me ask you one blunt, daring question: if your Baby Bee were bad at languages, what would you say about the "spirit of the emigrants"? If the pre-school reports were bad and your Baby Bee were a calamity, instead of number 1, what would you think then?
**
Too-lucky, too-successful, too-crazy Jim Rogers have many alter-egos in the common men and women around us. One might be John Row, 64, whose profile I found in The Guardian magazine this weekend: "I spend my time either pootling around festivals or going into prisons and schools as a writer-in-residence". Row wears a magic snowy long beard, covers his head with a creamy top-hat and holds a hazel stick a woodsman gave to him 15 years ago in return for a story.
He said: "A 10-year-old once said to me, 'You must have a lot of money to go all the places you go'. I've never had more than two pennies to rub together. The trick is finding something you like to do (...) and you can go anywhere you want"... Something you like to do. Something you like to do... An old quest, in pockets, sounds and love.
Philosopher Rogers gives the same advice. But in a negative way. He invites the young to be a cold, ruthless beasts against "professors and parents". (I chuckle). Not everybody is as farsighted as you, sir. Precisely, the big problem of many young adults today (to whom you invite to become peasants or gardeners in China) is daydreaming: we do not know what we want.
**
Last Monday night -I think... Yes, last Monday- I got lost on purpose in the streets beyond King's Cross. I walked half an hour and, when tired, I stop at the first bus stop to go to Finsbury Park and back home. The "trick-or-treat" boys made my waiting lighter.
The bus route was as errant and dark as my walk, and so the people in it. At least, that was my impression. After 5 minutes, a young woman stepped in with a boy suffered from autism whose name was Munchen. Munchen could not have his hands quite, and the lady struggled to clamp them among hers... Oh, how futile our reason is! How vane and blank!... Can an autistic boy laugh, I wonder? Can an autistic boy smile?... . What a wonderful job! To have the brainless smile and laugh: the whole Universe condensed in a short, ephemeral smile or a mad laugh. I guess that is Life about, all that really matters.
The view and story of Munchen and the woman, dark as everything else, carries the spark of Love in the Mystery of our Lives.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Disappointments
My friend M. tells the story of a woman in the Whitechapel Gallery last weekend. The lady steps inside the building to see an exhibition but finds, instead, an "exhibition of the exhibition", which comprises only 1 piece of art. The woman leaves then the place upset, ranting on disappointingly. It took me some time to realize but, despite the age of the good woman, I could share her loathe. London is made of such a bluff.
The most interesting thing to me in Whitechapel can be found just a few yards across the Gallery: a Mosque with a placard clearly noticeable above a door: "women, use that other entrance". Some would describe the action of buying a drink to a woman in a bar as sexually coercive; how would they describe that placard above that door?
**
M. did not like my comments on Malcolm Grant few days ago. More painfully, E. did not appreciate my opinion that Greece should be forced to leave the EU and, foremost, not at all, my comparison with the Spanish case. I should have rephrased such comparison in a better context... Please, feel free to write here as much (nasty) as you wish. You will be the first ones. Help me boil up!
**
There is no as much tragedy in reducing the minimum salary as in cutting the pensions down to amounts of the sort of 1400 euros. The young is strong -or should be, and industrious and courageous- and can take it, but who will defend the old? Who will defend the old from such a scam?
The story runs like this: when you are young, your country is in a new perspective and you are a "third-way" social democrat. Nothing wrong with that; on the contrary: you believe in a responsible public education, in a good, public sanitary system; you stick to family values, and parental moral authority; you believe in honesty, the power of the law, the same for old, and the swiftness of a virtuous justice. Your beliefs lead you to become a hard-working person, to make sacrifices; you don't care much about becoming rich, but to enjoy life in the good, honest way -who doesn't!-, in being friend of your friends, in get your off-spring ahead, in tasting your summer holidays. However, years passed by, the circumstances have changed, and such conceptions become old... And you get old, and you won't get the pension that so dearly you deserve. The pension others got because of you and your beliefs
Ok, I know that is not necessarily the end of the world, but it is a drama, a real and common one that fascinates me. It is triggered by a sort of scam... . But there is no one to complaint... A grimace of evolution, that's all.
Nevertheless, the politicians of today secure the money in their hands... With a good cause... Of course. They look so handsome and smart, they must be right... People made mistakes in the past, and but they are smarter now... . Of course.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
The most interesting thing to me in Whitechapel can be found just a few yards across the Gallery: a Mosque with a placard clearly noticeable above a door: "women, use that other entrance". Some would describe the action of buying a drink to a woman in a bar as sexually coercive; how would they describe that placard above that door?
**
M. did not like my comments on Malcolm Grant few days ago. More painfully, E. did not appreciate my opinion that Greece should be forced to leave the EU and, foremost, not at all, my comparison with the Spanish case. I should have rephrased such comparison in a better context... Please, feel free to write here as much (nasty) as you wish. You will be the first ones. Help me boil up!
**
There is no as much tragedy in reducing the minimum salary as in cutting the pensions down to amounts of the sort of 1400 euros. The young is strong -or should be, and industrious and courageous- and can take it, but who will defend the old? Who will defend the old from such a scam?
The story runs like this: when you are young, your country is in a new perspective and you are a "third-way" social democrat. Nothing wrong with that; on the contrary: you believe in a responsible public education, in a good, public sanitary system; you stick to family values, and parental moral authority; you believe in honesty, the power of the law, the same for old, and the swiftness of a virtuous justice. Your beliefs lead you to become a hard-working person, to make sacrifices; you don't care much about becoming rich, but to enjoy life in the good, honest way -who doesn't!-, in being friend of your friends, in get your off-spring ahead, in tasting your summer holidays. However, years passed by, the circumstances have changed, and such conceptions become old... And you get old, and you won't get the pension that so dearly you deserve. The pension others got because of you and your beliefs
Ok, I know that is not necessarily the end of the world, but it is a drama, a real and common one that fascinates me. It is triggered by a sort of scam... . But there is no one to complaint... A grimace of evolution, that's all.
Nevertheless, the politicians of today secure the money in their hands... With a good cause... Of course. They look so handsome and smart, they must be right... People made mistakes in the past, and but they are smarter now... . Of course.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Fire and chaos
Who wrote this?
"We are chained, shattered, empty, frightened,
Eternally chained to this marble block of being".
The side of Karl Marx as a poet is not well-know. Marx wrote these lines when he was 23. There are many others alike that show the Universe of the would-be and worldwide influential man: a pit of fire on the verge of destruction and chaos. This image would later be super-imposed in his political and economical visions and conveyed, through a sort of timing belt, into his social legacy.
"I shall howl gigantic curses at mankind".
"When the reflections of burning cities are seen in the heavens... And when the 'celestial harmonies' consist of the melodies of the Marseillaise and the Carmagnole, to the accompaniment of thundering cannon, while the guillotine beats time and the inflamed masses scream Ca ira, ca ira, and self-consciousness is hang on the lamppost".
"History is the judge, its executioner the proletariat".
"We are the apes of a cold God".
Marx quotes the line from Goethe's Mephistopheles: "Everything that exists deserves to perish".
Despite the fact that Marx contribution to the History of Ideas is biased by such images and artistic views -far, far, damn-far from reality-, the style is being edited and copied over and over again. As I was reading today the news from the volcanic activity underneath the Island of Hierro in the Canary Islands (11,000 small shakings since July, the last one of 4.4 in the Richter scale yesterday), I met the following statement from arucasblog.blogspot.com (I translate): "4-11-11: What an explosive combination! The Earth shakes and vomits [its inners] as the Zionism demands Iranian blood. What an unbeatable scenario for the Apocalypse. It is not chance, but the cause (sic)". Etc., etc., and the picture below:
Source: arucasblog.blogspot.com
Same old, same all.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
"We are chained, shattered, empty, frightened,
Eternally chained to this marble block of being".
The side of Karl Marx as a poet is not well-know. Marx wrote these lines when he was 23. There are many others alike that show the Universe of the would-be and worldwide influential man: a pit of fire on the verge of destruction and chaos. This image would later be super-imposed in his political and economical visions and conveyed, through a sort of timing belt, into his social legacy.
"I shall howl gigantic curses at mankind".
"When the reflections of burning cities are seen in the heavens... And when the 'celestial harmonies' consist of the melodies of the Marseillaise and the Carmagnole, to the accompaniment of thundering cannon, while the guillotine beats time and the inflamed masses scream Ca ira, ca ira, and self-consciousness is hang on the lamppost".
"History is the judge, its executioner the proletariat".
"We are the apes of a cold God".
Marx quotes the line from Goethe's Mephistopheles: "Everything that exists deserves to perish".
Despite the fact that Marx contribution to the History of Ideas is biased by such images and artistic views -far, far, damn-far from reality-, the style is being edited and copied over and over again. As I was reading today the news from the volcanic activity underneath the Island of Hierro in the Canary Islands (11,000 small shakings since July, the last one of 4.4 in the Richter scale yesterday), I met the following statement from arucasblog.blogspot.com (I translate): "4-11-11: What an explosive combination! The Earth shakes and vomits [its inners] as the Zionism demands Iranian blood. What an unbeatable scenario for the Apocalypse. It is not chance, but the cause (sic)". Etc., etc., and the picture below:
Source: arucasblog.blogspot.com
Same old, same all.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Bloody Batman
There is a big advert in the tube these days that scares the shit out of me: a fearful Batman all grey but his fists and chin and moustache, spotted in red bloody technicolor. I find it quite violent. The pendulum has shifted to the other side. The Errol Flynn's Robin Hood is the example of how to deactivate an intrinsic violent landscape: the gang of thieves is eradicating the King's men but you laugh with family gust and joy. The Batman advert is the example of how to create violence out of nothing to the stage of nonsensical sadism.
**
I read in The Guardian magazine today the experience of a married woman in her 30s who is having sex with other men. The following statement strikes me, though: "We both [she and the husband] have children from previous relationships but none together. Mine still live with me but they're teenagers who have their own lives, so I have plenty of free time".
Since when a teenager has his own life? If there is one time in life when parents are less free and most responsible of their off-spring is when the kid is jumping on to a non-kid. If there is one moment in the history of a family when the descendants most need a mirror to look themselves up is when they quit their "Goldilocks" and start showing their panties around. If there is one, and only one field where the old domestic battle must be faced and won is when the young bastard has become able to hurt himself. Is not there?
Jesus!
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**
I read in The Guardian magazine today the experience of a married woman in her 30s who is having sex with other men. The following statement strikes me, though: "We both [she and the husband] have children from previous relationships but none together. Mine still live with me but they're teenagers who have their own lives, so I have plenty of free time".
Since when a teenager has his own life? If there is one time in life when parents are less free and most responsible of their off-spring is when the kid is jumping on to a non-kid. If there is one moment in the history of a family when the descendants most need a mirror to look themselves up is when they quit their "Goldilocks" and start showing their panties around. If there is one, and only one field where the old domestic battle must be faced and won is when the young bastard has become able to hurt himself. Is not there?
Jesus!
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Friday, November 4, 2011
The anti-capitalist protest in St Paul
When my friend V. learned about the anti-capitalism camp in St. Paul and learned about the Church authorities rejection to pursue legal action in order to evict the occupation exclaimed: “Oh! That’s a good idea: to set-up a protest camp next to a church”.
I think that the Dean and Chapter of Saint Paul should evict the camp, on the grounds of a simple principle: the law shall prevail.
I heard that the Church land-owners did not want any violence as a result of the eviction. In the previous days, there had been some threats in this direction. If that is the case, I cannot but remember the infamous passage in the life of Jesus, especially now that people wonder: what would Jesus do? Well, Jesus expelled the salesmen out of the Temple of Jerusalem amidst lashes of a whip. The episode was narrated by the four Evangelists.
“And the Iewes Passeouer was at hand, and Jesus went up to Hierusalem, and found in the Temple those that sold oxen, and sheepe, and doues, and the changers of money, sitting. And when he had made a scourge of small cordes, he droue them all out of the Temple, and the sheepe and the oxen, and powred out the changers money, and ouerthrew the tables, and said unto them that sold doues: Take these things hence, make not my fathers house an house merchandize”. (Saint James edition, John 2, 13-16)
Indeed, in another passage, in Mathew: “Thinke not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword”. (Saint James edition, Matthew 10, 34)
The fact that the land-owners of the spaces in Canary Wharf are actually pursuing legal action made me reflect that the problem with Saint Paul might not be as bigger as if the land did not have “any owner” or, namely, would belong to the City Hall or Council. If the land occupied actually belongs to someone, what’s the problem? What’s the stumbling block avoiding eviction?
Last Saturday night I came around the area and spend about 10 minutes listening to the Assembly there. I must say: it was ridiculous. One man and one woman were directing the conclave. People were allowed to make questions from the spot they sat at, which make impossible to be heard by others. At the end, these two people were elected –by whom?- representatives and leaders of the rest… So where is the novelty? Why are these people better than anybody else?
About 15 years ago, I was deeply involved in activities with teenagers and had a chance to belong to Assemblies, held pieces of responsibility, organized events and such. The frame was the Youth Center of a Salesian community and I can tell you: that was much better, much more serious than this St. Paul camp or any stuff of the sort. Albeit young, we were of different profiles (as time proved later on), different backgrounds and different interests. We had this gay young man who was delightful telling gossips after lunch; we had this pretty girl all crazy for helping out Bolivia and that other nurse-girl who went to Portugal one year to study and came back to break-up with his former boyfriend and tell him she was already pregnant of a Portuguese. We had these posh, high-class kids; we had this other kid living with his grandparents and with no contact with his parents who split up ages back. Once we had this 18-year old guy who committed suicide by jumping from a 7th floor: his brother wanted to become a fire fighter. Of course, we deal with parents a many. I remember sometimes this group of girlfriends playing in a square nearby, from very popular environment and public education. When we visited Madrid and met other groups, the stories multiplied.
“[I] feel a vague sympathy for their cause” –says Simon Jenkins in the Evening Standard on November the 1st- “but none for its attenuated exploitation”. I agree. What would it be of them if no media coverage were playing the game?
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The Greek fraud
I read tonight in The Evening Standard that Britain has injected money (or will do it soon, at the tax-payers expense) into the IMF. David Cameron is crystalline: “Let’s be clear; when the world is in crisis, it is right that you consider boosting IMF, an organization founded by Britain in which we are a leading player. No government has ever lost money by lending money to the IMF that supports countries right around the world”.
I am not sure of that, Mr. Cameron. I would not be able to understand this statement unless I guess that, after all, the operation will be beneficial for the UK. Regardless the appearance of “common interest” and underneath the disguise of solidarity, in the current EU fire –aggravated hour after hour by the Greek revelation- every country is trying to save its own ass. How, if not, could be understood the UK Parliament reaction last week?
I know not much about it. However, the case of Greece becomes clear once you learn the true nature of the problem: Greece leaders falsified the balances in order to be admitted in the Euro in 2001. Who did it, really matters. The solution shall be to negotiate the exit of Greece from the euro, investigate, find the responsible and judge the case. All the money poured for help in this process is welcomed. However, money for any other purpose is immoral and prejudicial: why should everybody else pay for the crime of a few?
The question is: out of the endless pieces of news, the media coverage and the 10 o’clock news bulletin, how many know that Greece is in the Euro at the expense of a scam, after swindling everybody else?
An urge of patriotism comes handy here. Some countries did make an effort –honest effort- to be in the Euro: Spain, for example. It was the labor of Jose Maria Aznar Perez who, in 2 years of reforms after winning the 1996 elections, met the requirements to be in the Euro. Have those first 10 years in the Euro been beneficial for the Spaniards overall? I would say: yes.
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