The Statement is a great movie. Michael Caine´s performance of Pierre Brossard is fabulous; one feels in danger when he is on scene, but one also feels pity and a sort of magnetic attraction towards any single of his movements. He is the virtue and the vice at the same time, sides of the same coin. The portrait of Church and its priests is dark and ice-cold; the abbeys and its roofs and monks dressed in white, cozy and lovely, stuck way back in time. The Statement is a movie full of rhythm and its characters are humans full of complexities. The name and novel of Brian Moore, a piece of work to discover.
**
A daring and transgressor movie is a Spanish one, El y El, albeit I guess the title is wrong or something because I cannot find it in the cinematographic file of Jose Luis Lopez Vazquez or Lola Herrera. The movie is copyr-igthed in 1979 but, in spite of not being a good movie, the plot and the story (homosexuality, crime, rape), scenes and the final development are avant-garde and quite audacious. A surprising discovery.
**
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Tinker, tailor
"Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Sailor,
Rich man, Poor man,
Beggar man, Thief,
Doctor, Lawyer,
Indian Chief".
(A.A. Milne, 1927)
**
"A tinker and a tailor, a soldier and a sailor,
Had once a doubtful strife, sir".
(William Congreve, 1695)
**
In 1974 John le Carre -his real name is David Cornwell- published his book Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy. For the last cinematographic version (2011) it has been translated in Spanish as "The mole". I cannot say I enjoyed the movie overall. The telling turned to be quite slow and intermittent to me. The characters, the costumes, the set-up are great, though; the smell of tobacco, real and thick. The cities where the action takes place, mythical and full of magic in other places are, however, as much distant and blurred to the spectator as to the protagonists of the story: a subterranean, electrifying river of tension and fear, disloyalty and loneliness consumes this world of spies, fickle as the smoke of its omnipresent cigarettes.
Gary Oldman likes his character and seems to have enjoyed the job. I agree that the cut of the movie is opposed to that of James Bond´s: no music and no glamour; life is dark and damp as a prison cell. And, indeed, the absence of women is painful and catastrophic. In addition, the pointing-out of homosexual features of some of the characters (in a cruel, all man´s world) is no gratuitous to me. (Take as examples, two suitcases stating "if there is another man, you can tell me" or, more interesting, the relationship and the fatal ending (along the tune of La Mer) of fictional characters, Haydon and Prideaux).
Nevertheless, the rhythm made me bored. I fell asleep during the last 15 minutes -oh!-. Perhaps, the good Le Carre spy film-story, mixing up great performances, scripts and costumes with a vibrantly-told tale is the final achievement to make... Perhaps, as well, I should avoid going to the cinema after 8... .
Regarding the music, two great discoveries for me: a surprising version by Julio Iglesias of Charles Trenet´s beautiful La Mer, and the powerful music of the National Anthem of the ex-USSR (since 2000, of today´s Russia again) by Alexander Alexandrov.
Also, let me mention this by the way: the dubbing of movies should be restricted as much as possible.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Soldier, Sailor,
Rich man, Poor man,
Beggar man, Thief,
Doctor, Lawyer,
Indian Chief".
(A.A. Milne, 1927)
**
"A tinker and a tailor, a soldier and a sailor,
Had once a doubtful strife, sir".
(William Congreve, 1695)
**
In 1974 John le Carre -his real name is David Cornwell- published his book Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy. For the last cinematographic version (2011) it has been translated in Spanish as "The mole". I cannot say I enjoyed the movie overall. The telling turned to be quite slow and intermittent to me. The characters, the costumes, the set-up are great, though; the smell of tobacco, real and thick. The cities where the action takes place, mythical and full of magic in other places are, however, as much distant and blurred to the spectator as to the protagonists of the story: a subterranean, electrifying river of tension and fear, disloyalty and loneliness consumes this world of spies, fickle as the smoke of its omnipresent cigarettes.
Gary Oldman likes his character and seems to have enjoyed the job. I agree that the cut of the movie is opposed to that of James Bond´s: no music and no glamour; life is dark and damp as a prison cell. And, indeed, the absence of women is painful and catastrophic. In addition, the pointing-out of homosexual features of some of the characters (in a cruel, all man´s world) is no gratuitous to me. (Take as examples, two suitcases stating "if there is another man, you can tell me" or, more interesting, the relationship and the fatal ending (along the tune of La Mer) of fictional characters, Haydon and Prideaux).
Nevertheless, the rhythm made me bored. I fell asleep during the last 15 minutes -oh!-. Perhaps, the good Le Carre spy film-story, mixing up great performances, scripts and costumes with a vibrantly-told tale is the final achievement to make... Perhaps, as well, I should avoid going to the cinema after 8... .
Regarding the music, two great discoveries for me: a surprising version by Julio Iglesias of Charles Trenet´s beautiful La Mer, and the powerful music of the National Anthem of the ex-USSR (since 2000, of today´s Russia again) by Alexander Alexandrov.
Also, let me mention this by the way: the dubbing of movies should be restricted as much as possible.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Monday, December 26, 2011
The debate
After a conversation with V. last week, M. sent me the link to the Intelligence Square debate in London on the motion: "The Catholic Church is a force for good in the world". Against the motion, two well-known figures -not for me! Such and ignoramus...-: Christopher Hitchins and Stephen Fry. On the other side, defending the motion stood a couple of not so-well-recognized characters: Anne Widdecombe, a conservative MP, and John Onneiyaken, the Archbishop of Nigeria´s capital, Abuja. (By the way, yesterday, on Christmas Day, a couple of bombs blasted in two different places in Nigeria. The details are gruesome; the attacks against Christians in vast areas of a forsaken world have become, sadly, a routine, largely inconspicuous in the West).
These debates, or so-called debates, make me sad. For several reasons. First, because of its bias, albeit presented in a neutrality disguise. Second, because of its vindictive nature against the Catholics: the Church never plays home; the scorns, the laughs, the provocations run always against; the final development of this linked debate, the double voting, is a painful ruse for humiliation, a sentence-final blow against the rival. The host of the event, Zeinab Badawi, who did a poor job in conducting the debate or rephrasing questions, repeated thrice: "I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry".
It really makes me sad is that such debates hold the essence of a non-debate. The arguments are fluffy and feeble; the motivation for the exchange of ideas is completely missing. The parts are no, at all, in search for a truthful confrontation of ideas; there is no facts shown, no honesty. Instead, the combatants have immovable positions. What can you expect from Hitchins and Fry; the former, a radical leftist, infamous precise because his extreme points of view; the latter, a "90 % homosexual", flying and fluttering the flag of his own battle for decades? I certainly expect more from a bishop. In addition, painful enough, the Church side is always meagre, docile, out-of-touch, toothless, weepy.
Foremost, what makes me really sad -it hurts- is that the Catholic Church is a force for good in this World. It is. It really is! To a large extend, indeed. And we have not learned yet how to defend such -clear, out-of-the-question- statement. It is imperative we learn how to do it. It is a matter of justice. The enemies will always be there, ready to hurt and prepare to scorn, and we shall be blessed for it (Mt, 5). The battles might be fought and lost seven times seventy. It does not really matter. The truth really does matter. It is our duty to search for truth, find it and make it shine.
Shame upon us!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
These debates, or so-called debates, make me sad. For several reasons. First, because of its bias, albeit presented in a neutrality disguise. Second, because of its vindictive nature against the Catholics: the Church never plays home; the scorns, the laughs, the provocations run always against; the final development of this linked debate, the double voting, is a painful ruse for humiliation, a sentence-final blow against the rival. The host of the event, Zeinab Badawi, who did a poor job in conducting the debate or rephrasing questions, repeated thrice: "I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry".
It really makes me sad is that such debates hold the essence of a non-debate. The arguments are fluffy and feeble; the motivation for the exchange of ideas is completely missing. The parts are no, at all, in search for a truthful confrontation of ideas; there is no facts shown, no honesty. Instead, the combatants have immovable positions. What can you expect from Hitchins and Fry; the former, a radical leftist, infamous precise because his extreme points of view; the latter, a "90 % homosexual", flying and fluttering the flag of his own battle for decades? I certainly expect more from a bishop. In addition, painful enough, the Church side is always meagre, docile, out-of-touch, toothless, weepy.
Foremost, what makes me really sad -it hurts- is that the Catholic Church is a force for good in this World. It is. It really is! To a large extend, indeed. And we have not learned yet how to defend such -clear, out-of-the-question- statement. It is imperative we learn how to do it. It is a matter of justice. The enemies will always be there, ready to hurt and prepare to scorn, and we shall be blessed for it (Mt, 5). The battles might be fought and lost seven times seventy. It does not really matter. The truth really does matter. It is our duty to search for truth, find it and make it shine.
Shame upon us!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Sunday, December 25, 2011
A stupid vision
I had this -stupid- vision today, a vision that holds on to the night at this very grave hour. The photographs below are landmarks of this fairy tale Christmas has become: a world of forgiveness, peace and understanding.
Such a world of forgiveness, peace and understanding does not exist and will never exist. Impossible. Why? Due to many, countless reasons.
Two, three, five parts in a conflict can forgive only if all of them forgive. Now, have you ever seen a thing like that?
But people of forgiveness, peace and understanding do exist and can exist. Self-sacrifice is due, though, but people suiting the requirements do exist. Oh, yes. "What really, really matters is to understand, instead of being understood", my friend A. and his philosopher friends say. Now, how much pain and determination that is to take? Who is willing to roll down the prickly road?
Christmas is an unique event in History, unparalleled and unsurpassed. An occurrence of universal dimensions _a message of hope and understanding and of voluntarily give-in. A brilliant, immensely beautiful and redemptive episode in our history of ingratitude and iniquity.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Such a world of forgiveness, peace and understanding does not exist and will never exist. Impossible. Why? Due to many, countless reasons.
Two, three, five parts in a conflict can forgive only if all of them forgive. Now, have you ever seen a thing like that?
But people of forgiveness, peace and understanding do exist and can exist. Self-sacrifice is due, though, but people suiting the requirements do exist. Oh, yes. "What really, really matters is to understand, instead of being understood", my friend A. and his philosopher friends say. Now, how much pain and determination that is to take? Who is willing to roll down the prickly road?
Christmas is an unique event in History, unparalleled and unsurpassed. An occurrence of universal dimensions _a message of hope and understanding and of voluntarily give-in. A brilliant, immensely beautiful and redemptive episode in our history of ingratitude and iniquity.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Friday, December 23, 2011
The religion of science
Last June I won 200 pounds in a contest at UCL for PhD students. The challenge was to explain to a lay audience my research in only 2 minutes. I got ready for it -I discovered that it takes me about 3 days. Without knowing what it was and without much awareness around, I won the conquest. It was a raining and dark Friday evening, but I was happy as it were sunny. A certain interest in this sort of speeches came shortly afterwards. I started hearing that the type of 2 or 3-minute presentations is important for the public, something praised by companies and institutions. I even questioned myself: perhaps, I said, this is the thing. I know now that it is not the thing.
After this, I was encouraged by my supervisor to participate in Famelab last November. I failed. The challenge was to be the winner in London and to have the chance to spend a weekend with winners across the UK in a training course. I did not win; I did not even get to myself a second chance as a runner-up. The experience was bitter because I could have done it better, oh, much better. I won my heat -of which I am satisfied (took me again 3 days to get ready), but the final, for which I had to prepare another presentation, caught me wearing underwear. I was not surprised, anyhow. Two details of my life proved again to be my best definition: the ability to press myself down in determining moments; and the ability to leave the work half done. Whether I will be capable of reversing this label of myself or not, is something I would like to find out sooner than later.
It is partly because this experience that I felt a kind of awkward feeling watching last Sunday Brian 's show on BBC. He delivered a "lesson" on fundamental Quantum Physics for the network's friends ("celebrities"), half way between the comedy and the religious ritual.
Some parts were ok, some were good, but overall I found it out-of-touch and lacking creativity. Boring. Besides, why particle Physics? Why always the same, the same, the same? The kind of reminiscence to Oxford or Eton College style and knowledge (Mr. Paxman and the University challenge) makes me depressed, as much as these houses decorated in velvet and vintage furniture. It tastes like a big piece of granite, full of cold, and empty of poetry.
I distrusted Brian from the moment he wrote an equation in a chalk board. He drawed "t =" and then, in a careless way, a numerator divided by a denominator, in such a way that the equal sign did not lay in the middle of the fraction. You might find it excessive, but I thought: "what kind of a scientist writes an equation in such a careless manner?". A few minutes later, he asked someone to do an arithmetic operation on the board. However, there was no space in the board to write it. Call me crazy. Demonstrations of sloppiness make me suspicious as well.
I certainly dislike the arrogance of Science above anything else. I hate the religious status and prerogatives attached to Science. To me the only clear difference between Science and everything else is Mathematics, from which stems its robustness and validity: the more you know Math, the more you use it, the more you are a Scientist. Furthermore: a fundamental score of benefits extracted from Science lay in its applications. However, professors, experts and pundits are becoming narrower, weaker and weaker in Math and most of them scorn the work done with bare hands in labs and workshops or, at least, are not among their priorities. Science is entering the land of the storytellers. It is indeed the game of being like God, because it seems that everything Science does or knows is done by the virtue of talking (words): the way Yahve created the world.... Ah! The beauty is, nevertheless, in the detail, in doing. When you do, you realize you have no power whatsoever: Nature won't behave after your words. The process of Conquest becomes then impressive and beautiful.
The religion of Science. The scam of a modus vivendi. The bourgeoisie of a barren intellectuality.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
After this, I was encouraged by my supervisor to participate in Famelab last November. I failed. The challenge was to be the winner in London and to have the chance to spend a weekend with winners across the UK in a training course. I did not win; I did not even get to myself a second chance as a runner-up. The experience was bitter because I could have done it better, oh, much better. I won my heat -of which I am satisfied (took me again 3 days to get ready), but the final, for which I had to prepare another presentation, caught me wearing underwear. I was not surprised, anyhow. Two details of my life proved again to be my best definition: the ability to press myself down in determining moments; and the ability to leave the work half done. Whether I will be capable of reversing this label of myself or not, is something I would like to find out sooner than later.
It is partly because this experience that I felt a kind of awkward feeling watching last Sunday Brian 's show on BBC. He delivered a "lesson" on fundamental Quantum Physics for the network's friends ("celebrities"), half way between the comedy and the religious ritual.
Some parts were ok, some were good, but overall I found it out-of-touch and lacking creativity. Boring. Besides, why particle Physics? Why always the same, the same, the same? The kind of reminiscence to Oxford or Eton College style and knowledge (Mr. Paxman and the University challenge) makes me depressed, as much as these houses decorated in velvet and vintage furniture. It tastes like a big piece of granite, full of cold, and empty of poetry.
I distrusted Brian from the moment he wrote an equation in a chalk board. He drawed "t =" and then, in a careless way, a numerator divided by a denominator, in such a way that the equal sign did not lay in the middle of the fraction. You might find it excessive, but I thought: "what kind of a scientist writes an equation in such a careless manner?". A few minutes later, he asked someone to do an arithmetic operation on the board. However, there was no space in the board to write it. Call me crazy. Demonstrations of sloppiness make me suspicious as well.
I certainly dislike the arrogance of Science above anything else. I hate the religious status and prerogatives attached to Science. To me the only clear difference between Science and everything else is Mathematics, from which stems its robustness and validity: the more you know Math, the more you use it, the more you are a Scientist. Furthermore: a fundamental score of benefits extracted from Science lay in its applications. However, professors, experts and pundits are becoming narrower, weaker and weaker in Math and most of them scorn the work done with bare hands in labs and workshops or, at least, are not among their priorities. Science is entering the land of the storytellers. It is indeed the game of being like God, because it seems that everything Science does or knows is done by the virtue of talking (words): the way Yahve created the world.... Ah! The beauty is, nevertheless, in the detail, in doing. When you do, you realize you have no power whatsoever: Nature won't behave after your words. The process of Conquest becomes then impressive and beautiful.
The religion of Science. The scam of a modus vivendi. The bourgeoisie of a barren intellectuality.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Deceases, three
Three completely different personalities have passed away this week.
Donald Neilson, the Black Panther, died on Sunday in a hospital outside Norwich from pneumonia. He was 75. His crime history starts as a burglar (400 homes raided without being caught); then he became a bank robber and ended up as a savage killer. He was jailed for life in 1976 in the Norwich prison. A year before, he had kidnapped and killed in Highley (Shropshire, near Birmingham) a 17-year-old woman, Lesley Whittle, who was to inherit the equivalent today to more than 650,000 pounds after her rich father's death. Ian Hepburn, a former Sun reporter says: "His trial was horrifying. He took a perverse delight in describing things in the most chilling way. He said a cheese wire around Lesley's neck was a saw, not a garrote -then sawed the witness box with it (...). He [was] the most evil man I laid eyes on in more than 40 years of reporting crime".
**
Neilson was more than a villain himself; and so, Vaclav Havel was more than a hero. He was also 75 when he also died last Sunday. Havel was a true hero and everything said will never be enough, never praised enough.
**
Someone has underlined the real fight in Havel's life and career: the search and conquest for truth. Fortunately or unfortunately, this very same week we have witnessed the very same example of the other side of the coin, that against which Havel fought his entire life: the power of falsehood. "Falsehood is the foremost of all forces that drive the world", said Revel. The show-off of tears in public scam from North Korea after the death of Kim-Jong-il, 69, cannot be more revealing and disgusting. Destiny has played again one of its tricks and deployed a brilliant and free-of-charge History lesson... Now, beware, the son will make his father good: deep revulsion what I felt watching the face of the kid Kim-Jong-un, ice-cold and granitic. Nothing good can come out from this face... . Brandy and rock-and-roll, and the pleasures of life, tend to make blood-thristy dictators more lay-back at some point. But the boy, this boy, is he even 18? I just hope he likes the wii... . He is the only one who is understood to cry, but does not cry... If the devil is ever to play violin again with Charlie Daniels, he will have the nauseous face of Kim Jong-un before his father's corpse. Oh, my God!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Donald Neilson, the Black Panther, died on Sunday in a hospital outside Norwich from pneumonia. He was 75. His crime history starts as a burglar (400 homes raided without being caught); then he became a bank robber and ended up as a savage killer. He was jailed for life in 1976 in the Norwich prison. A year before, he had kidnapped and killed in Highley (Shropshire, near Birmingham) a 17-year-old woman, Lesley Whittle, who was to inherit the equivalent today to more than 650,000 pounds after her rich father's death. Ian Hepburn, a former Sun reporter says: "His trial was horrifying. He took a perverse delight in describing things in the most chilling way. He said a cheese wire around Lesley's neck was a saw, not a garrote -then sawed the witness box with it (...). He [was] the most evil man I laid eyes on in more than 40 years of reporting crime".
**
Neilson was more than a villain himself; and so, Vaclav Havel was more than a hero. He was also 75 when he also died last Sunday. Havel was a true hero and everything said will never be enough, never praised enough.
**
Someone has underlined the real fight in Havel's life and career: the search and conquest for truth. Fortunately or unfortunately, this very same week we have witnessed the very same example of the other side of the coin, that against which Havel fought his entire life: the power of falsehood. "Falsehood is the foremost of all forces that drive the world", said Revel. The show-off of tears in public scam from North Korea after the death of Kim-Jong-il, 69, cannot be more revealing and disgusting. Destiny has played again one of its tricks and deployed a brilliant and free-of-charge History lesson... Now, beware, the son will make his father good: deep revulsion what I felt watching the face of the kid Kim-Jong-un, ice-cold and granitic. Nothing good can come out from this face... . Brandy and rock-and-roll, and the pleasures of life, tend to make blood-thristy dictators more lay-back at some point. But the boy, this boy, is he even 18? I just hope he likes the wii... . He is the only one who is understood to cry, but does not cry... If the devil is ever to play violin again with Charlie Daniels, he will have the nauseous face of Kim Jong-un before his father's corpse. Oh, my God!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
In the Valley of Elah
In the Valley of Elah is another movie full of details to entertain a cine-club congregation. The real heart of the United States of America is at its best, the city, the places, the people, the sordid strip clubs, the cars, the come-and-go daddy-mummy-son relationship, the controversial and man-eater Army. There is a stream of life running wild as human interaction strikes, while Nature is merely a phlegmatic observer, undisturbed and majestic. The interpretation of Tommy Lee Jones -and that of his counterpart Charlize Theron- is magnetic.
I liked especially, without any specific reason apart from its mastery, the scene when Lee Jones tells the story of David and Golliah to Charlize's little son, David, at bedtime. I have never heard anybody tell such an old story as much compelling. Beautiful.
The people of Israel, after the conquest of the land of Canaan in the dark of the ages, had to fight against the numerous little kingdoms already there; in addition, worst, they had to face a fearsome and indestructible enemy: the Philistines. These people came down the sea from Greece and Crete and were close to destroy the Pharaonic Egypt. Their images are carved on the walls of the temple of Medinet Habu (the tomb of Ramses III, I think it is in Luxor). Paul Johnson says that the Philistines "were tall and slender -giants to most Asians-, clean-shaven and eable-eyed, wore panelled kilts with tassels and their chests were protected by multi-layered ribbed linen corselets. Their headgear, distinctive and frightening, were upright circles of reeds or leather straps or horsehair, mounted on a close-fitting cap. Each warrior carried a pair of spears or a long sword, or both (...). This formidable people moved into the coastal strip, slaughtering the Canaanites and pushing into the interior (...)". Out of "this formidable people", as it wasn't enough, comes out Golliah, the monster giant.
And here it comes the marvellous story of Tommy. The two armies are on top of a hill each, separated by a valley, the Valley of Elah. For forty days, Golliah presented himself to the Israelites, pushing them to fight: "And the Philistine drewe neere, morning and evening, and presented himselfe forty dayes" (1 Samuel 17, 16). The eldest sons of Saul did not dare. But the youngest, David, coming down from the mountains where he attended cows and sheeps takes over the army. And although Saul "armed David with his armour", he says to Saul: "I cannot goe with these: for I haue not proued them" and goes on with only his shepheards bag to face the giant creature. Golliah disdained David, "for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and of a fair countenance".
"And it came to passe when the Philistine arose, and came, and drewe nigh to meet Dauid (...) and Dauid put his hande in his bag, and tooke thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunke into his forehead, and he fell upon his face to earth" (1 Samuel 17, 48-49).
"It is not true [the story]", blurted out Charlize -as if the C.S. Lewis' Narnia series the boy had in his bedside table were-, and Tommy retorts: "It is. It is also in the Qur'an". It is indeed mentioned in the Qur'an, surah 2 and ayats 246-251, although the playwright story is vanished: the devouring and omnipotent power of Allah oversizes the human drama of the Hebrew version. "When they advanced to meet Goliath and his forces, they prayed: 'Our Lord! Pour out constancy on us and make our steps firm: help us against those that reject faith'. By Allah's will they routed them; and David slew Goliath; and Allah gave him power and wisdom and taught him whatever (else) He will. And did not Allah check one set of people by means of another, the earth would indeed be full of mischief: but Allah is full of bounty to all the worlds" (Surah 2, 250-251).
I have the Bible of Saint James and a translation of the Qur'an -cost me 2 pounds on this bargain place on Euston road- "cheek to cheek", one next another, in my tiny library of survival here at home, in the hope that... I don't know... Perhaps, both traditions will melt on one night of magic.
The wonderful story of the Valley of Elah.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I liked especially, without any specific reason apart from its mastery, the scene when Lee Jones tells the story of David and Golliah to Charlize's little son, David, at bedtime. I have never heard anybody tell such an old story as much compelling. Beautiful.
The people of Israel, after the conquest of the land of Canaan in the dark of the ages, had to fight against the numerous little kingdoms already there; in addition, worst, they had to face a fearsome and indestructible enemy: the Philistines. These people came down the sea from Greece and Crete and were close to destroy the Pharaonic Egypt. Their images are carved on the walls of the temple of Medinet Habu (the tomb of Ramses III, I think it is in Luxor). Paul Johnson says that the Philistines "were tall and slender -giants to most Asians-, clean-shaven and eable-eyed, wore panelled kilts with tassels and their chests were protected by multi-layered ribbed linen corselets. Their headgear, distinctive and frightening, were upright circles of reeds or leather straps or horsehair, mounted on a close-fitting cap. Each warrior carried a pair of spears or a long sword, or both (...). This formidable people moved into the coastal strip, slaughtering the Canaanites and pushing into the interior (...)". Out of "this formidable people", as it wasn't enough, comes out Golliah, the monster giant.
And here it comes the marvellous story of Tommy. The two armies are on top of a hill each, separated by a valley, the Valley of Elah. For forty days, Golliah presented himself to the Israelites, pushing them to fight: "And the Philistine drewe neere, morning and evening, and presented himselfe forty dayes" (1 Samuel 17, 16). The eldest sons of Saul did not dare. But the youngest, David, coming down from the mountains where he attended cows and sheeps takes over the army. And although Saul "armed David with his armour", he says to Saul: "I cannot goe with these: for I haue not proued them" and goes on with only his shepheards bag to face the giant creature. Golliah disdained David, "for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and of a fair countenance".
"And it came to passe when the Philistine arose, and came, and drewe nigh to meet Dauid (...) and Dauid put his hande in his bag, and tooke thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunke into his forehead, and he fell upon his face to earth" (1 Samuel 17, 48-49).
"It is not true [the story]", blurted out Charlize -as if the C.S. Lewis' Narnia series the boy had in his bedside table were-, and Tommy retorts: "It is. It is also in the Qur'an". It is indeed mentioned in the Qur'an, surah 2 and ayats 246-251, although the playwright story is vanished: the devouring and omnipotent power of Allah oversizes the human drama of the Hebrew version. "When they advanced to meet Goliath and his forces, they prayed: 'Our Lord! Pour out constancy on us and make our steps firm: help us against those that reject faith'. By Allah's will they routed them; and David slew Goliath; and Allah gave him power and wisdom and taught him whatever (else) He will. And did not Allah check one set of people by means of another, the earth would indeed be full of mischief: but Allah is full of bounty to all the worlds" (Surah 2, 250-251).
I have the Bible of Saint James and a translation of the Qur'an -cost me 2 pounds on this bargain place on Euston road- "cheek to cheek", one next another, in my tiny library of survival here at home, in the hope that... I don't know... Perhaps, both traditions will melt on one night of magic.
The wonderful story of the Valley of Elah.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Posse Comitatus
Once upon last summer, somewhere amidst the immense prairies of North Dakota, half a dozen cows went astray and ended up within the 3,000-acre area belonging to the Brossart's family. The men of the house refused to give them back. The sheriff of the county, Kelly Janke, nevertheless, went on to get them. The events evolved to the point of having the sons of Mr. Brossart chasing the sheriff off and expelling him while wielding fire arms. According to The Los Angeles Times (LAT), Janke called in for reinforcements and help came from the state troopers, the regional SWAT (special weapons and tactics) and the Grand Forks Air Force base. The latter organism deployed a remote-controlled flying, spy drone. The members of Brossart family were finally arrested.
This episode I found in The Independent on Sunday (IoS) today. The story is simply told by Rupert Cornwell. I have looked into LAT in order to find out more to write about here. What I found is a far more juicy tale and a problem of tremendous dimensions and complexity. I guess Cornwell did just not look into LAT because, otherwise, he would have written his column in a different way. He would have, for sure, talk about The Sovereign Citizens, movement he says nothing about. It is the gist of the whole story.
The kids of the Brossart family belong themselves to the Sovereign Citizens, a movement largely unknown by the public in the States, but with a well-proven history of criminality for almost 40 years.
The excellent documentary of Byron Pitts for the CBS 60 seconds is revealing and stunning, completely unmissable! A great piece of work to understand the profile of these individuals. They considered themselves above the law: don't pay taxes, don't have driving licenses or social security numbers. The speech of these sovereign citizens festers hate to all kinds towards authority and boasts on the use of violence against politicians, congressmen or even the President as a deterrent to achieve their self-proclaimed and whole-heartedly independence. The average sovereign citizen pours his mind on radical and brutal words when speaking. He lacks the charisma and the refine education of a Hitler, and is not aware of the skillful propaganda of a Stalin (is raw and blunt, radical, instead), but it seems to me their arguments are as much compelling, brilliant and catchy as theirs.
The ranks of the Sovereign Citizens keep growing due to the economical strains and the mortgage crisis, it is said; their numbers are calculated to be 300,000 in the States. The timing belt of Pitts story is the paradigmatic case of Jerry Kane and his teenager son. Kane is divorced and has lost his job as a truck driver at the time he joins the movement and travels around with his son peddling financially-troubled audiences a way to reduce their debt by scam. In May 2010, they both are captured after killing two police officers in duty who made their car stopped, on the grounds of some traffic offence. It was the boy, Joe -I think that's his name- who shot the men!: he put 25 bullets in their bodies overall.
The story that Rupert Cornwell has left unfinished -the Brossart family case- is one of the tricks destiny sometimes plays: a group of sovereign citizens, unwilling to abide by the law, receives an unintended response (i.e. a non ad-hoc response) in the form of a tremendous Governmental authority! The action seems to be legitimate - and a common practice in certain places, I read- but it has brought out a capital historical issue for the US Department of Defense and, probably, an old-fashion one which can take a lift-up job.
Back to the years right after the Civil War "the Army had been used extensively throughout the South to maintain civil order, to enforce the policies of the Reconstruction era, and to ensure that any lingering sentiments of rebellion were crushed. However, in reaching those goals, the Army necessarily become involved in traditional police role", tells major Craig Trebilcock, from the US Army Reserve, in a quite interesting and well-written US Homeland Security document.
The Posse Comitatus Act (the "power of the county") was passed after normality was more or less achieved in order to avoid the Army be involved any more in the works of police and local law enforcement. This Act has been traditionally "view as a major barrier to the use of U.S.military forces in planning for homeland defense" (Craig Trebilock). The surprise of Rupert Cornwell for the use of a $10m-unmanned Predator Drone to chase three "civilians", being these planes normally used in missions in Afghanistan, Colombia or against African pirates, is just the umpteenth example of such barrier, misunderstanding and source of conflict.
Oh, what a rich, long and challenging story, Rupert... .
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This episode I found in The Independent on Sunday (IoS) today. The story is simply told by Rupert Cornwell. I have looked into LAT in order to find out more to write about here. What I found is a far more juicy tale and a problem of tremendous dimensions and complexity. I guess Cornwell did just not look into LAT because, otherwise, he would have written his column in a different way. He would have, for sure, talk about The Sovereign Citizens, movement he says nothing about. It is the gist of the whole story.
The kids of the Brossart family belong themselves to the Sovereign Citizens, a movement largely unknown by the public in the States, but with a well-proven history of criminality for almost 40 years.
The excellent documentary of Byron Pitts for the CBS 60 seconds is revealing and stunning, completely unmissable! A great piece of work to understand the profile of these individuals. They considered themselves above the law: don't pay taxes, don't have driving licenses or social security numbers. The speech of these sovereign citizens festers hate to all kinds towards authority and boasts on the use of violence against politicians, congressmen or even the President as a deterrent to achieve their self-proclaimed and whole-heartedly independence. The average sovereign citizen pours his mind on radical and brutal words when speaking. He lacks the charisma and the refine education of a Hitler, and is not aware of the skillful propaganda of a Stalin (is raw and blunt, radical, instead), but it seems to me their arguments are as much compelling, brilliant and catchy as theirs.
The ranks of the Sovereign Citizens keep growing due to the economical strains and the mortgage crisis, it is said; their numbers are calculated to be 300,000 in the States. The timing belt of Pitts story is the paradigmatic case of Jerry Kane and his teenager son. Kane is divorced and has lost his job as a truck driver at the time he joins the movement and travels around with his son peddling financially-troubled audiences a way to reduce their debt by scam. In May 2010, they both are captured after killing two police officers in duty who made their car stopped, on the grounds of some traffic offence. It was the boy, Joe -I think that's his name- who shot the men!: he put 25 bullets in their bodies overall.
The story that Rupert Cornwell has left unfinished -the Brossart family case- is one of the tricks destiny sometimes plays: a group of sovereign citizens, unwilling to abide by the law, receives an unintended response (i.e. a non ad-hoc response) in the form of a tremendous Governmental authority! The action seems to be legitimate - and a common practice in certain places, I read- but it has brought out a capital historical issue for the US Department of Defense and, probably, an old-fashion one which can take a lift-up job.
Back to the years right after the Civil War "the Army had been used extensively throughout the South to maintain civil order, to enforce the policies of the Reconstruction era, and to ensure that any lingering sentiments of rebellion were crushed. However, in reaching those goals, the Army necessarily become involved in traditional police role", tells major Craig Trebilcock, from the US Army Reserve, in a quite interesting and well-written US Homeland Security document.
The Posse Comitatus Act (the "power of the county") was passed after normality was more or less achieved in order to avoid the Army be involved any more in the works of police and local law enforcement. This Act has been traditionally "view as a major barrier to the use of U.S.military forces in planning for homeland defense" (Craig Trebilock). The surprise of Rupert Cornwell for the use of a $10m-unmanned Predator Drone to chase three "civilians", being these planes normally used in missions in Afghanistan, Colombia or against African pirates, is just the umpteenth example of such barrier, misunderstanding and source of conflict.
Oh, what a rich, long and challenging story, Rupert... .
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In the land of Butch Cassidy, the lightning did strike
Danny Boyle has turned the dramatic story of Aron Ralston into a monument to human reliability and advocacy: 127 hours is a strong documentary against self-sufficiency. The story, the chain of events, is on a second plane, despite the cold in the dark night, the insects, the thirst, the blood and the urine, or the unbearable minutes -for the spectator- showing James Franco self-amputating his arm.
I feel that somehow a deeper description of a human being brought to such an extreme ordeal is possible, a place where everyone is a total stranger for himself. How would you feel if you can sniff the stench of your hand decomposing or can hear the hiss sound of air leaving your putrefied thumb when pinched with a cheap multi-tool set? There is something that I missed, as well; something that must have been petrifying for Ralston: the sound of silence in the desert night. The pre-tragedy character is a person full of noise. His headphones and the loud music, the screaming, the splattering of water, the wild laughing, all play a huge role in the first 20 minutes. After the accident, what else is to be heard but the rubbing of the blunt knife against the boulder? What else but the temporary moans or self-pity confessions to the camera? What else but the burning silence?
The accident actually kills one individual and brings a new one into live. The first is a lone rider; the second, a family man, conscious and humanitarian. The first is capable of doing all 55 fourteeners in Colorado, alone, in winter time -a pioneer-; the second breaks through the wild call of suicide thanks to his wife Jessica and states that if he was able to survive the accident was because their common and fundamental desire "for freedom, for love and for connection".
The most interesting thing is that both men are exclusive. One cannot be with another. The second came after the first died; the first was completely disrespectful of the second. This is how Aron Ralston expresses the idea himself in his book:
"It is 11.32am, Thursday, May 1 2003. For the second time in my life, I am being born. This time I am being delivered from the canyon’s pink womb, where I have been incubating. This time I am a grown adult and I understand the significance and power of this birth as none of us can when it happens the first time. The value of my family, my friends and my passions well up a heaving rush of energy that is like the burst I get approaching a hard-earned summit, multiplied by ten thousand. Pulling tight the remaining connective tissues of my arm, I rock the knife against the wall, and the final thin strand of flesh tears loose; tensile force rips the skin apart more than the blade cuts it.
A crystalline moment shatters, and the world is a different place".
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I feel that somehow a deeper description of a human being brought to such an extreme ordeal is possible, a place where everyone is a total stranger for himself. How would you feel if you can sniff the stench of your hand decomposing or can hear the hiss sound of air leaving your putrefied thumb when pinched with a cheap multi-tool set? There is something that I missed, as well; something that must have been petrifying for Ralston: the sound of silence in the desert night. The pre-tragedy character is a person full of noise. His headphones and the loud music, the screaming, the splattering of water, the wild laughing, all play a huge role in the first 20 minutes. After the accident, what else is to be heard but the rubbing of the blunt knife against the boulder? What else but the temporary moans or self-pity confessions to the camera? What else but the burning silence?
The accident actually kills one individual and brings a new one into live. The first is a lone rider; the second, a family man, conscious and humanitarian. The first is capable of doing all 55 fourteeners in Colorado, alone, in winter time -a pioneer-; the second breaks through the wild call of suicide thanks to his wife Jessica and states that if he was able to survive the accident was because their common and fundamental desire "for freedom, for love and for connection".
The most interesting thing is that both men are exclusive. One cannot be with another. The second came after the first died; the first was completely disrespectful of the second. This is how Aron Ralston expresses the idea himself in his book:
"It is 11.32am, Thursday, May 1 2003. For the second time in my life, I am being born. This time I am being delivered from the canyon’s pink womb, where I have been incubating. This time I am a grown adult and I understand the significance and power of this birth as none of us can when it happens the first time. The value of my family, my friends and my passions well up a heaving rush of energy that is like the burst I get approaching a hard-earned summit, multiplied by ten thousand. Pulling tight the remaining connective tissues of my arm, I rock the knife against the wall, and the final thin strand of flesh tears loose; tensile force rips the skin apart more than the blade cuts it.
A crystalline moment shatters, and the world is a different place".
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Saturday, December 17, 2011
Six spheres
In the course of an experiment with first-year students, they are to find the density of glass spheres -allegedly spherical- by using a balance, a pycnometer and DI water. They are told to use 6 spheres of about 6 mm in diameter. Simple.
The question may arise, however: why 6? Why 6 spheres?
Accidentally, I came across with the answer, I believe. Later on in the experiment, the students are to calculate the drag coefficient of glass spheres of different sizes falling down in a cylinder full of fluid. The momentum balance -assuming measurements are to be taken after terminal velocity is reached- is, simply: (force due to gravity) - (force due to drag) - (force due to buoyancy) = 0. The drag force is assumed to be equalled to (drag coeff) * (projected area of sphere in the direction of motion) * (kinetic energy at terminal velocity of the fluid past the sphere). All parameters are found experimentally, apart from the drag coefficient, which is to be calculated from the over-mentioned equation.
A priori, the drag is written as a function of the mass of the sphere, as well. In order to write it in terms of diameter and the density of the glass, the assumption of spheres being perfectly spherical is made.
The density of a sphere perfectly spherical is (6*mass) = Pi*(Diameter^3). That's the reason for the 6!!
The density of the glass so calculated is about 15 % different from the density calculated experimentally (not considering the perfect-sphere assumption). However, the assumption that spheres are spherical is made in order to calculate the drag coefficient; thus, such error shall invariantly be in the experimentation, down to the final results.
I find these kind of revelations juicy. It looks possible to me that the staff who designed the experiment years ago must wanted to show more than what we show today -crap, because of lack of interest. It's like doing Science Archaeology, Modern Science Archaeology, and enquire in the minds of people 10, 20, 40 years ago, most interesting. Don't you think?
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The question may arise, however: why 6? Why 6 spheres?
Accidentally, I came across with the answer, I believe. Later on in the experiment, the students are to calculate the drag coefficient of glass spheres of different sizes falling down in a cylinder full of fluid. The momentum balance -assuming measurements are to be taken after terminal velocity is reached- is, simply: (force due to gravity) - (force due to drag) - (force due to buoyancy) = 0. The drag force is assumed to be equalled to (drag coeff) * (projected area of sphere in the direction of motion) * (kinetic energy at terminal velocity of the fluid past the sphere). All parameters are found experimentally, apart from the drag coefficient, which is to be calculated from the over-mentioned equation.
A priori, the drag is written as a function of the mass of the sphere, as well. In order to write it in terms of diameter and the density of the glass, the assumption of spheres being perfectly spherical is made.
The density of a sphere perfectly spherical is (6*mass) = Pi*(Diameter^3). That's the reason for the 6!!
The density of the glass so calculated is about 15 % different from the density calculated experimentally (not considering the perfect-sphere assumption). However, the assumption that spheres are spherical is made in order to calculate the drag coefficient; thus, such error shall invariantly be in the experimentation, down to the final results.
I find these kind of revelations juicy. It looks possible to me that the staff who designed the experiment years ago must wanted to show more than what we show today -crap, because of lack of interest. It's like doing Science Archaeology, Modern Science Archaeology, and enquire in the minds of people 10, 20, 40 years ago, most interesting. Don't you think?
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Thursday, December 15, 2011
The Third War
I heard that the former spiritual advisor of Bill Clinton came once to London to deliver a conference. The venue was kind of posh and so was the audience. The topic: "the Third War". He walked to the stage, perhaps, he opened his folder, adjusted the microphone, glanced at the crowd and started: "You don't give a shit about the Third War". The people were astonished and could hardly believe what they have heard. "If fact", the speaker continued, "you cared more about me saying "shit" than about the Third War".
I belong to a generation which grew believing wars were curses of the past and that armies are no longer needed. Now I know such belief is a great mistake. Unfortunately. However, even now I find the possibility of a new war within Europe very remote. Just merely to fancy about it makes me feel like I am playing an impossible game: the game of imaging impossible things.
But, is it really impossible? I mean, the origins of many wars are grotesque. How many ridiculous wars!
Is it really impossible? To begin with, European countries are holding opposed positions in economic terms, and more or less hostile in social and cultural matters. Underneath the rusty endurance of conventions, nationalism is starting to shine at the core. Parcel bombs are far from being unusual lately: from Joseph Akermann to the Greek embassy in Paris, and Italian anarchists in the middle.
Something like that?
Still, I cannot imagine it. It is impossible!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I belong to a generation which grew believing wars were curses of the past and that armies are no longer needed. Now I know such belief is a great mistake. Unfortunately. However, even now I find the possibility of a new war within Europe very remote. Just merely to fancy about it makes me feel like I am playing an impossible game: the game of imaging impossible things.
But, is it really impossible? I mean, the origins of many wars are grotesque. How many ridiculous wars!
Is it really impossible? To begin with, European countries are holding opposed positions in economic terms, and more or less hostile in social and cultural matters. Underneath the rusty endurance of conventions, nationalism is starting to shine at the core. Parcel bombs are far from being unusual lately: from Joseph Akermann to the Greek embassy in Paris, and Italian anarchists in the middle.
Something like that?
Still, I cannot imagine it. It is impossible!
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Wind from the East
Last night, the furious wind and the sound of splattering water against the window woke me up. I glanced at the street _the street laid forsaken, wearing the magical gown of timeless mystery, under the dimly-red light of the lamppost. Right ahead, the black tree had its naked fingers shaken merciless _a blacken stain swarming abrupt and rashly in a field of rain. If the sky were then to be torn entirely and the yellow light of the stars to strike my forehead, I could have believed it. In fact, my eyes were open to see and my ears, ready to listen to. I wished somebody, someone would have said it right there... The something you are always yearning to hear... .
I know not whether the wind blowing savagely was from the East. I guess it could. I'd like it so! The East Wind brought to London the mighty figure of Mary Poppins, after the surmise of van Dyke. How exciting! East winds. East winds for the Modern Western man!
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I know not whether the wind blowing savagely was from the East. I guess it could. I'd like it so! The East Wind brought to London the mighty figure of Mary Poppins, after the surmise of van Dyke. How exciting! East winds. East winds for the Modern Western man!
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Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Trains and polar bears
I think I said some time that years ago I use to write down in a notebook what I called -by then- "serendipities", although they were not exactly that. I felt curious about the fact that on the same day and different circumstances I learned of something entirely new for me until then. I don't quite know why I stopped writing down those singular "serendipities": today, I could count up to several hundreds of them.
As a chain of coincidences, I learn of the work by David Attenborough few weeks ago while attending a tutorial on Public Speaking (sometime, when injuries are cured, I will comment on this). "Mr. Attenborough is fascinating", we were told. I am sure he is. Last Sunday, I dozed after lunch in the couch, feet up on the coffee table, while Frozen Planet run on the TV. I heard Attenborough's voice in the distance, reciting the lyrics of What a Wonderful World and I said to myself: he is good.
Frozen Planet. Ok, it is good to know. Today, I read that some people have complaint because last November part of the scenery was shot in a zoo in Holland. Whether that is admissible or not, I leave it to you. I guess it is, but why not to say it on the very same documentary? Mr. Attenborough's voice could make heaven of a hellish grinding of teeth and motivate motion at absolute zero; so, why not?... Anyhow, Frozen Planet, a personal serendipity.
I liked better the African Railway, the last adventure of Sean Langan in BBC4. He travels in the train across the Freedom Railway from Dar es Salaam (Tanzania) to Kapiri Mposhi (Zambia) built by the Chinese in the 70s to be able to bring the copper from Zambia to the port in Tanzania. I think it was very good as a cultural documentary, eloquent and touchy; even though he did not find answers for the financial bankruptcy in 2008, I got attracted to the task of reading in each of the looks, smiles, gestures and words of the people in the crazy building of offices.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
As a chain of coincidences, I learn of the work by David Attenborough few weeks ago while attending a tutorial on Public Speaking (sometime, when injuries are cured, I will comment on this). "Mr. Attenborough is fascinating", we were told. I am sure he is. Last Sunday, I dozed after lunch in the couch, feet up on the coffee table, while Frozen Planet run on the TV. I heard Attenborough's voice in the distance, reciting the lyrics of What a Wonderful World and I said to myself: he is good.
Frozen Planet. Ok, it is good to know. Today, I read that some people have complaint because last November part of the scenery was shot in a zoo in Holland. Whether that is admissible or not, I leave it to you. I guess it is, but why not to say it on the very same documentary? Mr. Attenborough's voice could make heaven of a hellish grinding of teeth and motivate motion at absolute zero; so, why not?... Anyhow, Frozen Planet, a personal serendipity.
I liked better the African Railway, the last adventure of Sean Langan in BBC4. He travels in the train across the Freedom Railway from Dar es Salaam (Tanzania) to Kapiri Mposhi (Zambia) built by the Chinese in the 70s to be able to bring the copper from Zambia to the port in Tanzania. I think it was very good as a cultural documentary, eloquent and touchy; even though he did not find answers for the financial bankruptcy in 2008, I got attracted to the task of reading in each of the looks, smiles, gestures and words of the people in the crazy building of offices.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Monday, December 12, 2011
7 Billion
About a month or two ago, I heard timid echoes of the alarm sirens launched by some as we hit -so they say- the 7-billion-of-humans barrier on Earth. However, it seems to me that the alarms should be set all the way around: the world as we know it is getting older and older. The only countries booming children are those around and below the African Ecuador. All the rest are getting older. Japan is the worst case, but Spain is not a promising one, and the situation of Germany is delicate, for instance. The examples are numberless: general debacle. Even Arabic countries.
Why?
I guess explanations are to be found for each specific country and, within one, for each specific area or region. Perhaps, given the general tendency, it may exist general explanations.
Nevertheless, let me point out here two main ways to address the situation. On one side, the global dynamics: we are too many, can we afford it?, the planet is crowded. On the other, the local, dynamics: social and cultural considerations, values and principles, history, economy, pensions, family and personal relations in localized states.
Unfortunately, it seems to be more appealing for the catastrophic mind to focus on the first dimension. However, the tangled implications, arduous complexities and transcendental beauty of the problem relies on the second one.
A book for Christmas: "El Suicidio Demografico de Espana", by Alejandro Macarron.
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Why?
I guess explanations are to be found for each specific country and, within one, for each specific area or region. Perhaps, given the general tendency, it may exist general explanations.
Nevertheless, let me point out here two main ways to address the situation. On one side, the global dynamics: we are too many, can we afford it?, the planet is crowded. On the other, the local, dynamics: social and cultural considerations, values and principles, history, economy, pensions, family and personal relations in localized states.
Unfortunately, it seems to be more appealing for the catastrophic mind to focus on the first dimension. However, the tangled implications, arduous complexities and transcendental beauty of the problem relies on the second one.
A book for Christmas: "El Suicidio Demografico de Espana", by Alejandro Macarron.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Tindouf
In the night of last October 22sd, three volunteer workers -two Spaniards and one Italian- were abducted in Tindouf (Argelia) -the last three in Magreb- by what it seems to be a branch of Al-Qaeda. The Agency AFP has echoed the message recently received from Jamat Tawhid Wal Jihad Fi Barbi Afriqqiya, stating responsibility for the kidnappings. The lack of news about the three youngsters is absolute.
I am a supreme ignoramus, I've said that in more than one occasion. I am very gullible individual and for most part of my life I have been always thinking "well" of life and people; even though I tend not to do it lately, I am sure that, in scenarios like this real conflict in Western Sahara, reality will always be worse than expected; the connections and vested interested, more tupid than thought; the nihilism, more putrid, horrible and savage than imaginable.
The case of the kidnapping of these young fellows -they look great in photographs... Ainhoa is only 29, Rossella and Enric are probably as young as her- makes me sad from end to end. Is there any other mandatory proof to state clear and loud that security is not being guaranteed in the refugee camps of Tindouf, nor anywhere around the whole area, from South Morocco to Mauritania, from Tifariti to Bamaka? It does not matter whether you work for Mundu Bat, or the Sahrawi Friends Society of Extremadura or Saint Cugat, or the Italian Commission for Developement, or Doctors Without Borders or any other organization out of the dozens in the area, you are not safe. Ainhoa, Enric and Rossella were supposed to be in the most secure area of all, outside the camps, in Rabuni, the Administrative Center of the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR) and the Polisary Front headquarters... And they were taken... Like that... And we know nothing about.
It is a moral predication for the organizations working in the area to describe and detail all possible dangers for tourists, volunteers or workers coming down, and it should be a moral predication for the organizations recruiting Europeans for "humanitarian" tasks to improve security and emergency procedures. Life belongs to each of us, but everyone should face reality. This course of action is called responsibility.
Unfortunately, in this last case of kidnappings, responsibility is missing. The Government of Spain or the executive officers of the SADR are being irresponsible. Why did the Government of Spain not consider urgent to call for or encourage temporary withdrawal from the area? Does it have to be with being wiped out power in a few weeks? What about the new party seizing power? It is a shame.
On another side, the Security Director of the SADR stated shortly after the abductions: "The Polisary Front has taken all necessary measurements for all foreign volunteers to feel calm"... What do you mean, Mr. Akeik? Shall we all remain calm after this? Is that all that matters? Or do you mean, Mr. Akeik, that the measurements had not been taken before?
Furthermore, a delegate of the Culture Ministery visiting Arnedo, La Rioja, Spain, for a film festival dedicated to the Sahrawi circumstance during the week of the kidnappings said, crystal and clear: "[We] say to all friends of the Sahrawi people that their security in the camps is guaranteed"... Fuck you!
The whole thing stinks to me. The simple fact that the refugee camps has been going on for 36 years -not 35- is not motive of pride, but a thick stench! Why 200,000 people has to be in a refugee camp? Would not be more normal to start a life in Algeria? It seems to me that some people do somewhere else but in a way not available to everybody or without resigning other privileges for himself or for others.
I don't trust the Polisary Front, do you? To begin with, I dislike profoundly the name: the word "front" does inspire a number of things, but not peace, not at all. It is a war term, isn't it. I feel all the words of Polisary Front and intentions are a mere decoy, a luring device to whatever aims. Why the camps seem to be a beehive of women and children? Where are all the men? Where are companies, small or familiar, thriving to survive and produce wealth, the way to freedom and independence? Every year, 20 millions of euros end up in hands of the Polisary Front from several Spanish administrations, according to Canarias7. Where does this money go to?
The existance of certain sites like this gives me the dead fright: slavery, repression and totalitarian techniques within the camps.
I suspect that the fact that on October 19th the Polisary Front celebrated its XI Congress has had some effect in the abductions... Its motto during the Congress: "Fight and cohesion to snatch independence and peace". Peace? As far as I know, the war with Morocco ended in 1991... "Fight", a very peaceful word, as well... .I don't trust it. In 36 years the only political organization for the Sahrawi People is the Polisary Front (which is not indeed a political organization). Mr. Mohamed Abdelaziz, the President of the SADR is, at the same time, the General Secretary of the Polisary Front. He has left the Congress re-assured with more than 90 % of the votes... . Can you remember any good coming out of an identification between Party and Government?
Disgraceful.
Lord, be prayed:
You are the only one who can restore Life.
You, the Just, the Loving.
To you our lives entitle.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I am a supreme ignoramus, I've said that in more than one occasion. I am very gullible individual and for most part of my life I have been always thinking "well" of life and people; even though I tend not to do it lately, I am sure that, in scenarios like this real conflict in Western Sahara, reality will always be worse than expected; the connections and vested interested, more tupid than thought; the nihilism, more putrid, horrible and savage than imaginable.
The case of the kidnapping of these young fellows -they look great in photographs... Ainhoa is only 29, Rossella and Enric are probably as young as her- makes me sad from end to end. Is there any other mandatory proof to state clear and loud that security is not being guaranteed in the refugee camps of Tindouf, nor anywhere around the whole area, from South Morocco to Mauritania, from Tifariti to Bamaka? It does not matter whether you work for Mundu Bat, or the Sahrawi Friends Society of Extremadura or Saint Cugat, or the Italian Commission for Developement, or Doctors Without Borders or any other organization out of the dozens in the area, you are not safe. Ainhoa, Enric and Rossella were supposed to be in the most secure area of all, outside the camps, in Rabuni, the Administrative Center of the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR) and the Polisary Front headquarters... And they were taken... Like that... And we know nothing about.
It is a moral predication for the organizations working in the area to describe and detail all possible dangers for tourists, volunteers or workers coming down, and it should be a moral predication for the organizations recruiting Europeans for "humanitarian" tasks to improve security and emergency procedures. Life belongs to each of us, but everyone should face reality. This course of action is called responsibility.
Unfortunately, in this last case of kidnappings, responsibility is missing. The Government of Spain or the executive officers of the SADR are being irresponsible. Why did the Government of Spain not consider urgent to call for or encourage temporary withdrawal from the area? Does it have to be with being wiped out power in a few weeks? What about the new party seizing power? It is a shame.
On another side, the Security Director of the SADR stated shortly after the abductions: "The Polisary Front has taken all necessary measurements for all foreign volunteers to feel calm"... What do you mean, Mr. Akeik? Shall we all remain calm after this? Is that all that matters? Or do you mean, Mr. Akeik, that the measurements had not been taken before?
Furthermore, a delegate of the Culture Ministery visiting Arnedo, La Rioja, Spain, for a film festival dedicated to the Sahrawi circumstance during the week of the kidnappings said, crystal and clear: "[We] say to all friends of the Sahrawi people that their security in the camps is guaranteed"... Fuck you!
The whole thing stinks to me. The simple fact that the refugee camps has been going on for 36 years -not 35- is not motive of pride, but a thick stench! Why 200,000 people has to be in a refugee camp? Would not be more normal to start a life in Algeria? It seems to me that some people do somewhere else but in a way not available to everybody or without resigning other privileges for himself or for others.
I don't trust the Polisary Front, do you? To begin with, I dislike profoundly the name: the word "front" does inspire a number of things, but not peace, not at all. It is a war term, isn't it. I feel all the words of Polisary Front and intentions are a mere decoy, a luring device to whatever aims. Why the camps seem to be a beehive of women and children? Where are all the men? Where are companies, small or familiar, thriving to survive and produce wealth, the way to freedom and independence? Every year, 20 millions of euros end up in hands of the Polisary Front from several Spanish administrations, according to Canarias7. Where does this money go to?
The existance of certain sites like this gives me the dead fright: slavery, repression and totalitarian techniques within the camps.
I suspect that the fact that on October 19th the Polisary Front celebrated its XI Congress has had some effect in the abductions... Its motto during the Congress: "Fight and cohesion to snatch independence and peace". Peace? As far as I know, the war with Morocco ended in 1991... "Fight", a very peaceful word, as well... .I don't trust it. In 36 years the only political organization for the Sahrawi People is the Polisary Front (which is not indeed a political organization). Mr. Mohamed Abdelaziz, the President of the SADR is, at the same time, the General Secretary of the Polisary Front. He has left the Congress re-assured with more than 90 % of the votes... . Can you remember any good coming out of an identification between Party and Government?
Disgraceful.
Lord, be prayed:
You are the only one who can restore Life.
You, the Just, the Loving.
To you our lives entitle.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Immersion
Barcelona dwarfed Madrid again: 3-1; but it could have been 3-0 or 5-0.
There is this small English pub -very English- in a hidden, lovely corner of Muswell Hill. It's been ages since the last time I was there. A group of Catalan Spaniards is in the pub for the game; I did not recognized their accents first, but soon enough they talk to each other in Catalan. "They come here twice a year for the Barca-Madrid game", the pub boss tells me.
The game is on and passion lightens up their hearts in fire. "Vamos, pa'lante", "Joder, tioooo, tarjeta yaa".
The problem with linguistic immersion is that works fine as long as you don't have to breath. But Life is all about breathing and, then, you will tend to speak the language you feel more comfortable with.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
There is this small English pub -very English- in a hidden, lovely corner of Muswell Hill. It's been ages since the last time I was there. A group of Catalan Spaniards is in the pub for the game; I did not recognized their accents first, but soon enough they talk to each other in Catalan. "They come here twice a year for the Barca-Madrid game", the pub boss tells me.
The game is on and passion lightens up their hearts in fire. "Vamos, pa'lante", "Joder, tioooo, tarjeta yaa".
The problem with linguistic immersion is that works fine as long as you don't have to breath. But Life is all about breathing and, then, you will tend to speak the language you feel more comfortable with.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
The new pharmacopea
Saturday 2.30 pm: I am cooking my lunch at home in a lovely, short, cold and sunny afternoon. M. says that I have to be inventive in the kitchen, so let's be inventive! I will eat whatever it comes out of the oven.
In the meantime I am having a tasteful and divine appetizer. Between sip and sip of a glass of wine and a just-discovered song of Rebecca Ferguson it comes to my mind -don't know why, probably without reason- a couple of news I read in Metro this week (almost everything I read lately). Both pieces are related to pharmaceutical drugs.
The first one is this drug accepted and authorized now by the FDA -as far as I know- to mitigate the devastating effects on a binge drinking night. The combination, quite simple and homemade, was found by a girl in the morning following a "great" night of alcohol and in the midst of the most terrible hangover. She says that, however, her formula is not intended to encourage heavy drinking... Ok, whatever... . It follows, rather, heavy drinking. Let's just not stop saying that heavy drinking is something good as long as it happens once or twice a year... Otherwise, there is something just wrong about it.
The second piece is related to the lady who sadly and unexpectedly killed herself while taking a bath. Apparently she did not remove the patch of her medicine to palliate chronic neck and shoulder pains in the first place. The heat accelerated the rate of diffusion of the drug in the tissue to fatal levels. It is claimed that the leaflet of the drug contains a clear warning against the use of the patch in certain circumstances, like taking a bath. You always have the doubt whether the lady read that or not; whether knew that or not; whether did that on purpose or not, in a particularly dolorous day. However, my question is: did the doctor who prescribed the medicine sufficiently emphasized the avoidance of the patch during hot baths? Did the doctor say: "Dear Ms, please under no circumstances use this patch while taking a bath. Never, ever do that: it might have terrible consequences. You could die!"
That's what I am taking about.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
In the meantime I am having a tasteful and divine appetizer. Between sip and sip of a glass of wine and a just-discovered song of Rebecca Ferguson it comes to my mind -don't know why, probably without reason- a couple of news I read in Metro this week (almost everything I read lately). Both pieces are related to pharmaceutical drugs.
The first one is this drug accepted and authorized now by the FDA -as far as I know- to mitigate the devastating effects on a binge drinking night. The combination, quite simple and homemade, was found by a girl in the morning following a "great" night of alcohol and in the midst of the most terrible hangover. She says that, however, her formula is not intended to encourage heavy drinking... Ok, whatever... . It follows, rather, heavy drinking. Let's just not stop saying that heavy drinking is something good as long as it happens once or twice a year... Otherwise, there is something just wrong about it.
The second piece is related to the lady who sadly and unexpectedly killed herself while taking a bath. Apparently she did not remove the patch of her medicine to palliate chronic neck and shoulder pains in the first place. The heat accelerated the rate of diffusion of the drug in the tissue to fatal levels. It is claimed that the leaflet of the drug contains a clear warning against the use of the patch in certain circumstances, like taking a bath. You always have the doubt whether the lady read that or not; whether knew that or not; whether did that on purpose or not, in a particularly dolorous day. However, my question is: did the doctor who prescribed the medicine sufficiently emphasized the avoidance of the patch during hot baths? Did the doctor say: "Dear Ms, please under no circumstances use this patch while taking a bath. Never, ever do that: it might have terrible consequences. You could die!"
That's what I am taking about.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Friday, December 9, 2011
A farsighted example
In my school days and early years of my Bachelor's degree I use to hear a lot that Statistics is a simple matter, that it is easier than other sisters of the family of Mathematics. The message deeply rooted and carved a groove into my mind that led me into a major disinterest for Statistics and the science involved within.
I know not who nor on what grounds divulged such nonsense and lie -it is a lie. Statistics are not straightforward at all, but formal and cumbersome; unless, of course, you resign yourself to be happy with the 2+2 level (kindergarten level) of concepts of mean and standard deviation.
These days I am struggling with the details of a tool called time-series analysis -something kind of old, but new somehow for me-. The mathematics involved -if you want to be rigorous- are obtrusive and tricky, and the proliferation of computer aids and software makes the whole thing even more slippery -as they are entire black boxes. There are many weapons in science quite dangerous because they allow doing things without knowing the stuff: the first example is the "rule of three"; the last, all these computer, modelling and simulation craziness around us.
In particular, the measurements or inferences on which the climate and/or weather studies (the terms refer to different concepts) are based are, indeed, series in time that need to be analyzed rigorously. After a few weeks of time-series studies, I can see where all complications and disagreements among the scientific community might come from (leaving apart, of course, lies or faked data).
This morning in the tube I read that the speed of winds up in the North reached yesterday to 165 mph, contrary to the top 90 mph "predicted". I said to myself: Jesus! What kind of models we are using that we calculate numbers with such an extraordinarily, anti-scientific error?
This is a farsighted example of the stuff we still don't know... And we think we do.
Nowadays I feel Science is presented as an activity consisting of "pushing boundaries". However, in many instances we are still to learn the basic things of Nature; things that have been there for ages and still we don't know... We are, for example, incapable of explaining to the fullest the motion of a stream of water or a gust of wind.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I know not who nor on what grounds divulged such nonsense and lie -it is a lie. Statistics are not straightforward at all, but formal and cumbersome; unless, of course, you resign yourself to be happy with the 2+2 level (kindergarten level) of concepts of mean and standard deviation.
These days I am struggling with the details of a tool called time-series analysis -something kind of old, but new somehow for me-. The mathematics involved -if you want to be rigorous- are obtrusive and tricky, and the proliferation of computer aids and software makes the whole thing even more slippery -as they are entire black boxes. There are many weapons in science quite dangerous because they allow doing things without knowing the stuff: the first example is the "rule of three"; the last, all these computer, modelling and simulation craziness around us.
In particular, the measurements or inferences on which the climate and/or weather studies (the terms refer to different concepts) are based are, indeed, series in time that need to be analyzed rigorously. After a few weeks of time-series studies, I can see where all complications and disagreements among the scientific community might come from (leaving apart, of course, lies or faked data).
This morning in the tube I read that the speed of winds up in the North reached yesterday to 165 mph, contrary to the top 90 mph "predicted". I said to myself: Jesus! What kind of models we are using that we calculate numbers with such an extraordinarily, anti-scientific error?
This is a farsighted example of the stuff we still don't know... And we think we do.
Nowadays I feel Science is presented as an activity consisting of "pushing boundaries". However, in many instances we are still to learn the basic things of Nature; things that have been there for ages and still we don't know... We are, for example, incapable of explaining to the fullest the motion of a stream of water or a gust of wind.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Science of today
I keep finding Research and Science quite tiresome and barren these days in methodology, topics and procedures. It sounds unbelievable that one can get tired of Science nowadays, but it is just how I feel.
The way labs tend to look like adds up in to my general feeling. As an example, I am showing here three photographs taken a few weeks back:
People actually work in those labs (!!!).
**
Another feature of the modern times that add up to my general disappointment is the peculiar use of libraries, away from its original intended purpose: books are no longer checked, studied or venered. Ain't that so?
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
The way labs tend to look like adds up in to my general feeling. As an example, I am showing here three photographs taken a few weeks back:
People actually work in those labs (!!!).
**
Another feature of the modern times that add up to my general disappointment is the peculiar use of libraries, away from its original intended purpose: books are no longer checked, studied or venered. Ain't that so?
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Francis Galton, a big motherfucker
This year we can commemorate the 100th anniversary of Sir Francis Galton's death, cousin of Darwin (both had a common grandfather), a man of huge professional proportions on his own. He stood up in many fields, from Statistics to Anthropology, Meteorology to Geography. He was a great explorer and traveler. However, I came to know him very little ago (oh! what an ignoramus I am) for his ideas as a Geneticist.
Following the commemoration, the UCL has published digitally (so they say, because what they have done is to photograph the original hard copy), for the first time, The College of Kantsaywhere (1910, I think).
The novel is a racist jewel, pretty much against all established human rights. The usual stuff: only the best descendant deseve be well-nourished and educated and to have off-spring on their own. I have read a few pages and I can understand those were different times and how the developments in Genetics at the time could lead preclare minds to such unhumane positions. However, I don't quite understand the neutrality in judging such piece of work at the light of the modern human rights: an umpteenth example of intellectual asymmetry.
To me, the prodigy child Galton was, the outstanding intellectual, was also a worm alike to that of Hitler, lost similarly astray with no difference. There is no evidence at all of a direct relation between both, but they were in the same chord of evil music: they share the same evil essence.
I have said it before and I say know: intelligence, natural disposition, brilliantness do not mean anything. The coldest, meanest and most terrible and cruel beings were educated and most intelligent.
On the contrary, the Jesus Christ wanted to sopport his Church on the stones disposed of by the stonemasons. Could it be a bigger contrast?
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Following the commemoration, the UCL has published digitally (so they say, because what they have done is to photograph the original hard copy), for the first time, The College of Kantsaywhere (1910, I think).
The novel is a racist jewel, pretty much against all established human rights. The usual stuff: only the best descendant deseve be well-nourished and educated and to have off-spring on their own. I have read a few pages and I can understand those were different times and how the developments in Genetics at the time could lead preclare minds to such unhumane positions. However, I don't quite understand the neutrality in judging such piece of work at the light of the modern human rights: an umpteenth example of intellectual asymmetry.
To me, the prodigy child Galton was, the outstanding intellectual, was also a worm alike to that of Hitler, lost similarly astray with no difference. There is no evidence at all of a direct relation between both, but they were in the same chord of evil music: they share the same evil essence.
I have said it before and I say know: intelligence, natural disposition, brilliantness do not mean anything. The coldest, meanest and most terrible and cruel beings were educated and most intelligent.
On the contrary, the Jesus Christ wanted to sopport his Church on the stones disposed of by the stonemasons. Could it be a bigger contrast?
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Of England today
Now that Ted Hughes has been honored a place in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey, I have to get myself a copy of The Hawk in the Rain. I know nothing about him. I have the feeling I will like his poetry:
"I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
something else is alive
beside the clock's loneliness
and this blank page where my fingers move.
(...)
Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
it enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
the page is printed".
**
I read in the tube that some burglars killed a few-week old kitten in the microwave once they found out nothing was worthy to steal. A couple of weeks later I read again in the tube that a young lady, in spite of the grievances she held against another young lady, did kill the small kitten of the latter in the microwave. It seems to me that even cruelty follows trends.
**
K. showed up today in the office with a notorious bandage in the lower part of his left jaw. He came straight from surgery. On Sunday, during a fight of Tae-Kwon-Do he got his jaw broken. A standard 4-hour operation that a skillful practitioner got it wrapped in about 40 minutes. He is a clever guy and holds the secret of a mystery in his own life, I feel, but I really got impressed: a simple story for a kind of serious accident. And he is just moving ahead. I wish him the best.
**
The UK has for foreigners a specil ability to scatter into pieces the myth. Take That, for instance. You see Gary Barlow last Saturday night on TV, or you learn of his performance (a rave) in the Albert Hall yesterday, and you feel his myth evaporates. He looks just like the normal guy in X-Factor. He is touchable. The myth, once more, works better (and only) in the distance... To me, at least to me.
**
The trial for the death of a young girl who used to work for Channel 4 seems to go on these days. Apparently, her lawyers, father and family spokesman are seeking justice on the grounds of being bullied by her former bosses. She died when she was of my age just a couple of years ago. She tried expensive things to find recovery and stillness... I thought, why did she not just come home? Home is the only place you will have at the end (don't lose it). Home is the place where one is awaited.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
"I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
something else is alive
beside the clock's loneliness
and this blank page where my fingers move.
(...)
Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
it enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
the page is printed".
**
I read in the tube that some burglars killed a few-week old kitten in the microwave once they found out nothing was worthy to steal. A couple of weeks later I read again in the tube that a young lady, in spite of the grievances she held against another young lady, did kill the small kitten of the latter in the microwave. It seems to me that even cruelty follows trends.
**
K. showed up today in the office with a notorious bandage in the lower part of his left jaw. He came straight from surgery. On Sunday, during a fight of Tae-Kwon-Do he got his jaw broken. A standard 4-hour operation that a skillful practitioner got it wrapped in about 40 minutes. He is a clever guy and holds the secret of a mystery in his own life, I feel, but I really got impressed: a simple story for a kind of serious accident. And he is just moving ahead. I wish him the best.
**
The UK has for foreigners a specil ability to scatter into pieces the myth. Take That, for instance. You see Gary Barlow last Saturday night on TV, or you learn of his performance (a rave) in the Albert Hall yesterday, and you feel his myth evaporates. He looks just like the normal guy in X-Factor. He is touchable. The myth, once more, works better (and only) in the distance... To me, at least to me.
**
The trial for the death of a young girl who used to work for Channel 4 seems to go on these days. Apparently, her lawyers, father and family spokesman are seeking justice on the grounds of being bullied by her former bosses. She died when she was of my age just a couple of years ago. She tried expensive things to find recovery and stillness... I thought, why did she not just come home? Home is the only place you will have at the end (don't lose it). Home is the place where one is awaited.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Thanks
Michael Jackson sang in Man in the Mirror: “if you wanna do a better world, take a look at yourself and make a change”. It is a modern version of a very old admonition. Nothing is said, though, in ancient or modern times, about how to change or what of change is needed. The contents of such a change are clearly subjective, because what one might think as a mandatory improvement, could be a superfluous modification for another; what it would be a significant break for some, might be meaningless for others.
I think that a very nice breakthrough in the path to improve the condition of humans among themselves is to rescue the use of the word “thank you”. I have mentioned this before here: we are stopping using this word freely, as it is supposed to.
The fact that the English tends to suppress the expression “thank you” or “thanks” by “cheers” is significant to me (perhaps, it is not too much surprising giving the fondness of this country to the drinking culture). A clear thank you for the common man and woman in the common situation is harder and harder to get.
I won’t hide the fact that this inconsiderate evolution bothers me a lot. I also found it detrimental for any healthy society formed by free individuals who interact freely. I get crossed the most any time you offer the way to somebody and the action is unacknowledged or unrecognized by the one who is benefited. Particularly, in the old times kids were touch by their mothers to say “thank you” to anyone who granted a kindness to both. In these days, nor even the mother or the father does it frequently.
The word “thanks”, “gracias”, in Spanish, or “mercy” in French has a component of gratuity, a nice recognition of the fact that favour and kindness is a note of high civilization against the wilderness of the natural environment and against our animal condition.
If I were a singer I would love to try being revolutionary by claming: if you want to do this world better, say “thank you” and teach your kids to say “thank you”.
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