Heterologias
Quinta-feira, Julho 09, 2009
9 de Julho
"We hear a lot about Palestine now; it does not appeal to us. Anyone who goes there exchanges nationalism and narrowness for nationalism and narrowness. Also it is a country for capitalists".
Diários de Viktor Klemperer, entrada de 9 de Julho de 1933
Etiquetas: capitalism, Klemperer (Viktor), Middle East, nazism, Patriotismo, Politics
Sexta-feira, Maio 22, 2009
What if you go / What if you stay
"E, pensando melhor, nem é isso o que eu desejo: quero é viver o suficiente (que, pelo modo como as coisas vão, não pode ser muito) para que continue a haver salas escuras, onde as luzes se apaguem e o écran se acenda, até, depois da insignia da Republic, vermos (muitos) as letras brancas do genérico inscreverem-se sobre o plano dum vale selvagem, em vero trucolor."
João Bénard da Costa (1935-2009), Johnny Guitar (1954), folha da Cinemateca para as sessões de 18 e de 19 de Julho de 1985.
(Johnny G. para o Johnny B.)
Etiquetas: Cinema
Segunda-feira, Março 30, 2009
Hyperreality frenzy: We're selling!
You can use the comment box to make your bids.
Etiquetas: Baudrillard, capitalism, Cibernética, Economics, financial-nominalism
Sexta-feira, Março 13, 2009
10 de Março
"Hitler Chancellor. What, up to election Sunday on March 5, I called terror, was a mild prelude. Now the business of 1918 is being exactly repeated, only under a different sign, under the swastika. Again, it's astounding how easily everything collapses. What has happened to Bavaria, what has happened to the Reichsbanner, etc. etc.?
Eight days before the election the clumsy business of the Reichstag fire -- I cannot imagine that anyone really believes in Communist perpetrators instead of paid [swastika sign] work. Then the wild prohibitions and acts of violence. And on top of that the neverending propaganda in the street, on the radio, etc. On Saturday the fourth, I heard a part of Hitler's speech from Konigsberg. The front of a hotel at the railway station, illuminated, a torchlight procession in front of it, torchbearers and swastika flag bearers on the balconies and loudspeakers. I understood only words. But the tone! The unctuous bawling, truly bawling, of a priest. ---
Yesterday the dramaturge Karl Wolf dismissed "by order of the Nazi party" -- not even in the name of the government -- today the whole Saxon cabinet, etc., etc. A complete revolution and party dictatorship. And all opposing forces as if vanished from the face of the earth. It is this utter collapse of a power only recently present, no, it's complete disappearance (just as in 1918) that I find so staggering. Que sais-je?"
March 10, 1933
Diários de Viktor Klemperer, entrada de 10 de Março de 1933
Eight days before the election the clumsy business of the Reichstag fire -- I cannot imagine that anyone really believes in Communist perpetrators instead of paid [swastika sign] work. Then the wild prohibitions and acts of violence. And on top of that the neverending propaganda in the street, on the radio, etc. On Saturday the fourth, I heard a part of Hitler's speech from Konigsberg. The front of a hotel at the railway station, illuminated, a torchlight procession in front of it, torchbearers and swastika flag bearers on the balconies and loudspeakers. I understood only words. But the tone! The unctuous bawling, truly bawling, of a priest. ---
Yesterday the dramaturge Karl Wolf dismissed "by order of the Nazi party" -- not even in the name of the government -- today the whole Saxon cabinet, etc., etc. A complete revolution and party dictatorship. And all opposing forces as if vanished from the face of the earth. It is this utter collapse of a power only recently present, no, it's complete disappearance (just as in 1918) that I find so staggering. Que sais-je?"
March 10, 1933
Diários de Viktor Klemperer, entrada de 10 de Março de 1933
Etiquetas: Authority, Christo, Democracy, Klemperer (Viktor), Mass Media, nazism, novos religiosos da utopia laica, Patriotismo, Politics
Sexta-feira, Março 06, 2009
La Mariée était en noir
'There he is, up to his neck, Jabotinsky, up with the leaders of the intellectual west? You didn't ever even get to where the Greeks were with their ethical & political debate, when yeer crowd were barely straggling back from Babylon, all misery & grudges, weren't they well shut of ye. Where's your Legal Title? What's this it says? Deuteronomy ch.20? Joshua ch.10 vv.28-42. You despise & slander the writings of the New Testament, yet you cite as your title to other people's land a rabid fairytale written down 700 years after the events it purports to describe? And you say your values are western? Your last two civilised rabbi emissaries, despatched to inspect the locale after the 1897 Zionist Congress in Basel reported back: "the bride is beautiful, but she is married to another man." Viktor Klemperer the Dresden Diarist wrote in 1934: the Nazis got their stupid Blut und Boden romanticism from ye.'
Sydney Bernard Smith, Sauce for the Gander, Lulu, 2007, p. 61
Etiquetas: Camps, capitalism, Colonialism, Genocide, Geo-política, Giambologna, Holocaust, Literature, Middle East, nazism, Oásis, Patriotismo, Politics, Religion, Sydney Bernard Smith, Truffaut
Terça-feira, Março 03, 2009
Die Entführung aus dem Serail
As in the scriptural story itself, the precise location of the promised land remained vague, and for a time the desert lands of Arab Palestine seemed too far a stretch for the imagination. Alberto Gerchunoff was one of the pioneering Zionists who fled the steppes of Russia for the pampas of Argentina, to help found there, with earnest Argentine government encouragement, the Jewish settlement of "Moisesville." "Argentina is the Promised Land reached after a New Exodus," he declared in his book Los Gauchos Judios (The Jewish Gauchos of the Pampas). "Here, in Argentina," he exulted, "we will work hard, we will eat the bread made with our own wheat, and will be farmers like the old time Jews, the ones in tne Bible."
If Palestine seemed too alien for these Europeans, it also brought with it another problem: it was already inhabited, by an Arab population of hundreds of thousands of people whose families had lived there for centuries. The small community of Jews who already resided in Jerusalem, like the more sizable Jewish enclave in Baghdad, had long ago made its accommodations with Arab culture and strongly opposed Zionist pretensions that might, in arousing Arab antipathies, threaten their relatively stable existence.
In the early years of the Zionist movement, two rabbis from Vienna were sent on a scouting mission to Palestine to estimate the possibilities of creating a Jewish state there. The rabbis wired back, "The bride is beautiful but she is married to another man." But for the more zealous, and focused, Zionists, this was no fatal obstacle. After all, in the very same chapter of Genesis in which the Lord first calls Abraham to the promised land, there is the explicit acknowledgement that "the Canaanite was then in the land."
Nevertheless, the Lord immediately thereafter appears to Abraham and declares to him, "Unto thy seed will I give this land." In the next chapter the sequence is repeated, and elaborated. "And the Canaanite and the Perizzite dwelled then in the land." And the Lord said to Abraham, "Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward: for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed forever." The biblical message could not be any clearer: the imagined land took precedence over the inhabited land.
David F. Noble, Beyond the Promised Land: The Movement and the Myth, Toronto, Between The Lines, 2005, pp. 41-42
If Palestine seemed too alien for these Europeans, it also brought with it another problem: it was already inhabited, by an Arab population of hundreds of thousands of people whose families had lived there for centuries. The small community of Jews who already resided in Jerusalem, like the more sizable Jewish enclave in Baghdad, had long ago made its accommodations with Arab culture and strongly opposed Zionist pretensions that might, in arousing Arab antipathies, threaten their relatively stable existence.
In the early years of the Zionist movement, two rabbis from Vienna were sent on a scouting mission to Palestine to estimate the possibilities of creating a Jewish state there. The rabbis wired back, "The bride is beautiful but she is married to another man." But for the more zealous, and focused, Zionists, this was no fatal obstacle. After all, in the very same chapter of Genesis in which the Lord first calls Abraham to the promised land, there is the explicit acknowledgement that "the Canaanite was then in the land."
Nevertheless, the Lord immediately thereafter appears to Abraham and declares to him, "Unto thy seed will I give this land." In the next chapter the sequence is repeated, and elaborated. "And the Canaanite and the Perizzite dwelled then in the land." And the Lord said to Abraham, "Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward: for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed forever." The biblical message could not be any clearer: the imagined land took precedence over the inhabited land.
David F. Noble, Beyond the Promised Land: The Movement and the Myth, Toronto, Between The Lines, 2005, pp. 41-42
Etiquetas: Camps, capitalism, Colonialism, Enlightenment, Genocide, Geo-política, Middle East, Mozart, nazism, novos religiosos da utopia laica, Rembrandt, War on terror
Terça-feira, Fevereiro 03, 2009
Primeiro-ministro coloca-se (finalmente) na posição
(Continuamos com a fecunda análise da peça jornalística, seguindo o método crítico-paranóico (muito) avançado)
Ora, aqui está, o primeiro dos ministros assume, finalmente, a posição (exclusivo Heterologias, patrocinado pelos Preservativos Simplex).
Ora, aqui está, o primeiro dos ministros assume, finalmente, a posição (exclusivo Heterologias, patrocinado pelos Preservativos Simplex).
Etiquetas: caralho, Economics, Engenheiros, José Sócrates, Mass Media, Politics, Sexuality
Sexta-feira, Janeiro 30, 2009
Golpe de Estado
O tipo ser arrogante e oportunista, é como o outro: paciência, sinais dos tempos... Pensavam os meus amigos que os tachos, as chulices, os canudos porque sim, as universidades da treta, o carreirismo, as exorbitânciazinhas dos poderezinhos, eram só para os tugas sem responsabilidades políticas - ou que eram só para aqueles tais de yuppies lá dos oitentas? Ná! Somos todos culpados - ou vivemos numa caixa de cartão na Arcada do Terreiro do Paço (o que , também, não nos redime, necessariamente - podemos, então, ser apenas yuppies incompetentes). Portanto, lá isso da arrogância ignorante de um carreiristazito bem sucedido, a transpirar cagança por todos os poros, já não me incomoda. O que é grave é o golpe de Estado. Sim, a subversão do regime: então não é que o medíocre personagem se prepara para se perpetuar no poder, quer a gente queira ou não queira? Ou, nas palavras do coiso:
"Estou aqui para dizer, aos Senhores jornalistas e aos Portugueses, que não é desta forma que me vencem."
Então se não é desta, ou de qualquer outra forma, que os portugueses o vencem, como é que o gajo sai de lá? Não é a expressão da vontade dos portugueses a utopia da democracia nacional? Se não é a vontade dos cidadãos de Portugal que tira os políticos eleitos dos respectivos cargos onde esses mesmos cidadãos os puseram, quem é que os tira de lá? E, reparem bem, a coisa não diz que é este ou aquele português, estes ou aqueles grupos da sociedade tuga. Não: diz "os portugueses". São os portugueses que não a "vencem" (à coisa), pelo menos "desta forma" - bonita arrogância esta, em que um tipo determina as "formas" pelas quais pode ou não ser "venc[ido]". Imaginemos que o tipo perde as eleições: já o estou mesmo a ver, que não, que não sai, que os portugueses lhe tiraram o rico tachinho, onde (alegadamente!) comia ele, a família e os amiguinhos todos, por via de negras campanhas e que assim não, assim não sai. Vem aí a ditadura - e, agora, deixará de ser molemente dissimulada. Vejam vocês mesmos, confrontando o vídeo anexo. E, depois, não digam que eu não vos avisei.
(Ocorreu-me, assim de repente, como uma insinuação incómoda, que o socrático cretino pode estar a querer dizer outra coisa, espantosamente honesta, desta vez, mas dissimulada (socríptica?): que não serão nem os "jornalistas" (portugueses), nem os "portugueses" que "desta forma" o "vencem" - porque serão os ingleses, as suas cartas rogatórias e, porventura, os tablóides, quando não um couraçado no Tejo... Às armas!)
(Ocorreu-me, assim de repente, como uma insinuação incómoda, que o socrático cretino pode estar a querer dizer outra coisa, espantosamente honesta, desta vez, mas dissimulada (socríptica?): que não serão nem os "jornalistas" (portugueses), nem os "portugueses" que "desta forma" o "vencem" - porque serão os ingleses, as suas cartas rogatórias e, porventura, os tablóides, quando não um couraçado no Tejo... Às armas!)
Etiquetas: caralho, Crime, Democracy, Engenheiros, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, Mass Media, Politics, Pulhice
Quarta-feira, Janeiro 14, 2009
Etiquetas: Body, Colonialism, Crime, Deleuze, Genocide, Geo-política, Holocaust, Liberté, Mass Media, May 68, Middle East, paneleiros, Politics, Predation, Racism, Sexuality, State
Quarta-feira, Janeiro 07, 2009
Metropolis
King Champ Gillette (1855-1932), World Corporation, Boston, New England News Company, 1910: "Man Corporate"Under a perfect economical system of production and distribution, and a system combining the greatest elements of progress, there can be only one city on a continent, and possibly only one in the world. There would be outlying groups of buildings in different sections of the country for the accommodation of those who were, for limited periods, in the field of labor, and also others that would be occupied as resorts of pleasure in season; but the great and only "Metropolis" would be the home of the people. Having this idea in view, the location of the great city requires thoughtful and careful consideration, it being, in fact, the heart of a vast machine, to which over the thousands of miles of arteries of steel the raw material of production would find its way, there to be transformed in the mammoth mills and workshops into the lifegiving elements that would sustain and electrify the mighty brain of the whole, which would be the combined intelligence of the entire population working in unison, but each and every individual working in his own channel of inclination.
For many reasons I have come to the conclusion that there is no spot on the American continent, or possibly in the world. that combines so many natural advantages as that section of our country lying in the vicinity of the Niagara Falls, extending east into New York State and west into Ontario. The possibility of utilizing the enormous natural power resulting from the fall, from the level of Lake Erie to the level of Lake Ontario, some 330 feet is no longer the dream of enthusiasts, but is a demonstrated fact. Here is a power, which, if brought under control, is capable of keeping in continuous operation even manufacturing industry for centuries to come, and, in addition supply all the lighting;, facilities, run all the elevators, and furnish the power necessary for the transportation system of the great central city....
The manufacturing industries of "Metropolis" would be located east and west of Niagara River in Ontario and New York. The residence portion of the city would commence about ten miles east of Niagara River and Buffalo; and from this point to its eastern extremity, which would include the present city of Rochester in its eastern border, the city would be sixty miles long east and west, and thirty miles in width north and south, lying parallel with Lake Ontario, and about five miles from it.
King Champ Gillette, The Human Drift, Boston, New Era Publishing Co., 1894. Reprint: Delmar, N.Y., Scholars' Facsimiles & Reprints, Inc., 1976, pp. 88-112.
Etiquetas: capitalism, Cinema, Economics, Gillette, Politics, Utopia
Terça-feira, Janeiro 06, 2009
Re-ligar (3)
Palestina, 18 de Janeiro de 2008 - 20 de Dezembro de 2008
Etiquetas: Camps, capitalism, Colonialism, Democracy, Genocide, Geo-política, Holocaust, Mass Media, nazism, Politics, Prison
Terça-feira, Dezembro 02, 2008
Gioachino: il dottore che ama la filosofia, la gestione e il suo volto...
Etiquetas: Amor de Mãe, Angola 62, Bourgeoisie, capitalism, Democracy, Disease, Economics, Engenheiros, L'Avventura, Mass Media, Predation, Sexuality
Quinta-feira, Novembro 27, 2008
My worthy Mr. Engineer! Do you really believe that all the bloggers of the whole world are actually such simpletons?
One of the richest and most eminent American merchants, a certain Edward Albert Filene, Vice-Chairman of the International Congress of Chambers of Commerce, is now touring Paris, Berlin and other big European centres to make personal contact with the most influential people of the commercial world.
At the banquets arranged, as is fitting, by the richest people of Europe in honour of one of the American rich, the latter is developing his “new” ideas on the world power of the merchant. Frankfurter = Zeitung,[1] the organ of German finance capital, reports in detail the ideas of this “advanced” American millionaire.
“We are experiencing a great historic movement,” he proclaims, “that will end in the transfer of all power over the modern world to representatives of commercial capital. We are the people who bear the greatest responsibility in the world and we should, therefore, be politically the most influential.
“Democracy is growing, the power of the masses is growing,” argued Mr. Filene (rather inclined, it seems, to regard those “masses” as simpletons). “The cost of living is rising. Parliamentarism and the newspapers, distributed in millions of copies a day, are providing the masses of the people with ever more detailed information.
“The masses are striving to ensure for themselves participation in political life, the extension of franchise, the introduction of an income-tax, etc. Power over the whole world must pass into the hands of the masses, that is, into the hands of our employees,” is the conclusion drawn by this worthy orator.
“The natural leaders of the masses should be the industrialists and merchants, who are learning more and more to understand the community of their interests and those of the masses.” (We note in parenthesis that the cunning Mr. Filene is the owner of a gigantic commercial house employing 2,500 people, and that he has “organised” his employees in a “democratic” organisation with profit-sharing, etc. Since he considers his employees hopeless simpletons, Mr. Filene is sure that they are completely satisfied and infinitely grateful to their “father-benefactor” ....)
“Wage increases, the improvement of labour conditions, that is what will bind our employees to us,” said Mr. Filene, “that is what will guarantee our power over the whole world. Everybody in the world who is at all talented will come to us to enter our service.
“We need organisation and still more organisation—strong, democratic organisation, both national and inter national,” the American exclaimed. He called upon the commercial world of Paris, Berlin, etc., to reorganise international chambers of commerce. They should unite the merchants and industrialists of all civilised countries in a single, mighty organisation. All important international problems should be discussed and settled by that organisation.
Such are the ideas of an “advanced” capitalist, Mr. Filene.
The reader will see that these ideas are a paltry, narrow, one-sided, selfishly barren approximation to the ideas of Marxism propounded over sixty years ago. “We” are great masters at upsetting and refuting Marx; “we”, the civilised merchants and professors of political economy, have refuted him completely!... And at the same time we steal little bits and pieces from him and boast to the whole world of our “progressiveness”....
My worthy Mr. Filene! Do you really believe that the workers of the whole world are actually such simpletons?
W. [V. I. Lenine], "The Ideas of an Advanced Capitalist", Rabochaya Pravda, No. 4, July 17, 1913. Tradução de George Hanna, Lenin Collected Works, Moscow, Progress Publishers, 1977, volume 19, pages 275-276.
Etiquetas: Bourgeoisie, capitalism, Colonialism, Communism, Democracy, Economics, Engenheiros, Filene, Gillette, Lang, Lenine, Marx, Mass Media, novos religiosos da utopia laica, Politics, Revolution
Hollow shell
"We are watching the rebirth of colonization and a colonial mentality of a new type represented by the ‘human rights’ brigades and their friends in Le Monde and Libération, of which the war in Iraq and the failure of the West to force Israel to retreat from its colonial positions are good examples. And tied to that is the process of neo-liberalism and the neo-liberal economy, which makes democracy itself into a very hollow shell"
Etiquetas: capitalism, Colonialism, Democracy, Droit, Economics, financial-nominalism, Geo-política, Middle East, Politics, Tariq Ali
Terça-feira, Novembro 25, 2008
A minha madrinha ganhou a medalha de prata no campeonato internacional português de blogueiros!
Terça-feira, Novembro 18, 2008
Relatório e contas da construção do novo ramal Sul e respectivos apeadeiros
Orazio Gentileschi, "Danaë", c. 1621: "Desde os gregos, vai para mais de vinte cinco séculos, se sabe que o divino é meta-existente - quer dizer, está para lá da existência, transcende-a. (...) Por muito que nos custe, Deus não orbita: exorbita. Uma exorbitância completamente fora do alcance da nossa bolsa e dos basbaques da nossa ciência." (Eng. ferroviário César Augusto Dragão Lopes da Silva, "Exorbitância", Dragoscópio, 5 de Maio de 2008). Foge daí, Danaë filha, que o gajo vai com o corpo celeste fora de órbita e ainda levas com ele! Não! Não ponhas a mão! (Bom. Está bem... Ao menos deixa a boquinha fechada...). Não é por acaso que a indústria lhe chama o "money shot"..."Most religious buildings today are intended for congregational worship, where groups of people get together on a regular basis to celebrate their god and receive spiritual comfort. Ancient Greek temples were rarely used this way. They were meant to serve as homes for the individual god or goddess who protected and sustained the community. It was the needs of the gods that were most important. They controlled the forces of nature— the sun and rain which nourished their crops and the winds which drove their ships. Although generally benevolent, the gods could be quite capricious and were liable to turn against the community— so it was in everyone's interest to make sure that they should feel completely at home. Their houses were the finest, equipped with a staff of servants to look after their every need. They received daily offerings of food and drink along with a proper share of the harvest and the profits of any trading or military activity.
The god or goddess was represented by a cult image— usually a seated or standing statue— which occupied the central place in the temple".
The god or goddess was represented by a cult image— usually a seated or standing statue— which occupied the central place in the temple".
Etiquetas: Amor de Mãe, Angola 62, caralho, Engenheiros, Gentileschi, God, pornography, Religion
Quinta-feira, Novembro 13, 2008
Re-ligar (2)
"Este Des-ligar das pessoas consiste numa guerra permanente, envenenadora e insidiosa sobre tudo o que possa congregá-las ou re-ligá-las. Daí, entre outras, a campanha devidamente orquestrada e premeditada contra a "re-ligião". Porque estorva e dificulta a "des-ligião".
É neste enquadramento que se situam todos os quistos efervescentes de propaganda artificialmente empolada e superiormente dirigida, como são, por exemplo, as organizações LGTB ou as Ligas de Frenéticos e Convulsionários Ateístas. São tropinhas de choque do mercado e da indústria, autómatos-biscateiros programados e segregados pela coligação 'super-apta'".
É neste enquadramento que se situam todos os quistos efervescentes de propaganda artificialmente empolada e superiormente dirigida, como são, por exemplo, as organizações LGTB ou as Ligas de Frenéticos e Convulsionários Ateístas. São tropinhas de choque do mercado e da indústria, autómatos-biscateiros programados e segregados pela coligação 'super-apta'".
Eng. César Augusto Dragão Lopes da Silva, "Metapredação", Dragoscópio, 4 de Maio de 2008.
Etiquetas: Amor de Mãe, Angola 62, Authority, Colonialism, Engenheiros, Geo-política, God, Middle East, paneleiros, Racism, Religion, Sexuality, War on terror
Segunda-feira, Novembro 10, 2008
Re-ligar (como em "liga-duras")
Etiquetas: Amor de Mãe, Angola 62, Authority, Colonialism, Engenheiros, Geo-política, God, Middle East, Politics, Religion, War on terror
Quarta-feira, Novembro 05, 2008
Viva!
Ontem, dia 4 de Novembro de 2008, escreveu-se uma página brilhante da História contemporânea - da História da Civilização Ocidental, tal como os gregos a começaram há já mais de 2.500 anos!
Etiquetas: Amor de Mãe, Angola 62, Barack Obama, capitalism, Colonialism, Democracy, Politics
Sexta-feira, Outubro 31, 2008
High finance satellites (trick and treat)
Miguel Soares, Space Junk beta 1.0, 2001
Just as Jean Baudrillard long ago warned, the hyperreal, simulational world of
derivatives, credit swaps, and mortgage backed securities long ago
blasted off from material reality, reaching escape velocity, and then
orbiting the world as star-like high finance satellites -- purely
virtual satellites which have no real meaning for the rest of us as
long as they stay in space as part of the alienated, recursive loops
of advanced capitalism. But when the meltdown suddenly happens, when
that immense weight of over-indebtedness and toxic mortgages and
credit derivates plunge back into the gravitational weight of real
politics and real economy, we finally know what it is to live within
trajectories of the catastrophic. Economists are quoted as saying the
financial crisis effects "everyone on earth." Is this Virilio's
"global accident?" Quite certainly it is panic finance: that moment
when the credit mechanisms necessary for capitalist liquidity slam
shut, a time made to measure for Virilio's brilliant theory of bunker
archeology, with each bank its own toxic bunker of junk assets, each
banker a born again socialist. For example, always vigilant automatic
circuit breakers working in the darkness of night recently prevented
a global plunge of the futures market. Allan Greenspan throws up his
hands, exclaiming "I'm in shocked disbelief."
================================derivatives, credit swaps, and mortgage backed securities long ago
blasted off from material reality, reaching escape velocity, and then
orbiting the world as star-like high finance satellites -- purely
virtual satellites which have no real meaning for the rest of us as
long as they stay in space as part of the alienated, recursive loops
of advanced capitalism. But when the meltdown suddenly happens, when
that immense weight of over-indebtedness and toxic mortgages and
credit derivates plunge back into the gravitational weight of real
politics and real economy, we finally know what it is to live within
trajectories of the catastrophic. Economists are quoted as saying the
financial crisis effects "everyone on earth." Is this Virilio's
"global accident?" Quite certainly it is panic finance: that moment
when the credit mechanisms necessary for capitalist liquidity slam
shut, a time made to measure for Virilio's brilliant theory of bunker
archeology, with each bank its own toxic bunker of junk assets, each
banker a born again socialist. For example, always vigilant automatic
circuit breakers working in the darkness of night recently prevented
a global plunge of the futures market. Allan Greenspan throws up his
hands, exclaiming "I'm in shocked disbelief."
CTHEORY: THEORY, TECHNOLOGY AND CULTURE, VOL 31, NO 3
Etiquetas: Baudrillard, cannibalism, capitalism, Colonialism, Democracy, Disease, Economics, financial-nominalism, Geo-política, mass consumption, Mass Media, Miguel Soares, Predation, Virilio
Terça-feira, Outubro 07, 2008
Unemployed black man seating on a crambling porch invest fund
Terça-feira, Abril 22, 2008
Et si vraiment Dieu existait/Comme le disait Bakounine/Ce Camarade Vitamine/Il faudrait s'en débarrasser
"When I was young, God was dead and the world was a happy place. Now, God is back and the world is miserable (...). Let's Kill God Again".
Dave Graney (Dave Graney & the Lurid Yellow Mist) , apresentando a canção Let's Kill God Again, na primeira parte do concerto de Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, no Coliseu dos Recreios, em Lisboa, dia 21 de Abril de 2008 (citado de memória).
"I don’t believe in an interventionist God
But I know darling that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you"
Nick Cave, Into My Arms
"Barone: ¿Y que opina de Dios, Borges?
Borges: (Solemnemente irónico) ¿Es la máxima creación de la literatura fantástica! Lo que imaginaron Wells, Kafka o Poe no es nada comparado con lo que imaginó la teología. La idea de un ser perfecto, omnipotente, todopoderoso es realmente fantástica."
Jorge Luis Borges em conversa com Ernesto Sabato (1974-75),Orlando Barone (org.), Diálogos / Jorge Luis Borges, Ernesto Sabato, Barcelona, Emecé, 2002.
"Nadie rebaje a lágrima o reproche
esta declaración de la maestría
de Dios, que con magnífica ironía
me dio a la vez los libros y la noche."
Jorge Luis Borges, Poema de los dones, publicado em El Hacedor, 1960
Etiquetas: Borges, Coliseu dos Recreio (Lisboa), Dave Graney, Death, God, Leo Ferré, Nick Cave
Quarta-feira, Abril 16, 2008
PEDIMOS DESCULPA POR ESTA INTERRUPÇÃO
O PROGRAMA SEGUE DENTRO DE MOMENTOS
Etiquetas: (como arruinar um teaser)
Terça-feira, Abril 08, 2008
Quase, quase...
Sábado, Abril 05, 2008
...e vem para aqui...
Sexta-feira, Abril 04, 2008
Continua a avançar...
Quarta-feira, Abril 02, 2008
Ele está a chegar...
Terça-feira, Abril 01, 2008
Islâmicos e islamitas
(O evangelho segundo S. Valupi (?) explicado à infiel Zazie)
Um "islâmico"
Um "islamita"
Um "islâmico"
Um "islamita"
Etiquetas: Camps, capitalism, caralho, Colonialism, Democracy, Economics, Film, foda-se caralho, Geert Wilders, Genocide, Geo-política, Holocaust, Mass Media, Meme, nazism, Racism, Religion, War on terror
Segunda-feira, Março 31, 2008
In a nutshell...
(os novos religiosos da utopia laica explicados às criancinhas)
"No concílio do Vaticano de 1870, a Igreja já estava aburguesada e teve de rever a sua doutrina tradicional para proclamar o dogma da infalibilidade do Papa.Que o Deus dos Céus, criador de todas as coisas, seja o detentor da verdade é, feitas as contas, lógico e ponto de fé; mas a afirmação de que um homem nunca se engana está eivada da doutrina burguesa do Iluminismo dos enciclopedistas e livre pensadores, incarnado pela deusa Razão que ilumina a humanidade, força as convicções, transforma o mundo e dá a volta ao Universo, pela virtualidade dos princípios sagrados de liberdade, igualdade e fraternidade da Revolução burguesa de 1789.
À medida que as ideias todo-poderosas descem sobre a terra, vão sendo personificadas pelo grande Arquitecto dos pedreiros-livres, pelo Papa, pelos Chefes de Estado capitalistas e pelos marxistas aburguesados, por Marx, Lénine e Estaline.
Marx não queria que se falasse de marxismo mas sim de socialismo científico para evitar que se atribuísse à sua pessoa o que é património teórico do proletariado.
Roger Dangeville, "Apresentação" introdutória a Marx-Engels, A Comuna de Paris de 1871, Lisboa, Serviços Sociais dos trabalhadores da C.G.D. Secção Cultural, 1976. Tradução da edição francesa de Nuno de Brito
Etiquetas: Authority, Bourgeoisie, Democracy, Enlightenment, Marx, novos religiosos da utopia laica, Politics, Pope, Reason, Religion
Quinta-feira, Março 27, 2008
Manocrator (Antropocrator)
Que o Deus dos Céus, criador de todas as coisas, seja o detentor da verdade é, feitas as contas, lógico e ponto de fé; mas a afirmação de que um homem nunca se engana está eivada da doutrina burguesa do Iluminismo dos enciclopedistas e livre pensadores, incarnado pela deusa Razão que ilumina a humanidade.
Etiquetas: Authority, Bourgeoisie, Democracy, Enlightenment, Politics, Reason, Religion
Segunda-feira, Março 17, 2008
Beijing 2008
Etiquetas: Beijinhos 2008, Camps, capitalism, Colonialism, Democracy, Disobedience, Genocide, Geo-política, Holocaust, nazism, Politics, War on terror
Sexta-feira, Fevereiro 01, 2008
Conversa de ir ao cu / É Portugal ninguém leva a mal
"A afixação do Símbolo de Acessibilidade não garante que este sítio seja 100% acessível. A utilização deste símbolo demonstra, únicamente, um esforço em aumentar a acessibilidade deste sítio em conformidade com a Resolução do Conselho de Ministros N.º 97/99 sobre acessibilidade dos sítios da administração pública na Internet pelos cidadãos com necessidades especiais"
Num ápice, este país e este tempo, em que a "comunidade" já é só burocracia europeia, num ápice, retratados, auto-retratados, com o talento, involuntário, de um Rembrandt.
Comecemos por aqui: como a inépcia, este tropeçar do pé na mão e da mão no pé, gera um retrato mais verdadeiro do que aquele que o talento poderia gerar. Dá que pensar. Todas as belas ideias humanistas à volta do talento, do estudo, da dificuldade, da Verdade... Vem um bandalho, trôpego de pés e mãos, sorrisinho alarve na boca, entre a arrogância e o desculpem-me aí qualquer coisinha, vem um borra-botas e vira tudo de pernas para o ar. Está certo, aceito: o tipo queria pintar uma paisagem bucólica e saiu-lhe o retrato do bicharoco que ele é - que ele somos. Mas o que saiu é de uma exactidão, de uma revelação, de uma verdade...
Olhemos, agora, com atenção, o retrato: A afixação do Símbolo de Acessibilidade não garante que este sítio seja 100% acessível. Atente-se na cobardia, na nossa cobardiazinha mesquinha, pequenina, envergonhadinha. A mesma mensagem, em versão com tomates: não pensem lá que por estar lá a merda do símbolo da acessibilidade isto é acessível. Estes grande tomates gongóricos são mais o que ficou do barroco aos espanhóis aqui do lado: la acesibilidad es solamiente un simbolo que no tiorna accessibeles las essencias, pero, atraviés de las apariencias, nos aproxima de la essencia, coño! O que diz a cobardiazinha burocrática dos tempos de convergência e unanimidade, em tradução tuga é: o símbolo "não garante" (não é que seja provável, à partida, mas não é garantido) que seja - o quê? Que seja acessível? Não! - não garante que seja "100% acessível". Tem-te-não-caias. Garante, então, o quê? Nada. Mas também não deixa de assegurar qualquer coisa. Uma tranquilidade, moderna e cosmopolita, inefável, porém. Socrática. Estes pré-socráticos de 99 já profetizavam a segunda vinda do mestre. E, como estas coisas modernas e cosmopolitas requerem uma conclusão, conclui-se que A utilização deste símbolo demonstra, únicamente, um esforço. E, agora, a imbecilidade alarvar é só nossa: do erro ortográfico da pobreza ignorante que o Senhor Dr. Salazar fez o favor de continuar ao beatificado mártir Carlos, El, Rei e Dom, até ao esforço, ao esforço incomensurável, insuportável, mas louvável. Que esforçados somos. Que ratos parimos.
É, únicamente, um esforço em aumentar a acessibilidade deste sítio em conformidade com a Resolução do Conselho de Ministros: é só isso, um esforçozito, do género vou ver se consigo chegar à chávena de café que me pediste, sem me levantar, um esforçozito em cumprir a lei, que, como sabemos, só se cumpre se for mesmo preciso ou tivermos um lugar mesmo merdoso na hierarquia social e poucos padrinhos e nenhumas cunhas.
E eu, envergonhado perante o rigor, sem esforço, da imagem daquele impiedoso espelho, percebi que também tenho "necessidades especiais" e que me ilumina o horizonte a possibilidade, pouco provável, mas possível, de atrás de um globo inclinado com uma grelha sobreposta, cuja superfície uma fechadura recorta, encontrar a satisfação dessas necessidades: não será 100% certo, ou seguro, ou acessível, mas um dia, num momento feliz, atrás de um desses globos descompensados e presos atrás de uma rede que chave alguma abrirá (pelo menos com uma garantia de 100% - ou que abrirá, mas não a 100%), descobrirei o que me falta aqui.
São, estes, outros amanhãs, mas que também cantam, numa percentagem inferior a cem, compostos em Bruxelas e orquestrados pelo chefe da filarmónica, aqui nos confins.
Rafael Bordalo Pinheiro, Antonio Maria, 1ª série, nº 142, 16 de Fevereiro de 1882
Comecemos por aqui: como a inépcia, este tropeçar do pé na mão e da mão no pé, gera um retrato mais verdadeiro do que aquele que o talento poderia gerar. Dá que pensar. Todas as belas ideias humanistas à volta do talento, do estudo, da dificuldade, da Verdade... Vem um bandalho, trôpego de pés e mãos, sorrisinho alarve na boca, entre a arrogância e o desculpem-me aí qualquer coisinha, vem um borra-botas e vira tudo de pernas para o ar. Está certo, aceito: o tipo queria pintar uma paisagem bucólica e saiu-lhe o retrato do bicharoco que ele é - que ele somos. Mas o que saiu é de uma exactidão, de uma revelação, de uma verdade...
Olhemos, agora, com atenção, o retrato: A afixação do Símbolo de Acessibilidade não garante que este sítio seja 100% acessível. Atente-se na cobardia, na nossa cobardiazinha mesquinha, pequenina, envergonhadinha. A mesma mensagem, em versão com tomates: não pensem lá que por estar lá a merda do símbolo da acessibilidade isto é acessível. Estes grande tomates gongóricos são mais o que ficou do barroco aos espanhóis aqui do lado: la acesibilidad es solamiente un simbolo que no tiorna accessibeles las essencias, pero, atraviés de las apariencias, nos aproxima de la essencia, coño! O que diz a cobardiazinha burocrática dos tempos de convergência e unanimidade, em tradução tuga é: o símbolo "não garante" (não é que seja provável, à partida, mas não é garantido) que seja - o quê? Que seja acessível? Não! - não garante que seja "100% acessível". Tem-te-não-caias. Garante, então, o quê? Nada. Mas também não deixa de assegurar qualquer coisa. Uma tranquilidade, moderna e cosmopolita, inefável, porém. Socrática. Estes pré-socráticos de 99 já profetizavam a segunda vinda do mestre. E, como estas coisas modernas e cosmopolitas requerem uma conclusão, conclui-se que A utilização deste símbolo demonstra, únicamente, um esforço. E, agora, a imbecilidade alarvar é só nossa: do erro ortográfico da pobreza ignorante que o Senhor Dr. Salazar fez o favor de continuar ao beatificado mártir Carlos, El, Rei e Dom, até ao esforço, ao esforço incomensurável, insuportável, mas louvável. Que esforçados somos. Que ratos parimos.
É, únicamente, um esforço em aumentar a acessibilidade deste sítio em conformidade com a Resolução do Conselho de Ministros: é só isso, um esforçozito, do género vou ver se consigo chegar à chávena de café que me pediste, sem me levantar, um esforçozito em cumprir a lei, que, como sabemos, só se cumpre se for mesmo preciso ou tivermos um lugar mesmo merdoso na hierarquia social e poucos padrinhos e nenhumas cunhas.
E eu, envergonhado perante o rigor, sem esforço, da imagem daquele impiedoso espelho, percebi que também tenho "necessidades especiais" e que me ilumina o horizonte a possibilidade, pouco provável, mas possível, de atrás de um globo inclinado com uma grelha sobreposta, cuja superfície uma fechadura recorta, encontrar a satisfação dessas necessidades: não será 100% certo, ou seguro, ou acessível, mas um dia, num momento feliz, atrás de um desses globos descompensados e presos atrás de uma rede que chave alguma abrirá (pelo menos com uma garantia de 100% - ou que abrirá, mas não a 100%), descobrirei o que me falta aqui.
São, estes, outros amanhãs, mas que também cantam, numa percentagem inferior a cem, compostos em Bruxelas e orquestrados pelo chefe da filarmónica, aqui nos confins.
Etiquetas: Bordalo, capitalism, Cavaco Silva, Democracy, Europa, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, Mass Media, politically correct
Sexta-feira, Janeiro 18, 2008
Paixão
Etiquetas: Camps, capitalism, Colonialism, Democracy, Genocide, Geo-política, Holocaust, Mass Media, nazism, Politics, Prison
Terça-feira, Janeiro 15, 2008
Communism, Revolution and Democracy
The place where this texts originate is not one political place among others (...). I would say, to be simple and direct, while not wishing to be simplistic, comes from the left. But the task that now befalls us is to elucidate, to review, indeed to revolutionize what the term 'left' means.
In order to speak of the site that we are dealing with, I might venture the following thought: 'left' means, at the very least, that the political, as such, is receptive to what is at stake in community. (On the other hand, "right" means, at least, that the political is merely in charge of order and administration). In this sense, and provided we remain open to all the reelaborations and all the theoritical and pratical rethinking that might be necessary, the political is indissocialbe from something that the word "communism" has expressed all to poorly, even as it remains the word to point toward it, albeit very obscurely, even confusedly.
I make no claim to dissipate this obscurity entirely. But we should begin with this much: the political is the place where community as such is brought into play. It is not, in any case, just the locus of power relations, to the extent that these relations set and upset the necessarily unstable and taut equilibrium of collectivity. I do not wish to neglect the sphere of power relations: we never stop being caught up in it, being implicated in its demands. On the contrary, I seek only to insist on the importance and gravity of the relations of force and the class and/or party struggles of the world at a moment when a kind of broadly pervasive democratic consensus seems to make us forget that 'democracy', more and more frequently, serves only to assure a play of economic and technical forces that no politics today subjects to any end other that of its own expansion.
In order to speak of the site that we are dealing with, I might venture the following thought: 'left' means, at the very least, that the political, as such, is receptive to what is at stake in community. (On the other hand, "right" means, at least, that the political is merely in charge of order and administration). In this sense, and provided we remain open to all the reelaborations and all the theoritical and pratical rethinking that might be necessary, the political is indissocialbe from something that the word "communism" has expressed all to poorly, even as it remains the word to point toward it, albeit very obscurely, even confusedly.
I make no claim to dissipate this obscurity entirely. But we should begin with this much: the political is the place where community as such is brought into play. It is not, in any case, just the locus of power relations, to the extent that these relations set and upset the necessarily unstable and taut equilibrium of collectivity. I do not wish to neglect the sphere of power relations: we never stop being caught up in it, being implicated in its demands. On the contrary, I seek only to insist on the importance and gravity of the relations of force and the class and/or party struggles of the world at a moment when a kind of broadly pervasive democratic consensus seems to make us forget that 'democracy', more and more frequently, serves only to assure a play of economic and technical forces that no politics today subjects to any end other that of its own expansion.
Jean-Luc Nancy, The Inoperative Community, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1990, preface translated by Peter Connor, pp. xxxvi-xxxvii
* A imagem inicialmente "postada", mais graffitica, deixou de estar disponível.
Etiquetas: capitalism, Communism, Democracy, Politics, Revolution
Segunda-feira, Janeiro 07, 2008
Ser e não ser
No país dos sacanas, ser sacana e meio? Não, ó Jorge, que cena, então não sabias? Ser-se Luiz Pacheco. (Como imperativo moral).
E o gajo morreu na mesma. A quem aproveitará? Já tanto faz. Tanto nos faz.
E o gajo morreu na mesma. A quem aproveitará? Já tanto faz. Tanto nos faz.
Etiquetas: Body, capitalism, caralho, Death, Democracy, Disobedience, foda-se caralho, Jorge de Sena, Luiz Pacheco
Terça-feira, Janeiro 01, 2008
Eis a questão?
Je prends un exemple que j'aime beaucoup, parce que c'est le seul moyen de faire comprendre ce que c'est que la jurisprudence. Les gens n'y comprennent rien, enfin, pas tous. Les gens ne comprennent pas très bien. Je me rappelle, moi, le temps où il a été interdit de fumer dans les taxis. Avant, on fumait dans les taxis. Il y avait un temps où on n'avait plus le droit de fumer dans un taxi. Les premiers chauffeurs de taxi qui ont interdit de fumer dans les taxis, ça a fait du bruit, parce qu'il y avait des fumeurs. Et il y avait un, c'était un avocat.
J'ai toujours été passionné par la jurisprudence, par le droit. Si je n'aurais pas fait de philosophie, j'aurais fait du droit, mais justement, pas du droit de l'homme, j'aurais fait de la jurisprudence. Parce que c'est la vie. Il n'y a pas de droits de l'homme, il y a la vie, il y a des droits de la vie. Seulement la vie c'est cas par cas.
Donc, les taxis. Il y a un type qui ne veut pas être interdit de fumer dans un taxi. Il fait un procès au taxi. Je me souviens très bien, parce que là, je m'étais occupé d'avoir les attendus du jugement. Le taxi était condamné. Aujourd'hui, pas de question. Il y aurait le même procès, il ne serait pas condamné le taxi, ce serait le usager qui serait condamné. Mais au début, le taxi a été condamné. Sous quels attendus? Que, lorsque quelqu'un prenait un taxi, il était locataire. Donc, l'utilisateur de taxi a été assimilé à un locataire. Le locataire a le droit de fumer chez lui. Il a le droit d'usage et d'appui. C'est comme s'il faisait de location. C'est comme si ma propriétaire me disait: non, tu ne va pas fumer chez toi. Si, si je suis locataire, je peux fumer chez moi. Donc le taxi a été assimilé à un appartement roulant dont l'usager était le locataire.
Dix ans après, ça s'est absolument universalisé, il n'y a pratiquement plus de taxi où on peut fumer. Au nom de quoi ? Le taxi n'est plus assimilé à une location d'appartement, il est assimilé à un service publique. Dans un service publique, on a le droit d'interdire de fumer. Tout ça est jurisprudence. Il n'est pas question de droit de ceci ou de cela. Il est question de situation, et de situation qui évolue. Et lutter pour la liberté, c'est réellement faire de la jurisprudence.
Gilles Deleuze (1925-1995) entrevistado por Claire Parnet em 1988-89
Etiquetas: Crime, Deleuze, Democracy, Dialectics, Droit, Liberté, Resnais, Smoking / No Smoking
Segunda-feira, Dezembro 10, 2007
"Herr Stockhausen... bitte?"
"He was the rock star of my youth," said Esa-Pekka Salonen, music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. "When I was a teenager, my classmates listened to rock and pop, but I got the same kind of kicks listening to Stockhausen."
Etiquetas: Death, Music, Stockhausen
Segunda-feira, Outubro 22, 2007
Alguém tem o contacto do dealer do Benjamin? (O do Baudelaire também serve)
Dwain Esper, Marihuana (1936)
After long hesitation, took hashish at 7 o'clock in the evening. During the day I had been in Aix. I am taking down notes of what possibly follows only to determine whether it will take effect, as my solitariness hardly allows for any other supervision. Next to me a small child is crying, who disturbs me. I think that three quarters of an hour have already elapsed. And yet it has actually been only half an hour. Thus... apart from a very mild absent-mindedness, nothing's happening. I lay upon the bed, read and smoked. All the while opposite me this glimpse of the ventre of Marseilles. (Now the images begin to take hold of me.) The street that I'd so often seen is like an incision cut by a knife.
Certain pages in Steppenwolf , which I read early this morning, were a final impetus to take hashish.
Walter Benjamin (1892-1940), On Hashish (1927-34), Protocol IV: 29 September 1928. Saturday. Marseilles. [Translated by Scott J. Thompson, copyright March 25, 1997]
(Cuidado com a pequena criminalidade: começam no graffiti, passam aos charros e acabam a urrar macacadas com os pretos do jazz e a tomar banho nuas com as outras fufas. Veja-se o caso do Walter Benjamin: morreu novo, aos 48 anos - parece que o ar puro dos Pirinéus foi demais para ele. Bem haja, senhor Giuliani!)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Benjamin, caralho, Crime, Disobedience, Drugs, Dwain Esper, foda-se caralho, Hashish, José Sócrates, mass consumption, politically correct
Terça-feira, Outubro 16, 2007
A violência discreta do contabilismo
IT IS a melancholy object to those who walk through this great town or travel in the country, when they see the streets, the roads, and cabin doors, crowded with beggars of the female sex, followed by three, four, or six children, all in rags and importuning every passenger for an alms. These mothers, instead of being able to work for their honest livelihood, are forced to employ all their time in strolling to beg sustenance for their helpless infants: who as they grow up either turn thieves for want of work, or leave their dear native country to fight for the Pretender in Spain, or sell themselves to the Barbadoes.
I think it is agreed by all parties that this prodigious number of children in the arms, or on the backs, or at the heels of their mothers, and frequently of their fathers, is in the present deplorable state of the kingdom a very great additional grievance; and, therefore, whoever could find out a fair, cheap, and easy method of making these children sound, useful members of the commonwealth, would deserve so well of the public as to have his statue set up for a preserver of the nation.
But my intention is very far from being confined to provide only for the children of professed beggars; it is of a much greater extent, and shall take in the whole number of infants at a certain age who are born of parents in effect as little able to support them as those who demand our charity in the streets.
(...)
I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.
I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London, that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.
I do therefore humbly offer it to public consideration that of the hundred and twenty thousand children already computed, twenty thousand may be reserved for breed, whereof only one-fourth part to be males; which is more than we allow to sheep, black cattle or swine; and my reason is, that these children are seldom the fruits of marriage, a circumstance not much regarded by our savages, therefore one male will be sufficient to serve four females. That the remaining hundred thousand may, at a year old, be offered in the sale to the persons of quality and fortune through the kingdom; always advising the mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month, so as to render them plump and fat for a good table. A child will make two dishes at an entertainment for friends; and when the family dines alone, the fore or hind quarter will make a reasonable dish, and seasoned with a little pepper or salt will be very good boiled on the fourth day, especially in winter.
I have reckoned upon a medium that a child just born will weigh 12 pounds, and in a solar year, if tolerably nursed, increaseth to 28 pounds.
I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore very proper for landlords, who, as they have already devoured most of the parents, seem to have the best title to the children.
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), A Modest Proposal: For Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland from Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick (1729)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Body, cannibalism, capitalism, Disobedience, Economics, foda-se caralho, Genocide, Holocaust, José Sócrates, Literature, mass consumption, pedophilia, politically correct, Swift, vieille cuisine
Sexta-feira, Outubro 12, 2007
The beauty of our weapons
658
00:49:28,507 --> 00:49:30,873
- No haremos planes de fuga.
- øPor quÈ no?
659
00:49:30,943 --> 00:49:34,640
Porque cada nueva persona
que involucramos en esto es un riesgo m·s.
660
00:49:34,813 --> 00:49:37,748
Para salvarnos,
confiemos en que el plan tendr· Èxito.
661
00:49:37,816 --> 00:49:40,785
Pero aunque la bomba tenga Èxito,
existe la posibilidad...
662
00:49:40,852 --> 00:49:45,186
de que el pueblo se vuelva contra nosotros.
Que nos considere asesinos.
663
00:49:45,257 --> 00:49:48,488
Quiz·s la gente se escandalice tanto
que pierda el discernimiento.
664
00:49:48,560 --> 00:49:52,963
Hace unos dÌas, Miguel, te negaste a apostar
sobre la excavaciÛn porque dijiste...
665
00:49:53,265 --> 00:49:57,599
que era inmoral especular
con algo relacionado con los asesinatos.
666
00:49:57,736 --> 00:50:00,933
Bien, no especulemos
con el discernimiento del pueblo.
667
00:50:01,807 --> 00:50:03,604
Eso es m·s inmoral todavÌa.
668
00:50:04,209 --> 00:50:07,406
Huir sÌ serÌa una verg¸enza.
669
00:50:08,280 --> 00:50:10,908
No tenemos derecho
a hacer lo que hacemos...
670
00:50:10,983 --> 00:50:13,315
si no estamos dispuestos
a responder con la vida.
John Huston (1906-1987), We Were Strangers (1949)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Canadá, caralho, Cinema, Democracy, Disobedience, Film, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, politically correct, Politics, War on terror
Quinta-feira, Outubro 11, 2007
"Thou shall not be afraid for the terror by night"
Murder, mayhem, violence, sex, beautifully, pictorially expressed, lovely costumes, perfect cutting and... a joke or two
Alfred Hitchcock
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: caralho, Cinema, Crime, Death, Disobedience, Film, foda-se caralho, Hitchcock, José Sócrates, politically correct, Predation, serial killers, Sexuality
Quarta-feira, Outubro 10, 2007
SadoMaso
The killing of Christ injures the being of God.
It looks as if creatures couldn't communicate with their Creator except through a wound that lacerates integrity.
The wound is intended and desired by God.
The humans who did this are not less guilty.
On the other hand, �and this is not the least strange,� the guilt is a wound lacerating the integrity of every guilty being.
In this way God (wounded by human guilt) and human beings (wounded by their own guilt with respect to God), find, if painfully, a unity that seems to be their purpose.
If human beings had kept their own integrity and hadn't sinned, God on one hand and human beings on the other would have persevered in their respective isolation. A night of death wherein Creator and creatures bled together and lacerated each other and on all sides, were challenged at the extreme limits of shame: that is what was required for their communion.
In the elevation upon a cross, humankind attains a summit of evil. But it's exactly from having attained it that humanity ceases being separate from God. So clearly the "communication" of human beings is guaranteed by evil. Without evil, human existence would turn in upon itself, would be enclosed as a zone of independence: And indeed an absence of "communication"� empty loneliness �would certainly be the greater evil.
Georges Bataille, Sur Nietzsche (1945)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Art, Bataille, Body, caralho, Crime, Death, Disobedience, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, Literature, politically correct, Scatology, Sexuality
Terça-feira, Outubro 09, 2007
Bondage
Rosalie et moi, traînées par ces deux scélérats, nous regagnons les appartements ; les portes se ferment. La malheureuse fille de Rodin est attachée aux colonnes d'un lit, et toute la rage de ces furieux se tourne contre moi ; je suis accablée des plus dures invectives, et les plus effrayants arrêts se prononcent ; il ne s'agit de rien moins que de me disséquer toute vive, pour examiner les battements de mon cœur, et faire sur cette partie des observations impraticables sur un cadavre. Pendant ce temps on me déshabille, et je deviens la proie des attouchements les plus impudiques.
- Avant tout, dit Rombeau, je suis d'avis d'attaquer fortement la forteresse que tes bons procédés respectèrent... C'est qu'elle est superbe ! admire donc le velouté, la blancheur de ses deux demi-lunes qui en défendent l'entrée
jamais vierge ne fut plus fraîche.
- Vierge ! mais elle l'est presque, dit Rodin. Une seule fois, malgré elle, on l'a violée, et pas la moindre chose depuis. Cède-moi le poste un instant...
Marquis de Sade (1740 - 1814), Justine ou les Malheurs de la vertu (1791)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia, "Operação Predador"
Etiquetas: Body, caralho, Death, Disobedience, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, Literature, Medicine, politically correct, pornography, Predation, Sade, Sexuality
Quinta-feira, Outubro 04, 2007
Putas, paneleiros, mulherengos, anarquistas e soldados para África, em Braga, a Idolátrica, ainda antes das brasileiras alugarem a cona em Bragança
E esta que fingiu nunca dar por mim, quando o carro arranca e me deixa esquecido, diz:
- Adeus, meu senhor .
Como quem diz: estavas aí e me viste e me desejaste, e quiseste o meu cono, e fui tua. Nunca mais me verás, fantasma de blusão negro e óculos grossos cara aparvalhada, fica-te, tarrenego!, sei lá quem tu és - não sou para ti.
E eu que era para ela. Outra qualquer. Dentro e fora da memória, fantasma para fantasmas.Vou para a cama. O vinho pesa-me na cabeça. Bebo água fria para desenjoar a gorja. Durmo como um bendito. Acordo no escuro, cedo, 6 ou 5 horas, há um grupo na Pensão que se está a levantar, batem portas. Estou excitadíssimo. O meu homem virá ao encontro? Onde o hei-de meter? Nestes quartos ouve-se tudo.
Abjecção. Remorsos. Decido não ir. Misturo a Deolinda com o António e sem mexer na picha estou quase a vir-me. De repente, tudo é tão violento que tenho de bater uma punheta.
Como a Natureza previu todas as nossas fraquezas e ausências, dotou-nos também com outro caralho para o cu detrás. Meto o dedo (médio?) todo no cu, bato a punheta. E a ejaculação, forte porque há dias que estou sem deitar nada cá para fora, dá-me contracções no esfincter. Gozozíssimas. Venho-me imenso. Estou cada vez mais excitado. Cada passo na escada parece julgo que é o António que vem e me penetra e me obriga a chupar-lhe o delicioso caralho que não vi. Escândalo. Tribunal Militar.Vergonha. Filhos a saberem tudo. Loucura. Suicídio. Tomo meio Calmax. A pouco e pouco a corda vai-se aligeirando, estou melhor. Mas que vontade de ter pecado. De pecar. Como assim: de viver.
Descubro que o êxito e o fracasso são uma e a mesma cadeia e em tudo. O êxito para cima, o fracasso para baixo, e quando digo baixo digo baixo: sujidões, dívidas, vergonhas, podridão, loucura. Mas o que toma tudo igual é que ambas as cadeias se encontram, nada a fazer, meus caros, daqui a cem anos ninguém se lembra.
E a nossa lição-abjecção a quem aproveitará?
Já tanto faz.
Tanto nos faz.
Braga, 16 ou 17 de Outubro, 1961.
Luiz Pacheco, O Libertino Passeia por Braga, a Idolátrica, o Seu Esplendor (1961), 1ª ed. 1970
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Angola 62, Art, caralho, Disobedience, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, Literature, Luiz Pacheco, paneleiros, pedophilia, politically correct, pornography, Scatology, Sexuality
Quarta-feira, Outubro 03, 2007
Anti-semitas de todo Israel: uni-vos!
It is the primary obligation of the [israeli] government to protect Jewish lives. Israel is first and foremost a JEWISH democratic State. It is NOT a non-sectarian, democratic country like the United States. As such, it is absurd for anyone other than Jews to be citizens in the first place! That is why Israel MUST revamp its Constitution making Israel unequivocally a JEWISH State… with NO possibility that any other group will ever become the majority. It is insane to have enemies of the Jewish people living anywhere within its boundaries. So how does Israel put a stop to the explosive Israeli Arab population growth? The same way one puts a stop to a growing cancer… REMOVE IT.
"Israel's Growing Cancer"
We, members of the People's Council, representatives of the Jewish Community of Eretz-Israel and of the Zionist Movement, are here assembled on the day of the termination of the British Mandate over Eretz-Israel and, by virtue of our natural and historic right and on the strength of the resolution of the United Nations General Assembly, hereby declare the establishment of a Jewish state in Eretz-Israel, to be known as the State of Israel.
"The Declaration of the Establishment of the State of Israel", Official Gazette: Number 1; Tel Aviv, 5 Iyar 5708, 14.5.1948 Page 1
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Castela, Colonialism, Democracy, Disobedience, foda-se caralho, Geo-política, Holocaust, José Sócrates, Middle East, nazism, politically correct, Politics, Prison, Pulhice, Racism, War on terror
Terça-feira, Outubro 02, 2007
Snuff Post: poems that serial killers don't write
Oh! Death to Nancy
What is this taht (sic) I can see
Cold icy hands taking hold of me
for Death has come, you all can see.
Hell has open it,s (sic) gate to trick me.
Oh! Death, Oh! Death, can't you spare
me, over for another year!
I'll stuff your jaws till you can't talk
I'll blind (sic) your leg's (sic) till you can't walk
I'll tie your hands till you can't make a
stand.
And finally I'll close your eyes so you
can't see
I'll bring sexual death unto you for me.
B.T.K.
Letter to the police, February 1978
Oh, Anna Why Didn't You Appear
T' was perfect plan of deviant pleasure so bold on that Spring nite
My inner felling hot with propension of the new awakening season
Warn, wet with inner fear and rapture, my pleasure of entanglement, like new vines at night
Oh, Anna, Why Didn't You Appear
Drop of fear fresh Spring rain would roll down from your nakedness to scent to lofty fever that burns within,
In that small world of longing, fear, rapture, and desparation, the game we play, fall on devil ears
Fantasy spring forth, mounts, to storm fury, then winter clam at the end.
Oh, Anna Why Didn't You Appear
Alone, now in another time span I lay with sweet enrapture garments across most private thought
Bed of Spring moist grass, clean before the sun, enslaved with control, warm wind scenting the air, sun light sparkle tears in eyes so deep and clear.
Alone again I trod in pass memory of mirrors, and ponder why for number eight was not.
Oh, Anna Why Didn't You Appear
Letter to Anna Williams, June 1978
"Wanted $2000 Reward", 1923, Philadelphia Museum of ArtMuseum of Death, Los Angeles (closed)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Art, Black Dahlia, caralho, Crime, Death, Disobedience, Duchamp, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, Poetry, politically correct, serial killers, Sexuality
Segunda-feira, Outubro 01, 2007
A pequenina e os pepinos / Tender Pussy / Ratitas Chiquititas
Wee Willie Winkie
The owners of a child star are like leaseholders - their property diminishes in value every year. Time's chariot is at their back; before them acres of anonymity. What is Jackie Coogan now but a matrimonialsquabble? Miss Shirley Temple's case, though, has peculiar interest: infancy is her disguise, her appeal is more secret and more adult. Already two years ago she was a fancy little piece (real childhood, I think, went out after "The Littlest Rebel"). In "Captain January" she wore trousers with the mature suggestiveness of a Dietrich: her neat and well-developed rump twisted in the tap-dance; her eyes had a sidelong searching coquetry. Now in "Wee Willie Winkie," wearing short kilts, she is completely totsy. Watch her swaggering stride across the Indian barrack-square; hear the gasp of excited expectation from her antique audience when the sergeant's palm is raised; watch the way she measures a man with agile studio eyes, with dimpled depravity. Adult emotions of love and grief glissade across the mask of childhood, a childhood skin-deep. It is clever, but it cannot last. Her admirers - middle-aged men and clergymen - respond to her dubious coquetry, to the sight of her well-shaped and desirable little body, packed with enormous vitality, only because the safety curtain of story and dialogue drops between their intelligence and their desire. 'Why are you making Mummy cry?' - what could be purer than that? And the scene when dressed in a white nightdress she begs grandpa to take Mummy to a dance - what could be more virginal? On those lines her new picture, made by John Ford, who directed "The Informer," is horrifyingly competent. It isn't hard to stay to the last prattle and the last sob. The story - about an Afghan robber converted by "Wee Willie Winkie" to the British Raj - is a long way after Kipling. But we needn't be sour about that. Both stories are awful, but on the whole Hollywood's is the better.
Graham Greene (1904-1991), "Wee Willie Winkie", Night and Day, 28 October 1937
Cartaz para Wee Willie Winkie (1937), de John Ford
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Cinema, Disobedience, Dodgson, foda-se caralho, Graham Green, John Ford, José Sócrates, Literature, Mass Media, pedophilia, politically correct, Sexuality, Shirley Temple
Sexta-feira, Setembro 28, 2007
Na Peida!
Caravaggio, "Boy Bitten by a Lizard", c. 1594, oil on canvas, 65,8 x 52,3 cm, Collezione Longhi, Florence.
Veio o lagarto... e mordeu-o
Nunca te foram ao cu
Nem nas perninhas, aposto!
Mas um homem como tu,
Lavadinho, todo nu, gosto!
Sem ter pentelho nenhum
com certeza, não desgosto,
Até gosto!
Mas... gosto mais de fedelhos.
Vou-lhes ao cu
Dou-lhes conselhos,
Enfim... gosto
Antonio Botto (1897-1959)
in Natália Correia (org.), Antologia de Poesia Portuguesa Erótica e Satírica, Lisboa, Afrodite, 1966
"Rub-a-dub, three men in a tub--Just look at the smiles on their faces!" (1955)
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Botto, caralho, Disobedience, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, nazism, paneleiros, Pedofilia, pedophilia, Poetry, politically correct
Quinta-feira, Setembro 27, 2007
Os maiores paneleiros do lado de lá do Elton John
"The more fucked up and surreal the world, demonstrably, becomes, the less David Lynch films become feverish, inscrutable, schizoid texts and, more straight forwardly, just the order of the day.
The first time I saw Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, in late August of 1992, I was in the midst of a quasi-nervous breakdown resulting from the messy end to a three year love relationship coinciding with a feature film stalled in post-production with no completion funding in sight. I went alone to see the movie on a sweltering summer afternoon in a wife-beater and tiny short-shorts at the now defunct Cineplex at the Eaton's Centre in Toronto, a slew of tiny, shoebox theatres in the dank basement of a shopping mall.
The air-conditioning blasting, I sat shivering with my bare arms around my bare legs, identifying intensely with Laura Palmer, played by Sheryl Lee. I hadn't related to a character so strongly since Diane Keaton burned a hole in the screen as Theresa Dunn in Looking For Mr. Goodbar fifteen years earlier. There's something about Hollywood actresses playing promiscuous, burned-out drug addicts in female-identified movies that drives me, as a gay man, wild with passionate desire.
Enter Terrence Koh. Mr. Koh and I had often talked about our love of the movie Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, arguing over who was more Laura Palmer, him or me. We also expressed a mutual fascination with the Bang Bang Bar from the same movie, situated, as it is, on Canada-US border. As fellow Canadians who often find ourselves striding that border, one foot in the more demure, polite, and wishy-washy Canadian identity, one foot in the aggressive, hard, and confidant American identity, we appreciate the metaphorical notion of walking across the floor of a bar and switching identities as easily as segueing from beer to hard liquor.
We also began talking about collaborating on an installation of degenerate art consisting of horizontal glory holes, envisioning cocks coming down from the ceiling and up from the floor like stalactites and stalagmites. After all, why should glory holes be restricted to the vertical axis? That's strictly for the birds – and Republican Senators.
Combining these two ideas, Blame Canada was born. After all, the US makes a habit of blaming Canada for a variety of nasty things: a porous border, lax immigration policies, Communist tendencies, multiculturalism, gayness (gay marriage is legal in Canada), Celine Dion… so why not give them what they want: a scapegoat , a whipping boy , a lapdog, a masochist , a Judas, a boot-licker, a cocksucker, a punk . In fact, why not give them two - Terrence Koh and Bruce LaBruce – two of the biggest faggots this side of Elton John.
BLAME CANADA will be on view at Peres Projects (26 Schlesische Strasse, Berlin) in our new first floor exhibition hall, through Nov. 10, 2007. Hours: Tuesday through Saturday, from 11:00 A.M. to 6:00 P.M and by appointment."
LINHA ALERTA INTERNETA SEGURA: chamem a polícia
Etiquetas: Art, Canadá, Engenheiros, foda-se caralho, José Sócrates, nazism, paneleiros, politically correct, Politics
Terça-feira, Julho 31, 2007
A Desaparecida - The Lady Vanishes - The Searchers
Segunda-feira, Julho 30, 2007
Sommarlek
O tempo, o envelhecimento e a morte. Não é uma história a dois, mas a história da protagonista, a bailarina, irredutivelmente pessoal como um ajuste de contas. Ele, o primeiro namorado, é o Amor e a Juventude - perdidos. É a história de uma aprendizagem. Aprender o tempo, o envelhecimento e a morte. Aprender a vida. A vida é isso tudo e é passageira e frágil e ridícula - é preciso conseguir retirar de lá (construi-la a partir dela e construi-la nela) a felicidade. A bailarina é feliz, descobre ela no fim. Não apesar de tudo, mas feliz apenas - com o amor e a juventude perdidos, o novo namorado impossivelmente o outro, o da juventude, o da Idade de Ouro. Com o fim da carreira e a decadência. É feliz, descobre.O ballet é efémero como a Vida - efémero e frágil. O namorado perdido é o Amor e a Juventude. O tio é o Tempo. A velha senhora (a avó dele?) é a Morte - di-lo o padre, que com ela joga xadrez. (Com a morte, Ingmar Bergman joga sempre xadrez.) A Vida entre o Tempo, que desespera, corrompe e faz esquecer, e a Morte - que espera.
Como a juventude, o Verão passa, ameaçado, sempre, pelo seu fim. Um Verão de barcos, foguetes e festas nos embarcadouros. E a luz a reflectir-se na água. O primeiro namorado teve a morte como um pressentimento a pairar e nela mergulhará, como esses gregos de Posidonia (a Paestum latina) que se lançam nus no vazio.
Depois do Verão, agarrar o que resta, o possível depois do sublime e da totalidade - como o Inferno partilhado, melhor do que a solidão, numa fala de (tanto quanto me lembro) A Sede / Törst (1949).
Robert Moskowitz, Diver, 2002, oil on canvas, at Lawrence Markey, New York
Etiquetas: 1950, Cinema, Cinema Death, Death, Ingmar Bergman, Robert Moskowitz, Sommarlek, Suécia, Verão de Amor (Um)
Quinta-feira, Maio 24, 2007
É lá! Thoreau lindo!
I have paid no poll-tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for one night; and, as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, two or three feet thick, the door of wood and iron, a foot thick, and the iron grating which strained the light, I could not help being struck with the foolishness of that institution which treated me as if I were mere flesh and blood and bones, to be locked up. I wondered that it should have concluded at length that this was the best use it could put me to, and had never thought to avail itself of my services in some way. I saw that, if there was a wall of stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb or break through, before they could get to be as free as I was.
The night in prison was novel and interesting enough. The prisoners in their shirt-sleeves were enjoying a chat and the evening air in the doorway, when I entered. But the jailer said, "Come, boys, it is time to lock up"; and so they dispersed, and I heard the sound of their steps returning into the hollow apartments. My room-mate was introduced to me by the jailer as "a first-rate fellow and a clever man." When the door was locked, he showed me where to hang my hat, and how he managed matters there. The rooms were whitewashed once a month; and this one, at least, was the whitest, most simply furnished, and probably the neatest apartment in the town. He naturally wanted to know where I came from, and what brought me there; and, when I had told him, I asked him in my turn how he came there, presuming him to be an honest man, of course; and, as the world goes, I believe he was. "Why," said he, "they accuse me of burning a barn; but I never did it." As near as I could discover, he had probably gone to bed in a barn when drunk, and smoked his pipe there; and so a barn was burnt. He had the reputation of being a clever man, had been there some three months waiting for his trial to come on, and would have to wait as much longer; but he was quite domesticated and contented, since he got his board for nothing, and thought that he was well treated.
He occupied one window, and I the other; and I saw that if one stayed there long, his principal business would be to look out the window. I had soon read all the tracts that were left there, and examined where former prisoners had broken out, and where a grate had been sawed off, and heard the history of the various occupants of that room; for I found that even here there was a history and a gossip which never circulated beyond the walls of the jail. Probably this is the only house in the town where verses are composed, which are afterward printed in a circular form, but not published. I was shown quite a long list of verses which were composed by some young men who had been detected in an attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them.
I pumped my fellow-prisoner as dry as I could, for fear I should never see him again; but at length he showed me which was my bed, and left me to blow out the lamp.
It was like travelling into a far country, such as I had never expected to behold, to lie there for one night. It seemed to me that I never had heard the town-clock strike before, nor the evening sounds of the village; for we slept with the windows open, which were inside the grating. It was to see my native village in the light of the Middle Ages, and our Concord was turned into a Rhine stream, and visions of knights and castles passed before me. They were the voices of old burghers that I heard in the streets. I was an involuntary spectator and auditor of whatever was done and said in the kitchen of the adjacent village-inn — a wholly new and rare experience to me. It was a closer view of my native town. I was fairly inside of it. I never had seen its institutions before. This is one of its peculiar institutions; for it is a shire town.(1) I began to comprehend what its inhabitants were about.
In the morning, our breakfasts were put through the hole in the door, in small oblong-square tin pans, made to fit, and holding a pint of chocolate, with brown bread, and an iron spoon. When they called for the vessels again, I was green enough to return what bread I had left; but my comrade seized it, and said that I should lay that up for lunch or dinner. Soon after he was let out to work at haying in a neighboring field, whither he went every day, and would not be back till noon; so he bade me good-day, saying that he doubted if he should see me again.
When I came out of prison — for some one interfered, and paid that tax — I did not perceive that great changes had taken place on the common, such as he observed who went in a youth and emerged a tottering and gray-headed man; and yet a change had to my eyes come over the scene — the town, and State, and country — greater than any that mere time could effect. I saw yet more distinctly the State in which I lived. I saw to what extent the people among whom I lived could be trusted as good neighbors and friends; that their friendship was for summer weather only; that they did not greatly propose to do right; that they were a distinct race from me by their prejudices and superstitions, as the Chinamen and Malays are; that in their sacrifices to humanity, they ran no risks, not even to their property; that after all they were not so noble but they treated the thief as he had treated them, and hoped, by a certain outward observance and a few prayers, and by walking in a particular straight though useless path from time to time, to save their souls. This may be to judge my neighbors harshly; for I believe that many of them are not aware that they have such an institution as the jail in their village.
It was formerly the custom in our village, when a poor debtor came out of jail, for his acquaintances to salute him, looking through their fingers, which were crossed to represent the grating of a jail window, "How do ye do?" My neighbors did not thus salute me, but first looked at me, and then at one another, as if I had returned from a long journey. I was put into jail as I was going to the shoemaker's to get a shoe which was mended. When I was let out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and, having put on my mended shoe, joined a huckleberry party, who were impatient to put themselves under my conduct; and in half an hour — for the horse was soon tackled — was in the midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two miles off, and then the State was nowhere to be seen.
This is the whole history of "My Prisons."
The night in prison was novel and interesting enough. The prisoners in their shirt-sleeves were enjoying a chat and the evening air in the doorway, when I entered. But the jailer said, "Come, boys, it is time to lock up"; and so they dispersed, and I heard the sound of their steps returning into the hollow apartments. My room-mate was introduced to me by the jailer as "a first-rate fellow and a clever man." When the door was locked, he showed me where to hang my hat, and how he managed matters there. The rooms were whitewashed once a month; and this one, at least, was the whitest, most simply furnished, and probably the neatest apartment in the town. He naturally wanted to know where I came from, and what brought me there; and, when I had told him, I asked him in my turn how he came there, presuming him to be an honest man, of course; and, as the world goes, I believe he was. "Why," said he, "they accuse me of burning a barn; but I never did it." As near as I could discover, he had probably gone to bed in a barn when drunk, and smoked his pipe there; and so a barn was burnt. He had the reputation of being a clever man, had been there some three months waiting for his trial to come on, and would have to wait as much longer; but he was quite domesticated and contented, since he got his board for nothing, and thought that he was well treated.
He occupied one window, and I the other; and I saw that if one stayed there long, his principal business would be to look out the window. I had soon read all the tracts that were left there, and examined where former prisoners had broken out, and where a grate had been sawed off, and heard the history of the various occupants of that room; for I found that even here there was a history and a gossip which never circulated beyond the walls of the jail. Probably this is the only house in the town where verses are composed, which are afterward printed in a circular form, but not published. I was shown quite a long list of verses which were composed by some young men who had been detected in an attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them.
I pumped my fellow-prisoner as dry as I could, for fear I should never see him again; but at length he showed me which was my bed, and left me to blow out the lamp.
It was like travelling into a far country, such as I had never expected to behold, to lie there for one night. It seemed to me that I never had heard the town-clock strike before, nor the evening sounds of the village; for we slept with the windows open, which were inside the grating. It was to see my native village in the light of the Middle Ages, and our Concord was turned into a Rhine stream, and visions of knights and castles passed before me. They were the voices of old burghers that I heard in the streets. I was an involuntary spectator and auditor of whatever was done and said in the kitchen of the adjacent village-inn — a wholly new and rare experience to me. It was a closer view of my native town. I was fairly inside of it. I never had seen its institutions before. This is one of its peculiar institutions; for it is a shire town.(1) I began to comprehend what its inhabitants were about.
In the morning, our breakfasts were put through the hole in the door, in small oblong-square tin pans, made to fit, and holding a pint of chocolate, with brown bread, and an iron spoon. When they called for the vessels again, I was green enough to return what bread I had left; but my comrade seized it, and said that I should lay that up for lunch or dinner. Soon after he was let out to work at haying in a neighboring field, whither he went every day, and would not be back till noon; so he bade me good-day, saying that he doubted if he should see me again.
When I came out of prison — for some one interfered, and paid that tax — I did not perceive that great changes had taken place on the common, such as he observed who went in a youth and emerged a tottering and gray-headed man; and yet a change had to my eyes come over the scene — the town, and State, and country — greater than any that mere time could effect. I saw yet more distinctly the State in which I lived. I saw to what extent the people among whom I lived could be trusted as good neighbors and friends; that their friendship was for summer weather only; that they did not greatly propose to do right; that they were a distinct race from me by their prejudices and superstitions, as the Chinamen and Malays are; that in their sacrifices to humanity, they ran no risks, not even to their property; that after all they were not so noble but they treated the thief as he had treated them, and hoped, by a certain outward observance and a few prayers, and by walking in a particular straight though useless path from time to time, to save their souls. This may be to judge my neighbors harshly; for I believe that many of them are not aware that they have such an institution as the jail in their village.
It was formerly the custom in our village, when a poor debtor came out of jail, for his acquaintances to salute him, looking through their fingers, which were crossed to represent the grating of a jail window, "How do ye do?" My neighbors did not thus salute me, but first looked at me, and then at one another, as if I had returned from a long journey. I was put into jail as I was going to the shoemaker's to get a shoe which was mended. When I was let out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and, having put on my mended shoe, joined a huckleberry party, who were impatient to put themselves under my conduct; and in half an hour — for the horse was soon tackled — was in the midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two miles off, and then the State was nowhere to be seen.
This is the whole history of "My Prisons."
Etiquetas: Body, Disobedience, Film, Genet, Literature, Prison, Scatology, Sexuality, State, Thoreau
Segunda-feira, Maio 21, 2007
O mesmo memé de outra maneira
Rafael Bordalo Pinheiro, A Parodia, nº 95, 6 de Novembro de 1901, página 360
NO PAÍS DOS SACANAS
Que adianta dizer-se que é um país de sacanas?
Todos os são, mesmo os melhores, às suas horas,
e todos estão contentes de se saberem sacanas.
Não há mesmo melhor do que uma sacanice
para fazer funcionar fraternalmente
a humidade da próstata ou das glândulas lacrimais,
para além das rivalidades, invejas e mesquinharias
em que tanto se dividem e afinal se irmanam.
Dizer-se que é de heróis e santos o país,
a ver se se convencem e puxam para cima as calças?
Para quê, se toda a gente sabe que só asnos,
ingénuos e sacaneados é que foram disso?
Não, o melhor seria aguentar, fazendo que se ignora.
Mas claro que logo todos pensam que isto é o cúmulo da sacanice,
porque no país dos sacanas, ninguém pode entender
que a nobreza, a dignidade, a independência, a
justiça, a bondade, etc., etc., sejam
outra coisa que não patifaria de sacanas refinados
a um ponto que os mais não são capazes de atingir.
No país dos sacanas, ser sacana e meio?
Não, que toda a gente já é pelo menos dois.
Como ser-se então nesse país? Não ser-se?
Ser ou não ser, eis a questão, dir-se-ia.
Mas isso foi no teatro, e o gajo morreu na mesma.
10/10/1973
Jorge de Sena, 40 Anos de Servidão, Lisboa, Edições 70, s.d. [1989], p. 136
Etiquetas: Jardins, Jorge de Sena, Literature, Meme, Oásis, Patriotismo, Pulhice, Tomás Ribeiro
Sábado, Maio 19, 2007
Hello, hello, Dolly!
Cá está o memé - e é catita:
"Jardim da Europa á beira-mar plantado"
(Thomaz Ribeiro, D. Jayme ou a Dominação de Castella, 1862)
Etiquetas: Bordalo, Castela, Cavaco Silva, Europa, Geo-política, Jardins, Meme, Oásis, Patriotismo, Tomás Ribeiro
Segunda-feira, Maio 14, 2007
D as in democracy
All voting is a sort of gaming, like checkers or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right and wrong, with moral questions; and betting naturally accompanies it. The character of the voters is not staked. I cast my vote, perchance, as I think right; but I am not vitally concerned that that right should prevail. I am willing to leave it to the majority. Its obligation, therefore, never exceeds that of expediency. Even voting for the right is doing nothing for it. It is only expressing to men feebly your desire that it should prevail. A wise man will not leave the right to the mercy of chance, nor wish it to prevail through the power of the majority. There is but little virtue in the action of masses of men. When the majority shall at length vote for the abolition of slavery, it will be because they are indifferent to slavery, or because there is but little slavery left to be abolished by their vote. They will then be the only slaves. Only his vote can hasten the abolition of slavery who asserts his own freedom by his vote.
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), Civil Disobedience, 1849
Etiquetas: Democracy, Disobedience, Holodkin, Revolution, Thoreau
Sexta-feira, Maio 04, 2007
R comme révolution
Ce qu'on a "découvert" récemment: les horreurs de Staline... Enfin! Tout le monde le sait depuis... - j'allais dire: tout le temps. Que les révolutions tournent mal ! (rires) Moi, ça me fait rire ! De qui on se moque ? Quand les nouveaux philosophes ont découvert que les révolutions ça tournait mal ... Faut vraiment être un peu débile !
(...) Toutes les révolutions foirent. Tout le monde le sait : on fait semblant de le redécouvrir, là. Faut être débile ! Alors, là-dessus, tout le monde s'engouffre. C'est le révisionnisme actuel. Il y a Furet qui découvre que la révolution française, c'était pas si bien que ça. Très bien, d'accord: elle a foiré aussi. Et tout le monde le sait ! La révolution française, elle a donné Napoléon. On fait des découvertes qui, au moins, ne sont pas très émouvantes par leur nouveauté. La révolution anglaise, elle a donné Cromwell... La révolution américaine, elle a donné... quoi ? Pire, non ? Elle a donné... je sais pas qui... elle a donné Reagan. Ca ne me parait pas tellement plus fameux. Alors, qu'est-ce que ça veut dire ? On est dans un tel état de confusion. Que les révolutions échouent, que les révolutions tournent mal, ça n'a jamais empêché les gens... ni fait que les gens ne deviennent pas révolutionnaires !
On mélange deux choses absolument différentes... - les situations dans lesquelles la seule issue pour l'homme c'est de devenir révolutionnaire. Là encore, on en parle depuis le début...
Finalement: c'est la confusion du Devenir et de l'Histoire. Si les gens deviennent révolutionnaires... Oui: c'est cette confusion des historiens... Les historiens, ils nous parlent de l'Avenir de la révolution, l'Avenir des révolutions... Mais c'est pas du tout la question ! Alors, ils peuvent toujours remonter aussi haut pour montrer que si l'Avenir a été mauvais, c'est que le mauvais était déjà là depuis le début, mais le problème concret, c'est: comment et pourquoi les gens Deviennent-ils révolutionnaires. Mais ça, heureusement, les historiens ne l'empêcheront pas.
C'est évident que les Africains du Sud, ils sont pris dans un Devenir révolutionnaire. Les Palestiniens, ils sont pris dans un Devenir révolutionnaire. Si on me dit après: "Vous verrez, quand ils auront triomphé... Si leur révolution réussit, ça va mal tourner !"... D'abord, ce serait pas les mêmes. Ce ne seront pas du tout les mêmes genres de problèmes. Et puis, bon : ça créera une nouvelle situation, à nouveau il y aura des devenirs révolutionnaires qui se déclencheront... L'affaire des hommes, dans les situations de tyrannie, d'oppression, c'est effectivement le Devenir révolutionnaire, parce qu'il n'y a pas d'autre chose à faire. Quand on nous dit après "Ah, ça tourne mal", tout ça.. : on ne parle pas de la même chose. C'est comme si on parlait deux langues tout à fait différentes : l'Avenir de l'histoire et le Devenir actuel des gens, c'est pas la même chose.
Gilles Deleuze (1925-1995) entrevistado por Claire Parnet (1988-89)
Etiquetas: Deleuze, Interview, Mass Media, May 68, Revolution
Segunda-feira, Abril 30, 2007
Já só me falta a beijoca!
Madrinha, o pensador já cá canta: agora, já só me falta a beijoca (cf. infra). Olha a coisa mais linda: na cristaleira, com a mãozita na testa! (Está a pensar: é como eu... sempre com a cabecita a andar às voltas).
Etiquetas: coleccionismo, ebay, mass consumption, Rodin
Quinta-feira, Abril 26, 2007
"Não ceder nem um pintelho" *
Agora e na hora do antifascismo, resta-me desejar a todos os meus ilustres camaradas-pavões de ofício cinematográfico, de quem sempre disse horrores, não por empenho missionário mas por mero desabafo de rotina, que consigam, com a queda do miserável regime que os vitimou, expulsar a profunda imbecilidade dos filmes que fizeram e reencontrar, enfim, aquilo que, durante a asfixiante opressão, nunca deram mostras de possuir: dois dedos de imaginação, uma pitada de inteligência, um nadinha de subtileza e delírio, uma nesga de rigor poético.
(...) É preciso afiar, quanto antes, o dente cinematográfico para que o cinema seja capaz de triturar, digerir e cagar realidade. Só assim poderá ter uma função transformadora. Se o cinema não correr mais veloz que a realidade, corre o risco de a subjugar como um pálido reflexo. Estou profundamente convencido que, infelizmente, esse cinema neoparasitário será o cinema dominante na sociedade portuguesa como, aliás, sempre foi, aqui e em toda a parte.
O meu drama é que fui dado como incapaz para todo o serviço militar e não sei muito bem se, disciplinadamente, me devo colocar atrás ou à frente dos canhões. Uns tipos da política já me explicaram que é consoante: sempre atrás, na Metrópole, sempre à frente, nas colónias. Pelo sim, pelo não, acho que vou ficar agachado, que é como sempre estive e hei-de estar. A única diferença é que agora conheço (mal) uns tipos que já se desmarcaram para postos de comando e que, curiosamente, já me pareciam um tanto bichosos e bem nutridos, no regime anterior. Terei de cortar rapidamente relações com essa gentalha que, em moldes mais perigosos e delicados, se prepara para continuar a sugar as desgraçadas peles dos famélicos deste país. Acredito piamente na dialéctica da devoração e na impossibilidade de se construir um país habitável, enquanto houver quem coma e quem é comido.
João César Monteiro, "O Pequeno Papelinho que (...)", O Cinéfilo, nº 33, 25 de Maio de 1974. Republicado no catálogo João César Monteiro, s.l., Cinemateca Portuguesa, s.d. [2005], pp. 514-515
* Entrevista aos Cahiers du Cinéma, nº 541, Dezembro de 1999. Traduzida e republicada em João César Monteiro, s.l., Cinemateca Portuguesa, s.d. [2005], pp. 436-446
Etiquetas: 25th April, Aliment, Cinema, Dialectics, Film, João César Monteiro, Predation, Scatology
Sexta-feira, Abril 20, 2007
Death Camps
"Three days after Munich, Israel ordered a bombing which required the use of some 75 Israeli aircraft (the largest attack since 1967). Their bombings of Palestinian refugee camps in Syria and Lebanon resulted in the killing of more than 200 civilians. And this is not because the Israelis were after a camp north of Sidon that was used for training the Munich attackers. That camp was not even hit (another sign that Israelis had no information about the real culprits of Munich) while other camps with civilians in them were bombed."
"September 9 : Israeli war planes attack Arab terrorist bases in Syria and Lebanon in retaliation for the Munich Olympic massacre. Three Syrian jets are shot down over the Golan Heights. The UN Security Council adopts a resolution calling for an end of military operations by "the parties concerned." A U.S. resolution deploring the München massacre is not considered."
Etiquetas: Camps, Colonialism, Death, Film, Genocide, Holocaust, Middle East, Munich, Racism
Terça-feira, Abril 17, 2007
Correio da metrópole
A nossa madrinha de guerra mandou-nos uma camisola de lã, tricotada por ela, e uma cartinha cheia de amabilidades, que muito lhe agradecemos. Muita saúde para ela e para o rato ligeiramente handicapado é o que lhe desejamos.
Etiquetas: Amor de Mãe, Angola 62, Cibernética, coleccionismo, vintage clothing
Quinta-feira, Abril 12, 2007
Champ / Contrechamp
PL - Mais c'est quoi, le contrechamp ?
JLG - Le contrechamp de la maladie, pour les médecins, c'est le médicament. Pour moi, c'est une tendance, puis une tendance contradictoire. Mais dans contradiction, les gens n'entendent qu'un mot, et non pas deux : contre-diction. Il y a trente ans, je me suis mis au tennis parce qu'on me renvoyait la balle. Je ne joue plus.
PL - Vous voyez des médecins ?
JLG - Quand je vois deux médecins, j'essaie de les faire se confronter face à la maladie, pour qu'il y ait retour, mais c'est impossible.
PL - Comme dans Molière ?
JLG - Pire que dans Molière. Ils ne se rencontrent même pas. C'est comme faire parler Luther et Calvin.
Entretien de Godard avec Philippe Lançon, quatre heures est une discussion à bâtons rompus et une visite de l'exposition débutée le 10 mai 2006. Libération, Mercredi 12 juillet 2006
Etiquetas: Cinema, Dialectics, Disease, Film, Godard, Medicine, tennis
Segunda-feira, Abril 02, 2007
Show me the way to the next Zion Mount
Photography by Armin T. Wegner (1886-1978) © Wallstein Verlag"On the way my father died. Four women came, took him by the feet and hands, carried away and threw him into a pit, which was dug beforehand. I saw it with my own eyes. They also threw into that pit those who were very sick, but were still alive, or they stabbed them with a sword, and threw them into it. Blood flowed everywhere. Is it possible to forget all this? I remember: there were large swarms of locusts flying in the air. They were so hungry that some ate locusts, others ate cow's blood" (Tagouchi Antonian, 1900 Bitlis).
Etiquetas: Death, Genocide, Holocaust, Racism
Segunda-feira, Março 19, 2007
Le terroriste c'est moi
publique et privée
à la recherche
d'un terroriste
le terroriste, c'est moi.
Tant qu'existera le capitalisme impérialiste américain,
nous ne serons jamais assez de terroristes dans le monde.»
Etiquetas: Cinema, Death, Huillet Straub, Sicilia, Venezia, War on terror
Sexta-feira, Março 09, 2007
Docteur Destouches: le médecin des pauvres
Louis-Ferdinand Céline (1894 - 1961) - a television interview from 1961
Etiquetas: Céline, Death, Literature, Medicine, TV
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