Je ne suis pas là... Mais je vous laisse une chanson.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Mumbai...
Atacar um hospital para mulheres e crianças. Filhos da puta! Hoteis, tiros na rua, ...
Não há causa, razão, desculpa que justifique o terrorismo, matar indiscriminadamente, instaurar o medo como forma de moldar vontades.
Nas palavras do livro que acabei de ler, um terrorista diz:
"Il n'y a que deux extrêmes dans la folie des hommes. L'instant où l'on prend conscience de son impuissance, et celui où l'on prend conscience de la vulnérabilité des autres. Il s'agit d'assumer sa folie, docteur, ou de la subir."
(Yasmira Khadra, L'attentat)
"Ou de la vaincre!", acrescento eu! A loucura não é necessariamente crónica, pode e deve ser vencida e ultrapassada. O Homem não é impotente. Podemos e devemos mudar o mundo à nossa volta. Pelo menos tentar. O Homem é vulnerável. Mas por isso mesmo precisa de ser protegido, não destruído. E ensinar, ensinar que o paraíso não se situa no fim da vida, a própria ou a de outrém, mas que o paraíso É a vida! O Homem é o milagre.
E acabo com um credo, de Antoine de Saint-Exupèry, (Pilote de guerre, 1942) que faço meu:
"Et je crois que la Liberté n'est pas l'exaltation de l'individu contre l'Homme.
Je combattrai quiconque prétendra asservir à un individu - comme à une masse d'individus - la liberté de l'Homme. (...) Je combattrai pour l'Homme. Contre ses ennemis. Mais aussi contre moi-même."
Não há causa, razão, desculpa que justifique o terrorismo, matar indiscriminadamente, instaurar o medo como forma de moldar vontades.
Nas palavras do livro que acabei de ler, um terrorista diz:
"Il n'y a que deux extrêmes dans la folie des hommes. L'instant où l'on prend conscience de son impuissance, et celui où l'on prend conscience de la vulnérabilité des autres. Il s'agit d'assumer sa folie, docteur, ou de la subir."
(Yasmira Khadra, L'attentat)
"Ou de la vaincre!", acrescento eu! A loucura não é necessariamente crónica, pode e deve ser vencida e ultrapassada. O Homem não é impotente. Podemos e devemos mudar o mundo à nossa volta. Pelo menos tentar. O Homem é vulnerável. Mas por isso mesmo precisa de ser protegido, não destruído. E ensinar, ensinar que o paraíso não se situa no fim da vida, a própria ou a de outrém, mas que o paraíso É a vida! O Homem é o milagre.
E acabo com um credo, de Antoine de Saint-Exupèry, (Pilote de guerre, 1942) que faço meu:
"Et je crois que la Liberté n'est pas l'exaltation de l'individu contre l'Homme.
Je combattrai quiconque prétendra asservir à un individu - comme à une masse d'individus - la liberté de l'Homme. (...) Je combattrai pour l'Homme. Contre ses ennemis. Mais aussi contre moi-même."
Sunday, November 23, 2008
BD
Même loin de la Belgique, je continue à suivre toujours mon petit univers BD. Et ce vendredi 28 novembre, deux de mes séries préférées sortent des nouveaux albums:
Cosey sort le 14ème Jonathan;
et Ferri et Larcenet, le 5ème Retour à la Terre.
Ce dernier a ses premières 15 pages disponibles en avant première ici:
Le retour à la Terre - Les révolutions.
Cosey sort le 14ème Jonathan;
et Ferri et Larcenet, le 5ème Retour à la Terre.
Ce dernier a ses premières 15 pages disponibles en avant première ici:
Le retour à la Terre - Les révolutions.
'The economist', sobre Espanha, com uma pitada de Portugal
"(...)
The best scenario for Spaniards is two years of anaemic growth, with wages losing value in real terms until the economy regains competitiveness. A recovery could begin in 2010—but not before the unemployment rate reaches an eye-watering 15%. A worse scenario is that Spain, unable to face the needed reforms, will settle into the type of long-term economic sclerosis suffered by European laggards such as Italy or Portugal.
(...)"
(Para quem necessite de tradução:
laggard = looking exhausted and unwell, esp. from fatigue, worry, or suffering)
Uma visão bem contrastante com a visão Socrática de um Portugal-oásis. Porreiro pá! Estamos de tanga! É a vida... Para os distraídos, acabo de citar todos os primeiro ministro eleitos de Portugal desde 1985.
Artigo completo aqui
After the fiesta.
The best scenario for Spaniards is two years of anaemic growth, with wages losing value in real terms until the economy regains competitiveness. A recovery could begin in 2010—but not before the unemployment rate reaches an eye-watering 15%. A worse scenario is that Spain, unable to face the needed reforms, will settle into the type of long-term economic sclerosis suffered by European laggards such as Italy or Portugal.
(...)"
(Para quem necessite de tradução:
laggard = looking exhausted and unwell, esp. from fatigue, worry, or suffering)
Uma visão bem contrastante com a visão Socrática de um Portugal-oásis. Porreiro pá! Estamos de tanga! É a vida... Para os distraídos, acabo de citar todos os primeiro ministro eleitos de Portugal desde 1985.
Artigo completo aqui
After the fiesta.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Transplante de traqueia
Notícia/vídeo do Público.
E o artigo no Lancet.
Tissue engineering com uma matriz de um dador, limpa das células originais e repovoada com células estaminais (adultas) do receptor... Impressionante!! Não tanto a cirurgia em si, mas tudo o que foi necessário fazer para poder implantar.
E o artigo no Lancet.
Tissue engineering com uma matriz de um dador, limpa das células originais e repovoada com células estaminais (adultas) do receptor... Impressionante!! Não tanto a cirurgia em si, mas tudo o que foi necessário fazer para poder implantar.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
WW I ended 90 years ago (2)
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae
WW I ended 90 years ago
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
By Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
By Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
We want change
Eu continuo com dúvidas quanto à real mudança que Obama vai implementar na América. Mas aqui fica o meu desejo e a minha esperança (HOPE), que como diz Whitman, um grande presidente se levante.
We will have change!
A América acorda! HOJE!
O you grand Presidentiads! I wait for you!
(...)
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)
Are those really Congressmen? Are those the great Judges? Is that the President?
Then I will sleep a while yet—for I see that These States sleep, for reasons;
(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and lambent shoots, we all duly awake,
South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)
Walt Whitman (1860, Leaves of Grass)
(...)
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)
Are those really Congressmen? Are those the great Judges? Is that the President?
Then I will sleep a while yet—for I see that These States sleep, for reasons;
(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and lambent shoots, we all duly awake,
South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)
Walt Whitman (1860, Leaves of Grass)
Halloween e crise...
(Los Angeles, 30-Oct-2008, foto A.B.)
Em tempos de crise, prima o marketing... Abóboras e bruxas no Halloween... Mas parece que os resultados não foram nada positivos: Auto sales worst in 25 years.
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