by Laerte
28.4.03
27.4.03
Perigos do Misticismo
Um texto que gosto muito, e que convida à reflexão sobre o dilema fé x misticismo:
THE DANGERS OF MYSTICISM
"AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO
ARTHUR EDWARD WAITE"
A CURIOUS idea is being sedulously disseminated, and appears to be gaining ground, that mysticism is the "Safe" Path to the Highest, and magic the dangerous Path to the lowest. There are several comments to be made on this assertion. One may doubt whether anything worth doing at all is free from danger, and one may wonder what danger can threaten the man whose object is his own utter ruin. One may also smile a little grimly at the integrity of those who try to include all Magic under Black Magic, as is the present trick of the Mystic Militant here on earth.
Now, as one who may claim to a slight acquaintance with the literature of both paths, and to have been honoured by personal exposition from the adepts of both paths, I believe that I may be able to bring them fairly into the balance.
This is the magical theory, that the first departure from the Infinite must be equilibrated and so corrected. So the "great Magician," Maya, the maker of Illusion, the Creator, must be met in combat. Then "if Satan be divided against Satan, how can his kingdom stand?" Both vanish: the illusion is no more. Mathematically, 1 + (-1) = 0. And this path is symbolised in the Taro under the figure of the Magus, the card numbered 1, the first departure from 0, but referred to Beth, 2, Mercury, the god of Wisdom, Magic and Truth.
And this Magus has the twofold aspect of the Magician himself and also of the "Great Magician" described in Liber 418 (EQUINOX, No. V., Special Supplement, p. 144).
Now the formula of the mystic is much simpler. Mathematically, it is 1 - 1 = 0. He is like a grain of salt cast into the sea; the process of dissolution is obviously easier than the shock of worlds which the magician contemplates. "Sit down, and feel yourself as dust in the presence of God; nay, as less than dust, as nothing," is the all-sufficient simplicity of his method. Unfortunately, many people cannot do this. And when you urge your inability, the mystic is only too likely to shrug his shoulders and be done with you.
This path is symbolised by the "Fool" of the Tarot, who is alike the Mystic and the Infinite.
But apart from this question, it is by no means certain that the formula is as simple as it seems. How is the mystic to assure himself that "God" is really "God" and not some demon masquerading in His image? We find Gerson sacrificing Huss to his "God"; we find a modern journalist who has done more than dabble in mysticism writing, "This mystic life at its highest is undeniably selfish"; we find another writing like the old lady who ended her criticism of the Universe, "There's only Jock an' me'll be saved; an' I'm no that sure o' Jock"; we find another who at the age of ninety-nine foams at the mouth over an alleged breach of her alleged copyright; we find another so sensitive that the mention of his name by the present writer induces an attack of epileptic mania; if such are really "united with" or "absorbed in" God, what of God?
We are told in Galatians that the fruits of the Spirit are peace, love, joy, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; and somewhere else, "By their fruits ye shall know them."
Of these evil-doers then we must either think that they are dishonest, and have never attained at all, or that they have united themselves with a devil.
Such are "Brethren of the Left Hand Path," described so thoroughly in Liber 418 (EQUINOX, No. V., Special Supplement, pp. 119 "sqq.").
Of these the most characteristic sign is their exclusiveness. "We are the men." "Ours is the only Way." "All Buddhists are wicked," the insanity of spiritual pride.
The Magician is not nearly so liable to fall into this fearful mire of pride as the mystic; he is occupied with things outside himself, and can correct his pride. Indeed, he is constantly being corrected by Nature. He, the Great One, cannot run a mile in four minutes! The mystic is solitary and shut up, lacks wholesome combat. We are all schoolboys, and the football field is a perfect prophylactic of swelled head. When the mystic meets an obstacle, he "makes believe" about it. He says it is "only illusion." He has the morphino-maniac's feeling of bien-etre, the delusions of the general paralytic. He loses the power of looking any fact in the face; he feeds himself on his own imagination; he persuades himself of his own attainment. If contradicted on the subject, he is cross and spiteful and cattish. If I criticise Mr X, he screams, and tries to injure me behind my back; if I say that Madam Y is not exactly St. Teresa, she writes a book to prove that she is.
Such persons "swollen with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread," as Milton wrote of a less dangerous set of spiritual guides.
For their unhappy followers and imitators, no words of pity suffice. The whole universe is for them but "the glass of their fool's face"; only, unlike Sir Palamedes, they admire it. Moral and spiritual Narcissi, they perish in the waters of illusion. A friend of mine, a solicitor in Naples, has told me strange tales of where such self-adoration ends.
And the subtlety of the devil is shown particularly in the method by which such neophytes are caught by the Black Brothers. There is an exaggerated awe, a solemnity of diction, a vanity of archaic phrases, a false veil of holiness upon the unclean shrine. Stilted affectation masquerades as dignity; a rag-bag of mediaevalism apes profundity; jargon passes for literature; phylacteries increase about the hem of the perfect prig, prude, and Pharisee.
Corollary to this attitude is the lack of all human virtue. The greatest magician, when he acts in his human capacity, acts as a man should. In particular, he has learnt kindheartedness and sympathy. Unselfishness is very often his long suit. Just this the mystic lacks. Trying to absorb the lower planes into the higher, he neglects the lower, a mistake no magician could make.
The Nun Gertrude, when it came to her turn to wash up the dishes, used to explain that she was very sorry, but at that particular moment she was being married, with full choral service, to the Saviour.
Hundreds of mystics shut themselves up completely and for ever. Not only is their wealth-producing capacity lost to society, but so is their love and good-will, and worst of all, so is their example and precept. Christ, at the height of his career, found time to wash the feet of his disciples; any Master who does not do this on every plane is a Black Brother. The Hindus honour no man who becomes "Sannyasi" (nearly our "hermit") until he has faithfully fulfilled all his duties as a man and a citizen. Celibacy is immoral, and the celibate shirks one of the greatest difficulties of the Path.
Beware of all those who shirk the lower difficulties: it's a good bet that they shirk the higher difficulties too.
Of the special dangers of the path there is here no space to write; each student finds at each step temptations reflecting his own special weaknesses. I have therefore dealt solely with the dangers inseparable from the path itself, dangers inherent in its nature. Not for one moment would I ask the weakest to turn back or turn aside from that path, but I would ask even the strongest to apply these correctives: first, the sceptical or scientific attitude, both in outlook and method; second, a healthy life, meaning by that what the athlete and the explorer mean; third, hearty human companionship, and devotion to life, work, and duty.
Let him remember that an ounce of honest pride is better than a ton of false humility, although an ounce of true humility is worth an ounce of honest pride; the man who works has no time to bother with either. And let him remember Christ's statement of the Law "to love God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour as thyself."
ALEISTER CROWLEY.
Um texto que gosto muito, e que convida à reflexão sobre o dilema fé x misticismo:
THE DANGERS OF MYSTICISM
"AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO
ARTHUR EDWARD WAITE"
A CURIOUS idea is being sedulously disseminated, and appears to be gaining ground, that mysticism is the "Safe" Path to the Highest, and magic the dangerous Path to the lowest. There are several comments to be made on this assertion. One may doubt whether anything worth doing at all is free from danger, and one may wonder what danger can threaten the man whose object is his own utter ruin. One may also smile a little grimly at the integrity of those who try to include all Magic under Black Magic, as is the present trick of the Mystic Militant here on earth.
Now, as one who may claim to a slight acquaintance with the literature of both paths, and to have been honoured by personal exposition from the adepts of both paths, I believe that I may be able to bring them fairly into the balance.
This is the magical theory, that the first departure from the Infinite must be equilibrated and so corrected. So the "great Magician," Maya, the maker of Illusion, the Creator, must be met in combat. Then "if Satan be divided against Satan, how can his kingdom stand?" Both vanish: the illusion is no more. Mathematically, 1 + (-1) = 0. And this path is symbolised in the Taro under the figure of the Magus, the card numbered 1, the first departure from 0, but referred to Beth, 2, Mercury, the god of Wisdom, Magic and Truth.
And this Magus has the twofold aspect of the Magician himself and also of the "Great Magician" described in Liber 418 (EQUINOX, No. V., Special Supplement, p. 144).
Now the formula of the mystic is much simpler. Mathematically, it is 1 - 1 = 0. He is like a grain of salt cast into the sea; the process of dissolution is obviously easier than the shock of worlds which the magician contemplates. "Sit down, and feel yourself as dust in the presence of God; nay, as less than dust, as nothing," is the all-sufficient simplicity of his method. Unfortunately, many people cannot do this. And when you urge your inability, the mystic is only too likely to shrug his shoulders and be done with you.
This path is symbolised by the "Fool" of the Tarot, who is alike the Mystic and the Infinite.
But apart from this question, it is by no means certain that the formula is as simple as it seems. How is the mystic to assure himself that "God" is really "God" and not some demon masquerading in His image? We find Gerson sacrificing Huss to his "God"; we find a modern journalist who has done more than dabble in mysticism writing, "This mystic life at its highest is undeniably selfish"; we find another writing like the old lady who ended her criticism of the Universe, "There's only Jock an' me'll be saved; an' I'm no that sure o' Jock"; we find another who at the age of ninety-nine foams at the mouth over an alleged breach of her alleged copyright; we find another so sensitive that the mention of his name by the present writer induces an attack of epileptic mania; if such are really "united with" or "absorbed in" God, what of God?
We are told in Galatians that the fruits of the Spirit are peace, love, joy, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; and somewhere else, "By their fruits ye shall know them."
Of these evil-doers then we must either think that they are dishonest, and have never attained at all, or that they have united themselves with a devil.
Such are "Brethren of the Left Hand Path," described so thoroughly in Liber 418 (EQUINOX, No. V., Special Supplement, pp. 119 "sqq.").
Of these the most characteristic sign is their exclusiveness. "We are the men." "Ours is the only Way." "All Buddhists are wicked," the insanity of spiritual pride.
The Magician is not nearly so liable to fall into this fearful mire of pride as the mystic; he is occupied with things outside himself, and can correct his pride. Indeed, he is constantly being corrected by Nature. He, the Great One, cannot run a mile in four minutes! The mystic is solitary and shut up, lacks wholesome combat. We are all schoolboys, and the football field is a perfect prophylactic of swelled head. When the mystic meets an obstacle, he "makes believe" about it. He says it is "only illusion." He has the morphino-maniac's feeling of bien-etre, the delusions of the general paralytic. He loses the power of looking any fact in the face; he feeds himself on his own imagination; he persuades himself of his own attainment. If contradicted on the subject, he is cross and spiteful and cattish. If I criticise Mr X, he screams, and tries to injure me behind my back; if I say that Madam Y is not exactly St. Teresa, she writes a book to prove that she is.
Such persons "swollen with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread," as Milton wrote of a less dangerous set of spiritual guides.
For their unhappy followers and imitators, no words of pity suffice. The whole universe is for them but "the glass of their fool's face"; only, unlike Sir Palamedes, they admire it. Moral and spiritual Narcissi, they perish in the waters of illusion. A friend of mine, a solicitor in Naples, has told me strange tales of where such self-adoration ends.
And the subtlety of the devil is shown particularly in the method by which such neophytes are caught by the Black Brothers. There is an exaggerated awe, a solemnity of diction, a vanity of archaic phrases, a false veil of holiness upon the unclean shrine. Stilted affectation masquerades as dignity; a rag-bag of mediaevalism apes profundity; jargon passes for literature; phylacteries increase about the hem of the perfect prig, prude, and Pharisee.
Corollary to this attitude is the lack of all human virtue. The greatest magician, when he acts in his human capacity, acts as a man should. In particular, he has learnt kindheartedness and sympathy. Unselfishness is very often his long suit. Just this the mystic lacks. Trying to absorb the lower planes into the higher, he neglects the lower, a mistake no magician could make.
The Nun Gertrude, when it came to her turn to wash up the dishes, used to explain that she was very sorry, but at that particular moment she was being married, with full choral service, to the Saviour.
Hundreds of mystics shut themselves up completely and for ever. Not only is their wealth-producing capacity lost to society, but so is their love and good-will, and worst of all, so is their example and precept. Christ, at the height of his career, found time to wash the feet of his disciples; any Master who does not do this on every plane is a Black Brother. The Hindus honour no man who becomes "Sannyasi" (nearly our "hermit") until he has faithfully fulfilled all his duties as a man and a citizen. Celibacy is immoral, and the celibate shirks one of the greatest difficulties of the Path.
Beware of all those who shirk the lower difficulties: it's a good bet that they shirk the higher difficulties too.
Of the special dangers of the path there is here no space to write; each student finds at each step temptations reflecting his own special weaknesses. I have therefore dealt solely with the dangers inseparable from the path itself, dangers inherent in its nature. Not for one moment would I ask the weakest to turn back or turn aside from that path, but I would ask even the strongest to apply these correctives: first, the sceptical or scientific attitude, both in outlook and method; second, a healthy life, meaning by that what the athlete and the explorer mean; third, hearty human companionship, and devotion to life, work, and duty.
Let him remember that an ounce of honest pride is better than a ton of false humility, although an ounce of true humility is worth an ounce of honest pride; the man who works has no time to bother with either. And let him remember Christ's statement of the Law "to love God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour as thyself."
ALEISTER CROWLEY.
25.4.03
bleed
Nada mais importa. Qualquer que seja a escolha, ao menos um de nós vai se machucar feio.
Fui correto. Fui verdadeiro. E é essa a recompensa, seu velho bastardo? Sangro hoje, e sangrarei ainda mais por circunstâncias completamente além do meu controle ou da minha esfera de influências. Hoje é um daqueles dias que eu gostaria imensamente de desaparecer do mundo...
Tell Me About The Forest (You Once Called Home)
Farewell now my sister
Up ahead there lies your road
And your conscience walks beside you
It's the best friend you will ever know
And the past is now your future
It bears witness to your soul
Make sure that the love you offer up
Does not fall on barren soil.
For the wind cries of late
In the whispering grass.
Our way of life is held
In the spinning wheels of chance.
I believe in the ways of an older law
When we used to dance to a different drum
And we are changing are ways
Yes we are taking on different roads
Tell me more about the forest
That you once called home.
For the wind cries of late
In the whispering leaves
And the sun will turn to waste
The heavens we build above.
Father teach your children
To treat our mother well
If we give her back her diamonds
She will offer up her pearl.
But I'm not bitter no I'm surviving
To face the world, to raise the future.
So why don't you tell me, come on and tell me
About the world you left behind.
Come on and tell me.
Nada mais importa. Qualquer que seja a escolha, ao menos um de nós vai se machucar feio.
Fui correto. Fui verdadeiro. E é essa a recompensa, seu velho bastardo? Sangro hoje, e sangrarei ainda mais por circunstâncias completamente além do meu controle ou da minha esfera de influências. Hoje é um daqueles dias que eu gostaria imensamente de desaparecer do mundo...
Tell Me About The Forest (You Once Called Home)
Farewell now my sister
Up ahead there lies your road
And your conscience walks beside you
It's the best friend you will ever know
And the past is now your future
It bears witness to your soul
Make sure that the love you offer up
Does not fall on barren soil.
For the wind cries of late
In the whispering grass.
Our way of life is held
In the spinning wheels of chance.
I believe in the ways of an older law
When we used to dance to a different drum
And we are changing are ways
Yes we are taking on different roads
Tell me more about the forest
That you once called home.
For the wind cries of late
In the whispering leaves
And the sun will turn to waste
The heavens we build above.
Father teach your children
To treat our mother well
If we give her back her diamonds
She will offer up her pearl.
But I'm not bitter no I'm surviving
To face the world, to raise the future.
So why don't you tell me, come on and tell me
About the world you left behind.
Come on and tell me.
24.4.03
Triple x
Se eu fosse uma tor porno meu nome seria....Randy Rockhard
testezinho Bizonho esse!!! =)
porn ´R´us
Se eu fosse uma tor porno meu nome seria....Randy Rockhard
testezinho Bizonho esse!!! =)
porn ´R´us
17.4.03
VIRUS
Baixei um clip muito bom. KMFDM, com footage de Ghost in the shell. Deixo aqui a letra.
NOW HERE YOU CREEPS
PUNKS AND FREAKS
I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT VIRUS FROM THE STREET
SPREAD THAT VIRUS
GO FOR HELL
CHECK OUT THE RESISTANCE OF YOUR CELLS
SMOKE SOME DOPE
WASTE YOUR BRAIN
KICK YOUR HEALTH OUTTA DA DRAIN
FUEL-INJECTION MAKES YOU HIGH
RAM IT UP YOUR POOP-CHUTE
YOU KNOW WHY
YOU CATCH IT ONCE
CATCH IT TWICE
CATCH IT WITH YOUR LOVE-DEVICE
IT'S A MAN-EATING GOD-CREATOR
COLLECTING LIVES
PAYING LATER,
RIP THAT THING AND DO THE RIGHT STUFF
MESSING WITH THE GIRLS AIN'T NOT ENOUGH
YOU CAN'T LOCK IT IN
NO WALLS TOO HIGH
IT'S BUSTING OUT INTO THE SKY
VIRUS GONNA KILL Y'ALL
GONNA THRILL Y'ALL
GONNA FUCK YOU UP (FUCK YOU DOWN/KNOCK YOU OUT)
MAKES YOU HIGH
THIS LOVE AIN'T REAL IT'S JUST A FAKE
I DON'T CARE OF WHAT YOU MAKE
GOT A KEEPSAKE OUT OF ALL I'M SAYING
WATCH YOUR STYLE, BETTER START PRAYING
YOU DID WRONG MY DEAR BUT IT'S TOO LATE
IT'S ALL DESTROYED
WHAT A STATE
YOU'RE THE VICTIM, HE'S THE MASTER
BEG FOR MERCY
MORE AND FASTER
I'M A ROCK'N'ROLL MONSTER WITH A BASS-GUITAR
MY FACE IS ALL UP
YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR
I'VE BEEN SLEEPING FOR A MILLION YEARS OR LONGER
YOU WOKE ME UP I'M EVEN STRONGER
CLEANING UP THE FACE OF EARTH MY MOTHER
YOU'LL NEVER EVER, YOU'LL NEVER HAVE ANOTHER
BLOWN TO PIECES
DROWNED IN SLIME
NOT WORTH A TOMBSTONE
SIGN OF THE TIME
Baixei um clip muito bom. KMFDM, com footage de Ghost in the shell. Deixo aqui a letra.
VIRUS - KMFDM
NOW HERE YOU CREEPS
PUNKS AND FREAKS
I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT VIRUS FROM THE STREET
SPREAD THAT VIRUS
SMOKE SOME DOPE
WASTE YOUR BRAIN
KICK YOUR HEALTH OUTTA DA DRAIN
FUEL-INJECTION MAKES YOU HIGH
RAM IT UP YOUR POOP-CHUTE
YOU KNOW WHY
YOU CATCH IT ONCE
CATCH IT TWICE
CATCH IT WITH YOUR LOVE-DEVICE
COLLECTING LIVES
RIP THAT THING AND DO THE RIGHT STUFF
MESSING WITH THE GIRLS AIN'T NOT ENOUGH
YOU CAN'T LOCK IT IN
NO WALLS TOO HIGH
IT'S BUSTING OUT INTO THE SKY
VIRUS GONNA KILL Y'ALL
GONNA THRILL Y'ALL
GONNA FUCK YOU UP (FUCK YOU DOWN/KNOCK YOU OUT)
MAKES YOU HIGH
THIS LOVE AIN'T REAL IT'S JUST A FAKE
I DON'T CARE OF WHAT YOU MAKE
GOT A KEEPSAKE OUT OF ALL I'M SAYING
WATCH YOUR STYLE, BETTER START PRAYING
YOU'RE THE VICTIM, HE'S THE MASTER
BEG FOR MERCY
MORE AND FASTER
I'M A ROCK'N'ROLL MONSTER WITH A BASS-GUITAR
MY FACE IS ALL UP
YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR
I'VE BEEN SLEEPING FOR A MILLION YEARS OR LONGER
YOU WOKE ME UP I'M EVEN STRONGER
CLEANING UP THE FACE OF EARTH MY MOTHER
YOU'LL NEVER EVER, YOU'LL NEVER HAVE ANOTHER
BLOWN TO PIECES
DROWNED IN SLIME
SIGN OF THE TIME
In spring, hundreds of flowers; in autumn, a harvest moon;
In the summer, a refreshing breeze; in winter snow will accompany your.
If useless things do not hang in your mind,
Any season is a good season for you.
Joshu asked Nansen: `What is the path?'
Nansen said: `Everyday life is the path.'
Joshu asked: `Can it be studied?'
Nansen said: `If you try to study, you will be far away from it.'
Joshu asked: `If I do not study, how can I know it is the path?'
Nansen said: `The path does not belong to the perception world, neither does it belong to the nonperception world. Cognition is a delusion and noncognition is senseless. If you want to reach the true path beyond doubt, place yourself in the same freedom as sky. You name it neither good nor not-good.'
In the summer, a refreshing breeze; in winter snow will accompany your.
If useless things do not hang in your mind,
Any season is a good season for you.
Joshu asked Nansen: `What is the path?'
Nansen said: `Everyday life is the path.'
Joshu asked: `Can it be studied?'
Nansen said: `If you try to study, you will be far away from it.'
Joshu asked: `If I do not study, how can I know it is the path?'
Nansen said: `The path does not belong to the perception world, neither does it belong to the nonperception world. Cognition is a delusion and noncognition is senseless. If you want to reach the true path beyond doubt, place yourself in the same freedom as sky. You name it neither good nor not-good.'
15.4.03
DEFCON 3
Eu tinha me esquecido do inferno. Mas ele não se esqueceu de mim. Se insinuando na minha torre, como um hóspede não convidado. De repente, pego num fogo cruzado entre os últimos de meu sangue: Apelos pela paz em vão, todos os argumentos ricocheteando na espessa armadura da ignorância. Ela é doente. Eu tinha me esquecido disso. Mas ela é doente, e vai acabar tragando minha mente para o mesmo inferno se eu não me afastar agora.
O caminho do mediador. Dá-se a cada um as verdades que quer e precisa. Oferece-se desculpas que não são necessárias, justo for the sake of it. A mente pode vencer todos os obstáculos. É só acalmar a fera que uiva no meu peito. Basta não ceder um centímetro sequer. Um telefonema, e tudo se resolve. Como sempre, das duas ela é a mais razoável. Rio e concordo, desligo com o sentimento de que agora tudo ficará bem.
Enão ela entra no meu inner sanctum com suas botas sujas de lama e seu fedor de carniça. Ela acha que entra triunfante, mas entra como uma criança birrenta e mimada. A cena é tão patética que meus olhos se enchem de lágrimas. E lá está ela, com lágrimas a sulcar-lhe a face, ferida por algo que só existe na cabeça dela. Seu mundo de ilusões se tornou mais real do que a confiança em seu filho ou qualquer apelo ao bon senso. Reunindo forças, pergunto por que. Se ela explodisse ali, seria fácil mostrar que muito do que foi dito serviu para apaziguar ânimos e acabar com a confusão. Mas não interessa a ela. tudo que interessa é ferir e machucar, possessa pelo s demônios do meu inferno particular.
Sei o que acontecerá. Já vi acontecer há dois anos atrás. Karma é karma, neh? Espero que minha armadura resista a mais essa tempestade de fogo.
Para quem não entendeu nada, não vou me surpreender se for expulso de casa de novo. Não tô bem, então por favor entendam se por acaso eu parecer frio e distante, não é nada com vocês. Apenas, desta vez, a porrada foi mais forte que meu fator de cura.
"I took a walk around the world to
Ease my troubled mind
I left my body laying somewhere
In the sands of time
I watched the world float to the dark
Side of the moon
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah
I watched the world float to the
Dark side of the moon"
three doors - Kryptonite
Eu tinha me esquecido do inferno. Mas ele não se esqueceu de mim. Se insinuando na minha torre, como um hóspede não convidado. De repente, pego num fogo cruzado entre os últimos de meu sangue: Apelos pela paz em vão, todos os argumentos ricocheteando na espessa armadura da ignorância. Ela é doente. Eu tinha me esquecido disso. Mas ela é doente, e vai acabar tragando minha mente para o mesmo inferno se eu não me afastar agora.
O caminho do mediador. Dá-se a cada um as verdades que quer e precisa. Oferece-se desculpas que não são necessárias, justo for the sake of it. A mente pode vencer todos os obstáculos. É só acalmar a fera que uiva no meu peito. Basta não ceder um centímetro sequer. Um telefonema, e tudo se resolve. Como sempre, das duas ela é a mais razoável. Rio e concordo, desligo com o sentimento de que agora tudo ficará bem.
Enão ela entra no meu inner sanctum com suas botas sujas de lama e seu fedor de carniça. Ela acha que entra triunfante, mas entra como uma criança birrenta e mimada. A cena é tão patética que meus olhos se enchem de lágrimas. E lá está ela, com lágrimas a sulcar-lhe a face, ferida por algo que só existe na cabeça dela. Seu mundo de ilusões se tornou mais real do que a confiança em seu filho ou qualquer apelo ao bon senso. Reunindo forças, pergunto por que. Se ela explodisse ali, seria fácil mostrar que muito do que foi dito serviu para apaziguar ânimos e acabar com a confusão. Mas não interessa a ela. tudo que interessa é ferir e machucar, possessa pelo s demônios do meu inferno particular.
Sei o que acontecerá. Já vi acontecer há dois anos atrás. Karma é karma, neh? Espero que minha armadura resista a mais essa tempestade de fogo.
Para quem não entendeu nada, não vou me surpreender se for expulso de casa de novo. Não tô bem, então por favor entendam se por acaso eu parecer frio e distante, não é nada com vocês. Apenas, desta vez, a porrada foi mais forte que meu fator de cura.
"I took a walk around the world to
Ease my troubled mind
I left my body laying somewhere
In the sands of time
I watched the world float to the dark
Side of the moon
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah
I watched the world float to the
Dark side of the moon"
three doors - Kryptonite
14.4.03
13.4.03
Penitência - Ariel Dorfman
Sei algo sobre nomes, capitão
Aqueles que conquistam sempre devem ter um nome pronto.
Mesmo antes da espada, mesmo antes do canhão.
Vi a ilha e chamei de San Salvador.
San Salvador porquê havíamos sido salvos.
Não perguntei aos nativos
eles eram amistosos, estavam quase nus e tinham a pele marrom sob o sol tropical
Não perguntei a eles como chamavam aquele lugar
Não perguntei a eles como chamavam seu lar
E não disse a eles que todos iriam morrer
Não disse a eles que ninguém jamais saberia o que falavam.
Como Falavam. As palavras seriam engolidas como os barcos são
engolidos pela tempestade de um mar triste
como corpos são engolidos por uma mina
Agora eles me ensinam suas palavras e suas canções
aqui na escuridão da eternidade
Estudo o que eles chamam de lua de amor e de adeus
Escuto seus murmúrios caribes
e franzo os lábios e assobio e amacio o ar com a língua que
ninguém falou nessa ilha por mais de 500 anos
Esta é a minha penitência
E então quéchua e então maia e então tzotzil
e então as mil e dez línguas que um dia viveram
nas terras que não seriam chamadas pelo meu nome
que seriam chamadas pelo nome de outro alguém
Amigo América
E então o aprendizado vai continuar
navajo, guarani, nahuatl e os sons que um dia encheram os
ouvidos de lindas donzelas para produzir colheitas
e ninguém hoje sequer sabe os seus nomes
aprendendo aprendendo até que tenham me ensinado a pronunciar
cada última palavra. Como se diz amigo. Como se diz morte. Como se diz para sempre. Como se diz penitência. Me ensinarão a dizer penitência em suas mil e dez línguas
Sua penitência, capitão? O que o aguarda?
Você disse que veio trazer a liberdade
Liberdade. Quando um outro pode decidir por si próprio
Você disse que veio trazer a Democracia
Democracia. Quando um outro pode controlar por si próprio
Você disse que veio com a libertação
Libertação. Quando as pessoas que fizeram o mundo dão nome ao mundo e a si próprios.
Liberdade. Democracia. Salvação.
Palavras. Suas palavras, as palavras de seus líderes.
E aí você chamou o aeroporto por outro nome.
É nosso. Nós o tomamos. Estamos aqui.
Matamos os homens que os chamavam por outro nome.
Podemos chamá-lo agora do que quisermos
Sob um céu repleto de bombas de outro nome.
Bagdá agora. Não Saddam.
Aeroporto Saddam. Não um nome de que eu goste, de que gostemos, aqui no outro lado. Um nome amaldiçoado nos porões onde os dedos são esmagados. Onde a cabeça é partida. Onde os dentes são retirados. Arrancados
As raízes desse nome Saddam
o que golpeia, o que resiste, o que traz a dor, o que proíbe
todos todos gritando por dentro deste nome
mas não para que você, capitão, mude. Não para que você decida. Sua penitência? Esperam por você, John Whyte, aqui na gloriosa poeira de palavras que um dia rascunharam em pergaminho
aqui na luz escura da morte
esperam por você os poetas do Iraque
Nazami e Omar Khayam, Ferdowski e Sa'Di
esperando como os tapetes em que se sentavam
esperando como as fontes em que bebiam
todas as palavras que você não pensou em usar
capitão John Whyte. Todos os nomes que você
não sabia, nem mesmo o seu
barakah branco, barakah da benção barak
Você terá que aprender. Pronunciar como tive de
pronunciar palavra por palavra
o árabe que você não se interessou em conhecer
como o nahuatl que eu nunca soube
como o cherokee que eu nunca soube
você terá que aprender. A começar com as cem palavras que emanam de Alá
Rahman, o compassivo. Rahim, o Piedoso. Aeroporto internacional Rahman. Aeroporto internacional Rahim .
Você consegue ouvi-los agora que avança rumo a Bagdá
Consegue ouvir suas vozes
Rahman o compassivo. Rahim o piedoso
Rahman Rahim e Salam. Salam. Paz
Um dos atributos de Deus
Sua penitência, John Whyte, John Bakarah, nunca pensou
Que o povo do Iraque poderia querer chamar sua terra
pelos muitos nomes de salam, pelos muitos nomes da paz?
Sua penitência, ó Whyte Branco
Levará a você e seus líderes a eternidade.
A Eternidade. Para aprender a palavra paz.
Sei algo sobre nomes, capitão
Aqueles que conquistam sempre devem ter um nome pronto.
Mesmo antes da espada, mesmo antes do canhão.
Vi a ilha e chamei de San Salvador.
San Salvador porquê havíamos sido salvos.
Não perguntei aos nativos
eles eram amistosos, estavam quase nus e tinham a pele marrom sob o sol tropical
Não perguntei a eles como chamavam aquele lugar
Não perguntei a eles como chamavam seu lar
E não disse a eles que todos iriam morrer
Não disse a eles que ninguém jamais saberia o que falavam.
Como Falavam. As palavras seriam engolidas como os barcos são
engolidos pela tempestade de um mar triste
como corpos são engolidos por uma mina
Agora eles me ensinam suas palavras e suas canções
aqui na escuridão da eternidade
Estudo o que eles chamam de lua de amor e de adeus
Escuto seus murmúrios caribes
e franzo os lábios e assobio e amacio o ar com a língua que
ninguém falou nessa ilha por mais de 500 anos
Esta é a minha penitência
E então quéchua e então maia e então tzotzil
e então as mil e dez línguas que um dia viveram
nas terras que não seriam chamadas pelo meu nome
que seriam chamadas pelo nome de outro alguém
Amigo América
E então o aprendizado vai continuar
navajo, guarani, nahuatl e os sons que um dia encheram os
ouvidos de lindas donzelas para produzir colheitas
e ninguém hoje sequer sabe os seus nomes
aprendendo aprendendo até que tenham me ensinado a pronunciar
cada última palavra. Como se diz amigo. Como se diz morte. Como se diz para sempre. Como se diz penitência. Me ensinarão a dizer penitência em suas mil e dez línguas
Sua penitência, capitão? O que o aguarda?
Você disse que veio trazer a liberdade
Liberdade. Quando um outro pode decidir por si próprio
Você disse que veio trazer a Democracia
Democracia. Quando um outro pode controlar por si próprio
Você disse que veio com a libertação
Libertação. Quando as pessoas que fizeram o mundo dão nome ao mundo e a si próprios.
Liberdade. Democracia. Salvação.
Palavras. Suas palavras, as palavras de seus líderes.
E aí você chamou o aeroporto por outro nome.
É nosso. Nós o tomamos. Estamos aqui.
Matamos os homens que os chamavam por outro nome.
Podemos chamá-lo agora do que quisermos
Sob um céu repleto de bombas de outro nome.
Bagdá agora. Não Saddam.
Aeroporto Saddam. Não um nome de que eu goste, de que gostemos, aqui no outro lado. Um nome amaldiçoado nos porões onde os dedos são esmagados. Onde a cabeça é partida. Onde os dentes são retirados. Arrancados
As raízes desse nome Saddam
o que golpeia, o que resiste, o que traz a dor, o que proíbe
todos todos gritando por dentro deste nome
mas não para que você, capitão, mude. Não para que você decida. Sua penitência? Esperam por você, John Whyte, aqui na gloriosa poeira de palavras que um dia rascunharam em pergaminho
aqui na luz escura da morte
esperam por você os poetas do Iraque
Nazami e Omar Khayam, Ferdowski e Sa'Di
esperando como os tapetes em que se sentavam
esperando como as fontes em que bebiam
todas as palavras que você não pensou em usar
capitão John Whyte. Todos os nomes que você
não sabia, nem mesmo o seu
barakah branco, barakah da benção barak
Você terá que aprender. Pronunciar como tive de
pronunciar palavra por palavra
o árabe que você não se interessou em conhecer
como o nahuatl que eu nunca soube
como o cherokee que eu nunca soube
você terá que aprender. A começar com as cem palavras que emanam de Alá
Rahman, o compassivo. Rahim, o Piedoso. Aeroporto internacional Rahman. Aeroporto internacional Rahim .
Você consegue ouvi-los agora que avança rumo a Bagdá
Consegue ouvir suas vozes
Rahman o compassivo. Rahim o piedoso
Rahman Rahim e Salam. Salam. Paz
Um dos atributos de Deus
Sua penitência, John Whyte, John Bakarah, nunca pensou
Que o povo do Iraque poderia querer chamar sua terra
pelos muitos nomes de salam, pelos muitos nomes da paz?
Sua penitência, ó Whyte Branco
Levará a você e seus líderes a eternidade.
A Eternidade. Para aprender a palavra paz.
12.4.03
10.4.03
O Cúmulo do jeito loser de ser
Laughing Bank Teller Foils Would-Be Robber
Thu April 10, 2003 10:01 AM ET
LITTLE ROCK (Reuters) - Would-be bank robber Julius Kearney just couldn't get any respect, police said on Wednesday.
They said that when he tried to rob a bank in the central Arkansas town of Pine Bluff on Monday, one teller started laughing and told him the bank was fresh out of cash, and another teller made fun of him.
Both tellers also doubted that he had a gun in his pocket as he claimed.
Police were told that Kearney, 23, entered a bank and told a teller to stuff a bag full of money. His other hand was thrust in his pocket to make it seem like he was carrying a gun.
Police said one teller handed him some deposit slips and told him that if he wanted to steal money, he had better first put some money in the bank.
The tellers told police that Kearney then threw down his plastic bag in disgust and walked out of the bank. He was arrested a few minutes later about four blocks away after bank employees called police for help.
"Most everybody was happy. He wasn't," said Sgt. Bob Rawlinson of the Pine Bluff, Arkansas police.
Kearney was arrested on suspicion of attempted bank robbery and could face up to 10 years in jail if convicted.
Laughing Bank Teller Foils Would-Be Robber
Thu April 10, 2003 10:01 AM ET
LITTLE ROCK (Reuters) - Would-be bank robber Julius Kearney just couldn't get any respect, police said on Wednesday.
They said that when he tried to rob a bank in the central Arkansas town of Pine Bluff on Monday, one teller started laughing and told him the bank was fresh out of cash, and another teller made fun of him.
Both tellers also doubted that he had a gun in his pocket as he claimed.
Police were told that Kearney, 23, entered a bank and told a teller to stuff a bag full of money. His other hand was thrust in his pocket to make it seem like he was carrying a gun.
Police said one teller handed him some deposit slips and told him that if he wanted to steal money, he had better first put some money in the bank.
The tellers told police that Kearney then threw down his plastic bag in disgust and walked out of the bank. He was arrested a few minutes later about four blocks away after bank employees called police for help.
"Most everybody was happy. He wasn't," said Sgt. Bob Rawlinson of the Pine Bluff, Arkansas police.
Kearney was arrested on suspicion of attempted bank robbery and could face up to 10 years in jail if convicted.
8.4.03
Changing
Essa letra do daredevil bate muito com meu momento, e acredito que bata muito para um grande amigo também.
"Right Before Your Eyes"
When the door shuts
Don’t worry about me
Its not attention that I want from you
I need you to trust who I’m gonna be
And in everything I’m going to do
Cause I’m not afraid
Of what I don’t know
For understanding is all that I earn
What is for sure is I’m gonna to go
I’m gonna to live and I’m going to learn
And I know there will be mistakes that I will make
But I know they’re not worse than chances I don’t take, take
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
When the door shuts
Its shuts in front of me
A new person that I have become
I follow my heart to my destiny
But living in fear and sorrow is done
There will be no more feeling that I’m all alone
I will surround myself with things that help me grow, grow
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes
Right before your eyes
Essa letra do daredevil bate muito com meu momento, e acredito que bata muito para um grande amigo também.
"Right Before Your Eyes"
When the door shuts
Don’t worry about me
Its not attention that I want from you
I need you to trust who I’m gonna be
And in everything I’m going to do
Cause I’m not afraid
Of what I don’t know
For understanding is all that I earn
What is for sure is I’m gonna to go
I’m gonna to live and I’m going to learn
And I know there will be mistakes that I will make
But I know they’re not worse than chances I don’t take, take
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
When the door shuts
Its shuts in front of me
A new person that I have become
I follow my heart to my destiny
But living in fear and sorrow is done
There will be no more feeling that I’m all alone
I will surround myself with things that help me grow, grow
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes I am changing, changing
New life on the inside I am changing, changing
Right before your eyes
Right before your eyes
7.4.03
testes
You have an entrancing kiss~ the kind that leaves
your partner bedazzled and maybe even feeling
he/she is dreaming. Quite effective; the kiss
that never lessens and always blows your
partner away like the first time.
What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You have an entrancing kiss~ the kind that leaves
your partner bedazzled and maybe even feeling
he/she is dreaming. Quite effective; the kiss
that never lessens and always blows your
partner away like the first time.
What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Rede? Pra Quê???
Chego no trabalho. Balde de café aolado, ligo o micro, logon... nada. Hm. Checo a placa. Leds não acendem. Checo o fio. O Jack do chão está enfiado pra dentro da tomada e destruido porque o ESCLEROSADO do meu chefe gordo é incapaz de olhar por onde anda e por onde roça aquela BUNDA ESCROTA dele, que de leva fodeu o plug da impressora. Ok, de quebra, quando logo no terminal ao lado descubro que a senha expirou. No big deal, ligo pro admin e peço uma nova. Só que aí descubro que tenho que pedir pessoalmente no 9º andar. Apos papelada desnecessaria, ele registra, eu testo e beleza. Bizarro uma REDE, que deveria EVITAR este tipo de deslocamento precisr de tanta burocarcia e anda pra cá, anda pra lá.
Chego no terminal, logo e...surpresa, sem internet. Ligo pra reclamar, o admin diz que ele eh admin só de cadastramento, que configs sao em outro setor....ando ate o quarto andar, e o cara diz que para uma ORIENTAÇÃO precisa mandar um lotus Notes. Eu calmamente explico que NAO TENHO NOTES por ser estagiario. Ele diz para usar o do meu chefe (depois de uma preleção de 10 min sobre como é importante não compartilhar senhas, etc et etc...). Ignorando a falta de coerência do Bizonho, tenho que mostrar a ele qual permissao setar. Volto pra cá.
Legal, internet. É so pegar o backup dos formularios que escondi no server, legal. So imprimir. So que.... a impressora laser é parte de uma sub-rede inacessive por este terminal.
***RARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHH*****
Tension breaker, must be done. Pant pant pant.
MALDITOS SERES ESTUPIDOS E INCOMPETENTES!!!!
Chego no trabalho. Balde de café aolado, ligo o micro, logon... nada. Hm. Checo a placa. Leds não acendem. Checo o fio. O Jack do chão está enfiado pra dentro da tomada e destruido porque o ESCLEROSADO do meu chefe gordo é incapaz de olhar por onde anda e por onde roça aquela BUNDA ESCROTA dele, que de leva fodeu o plug da impressora. Ok, de quebra, quando logo no terminal ao lado descubro que a senha expirou. No big deal, ligo pro admin e peço uma nova. Só que aí descubro que tenho que pedir pessoalmente no 9º andar. Apos papelada desnecessaria, ele registra, eu testo e beleza. Bizarro uma REDE, que deveria EVITAR este tipo de deslocamento precisr de tanta burocarcia e anda pra cá, anda pra lá.
Chego no terminal, logo e...surpresa, sem internet. Ligo pra reclamar, o admin diz que ele eh admin só de cadastramento, que configs sao em outro setor....ando ate o quarto andar, e o cara diz que para uma ORIENTAÇÃO precisa mandar um lotus Notes. Eu calmamente explico que NAO TENHO NOTES por ser estagiario. Ele diz para usar o do meu chefe (depois de uma preleção de 10 min sobre como é importante não compartilhar senhas, etc et etc...). Ignorando a falta de coerência do Bizonho, tenho que mostrar a ele qual permissao setar. Volto pra cá.
Legal, internet. É so pegar o backup dos formularios que escondi no server, legal. So imprimir. So que.... a impressora laser é parte de uma sub-rede inacessive por este terminal.
***RARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHH*****
Tension breaker, must be done. Pant pant pant.
MALDITOS SERES ESTUPIDOS E INCOMPETENTES!!!!
6.4.03
DVD
Claro, o fim de semana tava bom demais. *Tinha* que olar um quebra pau aqui em casa por um motivo estúpoido qualquer, como um anúncio de DVD no jornal. Pessoas que tem que saber tudo, nao sao capazes de reconhecer sua absoluta falta de competência para distinguir um DVD de um CDplayer. E Berram. E Xingam. Afinal, de nada vale sua paz dominical, não é mesmo? É mais fácil resmungar , xingar, e presumir significados do que se enxergar na situação ridicula que voc6e mesmo se colocou. PQP, get me outta here.
Claro, o fim de semana tava bom demais. *Tinha* que olar um quebra pau aqui em casa por um motivo estúpoido qualquer, como um anúncio de DVD no jornal. Pessoas que tem que saber tudo, nao sao capazes de reconhecer sua absoluta falta de competência para distinguir um DVD de um CDplayer. E Berram. E Xingam. Afinal, de nada vale sua paz dominical, não é mesmo? É mais fácil resmungar , xingar, e presumir significados do que se enxergar na situação ridicula que voc6e mesmo se colocou. PQP, get me outta here.
Ressacão
Pqp, como eu bebi ontem. W-A-S-T-E-D! Festa legal, pena que bro Wendigo não pode ir. Ia tornar um certo momento absolutamente especial. A seleçao de músicas estava anos 80 puro, parabéns pelos cds Alan. Mais uma vez, a Bebolândia ataca em peso. A Bebolândia é Onipresente, Onisciente, Onipotente e ONIBEBENTE! Tem alcool, é isso aí!!! Sö tem um problema....Itaipava dá uma ressaca siniiiiistraaaa
Pqp, como eu bebi ontem. W-A-S-T-E-D! Festa legal, pena que bro Wendigo não pode ir. Ia tornar um certo momento absolutamente especial. A seleçao de músicas estava anos 80 puro, parabéns pelos cds Alan. Mais uma vez, a Bebolândia ataca em peso. A Bebolândia é Onipresente, Onisciente, Onipotente e ONIBEBENTE! Tem alcool, é isso aí!!! Sö tem um problema....Itaipava dá uma ressaca siniiiiistraaaa
5.4.03
Festa!!!
E o povo do live continua na corda toda. Hoje a noite, festa na casa da Cissa / Carol/ Alan. Bebolândia em peso - Eu, Ed e Marcelo. Amanha, se eu sobreviver, eu conto o que rolou. Aguardem quilos de ONFFs, quotes e afins.
Alias, fodeu, eu nem sei o endereço!!! telefones telefones...
Ah, essa é pro meu rabite lindo: Don't Worry, I never ever drink and drive =****
E o povo do live continua na corda toda. Hoje a noite, festa na casa da Cissa / Carol/ Alan. Bebolândia em peso - Eu, Ed e Marcelo. Amanha, se eu sobreviver, eu conto o que rolou. Aguardem quilos de ONFFs, quotes e afins.
Alias, fodeu, eu nem sei o endereço!!! telefones telefones...
Ah, essa é pro meu rabite lindo: Don't Worry, I never ever drink and drive =****
4.4.03
Birinight
Ok, people, summon para beber no empório, a partir de 22:30. Pessoal do live de Santa Cruz vai estar lá. O primeiro que falar de live no local tem que pagar uma cerveja para o ofendido =)
Sinais de que vc está bebendo demais:
1. vc discute com um poste e ele te convence.
2. Seu médico descobre resíduos de sangue em seu sistema alcoólico.
3.Vc tem marcas roxas na nuca por causa da tampa do vaso
4.Você enxerga melhor com um olho fechado.
5.Cada mulher que você v~e têm uma gêmea idêntica
6.Você acorda e descobriu que instalou o windows 95 no seu micro.
7.Voc~e doa sangue e eles testam o teor alcoolico
8.Quando te perguntam sobre os grupos alimentares vc responde: Cafeína, Nicotina, Alcool e mulheres.
9.Merda...esse elefante cor de rosa me seguiu de novo!
10. Você se considera um Workaholic: Toda vez que vai trabalhar precisa de uma cervejas
11 Merda! Quem é esse elefante cor de rosa deitado do meu lado?!?
12. Seus unicos amigos são Jack, Johnny e Jose
DOS Beer:
Requires you to use your own can opener, and requires you to read the directions carefully before opening the can. Originally only came in an 8-oz can, but now comes in a 16-oz can. However, the can is divided into 8 compartments of 2-oz each, which have to be accessed separately. Soon to be discontinued, although a lot of people are going to keep drinking it after it's no longer available.
MAC Beer:
At first, came only in a 16-oz can, but now comes in a 32-oz can. Considered by many to be a "light" beer. All the cans look identical. When you take one from the fridge, it opens itself. The ingredients list is not on the can. If you call to ask about the ingredients, you are told that "you don't need to know." A notice on the side reminds you to drag your empties to the wastebin.
Windows 95 Beer:
The world's most popular beer. Comes in a 16-oz can that looks a lot like Mac Beer's. Requires that you already own a DOS Beer. Claims that it allows you to drink several DOS Beers simultaneously, but in reality you can only drink a few of them, very slowly, especially slowly if you are drinking the Windows Beer at the same time. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, a can of Windows Beer will explode when you open it.
Windows 98 Beer:
See Windows 95 beer above. About the same but Windows 98 beer creates less gas and makes you crash less.
Windows 2000 Beer:
A new beer on the market. A lot of people have taste tested it and claim it's wonderful. The can looks like Mac and OS/2 Beer's can, but tastes like Windows 95/98 Beer. It comes in 32-oz cans, but when you look inside, the cans only have 16-oz of beer in them. Most people will probably keep drinking Windows 95/98 Beer until their friends try Windows 2000 Beer and say they like it. The ingredients list, when you look at the small print, has some of the same ingredients that come in DOS and Mac Beer, even though the manufacturer claims that this is an entirely new brew.
Windows NT Beer:
Comes in 32-oz cans, but you can only buy it by the truckload. This causes most people to go out and buy bigger refrigerators. The can looks just like Windows 95 Beer's, but the company promises to change the can to look like Windows 2000 Beer's, after Windows 2000 Beer starts shipping well. Touted as an "industrial strength" beer, and suggested only for use in bars.
Unix Beer:
Comes in several different brands, in cans ranging from 8-oz to 64-oz. Drinkers on Unix Beer display fierce brand loyalty, even though they claim that all the different brands taste almost identical. Sometimes the pop-tops break off when you try to open them, so you have to have your own can opener around for these occasions, in which case you either need a complete set of instructions, or a friend who has been drinking Unix Beer for several years...
AmigaOS Beer:
The company has gone out of business, but their recipe has been picked up by some weird German company, so now this beer will be an import. This beer never really sold very well, because the original manufacturer didn't understand marketing. Like Unix Beer, AmigaDOS Beer fans are an extremely loyal and loud group. it originally came in a 16-oz can, but now comes in 32-oz cans too. When this can was originally introduced, it appeared flashy and colourful, but the design hasn't changed much over the years, so it appears dated now. Critics of this beer claim that it is only meant for watching TV anyway.
Ok, people, summon para beber no empório, a partir de 22:30. Pessoal do live de Santa Cruz vai estar lá. O primeiro que falar de live no local tem que pagar uma cerveja para o ofendido =)
Sinais de que vc está bebendo demais:
1. vc discute com um poste e ele te convence.
2. Seu médico descobre resíduos de sangue em seu sistema alcoólico.
3.Vc tem marcas roxas na nuca por causa da tampa do vaso
4.Você enxerga melhor com um olho fechado.
5.Cada mulher que você v~e têm uma gêmea idêntica
6.Você acorda e descobriu que instalou o windows 95 no seu micro.
7.Voc~e doa sangue e eles testam o teor alcoolico
8.Quando te perguntam sobre os grupos alimentares vc responde: Cafeína, Nicotina, Alcool e mulheres.
9.Merda...esse elefante cor de rosa me seguiu de novo!
10. Você se considera um Workaholic: Toda vez que vai trabalhar precisa de uma cervejas
11 Merda! Quem é esse elefante cor de rosa deitado do meu lado?!?
12. Seus unicos amigos são Jack, Johnny e Jose
DOS Beer:
Requires you to use your own can opener, and requires you to read the directions carefully before opening the can. Originally only came in an 8-oz can, but now comes in a 16-oz can. However, the can is divided into 8 compartments of 2-oz each, which have to be accessed separately. Soon to be discontinued, although a lot of people are going to keep drinking it after it's no longer available.
MAC Beer:
At first, came only in a 16-oz can, but now comes in a 32-oz can. Considered by many to be a "light" beer. All the cans look identical. When you take one from the fridge, it opens itself. The ingredients list is not on the can. If you call to ask about the ingredients, you are told that "you don't need to know." A notice on the side reminds you to drag your empties to the wastebin.
Windows 95 Beer:
The world's most popular beer. Comes in a 16-oz can that looks a lot like Mac Beer's. Requires that you already own a DOS Beer. Claims that it allows you to drink several DOS Beers simultaneously, but in reality you can only drink a few of them, very slowly, especially slowly if you are drinking the Windows Beer at the same time. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, a can of Windows Beer will explode when you open it.
Windows 98 Beer:
See Windows 95 beer above. About the same but Windows 98 beer creates less gas and makes you crash less.
Windows 2000 Beer:
A new beer on the market. A lot of people have taste tested it and claim it's wonderful. The can looks like Mac and OS/2 Beer's can, but tastes like Windows 95/98 Beer. It comes in 32-oz cans, but when you look inside, the cans only have 16-oz of beer in them. Most people will probably keep drinking Windows 95/98 Beer until their friends try Windows 2000 Beer and say they like it. The ingredients list, when you look at the small print, has some of the same ingredients that come in DOS and Mac Beer, even though the manufacturer claims that this is an entirely new brew.
Windows NT Beer:
Comes in 32-oz cans, but you can only buy it by the truckload. This causes most people to go out and buy bigger refrigerators. The can looks just like Windows 95 Beer's, but the company promises to change the can to look like Windows 2000 Beer's, after Windows 2000 Beer starts shipping well. Touted as an "industrial strength" beer, and suggested only for use in bars.
Unix Beer:
Comes in several different brands, in cans ranging from 8-oz to 64-oz. Drinkers on Unix Beer display fierce brand loyalty, even though they claim that all the different brands taste almost identical. Sometimes the pop-tops break off when you try to open them, so you have to have your own can opener around for these occasions, in which case you either need a complete set of instructions, or a friend who has been drinking Unix Beer for several years...
AmigaOS Beer:
The company has gone out of business, but their recipe has been picked up by some weird German company, so now this beer will be an import. This beer never really sold very well, because the original manufacturer didn't understand marketing. Like Unix Beer, AmigaDOS Beer fans are an extremely loyal and loud group. it originally came in a 16-oz can, but now comes in 32-oz cans too. When this can was originally introduced, it appeared flashy and colourful, but the design hasn't changed much over the years, so it appears dated now. Critics of this beer claim that it is only meant for watching TV anyway.
Quem tiver olhos que leia.
MASSIVE COSTS
"With SARS, tourists will not come, Hong Kong people are not going to go out, so it's going to have a September 11 effect on the economy," said Frank Gong at the Bank of America.
Hong Kong Hospital Authority director Ko Wing-man said he was worried by the new outbreak at the United Christian Hospital, where more than 100 SARS patients are being treated. The hospital is now tracing others who might have been exposed.
MASSIVE COSTS
"With SARS, tourists will not come, Hong Kong people are not going to go out, so it's going to have a September 11 effect on the economy," said Frank Gong at the Bank of America.
Hong Kong Hospital Authority director Ko Wing-man said he was worried by the new outbreak at the United Christian Hospital, where more than 100 SARS patients are being treated. The hospital is now tracing others who might have been exposed.
3.4.03
E quem disse que mulher não sabe lutar?
Report: Captured Woman Put Up Fierce Fight
Thu April 3, 2003 08:10 AM ET
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Rescued U.S. soldier Jessica Lynch shot several Iraqi soldiers prior to her capture, firing her weapon until she ran out of ammunition, The Washington Post reported on Thursday, citing U.S. officials.
The 19-year-old private first class continued firing at the Iraqis even after she sustained multiple gunshot wounds and watched several other soldiers in her unit die around her, one official told the newspaper.
"She was fighting to the death," the official was quoted as saying. "She did not want to be taken alive."
Lynch arrived in Germany early on Thursday for treatment at an American military hospital. She was held as a prisoner of war by Iraq for more than a week until U.S. special forces freed her on Tuesday.
Lynch, who has two broken legs and one broken arm, was with a U.S. Army maintenance convoy ambushed by Iraqi forces on March 23 in the southern Iraqi city of Nassiriya.
One official said Lynch was stabbed when Iraqi forces closed in on her position, the newspaper said.
U.S. defense officials said they were aware of the report, but could not immediately confirm the details of Lynch's capture.
Officials told the newspaper that the precise sequence of events was still being determined and further information would emerge as Lynch is debriefed.
The report said the information about Lynch's ordeal was based on battlefield intelligence that officials said came from monitored communications and from Iraqi sources whose reliability has yet to be assessed.
Lynch, from Palestine, West Virginia, arrived at the U.S. Ramstein air base in southwestern Germany early on Thursday aboard a U.S. Air Force C-17 transport plane.
The special forces also recovered the bodies of two U.S. soldiers in the raid at the Saddam Hospital north of the Euphrates river which runs through Nassiriya.
Lynch was one of 15 soldiers listed missing, captured or killed when a 507th Ordnance Maintenance Company convoy made a wrong turn and came under attack from Iraqi tanks and fighters.
Five of the captives, but not Lynch, were shown on Iraqi television as well as the bloodied bodies of up to eight men, prompting President Bush to warn that anybody mistreating U.S. prisoners would be punished as "war criminals.
Lynch was reported to be in stable condition Thursday at the U.S. military hospital in Germany on Thursday.
"Her condition is stable. She is undergoing medical assessment and treatment," a spokeswoman for the Landstuhl Medical Facility said, declining to give any further details.
Lynch's relatives had no plans to come to Germany, she added.
She arrived at the U.S. Ramstein air base in southwestern Germany shortly after midnight on Thursday aboard a U.S. Air Force C-17 transport plane.
Lynch lay motionless on a stretcher as a medical team in army fatigues carried her off the ramp of the plane and lifted her into a waiting ambulance, Reuters television pictures showed. One member of the team held up a drip for her.
The ambulance took her to the nearby Landstuhl Medical Facility, America's largest hospital outside the United States.
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