Alfredo Barroso, O triunfo dos agiotas
22 Apr 2011
A good thing to keep in mind
"Várias são as vozes que afirmam que o FMI não é nenhum papão e não mete medo a ninguém, porque já cá esteve no século passado e tudo correu às mil maravilhas. É quase verdade, mas esquecem-se de um pequeno pormenor que faz toda a diferença: é que, quando o país sair exausto e exangue dos próximos anos de brutal austeridade, não haverá mais uma CEE à nossa espera para inundar Portugal com as catadupas de fundos comunitários que fizeram a felicidade do cavaquismo!"
19 Apr 2011
The cause of all evil II
As I said below (The cause of all evil), the western world is slowly, maybe inexorably, tumbling into decadence and irrelevance. All is said here, in a precise and clear way. Our world is becoming less and less recognizable by the minute...
PS: now S&P is revising the rating of the US republic. And you can be sure it will go down, since the economic and financial problems of the US are mostly still there, namely the insolvency of most of the states finances, extremely low economic growth, inward looking policies, and total subjection of politicians to the financial system.
PS: now S&P is revising the rating of the US republic. And you can be sure it will go down, since the economic and financial problems of the US are mostly still there, namely the insolvency of most of the states finances, extremely low economic growth, inward looking policies, and total subjection of politicians to the financial system.
13 Apr 2011
The biggest Portuguese problem
Is the extreme low quality of the educational system.In the last 30 years, the greatest achievement of the democratic system in Portugal was to democratize education and to give the basic formal skills to most of the population. An extremely worthy achievement, one the country should be very proud of. But one huge problem remains to be solved: the quality of the education that is provided to all.
A simple example, which I think of often and that lead me to this conclusion of the failure of the educational system in providing quality education for those that go through it, is the following: most of the skills and knowledge that I acquired and that I use in my professional life (even as an individual seeking his way through the complexity of today's world) were not acquired at school, by which I mean the first 12 years of education. I did get a basic package of skills, like reading, writing and counting, but that was all that those 12 years of school managed to give me. Two of the most important things in life were never considered and taught: the importance of hard work and of using your brain. Repetition and passing exams was the main pedagogical tactic of the system, not forming people that were able to seek answers for themselves (more precisely, the development of a critical mind). School was not demanding and as such it become boring, unchallenging, and as a consequence useless. This is our drama as a nation, to form our people to a high enough standard so that they become critical minds: putting it simply, not a school that produces brains full of content but which in the end is useless, since students are unable to think and to use this content in a creative and critical fashion; instead a school that produces brains that leave school with (maybe) a bit less of content in them but with considerably more skill in finding and critically going through new information and knowledge, therefore being able to create new ideas and thoughts from the information they gather and collect.
For me, the biggest example of the failure of our educational system is the visible incompetence of our politicians, like Socrates and Passos Coelho: people that are clearly technically unprepared (verging on the incompetent most of the time), void of independent thought and novel reasoning regarding the issues that they are faced with, and whose only attribute is a vacuous ability to speak and lead people who are as uncritical as they are.
Lord help us!!
PS: Of course, there are many more problems, such as the "Doctor" mentally and the lack of practical skills and medium technical skills. Probably more on that soon...
10 Apr 2011
The cause of all evil
Why are the US and Europe in so much trouble, vis a vis their finances and economies?Because those who used to fund them, or shall we say allowed to be robbed blindly to finance the needs of the metropolis, are now independent.
Asia is now standing more and more on its own legs, master of itself, as the abundant and clear example of China shows. (The Middle East to some, but extremelly important, extent -- most importantly the oil producing states -- is following the same path). Africa is basically where it was 200 years ago, and the part of it not being run by their European "fathers" does not even produce enough wealth for itself ; those African countries that are the exception to this rule are those run by proxies of the European "fathers". In South America it is either crisis and poverty as usual or assertion of economic independence, as is the case of Brazil.
Bottom line, fifty years ago, if the Western powers wanted money, they just managed to get payed (by whatever means necessary) by the poor and those that wanted not to be seen as poor: pride and arrogance, together with the usually unconscious personal and collective shame of feeling second, third or fourth rate as a citizen of the world, is a brilliant unseen catalyst for selling yourself short and giving away the few remaining things of value you might have just so as to feel not so poor or powerless.
Bottom line, fifty years ago, if the Western powers wanted money, they just managed to get payed (by whatever means necessary) by the poor and those that wanted not to be seen as poor: pride and arrogance, together with the usually unconscious personal and collective shame of feeling second, third or fourth rate as a citizen of the world, is a brilliant unseen catalyst for selling yourself short and giving away the few remaining things of value you might have just so as to feel not so poor or powerless.
Now that is gone, finally the colonial links have fizzled away and the "sons" of colonial Europe and America are grappling their way in the world independently of their progenitors. The world has definitely changed and we, the Western People, those of the Old World, have so far no idea how much. We used to think and behave as if we owned the whole world, evidently shown by how secure we felt about preaching to the world on the superiority of our society, our economy, our value/belief system. The rest of the world is now showing us we are just another piece in the large jigsaw puzzle that is the world community.
24 Nov 2010
Lamuria...
...is the Portuguese national sport. No one can convince me otherwise!
I wonder what would be happening in Portugal if CGD, BCP, BES had collapsed, bankrupt, the economy was in recession for the last couple of years, and the budget deficit was around 30%.
I guess everyone would kill themselves. Or maybe they would just go to Madeira, maybe for a holiday, maybe to live at the expense of Mr Jardim.
Now seriously: the lack of love for the country from those who live in it shocks me tremendously.
Oh, dear!
I wonder what would be happening in Portugal if CGD, BCP, BES had collapsed, bankrupt, the economy was in recession for the last couple of years, and the budget deficit was around 30%.
I guess everyone would kill themselves. Or maybe they would just go to Madeira, maybe for a holiday, maybe to live at the expense of Mr Jardim.
Now seriously: the lack of love for the country from those who live in it shocks me tremendously.
Oh, dear!
The world is changing
The world (both west and east) is changing before our eyes.
Where will we be in two years time?
Where will we be in two years time?
7 Feb 2009
Goddess
"He had met the woman at last -- the woman that he had thought little about, not being given to thinking about women, but whom he had expected, in a remote way, he would sometime meet. He had sat next to her at table. He had felt her hand in his, he had looked into her eyes and caught a vision of a beautiful spirit -- but no more beautiful than the eyes through which it shone, nor than the flesh that gave it expression and form. He did not think of her flesh as flesh, which was new to him, for of the women he had known that was the only way he thought. Her flesh was somehow different. (...) Her body was more than the garb of her spirit. It was an emanation of her spirit, a pure and gracious crystallization of her divine essence. This feeling of divine startled him. It shocked him from his dreams to sober thought. No word, no clue, nor hint of the divine had ever reached him before. He had never believed in the divine. He had always been irreligious, scoffing good-naturedly at the sky-pilots and their immortality of the soul. There was no life beyond, he had contended; it was here and now, then darkness everlasting. But what he had seen in her eyes was soul -- immortal soul that could never die. No man he had known, nor any woman, had given him the message of immortality. But she had. She had whispered it to him the first moment she looked at him. Her face shimmered before his eyes as he walked along, pale and serious, sweet and sensitive, smiling with pity and tenderness as only a spirit could smile, and pure as he had never dreamed purity could be. Her purity smote him like a blow. It startled him. He had known good and bad, but purity, as an attribute of existence, had never entered his mind."
in Martin Eden by Jack London
in Martin Eden by Jack London
21 Jan 2009
16 Jan 2009
SONETO DO AMOR TOTAL
Amo-te tanto, meu amor... não cante
O humano coração com mais verdade...
Amo-te como amigo e como amante
Numa sempre diversa realidade.
Amo-te afim, de um calmo amor prestante
E te amo além, presente na saudade.
Amo-te, enfim, com grande liberdade
Dentro da eternidade e a cada instante.
Amo-te como um bicho, simplesmente
De um amor sem mistério e sem virtude
Com um desejo maciço e permanente.
E de amar assim, muito e amiúde
É que um dia em teu corpo de repente
Hei de morrer de amar mais do que pude.
(Vinicius de Moraes)
Com um beijo enorme!
O humano coração com mais verdade...
Amo-te como amigo e como amante
Numa sempre diversa realidade.
Amo-te afim, de um calmo amor prestante
E te amo além, presente na saudade.
Amo-te, enfim, com grande liberdade
Dentro da eternidade e a cada instante.
Amo-te como um bicho, simplesmente
De um amor sem mistério e sem virtude
Com um desejo maciço e permanente.
E de amar assim, muito e amiúde
É que um dia em teu corpo de repente
Hei de morrer de amar mais do que pude.
(Vinicius de Moraes)
Com um beijo enorme!
20 Nov 2008
Alguem disse...
Nao gosto de anjos porque nao o sao,
de deuses porque sao falsos,
de demonios porque nao conseguem ser falsos para se tornarem deuses.
Prefiro aturar os homens, criaturas sofríveis.
de deuses porque sao falsos,
de demonios porque nao conseguem ser falsos para se tornarem deuses.
Prefiro aturar os homens, criaturas sofríveis.
5 Oct 2008
28 Sep 2008
Para a geração dos 30 -- Nuno Markl
A juventude de hoje, na faixa que vai até aos 20 anos, está perdida. E está perdida porque não conhece os grandes valores que orientaram os que hoje rondam os trinta. O grande choque, entre outros nessa conversa, foi quando lhe falei no Tom Sawyer. "Quem?", perguntou ele. Quem?! Ele não sabe quem é o Tom Sawyer! Meu Deus... Como é que ele consegue viver com ele mesmo? A própria música: "Tu que andas sempre descalço, Tom Sawyer, junto ao rio a passear, Tom Sawyer, mil amigos deixarás, aqui e além... " era para ele como o hino senegalês cantado em mandarim.
Claro que depois dessa surpresa, ocorreu-me que provavelmente ele não conhece outros ícones da juventude de outrora. O D'Artacão, esse herói canídeo, que estava apaixonado por uma caniche; Sebastien et le Soleil, combatendo os terríveis Olmecs; Galáctica, que acalentava os sonhos dos jovens, com as suas naves triangulares; O Automan, com o seu Lamborghini quedava curvas a noventa graus; O mítico Homem da Atlântida, com o Patrick Duffy e as suas membranas no meio dos dedos; A Super-Mulher, heroína que nos prendia à televisão só para a ver mudar de roupa (era às voltas,lembram-se?); O Barco do Amor, que apesar de agora reposto na Sic Radical, não é a mesma coisa. Naquela altura era actual...E para acabar a lista, a mais clássica de todas as séries, e que marcou mais gente numa só geração: O Verão Azul. Ora bem, quem não conhece o Verão Azul merece morrer. Quem não chorou com a morte do velho Shanquete, não merece o ar que respira. Quem, meu Deus, não sabe assobiar a música do genérico, não anda cá a fazer nada.
Depois há toda uma série de situações pelas quais estes jovens não passaram, o que os torna fracos: Ele nunca subiu a uma árvore! E pior, nunca caiu de uma. É um mole. Ele não viveu a sua infância a sonhar que um dia ia ser duplo de cinema. Ele não se transformava num super-herói quando brincava com os amigos. Ele não fazia guerras de cartuchos, com os Canudos que roubávamos nas obras e que depois personalizávamos. Aliás, para ele é inconcebível que se vá a uma obra. Ele nunca roubou chocolates no Pingo-Doce. O Bate-pé para ele é marcar o ritmo de uma canção.
Confesso, senti-me velho...
Esta juventude de hoje está a crescer à frente de um computador. Tudo bem, por mim estão na boa, mas é que se houver uma situação de perigo real, em que tenham de fugir de algum sítio ou de alguma catástrofe, eles vão ficar à toa, à procura do comando da Playstation e a gritar pela Lara Croft. Óbvio, nunca caíram quando eram mais novos. Nunca fizeram feridas, nunca andaram a fazer corridas de bicicleta uns contra os outros. Hoje, se um miúdo cai, está pelo menos dois dias no hospital, a levar pontos e a fazer exames a possíveis infecções, e depois está dois meses em casa a fazer tratamento a uma doença que lhe descobriram por ter caído. Doenças com nomes tipo "Moleculum infanticus", que não existiam antigamente.
No meu tempo, se um gajo dava um malho muitas vezes chamado de "terno" nem via se havia sangue, e se houvesse, não era nada que um bocado de terra espalhada por cima não estancasse.
Eu hoje já nem vejo as mães virem à rua buscar os putos pelas orelhas, porque eles estavam a jogar à bola com os ténis novos. Um gajo na altura aprendia a viver com o perigo. Havia uma hipótese real de se entrar na droga, de se engravidar uma miúda com 14 anos, de apanharmos tétano num prego enferrujado, de se ser raptado quando se apanhava boleia para ir para a praia. E sabíamos viver com isso. Não estamos cá? Não somos até a geração que possivelmente atinge objectivos maiores com menos idade? E ainda nos chamavam geração "rasca"...
Nós éramos mais a geração "à rasca", isso sim. Sempre à rasca de dinheiro, sempre à rasca para passar de ano, sempre à rasca para entrar na universidade, sempre à rasca para tirar a carta, para o pai emprestar o carro.
Agora não falta nada aos putos.
Eu, para ter um mísero Spectrum 48K, tive que pedir à família toda para se juntar e para servir de presente de anos e Natal, tudo junto. Hoje, ele é Playstation, PC, tele-móvel, portátil, Gameboy, tudo.
Claro, pede-se a um chavalo de 14 anos para dar uma volta de bicicleta e ele pergunta onde é que se mete a moeda, ou quantos bytes de RAM tem aquela versão da bicicleta.
Com tanta protecção que se quis dar à juventude de hoje, só se conseguiu que 8 em cada dez putos sejam cromos.
Antes, só havia um cromo por turma. Era o totó de óculos, que levava porrada de todos, que não podia jogar à bola e que não tinha namoradas.
É certo que depois veio a ser líder de algum partido, ou gerente de alguma empresa de computadores, mas não curtiu nada.
Hoje, se um puto é normal, ou seja, não tem óculos, nem aparelho nos dentes, as miúdas andam atrás dele, anda de bicicleta e fica na rua até às dez da noite, os outros são proibidos de se dar com ele... "
Claro que depois dessa surpresa, ocorreu-me que provavelmente ele não conhece outros ícones da juventude de outrora. O D'Artacão, esse herói canídeo, que estava apaixonado por uma caniche; Sebastien et le Soleil, combatendo os terríveis Olmecs; Galáctica, que acalentava os sonhos dos jovens, com as suas naves triangulares; O Automan, com o seu Lamborghini quedava curvas a noventa graus; O mítico Homem da Atlântida, com o Patrick Duffy e as suas membranas no meio dos dedos; A Super-Mulher, heroína que nos prendia à televisão só para a ver mudar de roupa (era às voltas,lembram-se?); O Barco do Amor, que apesar de agora reposto na Sic Radical, não é a mesma coisa. Naquela altura era actual...E para acabar a lista, a mais clássica de todas as séries, e que marcou mais gente numa só geração: O Verão Azul. Ora bem, quem não conhece o Verão Azul merece morrer. Quem não chorou com a morte do velho Shanquete, não merece o ar que respira. Quem, meu Deus, não sabe assobiar a música do genérico, não anda cá a fazer nada.
Depois há toda uma série de situações pelas quais estes jovens não passaram, o que os torna fracos: Ele nunca subiu a uma árvore! E pior, nunca caiu de uma. É um mole. Ele não viveu a sua infância a sonhar que um dia ia ser duplo de cinema. Ele não se transformava num super-herói quando brincava com os amigos. Ele não fazia guerras de cartuchos, com os Canudos que roubávamos nas obras e que depois personalizávamos. Aliás, para ele é inconcebível que se vá a uma obra. Ele nunca roubou chocolates no Pingo-Doce. O Bate-pé para ele é marcar o ritmo de uma canção.
Confesso, senti-me velho...
Esta juventude de hoje está a crescer à frente de um computador. Tudo bem, por mim estão na boa, mas é que se houver uma situação de perigo real, em que tenham de fugir de algum sítio ou de alguma catástrofe, eles vão ficar à toa, à procura do comando da Playstation e a gritar pela Lara Croft. Óbvio, nunca caíram quando eram mais novos. Nunca fizeram feridas, nunca andaram a fazer corridas de bicicleta uns contra os outros. Hoje, se um miúdo cai, está pelo menos dois dias no hospital, a levar pontos e a fazer exames a possíveis infecções, e depois está dois meses em casa a fazer tratamento a uma doença que lhe descobriram por ter caído. Doenças com nomes tipo "Moleculum infanticus", que não existiam antigamente.
No meu tempo, se um gajo dava um malho muitas vezes chamado de "terno" nem via se havia sangue, e se houvesse, não era nada que um bocado de terra espalhada por cima não estancasse.
Eu hoje já nem vejo as mães virem à rua buscar os putos pelas orelhas, porque eles estavam a jogar à bola com os ténis novos. Um gajo na altura aprendia a viver com o perigo. Havia uma hipótese real de se entrar na droga, de se engravidar uma miúda com 14 anos, de apanharmos tétano num prego enferrujado, de se ser raptado quando se apanhava boleia para ir para a praia. E sabíamos viver com isso. Não estamos cá? Não somos até a geração que possivelmente atinge objectivos maiores com menos idade? E ainda nos chamavam geração "rasca"...
Nós éramos mais a geração "à rasca", isso sim. Sempre à rasca de dinheiro, sempre à rasca para passar de ano, sempre à rasca para entrar na universidade, sempre à rasca para tirar a carta, para o pai emprestar o carro.
Agora não falta nada aos putos.
Eu, para ter um mísero Spectrum 48K, tive que pedir à família toda para se juntar e para servir de presente de anos e Natal, tudo junto. Hoje, ele é Playstation, PC, tele-móvel, portátil, Gameboy, tudo.
Claro, pede-se a um chavalo de 14 anos para dar uma volta de bicicleta e ele pergunta onde é que se mete a moeda, ou quantos bytes de RAM tem aquela versão da bicicleta.
Com tanta protecção que se quis dar à juventude de hoje, só se conseguiu que 8 em cada dez putos sejam cromos.
Antes, só havia um cromo por turma. Era o totó de óculos, que levava porrada de todos, que não podia jogar à bola e que não tinha namoradas.
É certo que depois veio a ser líder de algum partido, ou gerente de alguma empresa de computadores, mas não curtiu nada.
Hoje, se um puto é normal, ou seja, não tem óculos, nem aparelho nos dentes, as miúdas andam atrás dele, anda de bicicleta e fica na rua até às dez da noite, os outros são proibidos de se dar com ele... "
27 Sep 2008
I Looooove Amazon!
Well, as announced in a previous post, I was waiting to receive a new book from Marjane Satrapi.
And, shit, it arrived!
IIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA
Can't wait to start reading...
20 Sep 2008
An amazing movie -- The Curse of the Golden Flower
I think I've talked about this movie before (I'll check that out later; it'll be interesting to see what I wrote then), but had to come back to it. Why? Well, simply because I bought the DVD (couldn't help it! Long live Amazon and it's glorious bargains!!!) and watched it again.
An the first comment is: the movie is just stunning. The cinematography is blindingly beautiful, tasteful and used perfectly as another way to tell the story, all done in a very effective and sensitive way (yeah, the reds are blinding, but my opinion is that's exactly the idea, more on that later...). The actors are very good, especially Chow Yun-Fat (his usual self, but better) and the BEAUTIFUL Gong Li (brilliant, the woman is a great actress), and an excellent performance by Liu Ye in the role of Crown Prince Wan.
Most important of all is the direction by Zhang Yimou. Rigorous, enthralling, always keeping you on your toes and avidly following the action that unfolds, even though the movie is not an action film, but a tragedy; actually, it's a tragedy filmed like an action movie, which is a very good idea in this case because Yimou is able enough to pull it off brilliantly. He manages to weave all the parts of the movie (dialogue, music -- the soundtrack is beautiful and addictive --, cinematography) into a whole that contributes to tell and enhance all the parts of the plot. Hats off, and that's all. The previous instalments of cinema that Yimou served the public -- Hero, House of Flying Daggers -- were quite good, but this is considerably above those previous efforts by the director.
And what about the plot? Well, here comes speculation on my part. Let me tell you what my outrageous imagination thought of the movie: it's a very, very political movie. The imperial house is completely described in tones of red (red, china, communist party....). We have three types of characters: the Emperor, the Empress, and the three young Crown Princes (Jai the rebel, Wan the wise, and Yu the young). The Emperor represents power (the communist party), the Empress represents China, which is being opressed and poisoned by the Emperor, and the Crown Princes represent chinese youth. From this perspective, the film is a political warning to everyone, westerners included. Above all, mesmerizing.
Well, enough ranting about it. Go and see it!
An the first comment is: the movie is just stunning. The cinematography is blindingly beautiful, tasteful and used perfectly as another way to tell the story, all done in a very effective and sensitive way (yeah, the reds are blinding, but my opinion is that's exactly the idea, more on that later...). The actors are very good, especially Chow Yun-Fat (his usual self, but better) and the BEAUTIFUL Gong Li (brilliant, the woman is a great actress), and an excellent performance by Liu Ye in the role of Crown Prince Wan.
Most important of all is the direction by Zhang Yimou. Rigorous, enthralling, always keeping you on your toes and avidly following the action that unfolds, even though the movie is not an action film, but a tragedy; actually, it's a tragedy filmed like an action movie, which is a very good idea in this case because Yimou is able enough to pull it off brilliantly. He manages to weave all the parts of the movie (dialogue, music -- the soundtrack is beautiful and addictive --, cinematography) into a whole that contributes to tell and enhance all the parts of the plot. Hats off, and that's all. The previous instalments of cinema that Yimou served the public -- Hero, House of Flying Daggers -- were quite good, but this is considerably above those previous efforts by the director.
And what about the plot? Well, here comes speculation on my part. Let me tell you what my outrageous imagination thought of the movie: it's a very, very political movie. The imperial house is completely described in tones of red (red, china, communist party....). We have three types of characters: the Emperor, the Empress, and the three young Crown Princes (Jai the rebel, Wan the wise, and Yu the young). The Emperor represents power (the communist party), the Empress represents China, which is being opressed and poisoned by the Emperor, and the Crown Princes represent chinese youth. From this perspective, the film is a political warning to everyone, westerners included. Above all, mesmerizing.
Well, enough ranting about it. Go and see it!
15 Sep 2008
A New Musical Passion -- Maroon 5
Yup, these five american guys blew my mind. I knew them from hearing some of their songs on the radio, and whenever I heard one of them I'd spend the whole day singing along to the chorus. Bloody nuisance, if you ask me! Anyway, this sonic terrorism of theirs made me check out some of their videos on youtube, and now that you can download videos using Real Player (amazing idea, very useful), I ended up singing along and listening to their sounds every fucking day. Outrageous! It got so bad that I ended up buying their two CD's (Songs About Jane and It Won't Be Soon Before Long). Now imagine that! The money these bastards made me spend just so that I could overcome the addiction to their music! There's no other way to say it: Fuck them! Bastards! Torturers!
As I don't want to be the only idiot in the world to have been coned by these american mtfs, here's a taste of their wares. Hope you save my shame and get addicted too! Bloody hell!
This love
Makes me Wonder
Wake up call
As I don't want to be the only idiot in the world to have been coned by these american mtfs, here's a taste of their wares. Hope you save my shame and get addicted too! Bloody hell!
This love
Makes me Wonder
Wake up call
14 Sep 2008
A great book and author
A friend of mine decided to offer me a great cartoon book, Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, and I confess I loved it. It's basically a history lesson about Iran since the time of the Shah given through the life of an Iranian girl from her early childhood up to her adolescence when she decides to return to her native country. A very enlightening, sweet, and enthralling read.
The drawings are distinctive (Satrapi does have her own style of drawing) and the whole becomes very sensitive. Something which comes out quite clearly in the children's book Monsters are Afraid of the Moon, which I'm sure kids will love as the story is very simple, funny, and sweet, but with the added quality that an adult will enjoy reading it as much as their kids.
She has some other books, which I'm quite eager to read (one of them is already on its way, god bless Amazon! ;-)).
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