The god abandons Antony by Constantine P. Cavafy

The god abandons Antony
by Constantine P. Cavafy (1863-1933)




The god forsakes Antony

When suddenly, at midnight, you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
as is right for you who were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion, but not
with the whining, the pleas of a coward;
listen—your final delectation—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.

- Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

Another great day in Mamasitas pool bar at Costa Maya port

 

Just common Sense by Newt Gingrich

Jonh Adams X Karl Max

John Adams.
"The moment the idea is admitted into society that private property is not as sacred as the laws of God, and that there is not a force of law and public justice to protect it, anarchy and tyranny commence"

Karl Max

" The theory of the communists may be summed up in the single sentence:Abolition of private property."

Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld

FDNY

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

© Mary Oliver

O petista-desempregado sumiu by Augusto Nunes

O petista-desempregado sumiu
2 de setembro de 2009


Ando procurando há muito tempo duas brasileirices que, como a ararinha-azul, existem oficialmente mas nunca aparecem: o entrevistado-pelo-instituto-de-pesquisa e o comunista-assumido-com-menos-de-100-anos. Conheço gente que jura ter conhecido um entrevistado pelo Ibope ou alguém que abranda a olímpica solidão de Oscar Niemeyer. Um amigo garante ter visto as duas raridades. Eu nunca vi. Só acredito vendo.

A essas obsessões somou-se há quase sete anos uma terceira: procuro um petista-desempregado. Não conheço nenhum, nem conheço quem conheça. Se os leitores também não conhecerem, a espécie será declarada oficialmente extinta. E um comício com a dupla Lula e Dilma vai festejar o sucesso incomparável do programa Desemprego Zero para a Companheirada.

Os doutores de verdade e as doutoras dilmas, os gênios da raça e os cretinos fundamentais, os que raciocinam em bloco e os repetentes de carteirinha, os primeiros da classe e os que babam na gravata, os varados de luz e os doidos varridos, os menores de idade e os caducos sem remédio, os sóbrios congênitos e os bêbados de berço ─ todos deram um jeito na vida. Ninguém ficou ao relento. Sem concursos, exames, nada. Só com o bilhete do padrinho e a cópia da ficha de inscrição do PT.

A multidão defende o salário e o partido no Planalto, no Congresso, no Judiciário, na Petrobras, na Eletrobras, nos Correios, no Ibama, no Incra, na Funai, nas Ongs, nos blogs federais, na Caixa Econômica, no Banco do Brasil, no pré-sal, no Bolsa Família, no Fome Zero ─ nenhum cabide de empregos escapou. Onde houver uma folha de pagamentos anabolizada por dinheiro público, haverá um militante companheiro.

A espécie dos entrevistados-pelo-instituto-de-pesquisa nunca foi nuito numerosa. Os pesquisadores precisam de pouca gente para saber o que estão achando milhões de brasileiros. Os comunistas-assumidos-com-menos-de-100-anos viveram tanto tempo na clandestinidade que se sentem melhor nas sombras que na claridade. Portadores da Síndrome do Cristão de Catacumba, acham que o povo não está preparado para saber o que pensam quem vai salvá-lo. E caminham rumo à ditadura do proletariado disfarçados de socialistas, bolivarianos ou simplesmente esquerdistas.

Mas os petistas-desempregados eram dezenas de milhares no começo do século. O sumiço de todos os exemplares é uma proeza e tanto. Na segunda-feira, para que a raça não reapareça com os filhos dos casais já amparados, o presidente Lula enviou à Câmara dez projetos que criam 40 mil cargos públicos. É tanta vaga que até quem não nasceu já tem salário garantido no cabideiro federal. A conta (R$ 1.388 bilhão por ano) será espetada no bolso dos pagadores de impostos.

É natural que a hipótese da derrota em 2010 seja recebida pela companheirada a socos e pontapés. Perder a eleição é péssimo. Perder o salário é um pesadelo. Dilma Rousseff não vai liderar uma campanha eleitoral. Vai chefiar uma campanha contra o desemprego

Give me liberty, or give me death !! Patrick Henry - March 23, 1775

No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope that it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve.

This is no time for ceremony. The question before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty towards the majesty of heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation?

For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth -- to know the worst and to provide for it. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House?

Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with these warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation -- the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motives for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies?

No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer on the subject? Nothing.

We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer.

Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament.

Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope.

If we wish to be free -- if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending -- if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak -- unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of the means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us.

The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable -- and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, "Peace! Peace!" -- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!

Gold Hunters.... Madeira river..

Brian Boy getting ready to fly....

 

Sonny boy flying through the treetops of the jungles ....