Um tema corrente, atual ou da moda

Um político que estava em plena campanha chegou a uma pequena cidade, subiu para o palanque e começou o discurso:
- Compatriotas, companheiros, amigos! Encontramo-nos aqui, convocados, reunidos ou juntos para debater, tratar ou discutir um tópico, tema ou assunto, o qual me parece transcendente, importante ou de vida ou morte. O tópico, tema ou assunto que hoje nos convoca, reúne ou junta é a minha postulação, aspiração ou candidatura a Presidente da Câmara deste Município.
De repente, uma pessoa do público pergunta:
- Ouça lá, porque é que o senhor utiliza sempre três palavras, para dizer a mesma coisa?
O candidato respondeu:
- Pois veja, meu senhor: a primeira palavra é para pessoas com nível cultural muito alto, como intelectuais em geral; a segunda é para pessoas com um nível cultural médio, como o senhor e a maioria dos que estão aqui; a terceira palavra é para pessoas que têm um nível cultural muito baixo, pelo chão, digamos, como aquele alcoólico, ali deitado na esquina.
De imediato, o alcoólico levanta-se a cambalear e 'atira':
- Senhor postulante, aspirante ou candidato: (hic) o facto, circunstância ou razão pela qual me encontro num estado etílico, alcoolizado ou mamado (hic), não implica, significa, ou quer dizer que o meu nível (hic) cultural seja ínfimo, baixo ou mesmo rasca (hic). E com todo a reverência, estima ou respeito que o senhor me merece (hic) pode ir agrupando, reunindo ou juntando (hic) os seus haveres, coisas ou bagulhos (hic) e encaminhar-se, dirigir-se ou ir direitinho (hic) à leviana da sua progenitora, à mundana da sua mãe biológica ou à puta que o pariu!

Autor Indistinto, Anônimo ou Desconhecido

Yes, it is

Tales From Topographic Oceans I

The Revealing Science Of God (Dance Of The Dawn)
Anderson/Howe/Squire/Wakeman/White



Dawn of light lying between a silence and sold sources
Chased amid fusions of wonder
In moments hardly seen forgotten
Coloured in pastures of chance dancing leaves cast spells of challenge
Amused but real in thought, we fled from the sea whole

Dawn of thought transferred through moments of daysundersearching earth
Revealing corridors of time provoking memories
Disjointed but with purpose
Craving penetrations offer links with the self instructors sharpand tender love
As we took to the air a picture of distance

Dawn of our power we amuse redescending as fast as misusedexpression
As only to teach love as to reveal passion chasing late intocorners
And we danced from the ocean

Dawn of love sent within us colours of awakening among the manywont to follow
Only tunes of a different age
As the links span our endless caresses for the freedom of lifeeverlasting

Talk to the sunlight caller
Soft summer mover distance mine

Called out a tune but I never saw the face
Heard but not replaced
I ventured to talk but I never lost my place

Cast out a spell rendered for the light of day
Lost in lights array
I ventured to see as the sound began to play

What happened to this song we once knew so well
Signed promise for moments caught within the spell
I must have waited all my life for this
Moment moment

The future poised with the splendour just begun
The light we were as one
And crowded through curtains of liquid into sun

And for a moment when our world had filled the skies
Magic turned our eyes
To feast on the treasure set for our strange device

What happened to wonders we once knew so well
Did we forget what happened, surely we can tell
We must have waited all our lives for this
Moment moment moment

Starlight movement
Reasons
Release forward
Tallest rainbow
Sun shower seasons
Life flower reasons

They move fast, they tell me
But I just can't believe that I can feel it
There's someone to tell you
Amid the challenge we look around in unison with you

Getting over overhanging trees, let them rape the forest
Thoughts would send our fusion clearly to be home
Getting over wars we do not mean, or so it seems so clearly
Sheltered with our passion clearly to be home

They move fast, they tell me
But I just can't believe they really mean to
There's someone to tell you
And I just can't believe our song will leave you

Skyline teacher
Warland seeker
Send out poison
Cast iron leader

And through the rhythm of moving slowly
Sent through the rhythm work out the story
Move over glory to sons of old fighters past

Young Christians see it from the beginning
Old people feel it, that's what they're saying
Move over glory to sons of old fighters past

They move fast, they tell me
But I just can't believe they really mean to
There's someone to tell you
A course towards a universal season

Getting over overhanging trees, let them rape the forest
They might stand and leave them clearly to be home
Getting over wars they do not mean, we charm the movementsuffers
Call out all our memories clearly to be home

We've moved fast, we need love
A part we offer is our only freedom

What happened to this song we once knew so well
Signed promise for moments caught within the spell
We must have waited all our lives for this
Moment moment

Past present movers moments we'll process the future,
But only through Him we know
Send flowered rainbows

A piece apart chased flowers of the dark and lights of songs
To follow and show all we feel for and know of
Cast round

You seekers of the truth accepting that reason will relive
And breathe and hope and chase and love
For you and you and you

Fuga em Lá Menor BWV 543 (XVIII do Organ Works?) do João Sebastião...

...com sons de órgãos coletados em várias catedrais, seguindo a interpretação inspiradora de Albert Schweitzer, (recorded and lost, but not all), antes dele se mandar para a África.

Metacamera

Into The Lens
Yes (Downes/Horn/Howe/Squire/White)

Memories, how they fade so fast
Look back, that is no escape
Tied down, now you see too late.
Lovers, they will never wait.

I am a camera

Take heart, I could never let you go
And you, always let the feeling show
Love us all, how you never broke your heart
You lose them
If you feel the feeling start.

I am a camera, camera, camera

And you, may find time will blind you
This to just remind you
All is meant to be.

Here, by the waterside
There, where the lens is wide
You and me
By the sea
Taken in tranquility.

Taken, taken so easily
To pass into glass reality
Transform, to transfer, to energy.

Taken, taken, so easily
To pass into glass reality
Transformer, transferring energy

Só um excerto, por enquanto

já que tudo seria demais para um cristão:

 Giants Under The Sun
 from The 'Ancient' (from the Tales From The Topographic Oceans II)
Yes



So the flowering creativity of life
Wove its web face to face with the shallow
And their gods sought out and conquered
Ah Kin

Do the leaves of green stay greener through the autumn
Does the colour of the sun turn crimson white
Does a shadow come between us in the winter
Is the movement really light

And I heard a million voices singing
Acting to the story that they had heard about
Does one child know the secret and can say it
Or does it all come out along without you
Along without you, along without you

Where does reason stop and killing just take over
Does a lamb cry out before we shoot it dead
Are there many more in comfort understanding
Is the movement in the head

And I heard a million voices singing
Acting to the story that they had heard about
Does one child know the secret and can say it
Or does it all come out along without you
Along without you, along without you

Pardon Me Sister

Duas coisas que as mulheres não sabem sobre o que os homens sabem sobre as mulheres:

. uma que as mulheres não são homens;

. duas que os homens não são mulheres.

Why you should shoot yourself in the foot

 .

THE “HANDY” PHOTO MEMORY TOOL

When I'm out in the field, I always think I'll remember what I'm
photographing. Then I get home and I'm clueless. Like a detective, I
have to search for some kind of hint hidden in the photo to help me
figure out where I was and why I thought it was important to take the
picture.

After 30 years of this, and the introduction of digital photography, I
came up with a system. It starts with signs and ends with my hand.
Occasionally I use my feet, too. Here’s how...

Whenever I stop to photograph a subject — say, a church in Paris, for
example — first I photograph any signs outside with the name of the
church on them, and any signs inside that might describe its history.

I know. I know. You’ve heard this tip a dozen times. But this isn’t
all I do…

When I'm done with a subject, or about to move to a new location, I
hold my hand in front of the lens and take a picture of it.

Then, when I get home and look at my photos on my computer, the shots
of my hand are like chapters in a book. When I see one, I know I've
moved to another subject. And if I take a hand shot and then find
something else to shoot in the same location, I just go back and
delete the hand so I can keep things straight.

I also, occasionally, photograph my feet.

Recently, I was thrilled to find that my favorite travel camera has
video and audio recording capabilities. I'm not too interested in
making videos in the field, but I do love the sound of my own voice
(smile).

Now, with a touch of a button, I can make a recording of any
additional notes I want to add. And to make sure I recognize that it's
a recording when I upload my pictures onto my computer, I point the
camera at my feet while I record and talk.

On my computer, thumbnails of my hand are new chapters in my
photographic adventure, and shots of my feet are recordings that
explain what's going on. (Note: That's a big improvement over the film
days when shots of my feet indicated stupidity.)

In closing, as my lovely wife points out, I'm still lost most of the
time. But now, at least when I get home, I know where I've been.

By Rich Wagner in Farmington Valley, Connecticut

Graças ao Rich, agora sei onde estive (thanks Rich, now I know where I've been).

 

Tem outras, mas a maioria é só uma confusão de mãos e pés.

Song Of The Viking I

for Lucas, back from Norway

I am a Viking of some note

Knut's my name and here I float

Out on the sea in a great big boat

and I'm the one who beats the drum in time

To stroke the oars that drive our galleons on

And while we rowed we had our song

And we had our god, and it may seem odd

But at least there was a cause

Caught a wind and we upped the sail

Lost two ships when it turned to a gale

Down went a third when she rammed on a whale

Though we despaired we could not fail

And through it all we never faltered

Late at night I lay on the decke

Wondering whye I risk my necke

Picture myselfe in a sinkinge wrecke

Ande downe I'me goinge notte knowinge whye

I just can't quite recall the reason why

It's such a drag to carry on

But there was a cause, but there was a reason

If you like I'll be your Viking

Sit you down to a Nordic meal

Give you strength that you might wield

A Viking sword and a Viking shield

And off we'll sail in mighty ships of yore

Perhaps we shouldn't let our hands get sore

We need someone to pull the oars

And to do the chores

So we need a cause, so we need a reason why

(Erik is here!)

Pure Anarchy Is True Salvation

for it's at one concern.

Você sabe

Vai a onda
Vem a nuvem
Cai a folha
Quem sopra meu nome?
Raia o dia
Tem sereno
O pai ralha
Meu bem trouxe um perfume?
O meu amigo secreto
Põe meu coração a balançar
Pai, o tempo está virando
Pai, me deixa respirar o vento
Vento

Nem um barco
Nem um peixe
Cai a tarde
Quem sabe meu nome?
Paisagem
Ninguém se mexe
Paira o sol
Meu bem terá ciúme?
Meu namorado erradio
Sai de déu em déu a me buscar
Pai, olha que o tempo vira
Pai, me deixa caminhar ao vento
Vento

Se o mar tem o coral
A estrela, o caramujo
Um galeão no lodo
Jogada num quintal
Enxuta, a concha guarda o mar
No seu estojo
Ai, meu amor para sempre
Nunca me conceda descansar
Pai, o tempo vai virar
Meu pai, deixa me carregar o vento
Vento
Vento, vento

Professo

É meu triste dever anunciar, para quem quer que chegue a este blog, um dos muitos, senão dos mais nobres, que vocês podem eventualmente visitar, que essa tira de mensagens que aparece ao lado direito da tela, me enche o saco, particularmente porque, por mais que eu tente, não consigo fazer os caras entrarem no espírito. Isso me deixa meio maluco (como se fosse possível eu partir-me pela metade!).

Pois então, eu não votei no cara, não fiz campanha nenhuma (e nem vou dizer porque não).

Os anúncios, vocês não perdem por esperar a hora em que os oráculos do Google vão me escutar e vai dar o maior encaixe (no bom sentido, é lógico).

Quanto às próximas eleições, vou me repetir. Nesse Conto-de-Fadas que é a coisa nossa, eu tô mais é com a política da Rainha Vermelha: cortem-lhes já as cabeças. Isso evitaria (infelizmente, não vai acontecer, unfortunately, it won't do) uma série de kakakas (isso mesmo, merda).

Portanto, confiem no que eu digo e não me condenem (just trust and don't blame me): A Anarquia Pura é a Única Salvação da Humanidade.

Time Table

Genesis



A carved oak table,
Tells a tale
Of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold,
And the brave would lead their ladies from out of the room
to arbours cool.

A time of valour, and legends born
A time when honour meant much more to a man than life
And the days knew only strife to tell right from wrong
Through lance and sword.

Why, why can we never be sure till we die
Or have killed for an answer,
Why, why do we suffer each race to believe
That no race has been grander
It seems because through time and space
Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore.

A dusty table
Musty smells
Tarnished silver lies discarded upon the floor
Only feeble light descends through a film of grey
That scars the panes.
Gone the carving,
And those who left their mark,
Gone the kings and queens now only the rats hold sway
And the weak must die according to nature's law
As old as they.

E como em algum outro Conto-De-Fadas,

a Rainha Vermelha repete: 'cortem-lhes as cabeças!'

O preferido da Branca de Neve

Não é o Dunga, nem o Feliz, o Zangado, o Dengoso, o Soneca ou o Mestre. É o Atchim!

Perpetual Change

Isto não se compara a ver e ouvir em High Definition, mas dá pra curtir.

Mais aqui.

Ticionário do Alemon te Xoinvfile, Xaracuá, Pomerode, Plumenau, Prusque, e Atjacências

PANDA – (s.f.) - É um crupo te amicos, que se xunta bara fazer múcica. Norrmalmente, tem bor nome pandinha.

PAR – (s.m.) - O mesmo que Potega, policho, armacem que serve pepidas e tira-costo, como toresmo, quecho, mortatela, ofo cozito, etc.

PARACO – a(s.m.) - Habitaçon popre, humilte, sem áqua, sem luxa, sem borra nenhuma.

PARALHO – (s.m.) - Xoco de cartas. Muito abreciato nos pares e caças te família.

PIA – (s.f.) - No Brrasil tampém conhecita por lourra ou xelada. É um pepita veita a bartir to cevata, muito apreciata em pares e vestas.

PIÇAR – a(v.) - Caminhar no grrama, caminhar no calçada; Ex.: Non piça no minha crama, vacapunto! 2) (g.) - Piçar no domate, icual a facer cagata.

PIZICLETA – (s.f.) - Meio te transporte te tois rodas, com traçon humana. Tem bedais e coreia.

POI – (s.m.) - Touro castrato, sem saca. Sem saca, non trépa. Non trepando, engorda. Gorrdo, é matado tom mareta.

POLZA – (s.f.) - Pjeto que serfe bara caregar vários coisa. Tem vários dipos: polza te mulher, polza bara lixo, polza te subermercato e polza te açons financerras (que non sei que merrda é).

PUTIÁ – (s..f.) - Lá no minha caza só o minha mulher é que costa de putiá. Eu e os minhas filhos non costamos de putiá porque é uma frutinho muito aceta, xeca a tar arrebio.

REBUCHO – (s.m.) - Eveito ta maré, depos te bater no praia, os ontas foltam bara o mar.

TIARRÉIA – (s.f.) - Tistúrbia dos tripas. Muito comum para quem come panana com gachasa e toresmo com chimaron, ou bepe pia xelada com linqüiça quende. É tão ruim o tiarréia, que teixa o xente suato e amarrelo. O xente diz pros mais íntimos: tô mixando pela cu, rapaiz.

XAROBE - (s..m.) - Remétio xeralmente feito te erfas ou com mel e agrion. Muito inticato nos resvriados fortes, com muito tosse. 2) Intívituo chato, que costa te imbortunar, ou alco que não se coste. Ex.: A rátio ta Frida só toca músico xarobe!

XOTA – (s.m.) - Técima letra to alfapeto.

XUNTO – (adj.) - Acompanhato te alco ou alquém. Facer alcuma coisa com alquém. 2) - (v.) - Ato te xuntar alcuma coisa. Ex.: O Fritz xuntô a carta to paralho ta chon.

ZIM – (ex.) - O que diz o pessoa que concorrda, aceida, deixa. Pessoa que sempre diz zim é conhecida bor concortino.

Autorr: Alemon te Xoinvfile

Sem revfison da Kalkbrenner.

Tudo de graça

Como seria a loja dos seus sonhos?
Um lugar fácil de chegar, aconchegante, com ambiente bacana e ar-condicionado?
Onde as visitas têm hora marcada para evitar atropelos?
Com as prateleiras cheias de novidades que vão dos alimentos aos cosméticos e aparelhos eletrônicos?
Com produtos que ainda nem foram lançados e, o melhor, você vai poder experimentar antes de todo mundo?

Sample Central

A Dock-Dock to Jaime

If you haven't 'Lernerd' it, you must!

To soothe all my babes (including me and you)

Earth, stream and tree encircled by sea
Waves sweep the sand from my island.
My sunsets fade.
Field and glade wait only for rain
Grain after grain love erodes my
High weathered walls which fend off the tide
Cradle the wind
to my island.

Gaunt granite climbs where gulls wheel and glide
Mournfully glide o'er my island.
My dawn bride's veil, damp and pale,
Dissolves in the sun.
Love's web is spun - cats prowl, mice run
Wreathe snatch-hand briars where owls know my eyes
Violet skies
Touch my island,
Touch me.

Beneath the wind turned wave
Infinite peace
Islands join hands
'Neathe heaven's sea.

Dark harbour quays like fingers of stone
Hungrily reach from my island.
Clutch sailor's words - pearls and gourds
Are strewn on my shore.
Equal in love, bound in circles.
Earth, stream and tree return to the sea
Waves sweep sand from my island,
from me.

E não esqueçam de clicar no Ele Te Ama

Quando ele aparecer.