Kite Director's Cut Watch

Liberties

What happened to me today, and now am about to relate, is probably something that does not extend to the most common events. It is certain that many have experienced similar or even worse things and not be anxious about the story. Unfortunately.
waiting for the bus I was so used to my stop 19, after leaving the seat of the faculty of social sciences Centennial Park, when suddenly I feel the warm embrace of a stranger. I fail to react before the subject in question, a guy my age masomenos (Heaven knows, I'm very bad for guessing ages), I start counting the most recent events of his life story. It seems, as he said, that were long just a police station and "I had to hide the iron" he says pointing to the pocket where he took refuge an imperceptible (and do not know if real) gun. I listened attentively and tried to look into his eyes, pretty calm considering the circumstances. Then out of nowhere (not what wine), I said to have AIDS and deliberately cut (die without knowing why), showing some cuts on his arm, had already healed.
Aha ... well, yes, the guy wanted money, obviously. I was holding the neck in an apparent friendly gesture with his left arm but I understand very well that his intentions were not all friendly. I asked a coin to travel and I agree to give a weight that I kept in my pocket along with a currency of equal value, one of ten cents and two dollars a ticket. He gets the money and tells me he's with a friend, and asks me if I have more. "Yes, I have another, but I need to go" I say, to which I replied "are you going to say that you do not have a ticket for two dollars?" I look at any place with an expression of reluctance, I get the ticket and I give it. "Why do you say you had no more if you had?" Says the gentle young man reproachfully, as a father chastises his young son by telling lies. I with great honesty he will answer me had asked for coins and actually only one that I had planned to use for my trip home. The explanation seemed to satisfy him, since then asks me if I needed the money he had given before or if you have enough money to travel. Well, obviously not going to say that I sent back, so I just say "I have another, but if you want to give it back all right" (it's funny to remember this, Who knew I was going to react like that?). But he wanted me back, take her (because now they were his) three dollars, and (I think it was at this time, although it could have been a little before) asked me why I was scared (Apparently showed me afraid, certainly was.) "Not for nothing, I'm just a paranoid type," I say (again honestly, though he has concealed many things at that time thought about the situation.) Finally the game ends with a funny "I'm calling to cellular one day" my new friend who heard a few meters ahead to tell someone you know who "get a drink." Surely that last sentence was a tacit "the idiot of glasses invited."
How could it be otherwise, after this I started to think about many things. Do not know if that had been a theft or a simple loan to the force. I finally decided there is not much difference. It is true that the treatment was quite flexible (by the way I cooperated with it), but the fact remains that I did not want to give you three dollars. I could not help thinking at the time that the three dollars I had just bought my freedom. Freedom not to be violated in some way, either with his supposed "iron" or the more supposedly gadget with which to cut also, probably imbued with the disease which claimed unwanted. This last idea scared me more, and immediately felt disgusted by the hand, a violent hand, that God knows where one will last, having rested so long in my neck. I felt terrible to think (thanks to me and confessed paranoia) that this type might me infected with the virus only touch me, or maybe making me a wound that I could not perceive (ridiculous, I know). Poor HIV carriers, my thoughts offend each and every one of them, so I tried to remove them from my mind as soon as possible.
Although I had bought my freedom, I was given a degraded freedom, a freedom to go home, sit on my computer and write this, but devoid of three dollars. No, I do not care about three dollars, I'll do the poor. Silver is the least of what I'm going is to the decision, mine, only mine, what to do with my will, expressed only by the circumstances of this story, in this bill and that currency. And that made me reflect that we are constantly buying our freedom, which is supposed to be ours, from the moment we are born, but we are taken away by someone and we are always degraded returns in exchange for a piece of the same sacrifice to possess the most part, it is becoming smaller. And I could complain about that undesirable hours individual, consistent with that little Macri on my shoulder, like a cartoon devil, I said "Did you see that I have right?." I ignored him, haunted him in the act as he scares a mosquito that buzzes in your ear. I might complain hours, but What's the point? He only took three dollars, presumably to ensure some satisfaction to unwind from a miserable life. And even had the consideration to ask if I reached the money to go back to my house! What is it when compared with that mass of people who every day we impose by force the very high and unfair prices at which our freedoms recover degraded? Nothing. Nothing compared with the entrepreneurs who make us give up freedom of living wages, job opportunities or times of détente. Nothing compared to the increasing ads that force us to leave blank walls, scenic or urban landscapes transparent windows through which to look at the collective as we travel by themselves are other costs we pay as well. Nothing compared to those leaving thousands of people die of hunger and ignorance. These people are paying very high prices a freedom that if nothing else would be degraded. Living statues, robots of manners. We are all constantly buying
this freedom degraded and become our creditors are those that we really should. And if today or tomorrow for any of those coincidences of life stab me miserable for three dollars, it can be a note or a limp Clarin argument possible candidate to fill some spaces in the legislature or Congress. Either one or the other may terminate in the street there is no freedom to walk or take money at the same time we sell one and degraded our freedoms again.

Can You Put Neosporin On Ringworm

Degraded "The Lost Child in the storm" by Eduardo Galeano

In Bucharest, a crane carries the statue of Lenin. In Moscow, an eager crowd queuing at the doors of McDonald's. The Berlin Wall abominable sold in pieces, and confirmed that East Berlin is located right in West Berlin. In Warsaw and Budapest, the finance ministers talk just like Margaret Thatcher. In Beijing too, while tanks crushed the student. The Communist Party Italiano, the largest of the West, announces its next suicide. Is reduced Soviet aid to Ethiopia and Colonel Mengistu discover suddenly that capitalism is good. The Sandinistas, the protagonists of the revolution most beautiful in the world, lost the elections, "falls revolution in Nicaragua", title newspapers.

seems that there is no room for revolution, and not in the windows of the Archaeological Museum, and there is no place for the left, except for left sorry that accepts sits to the right of the bankers. We are all invited to the funeral of socialism worldwide. The funeral procession comprises, as say, to all humanity.

I confess that I do not think so. These funerals are dead wrong.

In Nicaragua, pay for the sins

Perestroika, and the passion of freedom unleashed perestroika, have been blown all over the seams of a suffocating straitjacket. Everything explodes. A dizzying pace, multiply the changes from certain that social justice need not be the enemy of liberty or give efficiency. Urgency, a collective need: people could not take it again people were tired of a bureaucracy as powerful as useless, in the name of Marx forbade him to speak his mind and live what he felt. Any spontaneity was guilty of treason or madness.

"Socialism, Communism? Or all this was, rather, an historic swindle? I write from a Latin American perspective, and I wonder: if so, if so, why we are going to pay the price for this scam? In that mirror was never our face.

In the recent elections in Nicaragua, national dignity has lost the battle. Was defeated by hunger and war, but was defeated by the international winds that are blowing against the left stronger than ever. Unfairly paying for the sins. The Sandinistas are not responsible for the war, no hunger, nor can attribute the lower amount of guilt for what was happening in the east. Paradox of paradoxes: the democratic revolution, pluralistic, independent, not copied to the Soviets or the Chinese or Cubans, or anyone, has paid the other broke dishes, while the local Communist Party voted for Violeta Chamorro .

The authors of the war and famine held now, the outcome of the elections, which punishes the victims. The next day, the United States government announced the end of the economic embargo against Nicaragua. The same had happened years ago when the military coup in Chile. The day after the death of Allende, the international price of copper rose by magic.

Indeed, the revolution that toppled the Somoza family dictatorship was not, in these ten long years, not one minute of truce. Every day was invaded by a foreign power and hire criminals, and was subjected to a constant state of site by bankers and merchants own the world. And yet he managed to be a revolution more civilized than the French, because nobody guillotined or shot, and more tolerant than the U.S., because during the war allowed with some restrictions, free expression of the master local spokespeople colonial.

literate Nicaragua's Sandinistas, brought down infant mortality considerably and gave land to peasants. But the war is bleeding the country. War damages equal to one and a half to Gross Domestic Product, which means that Nicaragua was destroyed a and a half. The judges of the International Court at The Hague handed down a U.S. assault, and that no avail. And did not help at all the congratulations of the United Nations agency specializing in education, nutrition and health. The applause did not eat.

invaders rarely attacked military targets. His favorite targets were the agricultural cooperatives. How many thousands of Nicaraguans were killed or wounded in this decade, by order of the United States government? In proportion, equivalent to three million Americans. And yet, in recent years, many thousands of Americans visited Nicaragua and were always welcome, and nothing happened either. Only one died. He was killed by the contras. (I was very young and was an engineer and was a clown. Walked chased by a swarm of children. organized in Nicaragua's first School of Clowns. He was killed while measuring the water from a lake to make a dam. name was Ben Linder ).

The tragic loneliness of Cuba

But what about Cuba?, Is not there also occurs, as in the east, a divorce power and people? Is not the people there, too, tired of single party and the press only and only truth?

"If I am Stalin, my dead are in good health," said Fidel Castro, and certainly this is not the only difference. Cuba is not a model imported from Moscow prefabricated vertical power, but was forced to become a fortress for his powerful enemy is not the lunch with knife and fork. It was in these circumstances that this small underdeveloped country achieved some amazing feats: at present, Cuba is less illiteracy and lower mortality U.S. child. Moreover, unlike many countries in Eastern, Cuban socialism was not orthopedically imposed from above and from outside, but was born and grew far out from the very bottom. Many Cubans who have died or have given Angola the best of themselves by Nicaragua in exchange for nothing, have not been complying meekly, and contracorazón, the orders of a police state. If this had been, would be inexplicable, never had dropout and always on fervor.

Now Cuba is living tragic hours of solitude. Hours dangerous: the invasion of Panama and the disintegration the so-called socialist camp but influence the way, I fear, on the internal process, encouraging the trend of bureaucratic obstinacy, ideological rigidity and the militarization of society.

Light and shade of the times

against Panama, Nicaragua and Cuba, the U.S. government relies on democracy as the governments of this invoking socialism as an alibi. Throughout this century, Latin America has been invaded more than a hundred times by the United States. Always in the name of democracy, and always to impose military dictatorships or puppet governments who have made money except the threat. The imperial system of power does not want democratic countries. Want humiliated countries.

The invasion of Panama was scandalous, with its seven thousand victims in the rubble of the poor neighborhoods devastated by the bombing, but more shocking that the invasion was the impunity with which it was made. Impunity, which leads to the recurrence of crime, encourages the offender. To the crime of sovereignty, President Mitterrand discreet applause rang and the whole world sat back, after paying a impuestito another statement.

In this sense, silence is eloquent, and even the ill-concealed satisfaction, in some eastern European countries. The release of this means the green light to the oppression of the West? I never shared the attitude of those condemned imperialism in the Caribbean, but cheered up or shut your mouth when national sovereignty was trampled in Hungary, Poland, Czechoslovakia and Afghanistan. I can say because I have not paid tail: the right to self-determination is sacred, in all places at all times. Well they say that Gorbachev's democratic reforms have been possible because the Soviet Union was in danger of being overrun by the Soviet Union. And symmetrically, well they say that the United States are safe from coups and military dictatorships in the U.S. because there is no U.S. embassy.

Without a shadow of doubt, freedom is always good news. To the east, who is starring with just elation, and throughout the world. But, in contrast, are good news to money and praise the virtues of the market? "The idolatry of the American way of life ? Are candid entry illusions International Club of the Rich? The bureaucracy, which is only flexible to accommodate, is adapting quickly to the new situation, and old bureaucrats begin to become a new bourgeoisie.

Admittedly, from the standpoint of Latin America and the Third World, that the late Soviet bloc had at least one essential virtue: no feeding on the poverty of the poor, did not participate in the looting international capitalist market, however, helped to finance the justice in Cuba, Nicaragua and many other countries. I suspect this will, by the bit, remembered nostalgia.

A nightmare made

For us, capitalism is not a dream to realize, but a nightmare realized. Our challenge is not to privatize the state, but in de-privatized. Our States have been purchased at a bargain price for the land owners and banks, and everything else. And the market is not for us, rather than a pirate ship: the freer the worse. The local market and internationally. The international market robs us with both arms. The commercial arm sells us every time we buy more expensive and getting cheaper. Arm financial loans us our own money, paying us less and charge us more and more.

We live in a region of European prices and wages in Africa, where capitalism acts as the good man said: "I like both the poor, who always seems to me that there is not enough." Only in Brazil, for instance, the system kills thousand children a day from disease or hunger. In Latin America, capitalism is undemocratic, with or without elections, most people are prey to the need and is doomed to loneliness and violence. Hunger lies, lies violence: say they belong to nature, simulate part of the natural order of things. When the "natural order" is disordered, the soldiers arrive on the scene, masked or unmasked. As they say in Colombia: "The cost of living rises and rises, and the value of low and low life."

Step by step

Nicaragua's elections were a blow. A blow as the hatred of God, who said the poet. When I heard the result I was, and still am, a child lost in the outdoors. A lost child, I say, but not alone. We are many. Worldwide, we are many.

Sometimes I feel that they have stolen up to the words. The word socialism is used in the west, to make up for injustice, in the east, evokes the purgatory, or perhaps to hell. The word imperialism is outdated and no longer exists in the dominant political dictionary, but imperialism does exist and robs and kills. What about the word militant? And the fact of the militant passion? For theorists of disenchantment, it is a preposterous relic. For the repentant, a hindrance of memory.

Within months, we have witnessed the dismal wreck of a usurper of socialism, which was the people as an eternal child and led him by the ear. But three or four centuries ago, the inquisitors slandered God by saying that they fulfilled their orders, and I believe that Christianity is not the Holy Inquisition. In our time, bureaucrats have discredited the hope and have sullied the most beautiful of all human adventures, but I also believe that socialism is not Stalinism.

Now we have to start over. Step by step, without shields that are born of our own bodies. We need to discover, create, imagine. In the speech he delivered shortly after Jesse Jackson their defeat in the U.S., he claimed the right to dream: "We will defend this right," he said, "We will not allow anyone to snatch us that right." And today, more than ever, we must dream. Dreaming together desensueñen and dreams that mortal incarnate in, as I said, and wanted another poet. Fighting for the right to live my best friends, and some have given him life.

This is my testimony. "Confession of a dinosaur? Maybe. In any case, the testimony of someone who believes that the human condition is doomed to selfishness and to the obscene money chase, and that socialism did not die because he was not yet: today is the first day of the long life is to live.

From:
Eduardo Galeano, The Blue Tiger and Other Stories, Social Sciences Publishing House, Havana, 1991.

digitized by Union of Socialist Youth of Puerto Rico,
http://ujs-pr.tripod.com/

Nuclear Fallout Suits

Quete!, dualities, utopias, individualism and history

In West, the man always thought double, body and soul, flesh and spirit, matter and idea. In general, the social discourse about man is ambiguous, the Christian tradition condemns the carnal and the spiritual rises to the sublime, eternal, unblemished. However, it is also known that humans are superficial. What is called being superficial?, To look at boobs, noses, legs and asses. People say that what is essential is invisible to the eye but in reality the only thing that matters is to satisfy our senses. However, these elections are nothing more than elections within a classification system (nice ass, ugly ass) that is culture. The taste, as Bourdieu would check, is a social and historical is part of a process or, ultimately, is a process in itself. The "good taste" or "tacky" then, is nothing more than, shall we say, a kind of democratic government where one party sometimes wins and sometimes another. It is common to hear them say to opposition candidates: "If I had ... blabla ... things had been different" and they are right. The contradiction in the light output, then, is imminent: the surface of taste, historical construction, as opposed to the ephemerality of the flesh and the transcendence of spirit. We like boobs, eternal life, we like asses, eternal life, we like the legs, eternal life. How can I get out of this orgy of ambiguity?. No idea, I like tits, fuck. What matters is what you see when you look at the same problem with different glasses: hedonism "here and now" (the famous live for the moment) as opposed to the possibility of transcendence.

Both conceptions, superficial and hedonistic Christian share a certain conception of time itself, is presented in an ahistorical, not to be specifically, but rather, for failing to interest the past, present or future, in general. Hedonistic version knows no future or past and the Christian version, in general, talks about the future of the future, past and present, forgotten. The past, the story literally said, is forgotten in both views, the present, isolated in a no importance in another and the future "close", as a repetition of this in hedonism, unimportant in Christians and the future of future, the future of death, how the only thing important for the Christian.

The body is a psychobiological unit. Beyond the separation of body and soul, not us the possibility of separating both instances, is a system, a drive, everything. However, we note in this whole, two aspects, closely linked to the concept "separatist" in the body and mind: first, the sensitive, perceptual, the other consciousness. Between these two elements there is a relationship of necessity, of solidarity, would not exist without each other as we know it. The sensitivity of man is what he comes into contact with experience, with the historical past, and is shaped precisely for this (experience). The man is an animal aware of its sensitivity and consciousness is only possible by to experience.

The other common point between the two positions is that both are, in essence, theories of happiness. Hedonism is, rather, a method of transient happiness and Christianity is the theory that all life is ephemeral. Hedonism has a purpose and happiness, joy, purpose is, in Christianity, his final death. In the history of the stories, the narrative productions, it is common endpoint, ie "the end". In many cases (mainly in the production of cultural industry), the final is always a happy ending. Life has no end (and less happy), no sequelae, premieres, stars, special effects, the only end is death. The following is only a matter of beliefs that are no weight in this discussion, since what is at stake is life, not death. The hedonistic view, in general, is a holiday position for some fifteen days in Mar del Plata, for others, three years in Ibiza. In general, the hedonists are destined to fail in his plan, so many parties, so many drugs, so many things do nothing to stop. Its simplistic version of what living in contradiction to the tendency complex than man claims of his life. Man tends to the complex, which tends to publish their biographies, have a desire for transcendence.

If at any point in my life Peter Pan enters by my window and I said, "to fly just need fairy dust and a happy memory" I think it would have many problems with memory.

The man is above all a social being, can not do anything that does not for other men. From eighteenth century, the concept of individualism, individualism, began to take hold. Of course, tied to the historical process of transfer from feudalism to capitalism, this cultural revolution rather Psychological, was allowed at the outset, the utopia of "rise" of the future as depositary of the successes and failures. Personally, I think that individualism is the first hypocrisy of human beings, is essentially the negation of the other's need. With the individualist conception (closely associated, perhaps, to the conception of history, Marxist, Marcuse thought to the death instinct of Freud), he refuses, he hides the need for another solidarity, the work of thousands of human beings, social sublimation of libido. Individualistic man wears clothes coming out of the stores and not textiles, walking down paths that seem to have been there, take collective circulating streets built by God and see buildings and houses forever. Individualism, to conceal and deny the other's need, solidarity, also denies and hides the work (and class relations), thus playing the sensitive, the body's own life and in turn , highlights the thinking consciousness. One reason is the challenge of individualism, defiance toward the other, the improvement of person (I do not know what I am, but I'm sure I know what I am or I'm better than them ). This involves creating an "us" and an "other", the difference, otherness, basically, the psychological-cultural construction of a first class identity.

Past is history, more precisely a historical narrative of the experience, individual on the one hand, social and other - this limited by the nostalgia of the past or the utopian desires the future, this hedonic "here and now " This ephemeral, uncertain future. What place have the experience, the sensitivity, awareness, Peter Pan, egoism, solidarity in this issue of time?. The story is the story of man who tends to the complex, the realization of utopia. Death, such a fall of the Berlin Wall, is the disappointment about this, utopia. It is perhaps the moment where we do not know of transcendence or happy endings. So, why live?. This is a question you will not find any consensus on the answers. Nobody knows. Nobody knows because you have to bear travel on a bus full of people, job layoffs, bad notes on partial power, indifference, deaths. Nobody. The man always looks for the complex, and complex, you never know you are looking for, or do not understand you get. And so simple?.

I climb to the group, I notice that there are no seats available, I stand near the side having once downloaded. At another stop, they get two giant bags carried by a poor woman. He was right, the one side of Pompeii fell in Rivadavia. Uncertainty, Who deserves the seat more, the bags with the woman or the young student of communication?. My ass, my comfort, my individuality, I say to myself. Indeed, while I feel feeling guilty. Surely you are going to lose another. Another success: there got a good blonde mammary glands, the bags sit there.

reading the section above, the man of the postmodern individualism associated with comfort, therefore, individualism with her ass. I wonder now, what would have happened if he had said aloud, "Lady, why are you sitting?" And she, her ass, perhaps, and the bags have been happy to seat you had the face of Pompeii?. The answer is simple, I gave my seat to lady. I met her in a second, second that she and the bags should have been in love with me and I, of course, reciprocated that feeling. What happened?. Transcended.

At the time of the grant, there was a kind of rupture. Capitalism did not care, my mother, my girls, my friends, my drunkenness, my concerns. I stopped, somehow, to be me, to meet other self, with its other, with the other and this time the award was one of many moments of transcendence. The grant is the only time where you build four walls and the universe is what has always been, nothing is simple, is solidarity.

Man seeks the transcendental, complex and in this quest is the birthplace of art (understood as a cultural expression, or culture). The first artist was an ordinary man, harassed by the other stronger and more women, maybe. He was a man who walked away from their village and walked through the woods as night fell. In the end, the man reached the lakeshore. At night, the stars swam the lake of delicious fireworks. The moon looked at the man and the man looked at the moon. The silence, the grant, the transcendent, the beautiful, beautiful. What to Do, will have asked the man, after having experienced what you just felt. "This I have to tell," was his response. The man becomes an artist when he is conscious of the ephemeral which is compared to everything that crosses it and it is inaccessible and unmodifiable: life, death, existence. The man did not think, probably "I'm better than the moon, the stars and their reflection in the lake", as would an individualist, a man was found with all the existing and the meeting of the concession, was born the art.

The body-soul dualism, or sensitive, aware, at the time of the grant are one thing. Consciousness is not something that is not sense, consciousness is a sense. The human being is like a sixth sense, if you will. Vision, hearing, taste, smell, touch and humanity. The sense of humanity is the meaning of art and the meaning of the concession and solidarity.

The past as history, as an experience that builds the six senses, the mind it inhabits the sensible (and not the body-soul dualism), the present for the future as a place where history is told and where the question appears on the utopia of modernity (understood under the concept of Peirce's sign, utopia is a sign of an object updated by an interpretant, the sign always takes certain aspects of the object and neglects others. This has a bearing on this text because the utopian view, it's not something that there is a building on it because it takes some existing issues, empowering them, while eliminating others, is a way, critical to see the world): Can a happy world, a happy ending?. My answer is far from the absolutism of yes or no, but honestly, I prefer not. But, does the art express?. The important thing is to build a kind of constant potential to be happy. Basics, is to play our body and our life without which life, as timeline or biographical, has the sole purpose of reproduction. The basic thing is solidarity (removing the evil of individualism), art, passion, romance, sweet and tasty violence of a revolution. The future is history to build, and although the only end is death, we have the right to build / choose a happy ending.

Tiffany & Co. Christmas Commercial Imdb

- I was thinking that you take out the clothes.
- Already? Is not it better that we're touching even a prime time?
- No, no. No time, in half an hour I have to go.
- In half an hour?
- Yes, I have to work together to make practical.
- Another practical work?
- is to be ... and within three days.
- When you're getting a little time for me?
- Uh not inflate the balls, or that he was to fuck me. You know laburo morning and evening course. I try to see you in the evening when I can. Today I can not, I have to do a job.
- When shit you'll be able to stop doing work?
- No, when I get there. And do not yell at me that I am treated well.
- "Do not yell at me? Would I'm screaming?
- You know that if ... Dale does not want to fight ... Take off your clothes.
- No.
- Dale.
- You think that nothing else does not?
- I did not start, you know you do not make me speak.
- What does not make you say what?
- That I love you.
- Oh, what is supposed to do I have to say? "" You're sweet?
- No, do not say anything if you do not want. But then you complain that we did not and now we have, even half an hour spent on the fight.
- And you do not you think that if we fight is precisely why we are not alone for half an hour a week?
- Well ... not to say. What do you want? What I left my career? You know I can not laburar, the only thing that allows me to finance my studies. And finally I am studying what I like.
- When did you live? You can never leave, not just me. What you people do not see it as?
- Well, but they are different ... they laburar too, and have partial and practical work, have things to do.
- Ah what I do? "I live to fart?
- do not put words in my mouth I did not say.
- I'm getting tired you know?
- Do not leave me alone.
- And what can we do?
- I do not know ... I do not feel well, but I do not think that this better without you.
- No, no ...
- Look, I need some for the winter holidays.
- some little, missing about three months.
- Well, not so much either ...
- Yeah ... not so much, it's true.
- During the holidays we go somewhere if you want. No, we go south, or wherever you want. I one week I can I guess.
- would be good, yes. But until then?
- And even then, no. We will have time to deal with us. I swear that when I can I say. You know what I want is to see to you.
- Well ... then I remove my clothes.
- No, do not take out the clothes, acariciémonos a while. Total in five minutes I have to go.
- I love you.
- Me too.