Más humilde, es con mi cámara...

Unforgettable

Ladrón que roba a ladrón...

Juicio por plagio contra el "Código Da Vinci" en Londres

LONDRES - El "Código Da Vinci", un éxito editorial en el mundo entero, se enfrenta a partir del lunes a un juicio por plagio en Londres, que podría retrasar la aparición de su adaptación cinematográfica en las grandes pantallas de Gran Bretaña, prevista para el próximo 19 de mayo.

La causa ante el Alto Tribunal británico durará dos semanas y fue presentada por Michael Baigent y Richard Leigh, quienes publicaron en 1982 un libro titulado "The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail".

Este texto -publicado por la editorial Random House y que no es una novela - sostiene la hipótesis según la cual Jesús se casó con María Magdalena y tuvieron un hijo, preservando así su descendencia a través de los siglos hasta la actualidad.

La Iglesia Católica, por su parte, habría tratado de impedir que se descubriese este hecho.

Estas teorías inspiraron la obra de Dan Brown, de la que se han vendido 30 millones de ejemplares en todo el mundo.

Si los tribunales británicos dan razón a Baigent y Leigh, éstos obtendrán una orden que prohibirá la utilización de las teorías de su libro, pudiendo bloquear así el estreno en Gran Bretaña de la película inspirada en la obra de Brown.

if God would send his angel...

Finally! The homiletical helper the Exorcist has been looking for.
Now I can stop plagiarizing O'Reilly.

Salvation is at hand.

Keep it secret, keep it safe.

Amigos: ya que este medio es seguro y aqui el enemigo no tiene espias, voy a postear el mail que me llego de una tailandesa de la que me hice amigo. Creo que ya es hora. Esto es confidencial solo por el hecho que se puede malinterpretar y no quiero que caiga en manos o mentes equivocadas.

---------------------

Hey......Felipe
How are you ? i hope you have funny your trip. with your friend. O!
How's your friend (Will) ?
i hope he happy i miss you and your friend i hope i will meet you and Will
again
Have a nice time . And Have a nice trip
Take Care
From elle



Hi.....Baby :)
I'm Donut
How's u been? i hope i u funny with your trip. and i hope you will think
to me i miss you so much i will wait you come back. O! i want to be with
you. I can? i hope you will write to me back.I'm sorry i can't speak
Einglish but my friend she can help me and you you can tell with she ( don't
worry ). you can tell with she every thing. i like you so much i wan to know
about you more. i hope you don't forget me. miss you. ok see you soon
Take Care
Donut <3

---------------------

What is in Room 101?

'Do you remember writing in your diary,' O'Brien said, 'that it did not matter whether I was a friend or an enemy, since I was at least a person who understood you and could be talked to? You were right. I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane. Before we bring the session to an end you can ask me a few questions, if you choose.'

'Any question I like?'

'Anything.' He saw that Winston's eyes were upon the dial. 'It is switched off. What is your first question?'

'What have you done with Julia?' said Winston.

O'Brien smiled again. 'She betrayed you, Winston. Immediately -- unreservedly. I have seldom seen anyone come over to us so promptly. You would hardly recognize her if you saw her. All her rebelliousness, her deceit, her folly, her dirty-mindedness -- everything has been burned out of her. It was a perfect conversion, a textbook case.'

'You tortured her?'

O'Brien left this unanswered. 'Next question,' he said.

'Does Big Brother exist?'

'Of course he exists. The Party exists. Big Brother is the embodiment of the Party.'

'Does he exist in the same way as I exist?'

'You do not exist,' said O'Brien.

Once again the sense of helplessness assailed him. He knew, or he could imagine, the arguments which proved his own nonexistence; but they were nonsense, they were only a play on words. Did not the statement, 'You do not exist', contain a logical absurdity? But what use was it to say so? His mind shrivelled as he thought of the unanswerable, mad arguments with which O'Brien would demolish him.

'I think I exist,' he said wearily. 'I am conscious of my own identity. I was born and I shall die. I have arms and legs. I occupy a particular point in space. No other solid object can occupy the same point simultaneously. In that sense, does Big Brother exist?'

'It is of no importance. He exists.'

'Will Big Brother ever die?'

'Of course not. How could he die? Next question.'

'Does the Brotherhood exist?'

'That, Winston, you will never know. If we choose to set you free when we have finished with you, and if you live to be ninety years old, still you will never learn whether the answer to that question is Yes or No. As long as you live it will be an unsolved riddle in your mind.'

Winston lay silent. His breast rose and fell a little faster. He still had not asked the question that had come into his mind the first. He had got to ask it, and yet it was as though his tongue would not utter it. There was a trace of amusement in O'Brien's face. Even his spectacles seemed to wear an ironical gleam. He knows, thought Winston suddenly, he knows what I am going to ask! At the thought the words burst out of him:

'What is in Room 101?'

The expression on O'Brien's face did not change. He answered drily:

'You know what is in Room 101, Winston. Everyone knows what is in Room 101.'

He raised a finger to the man in the white coat. Evidently the session was at an end. A needle jerked into Winston's arm. He sank almost instantly into deep sleep.

an improvement on water

Aumenta tu aprecio por la(s) cosa(s) esencial(es) de nuestra existencia mortal.

Accurate thought

In his lonely solitude, the solitary man feeds upon himself; in the thronging multitude, the many feed upon him. Now choose.

Friedrich Nietzsche

fear the priest

"And how long are you planning to stay?" asked the priest.

The head jerked up from the pillow, contorted in rage as it roared, "Until the piglet dies!"
And then as suddenly, Regan settled back into a thick-lipped, drooling grin. "Incidentally, what an excellent day for an exorcism, Karras."


The sardonic eyes were staring piercingly. "Do begin it soon. Very soon."

Inconsistent. Something off here. "You would like that?"

"Intensely."

"But wouldn't that drive you out of Reagn?"

The demon put its head back, cackling maniacally, then broke off. "It would bring us together."

"You and Regan?"

"You and us, my good friend," croaked the demon.
"You and us."






Being my first post on this illustrious blog, I felt I should make a statement.
The Exorcist is in. 24/7.

La "guagua" y el "bebé"

Mechuque 2006

Todo comenzó como una inocua tertulia chilota...



Horas después, las palabras sobran...

Hojas verdes....

"Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?" said the corporal who could take shorthand reading from his steno pad.
"All right," said the colonel. "Just what the hell did you mean?"
"I didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."
"When," asked the colonel.
"When what, sir?"
"Now you're asking me questions again."
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand your question."
"When didn't you say we couldn't punish you? Don't you understand my question?"
"No, sir, I don't understand."
"You've just told us that. Now suppose you answer my question."
"But how can I answer it?"
"That's another question you're asking me."
"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't know how to answer it. I never said you couldn't punish me."
"Now you're telling us what you did say. I'm asking you to tell us when you didn't say it."
Clevinger took a deep breath. "I always didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."
"That's much better, Mr. Clevinger, even though it's a bare-faced lie. Didn't you whisper that we couldn't punish you to that other dirty son of a bitch we don't like? What's his name?"
"Yossarian, sir," Lieutenant Scheisskopf said.
"Yes, Yossarian. That's right. Yossarian. Yossarian? Is that his name? Yossarian? What the hell kind of name is Yossarian?"
Lieutenant Scheisskopf had the facts at his fingertips. "It's Yossarian's name, sir," he explained.

"Yes I suppose it is. Didn't you whisper to Yossarian that we couldn't punish you?"
"Oh, no, sir. I whispered to him that you couldn't find me guilty-"
"I may be stupid," interrupted the colonel, "but the distinction escapes me. I guess I'm pretty stupid, because the distinction escapes me."
"W-"
"You're a windy son of bitch, aren't you? Nobody asked you for clarification and you're giving me clarification. I was making a statement, not asking for clarification. You're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?"
"No, sir."
"No, sir? Are you calling me a goddam liar?"
"Oh, no, sir."
"Then you're a windy son of a bitch aren't you?"
"No, sir."
"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
"No, sir."
"Are you a windy son of a bitch?"
"No, sir."
"Goddamit, you are trying to pick a fight with me. For two stinking cents I'd jump over this big fat table and rip your stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb."
"Do it! Do it!" cried Major Metcalf.
"Metcalf, you stinking son of a bitch. Didn't I tell you to keep you stinking, cowardly, stupid mouth shut?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir."
"Then suppose you do it."
"I was only trying to learn, sir. The only way a person can learn is by trying."
"Who says so?"
"Everybody says so, sir. Even Lieutenant Scheisskopf says so."
"Do you say so?"
"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Scheisskopf. "But everybody says so."

"Well, Metcalf, suppose you try keeping that stupid mouth of yours shut,and maybe that's the way you learn how. Now where were we? Read me back the last line."
"'Read me back the last line,'" read back the corporal who could take shorthand.
"Not my last line, stupid!" the colonel shouted. "Somebody else's."
"'Read me back the last line,'" read back the corporal.
"That's my last line again!" shrieked the colonel, turning purple with anger.
"Oh, no, sir," corrected the corporal. "That's my last line. I read it to you just a moment ago. Don't you remember, sir? It was only a moment ago."
"Oh, my God! Read me back his last line, stupid. Say, what the hell's your name, anyway?"
"Popinjay, sir."
"Well, you're next, Popinjay. As soon as this trial ends, your trial begins. Get it?"
"Yes, sir. What will he be charged with?"
"What the hell difference does that make? Did you hear what he asked me? You're going to learn, Popinjay - the minute we finish with Clevinger you're going to learn. Cadet Clevinger, what did - You are Cadet Clevinger, aren't you, and not Popinjay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. What did-"
"I'm Popinjay, sir."
"Popinjay. Is your father a millionaire, or a member of the Senate?"
"No, sir."
"Then you're up shit creek, Popinjay, without a paddle.He's not a general or a high-ranking member of the Administration, is he?"
"No, sir."
"That's good. What does your father do?"
"He's dead, sir."
"That's very good. You really are up the creek, Popinjay. Is Popinjay really your name? Just what the hell kind of name is Popinjay, anyway? I don't like it."
"It's Popinjay''s name, sir," Lieutenant Scheisskopf explained.

vacaciones 2007

Propongo Brasil. El viaje a Roma a ver a Orange lo dejamos para mas adelante.

dead

estoy clínicamente muerto hasta el viernes (renovación...). quizás por ahí puede salir algo. de momento mi casa paterna está desocupada...podemos hacer quizás tarde de piscina en ella... yo me encargo del agua....ustedes de la birra.
Dios es grande y nos bendice con nubes de vez en cuando...eso me hace feliz...al menos momentáneamente.

Demencia absoluta...

--Yossarian looked at him soberly and tried another approach. "Is Orr crazy?"
"He sure is," Doc Daneeka said.
"Can you ground him?"
"I sure can but first he has to ask me to. That's part of the rule."
"Then why doesn't he ask you to?"
"Because he's crazy," Doc Daneeka said. "He has to be crazy to keep flying combat missions after all the close calls he's had. Sure I can ground Orr. But first he has to ask me to."
"That's all he has to do to be grounded?"
"That's all. Let him ask me."
"And then you can ground him?" Yossarian asked.
"No, then I can't ground him."
"You mean there's a catch?"
"Sure there is a catch," Doc Daneeka replied. "Catch-22. Anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy."
There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, that specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane, he had to fly them. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of the clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.
"That's some catch, that Catch-22," he observed.
"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka replied.--

El mundo sin sostén

Volví. Estoy en Santiago, no sé por cuánto tiempo... pero acá estoy.

Tuve la dicha de ver a NM, OE y FG. A RB lo llamé a Otoñal pero no contestó nadie. Llámame para que nos juntemos.

JP: Vámonos a cualquier parte. ¿Frutillar? Me parece bien.

Amigos, tengo más ganas que nunca de no hacer nada... pero un examen de grado se aproxima. Me inquietaron las palabras de Joe: El trabajo no se acaba, es para siempre, siempre hay otras metas... ¡Arghhhhh! ¿Existe alguna otra opción?

En fin, el motivo de mi post es para recomendarles (a quienes de verdad confían en mi criterio) que se lean un libro: La Rebelión de Atlas, de Ayn Rand. Después de leerlo van a amar más la libertad y van a ser más egoístas. ¿Cómo se canaliza eso? Independizándose. Atlas es el dios que sostiene al mundo, ¿qué pasa si se rebela y deja de sostenerlo?

Un abrazo.