"Developing enterprise-scale applications today requires an approach to software architecture that helps architects evolve their solutions in flexible ways. This approach should permit reuse of existing efforts in the context of new capabilities that implement business functionality in a timely fashion, even as the target infrastructure itself is evolving"
Badabing World! The Struggle Continues! For Clear Communication! For Life! For Breath of Fresh Air! For badabing and BadaBing! For Peekaboo Moments of Clarity! For Love.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Thursday, February 05, 2004
What if the eyes can't see?
" Lear.
O, ho, are you there with me? No
eyes in your head, nor no money in your
purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your
purse in a light: yet you see how this world
goes.
Gloucester
I see it feelingly.
Lear
What, art mad? A man may see
how this world goes with no eyes. Look with
thine ears: see how yond justice rails upon
yond simple thief. Hark, in thine ear: change
places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice,
which is the thief? Thou hast seen a
farmer's dog bark at a beggar?"
William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act IV, Scene VI:
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Where in Amerika is Captain Brierly these days?
' "Ay, sir, Captain Brierly will be remembered here, if there's no
other place on earth. I wrote fully to his father and did not get a
word in reply--neither Thank you, nor Go to the devil!--nothing!
Perhaps they did not want to know."
'The sight of that watery-eyed old Jones mopping his bald head
with a red cotton handkerchief, the sorrowing yelp of the dog, the
squalor of that fly-blown cuddy which was the only shrine of his
memory, threw a veil of inexpressibly mean pathos over Brierly's
remembered figure, the posthumous revenge of fate for that belief
in his own splendour which had almost cheated his life of its legitimate
terrors. Almost! Perhaps wholly. Who can tell what flattering
view he had induced himself to take of his own suicide?
' "Why did he commit the rash act, Captain Marlow--can you
think?" asked Jones, pressing his palms together. "Why? It beats
me! Why?" He slapped his low and wrinkled forehead. "If he had
been poor and old and in debt--and never a show--or else mad.
But he wasn't of the kind that goes mad, not he. You trust me.
What a mate don't know about his skipper isn't worth knowing.
Young, healthy, well off, no cares. . . . I sit here sometimes thinking,
thinking, till my head fairly begins to buzz. There was some reason."
' "You may depend on it, Captain Jones," said I, "it wasn't
anything that would have disturbed much either of us two," I said;
and then, as if a light had been flashed into the muddle of his brain,
poor old Jones found a last word of amazing profundity. He blew
his nose, nodding at me dolefully: "Ay, ay! neither you nor I, sir,
had ever thought so much of ourselves."
- Chapter 6 from "Lord Jim" by Joseph Conrad
To think so much of yourself never to be able to just be yourself, the way you are, the way you are not. Cheating life of its opportunity to let you know that life itself is your greatest partner in what so many times seems to be a bloody fight of mere daily existence.
Yet the formidable opponent is but a cloaked friend for should you ever know his true nature you might want to stop your daily toilings and give up, and then cheat life itself from the opportunity to be engaged with you.
Let the mystery stand then. Let the blood be spilled and to the end keep giving up the desire to know. In not knowing there is a space to breathe and continue the conversation.
So, don't be like Captain Brierly my friend, that narcissistic motherfucker.
Friday, January 30, 2004
Quixote and Sancho Conversationalists
Hello all Conversationalists of Planet Earth
(yes, it's still called planet Earth but known only as such to poor children of Ethiopia. To the rest of us known as Underdeveloped Land with Real Estate boom potential)
Anyway, the following from Terry Castel about Cervantes in The Atlantic. and I repeat it here for you, all you conversationalists thus attempting to save us from the lunacy of shared barren landspace of Amerikan Kultural Landscape.
"Cervantes had a faith in conversation, in paying attention to others, in bonding with strangers, in speaking, reading, and writing across all kinds of human barriers. The sharing of stories—stories of real life, not the fabrications of romance—had the power, he grasped, to assuage madness, loneliness, and pain. Quixote and Sancho are great, life-saving conversationalists. Their friendship lives on and dilates in the absurd, meandering, yet touching debates they have with each other. At bottom both seem to want to prolong their chivalrous adventures precisely in order to prolong the pleasures of listening and speaking, speaking and listening. And in turn they speak—and listen with attention—to every "noble stranger" they meet on the road.
In the fantasy of shared authorship Cervantes would seem to allegorize a broader vision of human fellowship. Hearing another voice, taking in another's story, is the essential thing—the humanizing component in an otherwise bleak landscape. It saves us from our lunacy and pride, both personal and cultural. "
Let our BadaBing save us from the personal lunacy and our Peekaboo! from our Cultural Lunacy and Stupid Pride.
(yes, it's still called planet Earth but known only as such to poor children of Ethiopia. To the rest of us known as Underdeveloped Land with Real Estate boom potential)
Anyway, the following from Terry Castel about Cervantes in The Atlantic. and I repeat it here for you, all you conversationalists thus attempting to save us from the lunacy of shared barren landspace of Amerikan Kultural Landscape.
"Cervantes had a faith in conversation, in paying attention to others, in bonding with strangers, in speaking, reading, and writing across all kinds of human barriers. The sharing of stories—stories of real life, not the fabrications of romance—had the power, he grasped, to assuage madness, loneliness, and pain. Quixote and Sancho are great, life-saving conversationalists. Their friendship lives on and dilates in the absurd, meandering, yet touching debates they have with each other. At bottom both seem to want to prolong their chivalrous adventures precisely in order to prolong the pleasures of listening and speaking, speaking and listening. And in turn they speak—and listen with attention—to every "noble stranger" they meet on the road.
In the fantasy of shared authorship Cervantes would seem to allegorize a broader vision of human fellowship. Hearing another voice, taking in another's story, is the essential thing—the humanizing component in an otherwise bleak landscape. It saves us from our lunacy and pride, both personal and cultural. "
Let our BadaBing save us from the personal lunacy and our Peekaboo! from our Cultural Lunacy and Stupid Pride.
Monday, January 26, 2004
What's practical about Love?
I fell in love. - There I was minding my own life. Scratching my ass from time to time. Caughing. Eating. Sleeping. Having Sex. Jerking Off. Some more eating and some more sleeping and some driving to work and back from work and going to the store and paying my bills and listening to music and reading books. All this time not knowing why I had such a hard time falling asleep. Not wanting to get up in the morning. And then I fell in love. So impractical. So impractical.
I fell into an impractical life. Being in Love type of impractical life. Worst Practices Type of Impractical Life. - Yes, definitely worst practice and did I mention how impractical? So impractical.
I have also seen the end of my life tonight. It was very impractical. Perhaps more impractical than falling in love. The end of my life was that it wasn't there any more. I died. There I was no more. Very impractical way to be, no? So maybe falling in love is much less impractical than being dead. I think I will stick with falling in love. Falling by itself is impractical too. Standing would be more solid, more practical but when you keep on standing the view never changes around you. It's like being dead. So falling in love may be the opposite of being dead, the opposite of standing. Anyway, I was just amusing myself with these impractical notions of putting words together, word after word typed up in a string of letters with spaces. Yes. I did fall in love. So impractical.
I fell into an impractical life. Being in Love type of impractical life. Worst Practices Type of Impractical Life. - Yes, definitely worst practice and did I mention how impractical? So impractical.
I have also seen the end of my life tonight. It was very impractical. Perhaps more impractical than falling in love. The end of my life was that it wasn't there any more. I died. There I was no more. Very impractical way to be, no? So maybe falling in love is much less impractical than being dead. I think I will stick with falling in love. Falling by itself is impractical too. Standing would be more solid, more practical but when you keep on standing the view never changes around you. It's like being dead. So falling in love may be the opposite of being dead, the opposite of standing. Anyway, I was just amusing myself with these impractical notions of putting words together, word after word typed up in a string of letters with spaces. Yes. I did fall in love. So impractical.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Reusable Construction Materials for Humans
I have already posted a couple of quotes from Joseph Conrad's "Notes on Life and Letters" and having read the volume (online, thanks to Project Gutenberg I would like to quote one more passage if you allow me. This passage sums up for me why I love writers like Joseph Conrad, not only because he was born Polish, like me; not because english is his second language, as is mine; perhaps because in this passage taken from the author's introduction to this volume of scribblings from 1898 to 1920 one can not help but to see a man fully aware of the passing of life, fragile skeleton we all build with our relationships to others, the others' skeletons of life; and then to know that our constructions were only a mere temporary housing for the humanity we only have had glimpses of, and perhaps some of our pieces of construction material and methods shall be used as building blocks for others that will come after us to afford them better glimpses of humanity within themeslves, chance will tell.
"This volume (including these embarrassed introductory remarks) is
as near as I shall ever come to DESHABILLE in public; and perhaps
it will do something to help towards a better vision of the man, if
it gives no more than a partial view of a piece of his back, a
little dusty (after the process of tidying up), a little bowed, and
receding from the world not because of weariness or misanthropy but
for other reasons that cannot be helped: because the leaves fall,
the water flows, the clock ticks with that horrid pitiless
solemnity which you must have observed in the ticking of the hall
clock at home. For reasons like that. Yes! It recedes. And this
was the chance to afford one more view of it--even to my own eyes"
~ get the text at gutenberg.net
"This volume (including these embarrassed introductory remarks) is
as near as I shall ever come to DESHABILLE in public; and perhaps
it will do something to help towards a better vision of the man, if
it gives no more than a partial view of a piece of his back, a
little dusty (after the process of tidying up), a little bowed, and
receding from the world not because of weariness or misanthropy but
for other reasons that cannot be helped: because the leaves fall,
the water flows, the clock ticks with that horrid pitiless
solemnity which you must have observed in the ticking of the hall
clock at home. For reasons like that. Yes! It recedes. And this
was the chance to afford one more view of it--even to my own eyes"
~ get the text at gutenberg.net
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Brothers in Arms. Sisters of Avalon. Get to Work.
"Work is the law. Like iron that lying idle degenerates into a
mass of useless rust, like water that in an unruffled pool sickens
into a stagnant and corrupt state, so without action the spirit of
men turns to a dead thing, loses its force, ceases prompting us to
leave some trace of ourselves on this earth." The sense of the
above lines does not belong to me. It may be found in the note-
books of one of the greatest artists that ever lived, Leonardo da
Vinci. It has a simplicity and a truth which no amount of subtle
comment can destroy.
The Master who had meditated so deeply on the rebirth of arts and
sciences, on the inward beauty of all things,--ships' lines,
women's faces--and on the visible aspects of nature was profoundly
right in his pronouncement on the work that is done on the earth.
From the hard work of men are born the sympathetic consciousness of
a common destiny, the fidelity to right practice which makes great
craftsmen, the sense of right conduct which we may call honour, the
devotion to our calling and the idealism which is not a misty,
winged angel without eyes, but a divine figure of terrestrial
aspect with a clear glance and with its feet resting firmly on the
earth on which it was born.
And work will overcome all evil, except ignorance, which is the
condition of humanity and, like the ambient air, fills the space
between the various sorts and conditions of men, which breeds
hatred, fear, and contempt between the masses of mankind, and puts
on men's lips, on their innocent lips, words that are thoughtless
and vain."
~ Joseph Conrad on Tradition
There is work to be done. An Honourable Tradition. A BadaBing work of Entropy Reversals.
mass of useless rust, like water that in an unruffled pool sickens
into a stagnant and corrupt state, so without action the spirit of
men turns to a dead thing, loses its force, ceases prompting us to
leave some trace of ourselves on this earth." The sense of the
above lines does not belong to me. It may be found in the note-
books of one of the greatest artists that ever lived, Leonardo da
Vinci. It has a simplicity and a truth which no amount of subtle
comment can destroy.
The Master who had meditated so deeply on the rebirth of arts and
sciences, on the inward beauty of all things,--ships' lines,
women's faces--and on the visible aspects of nature was profoundly
right in his pronouncement on the work that is done on the earth.
From the hard work of men are born the sympathetic consciousness of
a common destiny, the fidelity to right practice which makes great
craftsmen, the sense of right conduct which we may call honour, the
devotion to our calling and the idealism which is not a misty,
winged angel without eyes, but a divine figure of terrestrial
aspect with a clear glance and with its feet resting firmly on the
earth on which it was born.
And work will overcome all evil, except ignorance, which is the
condition of humanity and, like the ambient air, fills the space
between the various sorts and conditions of men, which breeds
hatred, fear, and contempt between the masses of mankind, and puts
on men's lips, on their innocent lips, words that are thoughtless
and vain."
~ Joseph Conrad on Tradition
There is work to be done. An Honourable Tradition. A BadaBing work of Entropy Reversals.
Sunday, January 04, 2004
Writing & Blogging
"Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of -- but do it in private, and wash your hands afterwards." -- R. Heinlein
Friday, January 02, 2004
On Action and Voice
"Action in its essence, the creative art of a writer of fiction may
be compared to rescue work carried out in darkness against cross
gusts of wind swaying the action of a great multitude. It is
rescue work, this snatching of vanishing phases of turbulence,
disguised in fair words, out of the native obscurity into a light
where the struggling forms may be seen, seized upon, endowed with
the only possible form of permanence in this world of relative
values--the permanence of memory. And the multitude feels it
obscurely too; since the demand of the individual to the artist is,
in effect, the cry, "Take me out of myself!" meaning really, out of
my perishable activity into the light of imperishable
consciousness. But everything is relative, and the light of
consciousness is only enduring, merely the most enduring of the
things of this earth, imperishable only as against the short-lived
work of our industrious hands.
When the last aqueduct shall have crumbled to pieces, the last
airship fallen to the ground, the last blade of grass have died
upon a dying earth, man, indomitable by his training in resistance
to misery and pain, shall set this undiminished light of his eyes
against the feeble glow of the sun. The artistic faculty, of which
each of us has a minute grain, may find its voice in some
individual of that last group, gifted with a power of expression
and courageous enough to interpret the ultimate experience of
mankind in terms of his temperament, in terms of art. I do not
mean to say that he would attempt to beguile the last moments of
humanity by an ingenious tale. It would be too much to expect--
from humanity. I doubt the heroism of the hearers. As to the
heroism of the artist, no doubt is necessary. There would be on
his part no heroism. The artist in his calling of interpreter
creates (the clearest form of demonstration) because he must. He
is so much of a voice that, for him, silence is like death; and the
postulate was, that there is a group alive, clustered on his
threshold to watch the last flicker of light on a black sky, to
hear the last word uttered in the stilled workshop of the earth.
It is safe to affirm that, if anybody, it will be the imaginative
man who would be moved to speak on the eve of that day without to-
morrow--whether in austere exhortation or in a phrase of sardonic
comment, who can guess?"
From "HENRY JAMES--AN APPRECIATION--1905" by Joseph Conrad.
be compared to rescue work carried out in darkness against cross
gusts of wind swaying the action of a great multitude. It is
rescue work, this snatching of vanishing phases of turbulence,
disguised in fair words, out of the native obscurity into a light
where the struggling forms may be seen, seized upon, endowed with
the only possible form of permanence in this world of relative
values--the permanence of memory. And the multitude feels it
obscurely too; since the demand of the individual to the artist is,
in effect, the cry, "Take me out of myself!" meaning really, out of
my perishable activity into the light of imperishable
consciousness. But everything is relative, and the light of
consciousness is only enduring, merely the most enduring of the
things of this earth, imperishable only as against the short-lived
work of our industrious hands.
When the last aqueduct shall have crumbled to pieces, the last
airship fallen to the ground, the last blade of grass have died
upon a dying earth, man, indomitable by his training in resistance
to misery and pain, shall set this undiminished light of his eyes
against the feeble glow of the sun. The artistic faculty, of which
each of us has a minute grain, may find its voice in some
individual of that last group, gifted with a power of expression
and courageous enough to interpret the ultimate experience of
mankind in terms of his temperament, in terms of art. I do not
mean to say that he would attempt to beguile the last moments of
humanity by an ingenious tale. It would be too much to expect--
from humanity. I doubt the heroism of the hearers. As to the
heroism of the artist, no doubt is necessary. There would be on
his part no heroism. The artist in his calling of interpreter
creates (the clearest form of demonstration) because he must. He
is so much of a voice that, for him, silence is like death; and the
postulate was, that there is a group alive, clustered on his
threshold to watch the last flicker of light on a black sky, to
hear the last word uttered in the stilled workshop of the earth.
It is safe to affirm that, if anybody, it will be the imaginative
man who would be moved to speak on the eve of that day without to-
morrow--whether in austere exhortation or in a phrase of sardonic
comment, who can guess?"
From "HENRY JAMES--AN APPRECIATION--1905" by Joseph Conrad.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
The skill of blogging
"The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think."
~ Edwin Schlossberg
The skill of blogging is to create a context in which other people can blog.
~ Edwin Schlossberg
The skill of blogging is to create a context in which other people can blog.
Jesus Bunker Messiness at Joho Blog
"I always like weblogs being a perfect messiness of life unfolding in real time. Love and hate and petty theft and flame wars and civic movements and complaints and love affairs and crying and death and beer drinking. All faces of humanity all at once in real time. Quite overwhelming it seems. That messiness of life. Pretty fucking exciting. I hope we can sustain this messiness for a long time before somebody starts writing dissertations on blogging and what it is and what it all means.
I would vote to keep the messiness going. Let's see some more humanity at play. Some more exploring, endless not-knowing of rediscovery of seemingly well known life lived in real time before somebody writes 'Definitive Guide to Blogging'.
Some think it's anarchy but it's just freedom to have one's voice speak back to us again after it was initially expressed. A chance to step in the same spot in the river one more time and fall in love with the world again. "
Jesus Bunker Notes commenting at Joho the Blog
Keep the Messiness Going!
I would vote to keep the messiness going. Let's see some more humanity at play. Some more exploring, endless not-knowing of rediscovery of seemingly well known life lived in real time before somebody writes 'Definitive Guide to Blogging'.
Some think it's anarchy but it's just freedom to have one's voice speak back to us again after it was initially expressed. A chance to step in the same spot in the river one more time and fall in love with the world again. "
Jesus Bunker Notes commenting at Joho the Blog
Keep the Messiness Going!
Monday, December 22, 2003
If value's only measure is Money then we are Fucked as a society
"(...) I'm 43 years old, I have five children, the youngest son is 10 now. (...) I'm very glad that finally someone has thought about women, who have drudged for many years receiving nothing in return from the state, government. Nobody, in any government, has thought about us, mothers, who dedicated years, twenty in my case, for bringing up children, for family.
You write that a woman at home works from 4 to 9 hours a day. I worked for 17 hours and not always slept nights. You know how it is with infants and small children.
Right now I look for a job but I can't find it anywhere. Either I'm too old or a break (I worked 25 years ago in a glassworks in Poznañ) is too long. I finished vocational school but I didn't have a chance to decide about my life, the decisions were taken for me.
Like they say, I'm in the lurch. I feel useless and without a penny. My husband is the only family's provider. Now there are six of us because my son got married and so did a daughter. It has been very difficult for us. No government has done anything for us, mothers.
I don't know, maybe it would have been better if I left my children without care, for a street to raise them. I would have then years of work and money, though I don't know what would have happened to my children.
I do have a little hope that the foundation will achieve its goal and will help poor Polish mothers. I would like to support you but I feel helpless. (...) "
by El¿bieta, Gniezno
You write that a woman at home works from 4 to 9 hours a day. I worked for 17 hours and not always slept nights. You know how it is with infants and small children.
Right now I look for a job but I can't find it anywhere. Either I'm too old or a break (I worked 25 years ago in a glassworks in Poznañ) is too long. I finished vocational school but I didn't have a chance to decide about my life, the decisions were taken for me.
Like they say, I'm in the lurch. I feel useless and without a penny. My husband is the only family's provider. Now there are six of us because my son got married and so did a daughter. It has been very difficult for us. No government has done anything for us, mothers.
I don't know, maybe it would have been better if I left my children without care, for a street to raise them. I would have then years of work and money, though I don't know what would have happened to my children.
I do have a little hope that the foundation will achieve its goal and will help poor Polish mothers. I would like to support you but I feel helpless. (...) "
by El¿bieta, Gniezno
Women Finding Their Voices
We decided to do something about it. DONE - PAID, we call it. We run a campaign called "WOMEN'S HOUSEWORK - HOW TO REWARD IT?" When we write to politicians we use the same wise words that are used on international conferences. We say that productive and reproductive work must be treated equally. That women working at home should have a right to a pension, somebody should pay a pension contribution for them, think about fixed salary. Think about different taxing for women working both at home and outside it, maybe give them more tax-free income. Everything - considering macroeconomic effects of these actions.
It's hard to talk about it publicly. Our civilisation is based on the myth about Eve being created from Adam's rib. So a woman is a part of a man, is second, is worse. Erich Fromm, who was investigating the prechristian myth about the fall of Mother of Everything - Goddess Tiamat said: "Six thousand years ago patriarchy conquered a woman - society was based on a male domination. Women became man's property and they had to be grateful for every concession made by him" .Our "gratitude" often leads us towards feminism. But still, forced to choose between the left and the right, we can't find our own voice
The right wants to close us at homes, make us always-caring housewives, kissed on a hand and given a faded flower on Mother's Day. The left shouts that we must be active, we must learn and work, work, work - if we want to be free. And we between the two sides - confused, shouted down, uncertain. All we really want is the right to choose. To choose the way we want to live. Do we want to be at home and take care of our family? Do we want a career? Or do we want to connect these two things in a way suitable for each one of us? Politicians should just make sure that economic system doesn't choose instead of us."
by Anna Mieszczanek in Polish magazine for women "Zwierciad³o" ("Mirror"))
Thanks for writing Anna. My sincerest BadaBing to you.
It's hard to talk about it publicly. Our civilisation is based on the myth about Eve being created from Adam's rib. So a woman is a part of a man, is second, is worse. Erich Fromm, who was investigating the prechristian myth about the fall of Mother of Everything - Goddess Tiamat said: "Six thousand years ago patriarchy conquered a woman - society was based on a male domination. Women became man's property and they had to be grateful for every concession made by him" .Our "gratitude" often leads us towards feminism. But still, forced to choose between the left and the right, we can't find our own voice
The right wants to close us at homes, make us always-caring housewives, kissed on a hand and given a faded flower on Mother's Day. The left shouts that we must be active, we must learn and work, work, work - if we want to be free. And we between the two sides - confused, shouted down, uncertain. All we really want is the right to choose. To choose the way we want to live. Do we want to be at home and take care of our family? Do we want a career? Or do we want to connect these two things in a way suitable for each one of us? Politicians should just make sure that economic system doesn't choose instead of us."
by Anna Mieszczanek in Polish magazine for women "Zwierciad³o" ("Mirror"))
Thanks for writing Anna. My sincerest BadaBing to you.
Woman is the nigger of the world. Better scream about it.
"We make her paint her face and dance
If she won’t be slave, we say that she don’t love us
If she’s real, we say she’s trying to be a man
While putting her down we pretend that she is above us
We make her bear and raise our children
And then we leave her flat for being a fat old mother then
We tell her home is the only place she would be
Then we complain that she’s too unworldly to be our friend
Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is
If you don’t belive me take a look to the one you’re with
Woman is the slaves of the slaves
Ah yeah...better screem about it"
~ John Lennon
If she won’t be slave, we say that she don’t love us
If she’s real, we say she’s trying to be a man
While putting her down we pretend that she is above us
We make her bear and raise our children
And then we leave her flat for being a fat old mother then
We tell her home is the only place she would be
Then we complain that she’s too unworldly to be our friend
Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is
If you don’t belive me take a look to the one you’re with
Woman is the slaves of the slaves
Ah yeah...better screem about it"
~ John Lennon
Women's house work - How it should be rewarded?
"Day by day, no matter we work either out of home or not, we work in house. Not for money.
Our husbands or partners, our children are given that way free of any costs a lot - not only our love and care. They are given also very concrete "goods and services" in the economical terms. All that, what has been delivered from the shop, washed, cooked, cleaned, tidy-managed, planned, working as in efficient enterprise.
That's the rule: When people get something for free, they tend not to treat that seriously. They do not make any value of that. They do not treat this seriously up to the end. They disrespect. Our domestic co-habitants have their ultimate assurance that always, no matter what happen, we will lead our house works, everything what is necessary to do in the house. Sometimes maybe we cry or shout a little.
If we by ourselves start to think and talk about our house job as something what is valuable, after some good time also our families start to think about this that way."
more at "Done-Paid" or Women's Housework campaign
Our husbands or partners, our children are given that way free of any costs a lot - not only our love and care. They are given also very concrete "goods and services" in the economical terms. All that, what has been delivered from the shop, washed, cooked, cleaned, tidy-managed, planned, working as in efficient enterprise.
That's the rule: When people get something for free, they tend not to treat that seriously. They do not make any value of that. They do not treat this seriously up to the end. They disrespect. Our domestic co-habitants have their ultimate assurance that always, no matter what happen, we will lead our house works, everything what is necessary to do in the house. Sometimes maybe we cry or shout a little.
If we by ourselves start to think and talk about our house job as something what is valuable, after some good time also our families start to think about this that way."
more at "Done-Paid" or Women's Housework campaign
Friday, December 19, 2003
Another Day in the Toiletless Empire
"The Romans managed to provide sanitation for people thousands of years ago, and yet millions of people today still do not have access to a toilet."
...from "Global trade keeps a billion children in poverty":
Amerikan BadaBing to You, the Toiletless Majority of Planet Earth.
...from "Global trade keeps a billion children in poverty":
Amerikan BadaBing to You, the Toiletless Majority of Planet Earth.
Strong Signal from All Noise All The Time
Rageboy's Signal : "It is my contention, demonstrated fairly well here I think, that the New Age, of which Steiner is a shining pillar, is not merely fucked in part -- say, due to some of the more weirdball practices it's so easy to make fun of -- but that it is fucked in toto (and your little dog, too!), from the ground up and the sky down. As above so below. And it is my contention, moreover, that narcissism is not merely an unfortunate error on the part of those Seekers a bit too zealous in their lofty pursuit of 'self-knowledge,' but that it is the very goal and grail of all this self-important self-referential self-absorbedly numinous Gnostic Nosferatu-lookalike New Age horse shit."
Thursday, December 18, 2003
Stephen Greenblatt on Rabelais and carnival
Stephen Greenblatt on Rabelais and carnival: "Festive laughter - popular, universal, ambivalent in its triumph and derision, gaiety and degradation - has at its center what Bakhtin calls the 'grotesque body,' ever unfinished, ever creating, ever exceeding its limits in copulation, pregnancy, childbirth, dying, eating, drinking, and defecating. The grotesque body - open to the world in all its orifices, unbounded, abusive, devouring, and nurturing - receives its fullest visual representation in the art of Bosch and Breughel, its most masterful literary expression in Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel. Rabelais's scatology, Bakhtin suggests, must be understood in the context of rituals like the mock mass, in which excrement was used instead of incense, or processions in which the festive clergy, eating boudins, rode in carts loaded with dung and tossed it at the crowd"
Forgotten Miss Sarajevo
"Here she comes, beauty plays the clown
Here she comes, surreal in her crown "
Miss Sarajevo - by The Passengers:
And the night is set to freeze
Here she comes, surreal in her crown "
Miss Sarajevo - by The Passengers:
And the night is set to freeze
Not Cool but Not Wroffle Yet
"Elvis...with God on his knees
Elvis...owned three TVs
Here come the killer bees Head full of honey potato chips and cheese
Elvis...the bumper stickers
Elvis...the white knickers
Elvis...the white nigger
Ate at king burger and just kept getting bigger
Elvis...sang to win
Elvis...the battle hymn
Elvis...the battle to be slim
Elvis ate America before America ate him"
U2 - Elvis Ate America lyrics:
Not Cool but Not Wroffle Yet
Elvis...owned three TVs
Here come the killer bees Head full of honey potato chips and cheese
Elvis...the bumper stickers
Elvis...the white knickers
Elvis...the white nigger
Ate at king burger and just kept getting bigger
Elvis...sang to win
Elvis...the battle hymn
Elvis...the battle to be slim
Elvis ate America before America ate him"
U2 - Elvis Ate America lyrics:
Not Cool but Not Wroffle Yet
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Not Dark Yet. Not Light Yet.
Bob Dylan: Not Dark Yet
"Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain
I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes
I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still"
Not Angst but Not Happiness Yet.
Not Depression but Not Peace Yet.
Not Dark but Not Light Yet.
Not Murder but Not Forgiveness Yet.
Not Animal but Not Human Yet.
Not Mad but Not Crazy Yet
Not Loud but Not Silent Yet
Not Child but Not Adult Yet
Not Jerking Off but Not Fucking Yet
Not Numb but Not Alive Yet
Not Without A Job but Not Employed Yet
Not Alone but Not Lover Yet
Not Tears but Not Laughter Yet
Not Hungry but Not Satified Yet
Not Blogging but Not 404 Yet
And BadaBing to you too motherfuckers!
Hej Koleda, Koleda!!!
"Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain
I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes
I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still"
Not Angst but Not Happiness Yet.
Not Depression but Not Peace Yet.
Not Dark but Not Light Yet.
Not Murder but Not Forgiveness Yet.
Not Animal but Not Human Yet.
Not Mad but Not Crazy Yet
Not Loud but Not Silent Yet
Not Child but Not Adult Yet
Not Jerking Off but Not Fucking Yet
Not Numb but Not Alive Yet
Not Without A Job but Not Employed Yet
Not Alone but Not Lover Yet
Not Tears but Not Laughter Yet
Not Hungry but Not Satified Yet
Not Blogging but Not 404 Yet
And BadaBing to you too motherfuckers!
Hej Koleda, Koleda!!!
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
10 reasons why investors are illiterate
Ten reasons investors would rather stay ignorant: "Most of us just don't care to learn
Please face facts, folks: The vast majority of America's investors fit in one of these 10 categories. And legislation certainly won't change things.
I suppose I could be more tactful and politically correct and say Americans are 'teachable' and 'potentially literate,' but that would be pie-in-the-sky wishful-thinking.
It won't happen. It's not that people can't be taught ... it's that they don't want to be taught. Consequently, the vast majority will fall outside the radar of any well-meaning effort to reach them with an 'investor literacy' program. So why waste more of the taxpayers' good money?"
Please face facts, folks: The vast majority of America's investors fit in one of these 10 categories. And legislation certainly won't change things.
I suppose I could be more tactful and politically correct and say Americans are 'teachable' and 'potentially literate,' but that would be pie-in-the-sky wishful-thinking.
It won't happen. It's not that people can't be taught ... it's that they don't want to be taught. Consequently, the vast majority will fall outside the radar of any well-meaning effort to reach them with an 'investor literacy' program. So why waste more of the taxpayers' good money?"
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Voices from bmoeasy
"The Internet - and I am especially thinking here of blogs, a term I hadn't yet run across in the year 2000 - is a network of particulars: of very singular voices. When I read a 'good' blog I hear a sincere voice. I am engaged by the passion or knowledge or rage of that voice. I am persuaded and seduced. I see the words, the text, the style, and I hear a voice.
When I listen to 'good' radio, I hear a voice. I listen to that voice if it is sincere, if the voice is being truthful - even if , no - especially if - the truth is subjective, if the voice has integrity, passion, knowledge - no matter what the subject. I am uplifted. I am persuaded and seduced. I see a face. I feel I have met someone.
I imagine Better Radio to be a place where the object offered up - the voice - is made subject in my mind. I appropriate that voice, much as I would appropriate the voice of a favorite authour, or musician, or blogger. It informs me at worst - which is nevertheless good., It transforms me at best. I see and hear and feel better.
I seek a better world.
-
bmo"
Like a car crash
"Dressed up like a car crash
Your wheels are turning but you're upside down
You say when he hits you, you don't mind
Because when he hurts you, you feel alive
Hey babe, is that what it is"
U2 Stay (Faraway, So Close!) lyrics:
Stay. Stay.
As an Angel hits the ground.
What a lonely night to be
in the presence of love not lost
and not yet found.
In the jungle of humanity
there is time to find each other
It's not too late
If I could Stay
and I don't have to stop the Time
Stay
Dressed up like a car crash
As an Angel hits the ground
Just a Bang
Rupert?
Who is Rupert? and what is 'watched Survivor'? is it an Alarm clock? And is it possible that Rupert is in fact the Bada Bing conspiracy agitator who stole the Blue Diamond that Stealthy Steve is now going to recover for Mlle. Beaufort.
The plot thickens.
The plot thickens.
Blue Diamond stolen by Bada Bing Conspirators
OnePotMeal: In which Stealthy Steve receives a visitor. Finally a book for us read by Steve. Fire up your MP3s to listen.
Donate to Rupert - the True Survivor
Rosie and Andrew were shocked by the betrayal on Survivor last week when Rupert was thrown off that they asked me to set up a website for him. Here it is:
Donate to Rupert - the True Survivor
Andrew drew the picture.
He made a t-shirt too.
Donate to Rupert - the True Survivor
Andrew drew the picture.
He made a t-shirt too.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
that asshole Dave Winer
Google Search: "that asshole Dave Winer"
This is a test post to increase the count on google for the phrase "that asshole Dave Winer".
Had it been a real post it would have had some more interesting theme to it. A sort of a 'linguistic meat' one could attach one's brain to amuse oneself with the blood flow of one's molecules (or whateverthefuck flows in there anyway).
Thank you. As you were. Go on. Move about. Click on something now.
This is a test post to increase the count on google for the phrase "that asshole Dave Winer".
Had it been a real post it would have had some more interesting theme to it. A sort of a 'linguistic meat' one could attach one's brain to amuse oneself with the blood flow of one's molecules (or whateverthefuck flows in there anyway).
Thank you. As you were. Go on. Move about. Click on something now.
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