Saturday, June 18, 2011

ACTOS ALEATORIOS DE AMABILIDAD

El otro día iba saliendo de la oficina y cuesta abajo me encontré a una de las señoras de limpieza que iba caminando con un montón de chunches, apurada porque ya empezaba a llover. Paré el carro y le dije que si la podía llevar a algún lado... resultó que iba tarde para el Hospital a ver una hija enferma... y yo con mucho gusto, la llevé y la dejé en la mera puerta. La mañana siguiente, me encontré un quequito sobre mi escritorio en agradecimiento. Algo insignificante, pero muy significativo a la vez. Me dije... eso es clase. Y la clase transciende clases sociales e ingresos... la clase es clase... y la verdad muchos la hemos perdido... ¿que le pasó a nuestra clase?







¿Qué nos pasa? ¿Qué nos sucedió? ¿Desde cuando nos convertimos en unos vivazos? ¿Quién nos dijo que cuidado perdemos? Ahora solo queremos colarnos para no esperar en fila... queremos pasar de primeros... no tener que esperar... pasarle por encima a cualquiera... robarnos todo lo que encontremos mal puesto... ganar un super salario ojalá sin trabajar... llegar al trabajo sólo a leer el periódico, tomar café, hablar paja, contar chistes, tontear en Internet, pasar el día prácticamente sin trabajar... pensar en nuestras ganancias sin importar si los otros ganan o no.. 




Nos gusta que nos den regalos, que nos manden correos, chistes y fotos, pero nunca damos regalos nosotros ni mandamos nada de eso a nadie... o a unos si y otros no... queremos recibir todo, sin dar nada... y no queremos dar nada, si no recibimos primero... y pensamos que el hacer feliz a otra persona es ser "lava huevos"... y lo peor es que nos enojamos y nos indignamos cuando alguien nos hace exactamente lo mismo que nosotros le hacemos a los demás... ¿qué nos pasa? 

 

No se vale darle la espalda a quien nos ha ayudado... no se vale no tener un gesto amable... y un gesto no tiene que ser caro ni suntuoso... un gesto puede ser insignificante pero muy significativo... un pedacito de queque, un abrazo, el darle algo a alguien que sabemos que le va a gustar y que no nos pidió, el que nos nazca compartir algo por que sí, incluso un gracias de corazón... una ternura, un cariño... la idea es dejar de ser egoístas... dar aun cuando sabemos que no vamos a ganar nada ni a recibir nada a cambio... dar solo para hacer feliz a otra persona... eso no es ser lava huevos... si hacemos a alguien mas feliz, es posible que otra persona nos devuelva el favor de la manera menos pensada... 



Random Acts of Kindness... actos aleatorios de bondad... acciones desinteresadas, no egoístas, que hacemos voluntariamente para ayudar o hacer feliz a un tercero... por ejemplo, si la persona que esta delante en la fila del supermercado estaba buscando por todos lados los 100 colones que le faltan, ¿que cuesta regalárselos?. Hay muchas veces que los ángeles nos ayudan, es justo y necesario convertirnos en ángeles de vez en cuando...

La idea original es hacerlo con extraños... gente que nos encontramos en la calle... que no conocemos... pero hey... hay algo que no debemos olvidar... los random acts of kindness deben empezar en nuestras casas, con nuestra familia, en nuestros trabajos, con nuestros amigos... pay it forward... un acto de bondad se paga con otro acto de bondad... mas grande o mas pequeño... pero acto de bondad... y asi poco a poco, por el poder de uno, seremos menos vivazos, tendremos mas clase, diremos menos que NO y mas que SI, nos abrazaremos mas, nos besaremos mas, y el mundo sera un mejor lugar donde vivir...




Sunday, June 12, 2011

DEDICATORIAS

1. A LA VIEJA HP Y FUMAROLA DEL SENTRA CAFE

¿Te acuerdas de mí? Yo soy el que te pidió campo para entrar en la pista en medio de la lluvia, el martes pasado a eso de las 5 PM...  pongo manecillas, saco la mano, saco la jupa y hasta un pie.. confío que me vas a dar campo... me alisto para "despegar", y en el ultimo momento me doy cuenta que mas bien aceleraste con alevosía para evitar darme campo ... hablas x tu celular y pretendes que no me viste... que ni siquiera estoy ahí...¿Por qué no me diste campo vieja HP y fumarola? ¿Por que que k me ignoraste? ¿Seré tan chiquitico e insignificante que no me viste? ¿Sera que sólo sos una vieja HP y fumarola que no da campo?



Al rato te vuelvo a encontrar... voy detrás de ti en la presa...vieja HP y fumarola, sigues fumando y hablando x cell en tu Sentra cafe... ¿Te sentis super cool de no haberme dado campo? ¿Te sentis super cool fumando y hablando por cell en tu perol cafe?  Tu perol es mas perol que el mio...¿No sabes que es prohibido hablar por celular cuando manejas? ¿No te puedes comprar un manos libres en lugar de tus cigarros? Si quieres ser fumarola y morirte de cáncer, allá vos... pero por lo menos, ten compasión de los otros pobres idiotas que solo queremos llegar a casa en medio de la lluvia... y que te pedimos campo para entrar en la pista ¿Quien seras maldita vieja HP y fumarola del Sentra cafe?




2. A LA VIEJA GORDA INCOMODA Y ESTORBOSA DE LA MISA DE HOY

Llegas 20 minutos tarde... adelante hay bancas semi desocupadas... pero quieres sentarte en nuestra banca... que ya está bastante llena... aún así me corro.. casi aplasto a mi hijo por darte campo... estamos todos incómodos por tí.. y se me revuelve el estomago del pacholi tan apestoso que usas... y aun me reclamas... que necesitas mas campo... que me corra... y reclamas cuando te digo que ya no puedo correrme más... y pasas toda la misa tirando indirectas y suspirando...


Mira,  yo no tengo la culpa que llegues 20 minutos tarde. Yo llego casi 20 minutos antes de la misa para coger el campo que necesito... para estar comodo.... yo no tengo la culpa que llegues en unos zapatos incomodos y te duelan los pies. Te recomiendo ir a misa con zapatos comodos... Yo no tengo la culpa que, habiendo campo en otras bancas, escojas sentarte donde ya no habia campo... y que haya una pendiente en el piso que te moleste... yo estaba feliz en mi pendiente y no molestaba a nadie.... y si tu estabas incomoda, ¿Por qué no te sentaste en otro lugar?... y si querias que los demas se corrieran, se apretujaran, se encaramaran para que tu no tuvieras que estar en tu pendiente incomoda que tu escogiste... ¿Por qué esperas que yo les pida que se corran? ¿Por qué no lo haces tu, en lugar de reclamarme y mandarme indirectas toda la misa? ¿Por qué no me dejas en paz y te vas a sentar en otro lado donde haya campo?




3. A MIS QUERIDOS ACREEDORES

A todos los gamberros que bretean en Credomatic, Citi, Scotiabank, Promerica, Servimas, GE Money, Instacredit, HSBC, Lafise, Banco Popular, BCR, Banco Nacional, Miravalles, el chino de la esquina, el prestamista del barrio, la soda del brete, o cualquier otro banco, compañía, mutual, institución u organización donde tengo, tuve o podria tener en el futuro cuentas por pagar en mora:
 
¡¡¡DEEEEEEJEEEEEN DE LLAAAAAMAAAAARMEEEEEEE!!!!! 
 
 
 

MI teléfono es MI teléfono… y yo lo contesto cuando me da la gana… y si no quiero contestar llamadas de números privados… es mi derecho… y si no quiero contestarles porque ya se lo que me van a decir… también es mi derecho… si quieren dejen un mensaje… pero si quieren que les devuelva la llamada dejen también su nombre completo y número de su celular y de su casa… yo decidiré si los llamo a las 11 PM o las 3 AM para preguntarles que querían…
 
 
Ahh, y por cierto... les pagare apenas tenga plata... nada me gustaria mas que no volver a saber de ustedes.... pero aunque me acosen, me acosen y me vuelvan acosar... no puedo producir plata de la nada... asi que... les recomiendo tener paciencia... y si quieren su plata tan desesperadamente, tratenme mejor... aunque yo se que que ustedes saben que el recibir los 10.000 pesos que les debo hoy o dentro de una semana, no va a ser gran diferencia para su empresa...por mas que ustedes me quieran hacer lo contrario... ademas, hay deudores que les deben millones de millones y no los 3 pesos que yo les debo... y a esos ustedes no los llaman... yo pagare con gusto cuando ellos lo hagan... y cuando tenga plata...



Ademas, MIS asuntos son MIS asuntos… así que dejen de dejar mensajes con mi familia, con mis papas, mis abuelos, mis compañeros de trabajo, el vecino, la esposa del vecino, el chino de la esquina y el viejo que me limpia el parabrisas… yo no se como putas tienen el numero de todo el mundo si YO no se los di…es mas, muchos de esos numeros, yo ni los tengo...

Muchas gracias. Para cualquier consulta, no me llamen.



CRIMINES Y CRIMINALES

El DT estaba compungido. Con lágrimas en los ojos, no encontraba en que hueco meterse mientras capeaba la incesantes preguntas del periodista. Y es que escasas horas antes, el presidente de su equipo, su amigo, su patrono, aquel hombre que había hecho tanto por la comunidad, que había ayudado a tanta gente, generado fuentes de trabajo y dado de comer a tantos necesitados, había sido arrestado, como un criminal de pacotilla, de la manera más mediática y humillante posible, con cámaras captando en vivo cada detalle mientras allanaban su casa y lo encontraban durmiendo en tanga, por supuesta legitimación de capitales - o sea, lavado de dinero. Fue todo un circo... el noticiero repetía una y otra vez la escena del pobre hombre en la azotea de su casa, en calzoncillos dorados, siendo esposado... mi amiga, que veía la TV a mi lado en el comedor del trabajo, se le caían las babas cada vez que ponían aquella escena... y es que en alta definición no queda mucho a la imaginación... mientras tanto, el DT se deshacía en elogios para su jefe...

¿Entonces usted apoya a alguien que ha cometido un delito? - insistía el majadero periodista

- Mire, nadie es culpable hasta que se demuestre lo contrario. Hasta el momento, no han condenado a nadie. Aún no se ha demostrado que haya cometido ningún delito. Y yo no se nada de delitos, yo solo sé que es una persona intachable.


Años atrás, el hermanastro del presidente hizo una fortuna vendiendo cigarrillos - normales, de tabaco -  desde una reservación indígena en USA sin tener ni gota de sangre piel roja... aprovechando la exención de impuestos que el gobierno otorga a los indígenas...  esto, como es obvio, enojó mucho al gobierno quién persiguió, capturo y enjauló al hermanastro... pero no contaban con que, el hermanastro, al verse con la cola en fuego, transfirió toda su fortuna a su medio hermano en Costa Rica - el presidente.


El presidente recibe el dinero ligítimamente - y lo empieza a usar para bien... invierte en equipos de fútbol, genera empleos, crea infraestructura para la comunidad, ayuda al más necesitado... el presidente no se monta una red criminal, el presidente no vende droga, el presidente no hace nada ilegal... entonces es arrestado por un tecnicismo.. porque dicen que la plata es mal habida... aun cuando este siendo bien usada... aun cuando vender cigarrillos normales - de tabaco - desde una reservación indígena NO es lo mismo que vender droga en las escuelas primarias... NO es lo mismo que traficar... NO es lo mismo que asesinar a sangre fría... y es comparable con vender licor en tiempos de la prohibición de los años 20's.



Hay delitos que son delitos sólo en el papel... de jure y no de facto... el ingresar al casco metropolitano un día de restricción... eso es un delito, penado con multa.... el funcionario público que acepta un regalito de un proveedor... el robarse algo que uno encuentra por ahí mal puesto... uno la pulsea, y todos lo hacemos de una forma o de otra... algunos un poco más, algunos un poco menos... y si nos atrapan, diay, salados nosotros... tenemos que pagar multas, tenemos que cumplir condenas, perdemos trabajos, perdemos bienes, perdemos amigos, perdemos privilegios... pero por suerte no tenemos a un periodista majadero transmitiendo en vivo nuestro momento de vergüenza y acusándonos de criminales...

Thursday, June 09, 2011

EL EFECTO MARIPOSA

Ustedes no tienen idea cuantas veces he deseado poder viajar al pasado y volver a vivir unos 5 o 6 días... vivirlos de nuevo aprovechando todas las oportunidades que perdí por baboso... entendiendo que toda puerta abierta es una invitación y que muchas veces una puerta cerrada es una oportunidad de abrirla... atreverme más, arriesgarme más... probar suerte... salirme de la zona segura y apostar en grande para perder o ganar en grande, en lugar de solo pasar por la vida cómodamente sin perder lo que ya tengo, pero tampoco sin ganar más... Que tuanis sería por hacer eso. Sin embargo, sería una torta del carajo... 



"There are so many things in life you're bound to regret... Why didn't I do this? Why didn't I do that?... so many chances you lost that you'll never forget... it could have been me, it could have been me..." - 
A Kiss is a Terrible Thing to Waste. Jim Steinman.


En la teoría del Caos, existe el concepto del Efecto Mariposa... es aquel que dice que el aleteo no previsto de una mariposa en China puede desencadenar un terremoto al otro lado del mundo, digamos en Chile... claro, no se necesita de una mariposa China para que haya un terremoto en Chile, pero eso ya es otra historia... el caso es que hay muchos eventos fortuitos que afectan nuestra vida de una u otra forma... si nos retrasamos dos minutos por cualquier cosa, puede ser que perdamos el bus que después se iba a estrellar en el río... o que tengamos que tomar otro bus donde conoceremos a la persona que nos puede cambiar la vida...



Nuestro presente y nuestro futuro es producto de todas las decisiones - buenas, malas y pésimas - que hayamos tomado en el pasado así como de una cadena de eventos fortuitos que ni imaginamos y de la que no tenemos control alguno... lo que si... es que si pudiéramos cambiar lo mas mínimo del pasado.. lo más mínimo, como el aleteo de una mariposa en el lugar indicado, al regresar al presente, nuestra vida podría ser completamente diferente... para bien o para mal.. incluso podríamos encontrarnos con la gran sorpresa de haber muerto...



Rad Bradbury, el escritor de ciencia ficción responsable de Farenheit 451 y las Crónicas Marcianas, escribió un cuento donde se trata justamente este tema... de como la muerte de una simple mariposa en la pre-historia puede tener consecuencias insospechadas 10.000 años más tarde... es uno de los cuentos más poderosos y devastadores que uno puede leer... se llama "A Sound of Thunder" y si alguno tiene curiosidad ahí les dejo el link... es una leída que no tarda más de 20 minutos... ampliamente recomendada...


También, en el 2005, el director Peter Hyams (2010, The End of Days, TimeCop) realizó una adaptación cinematográfica de este cuento, con la actuación de Ed Burns (Saving Private Ryan) y Ben Kingsley (Gandhi), con resultados desastrosos... quizás fueron los pobres efectos especiales, quizás fue la falta de promoción, quizás las libertades "poéticas" requeridas para expandir un cuento que uno lee en 15-20 minutos en una película de 2 horas, quizás fue el pelo de Ben Kingsley, quizás fue el aleteo de una mariposa... lo que si es que esta fue uno de los desastres financieros más grandes del año... una película que costo más de 80 millones de dólares y que si acaso recuperó un 15% del costo en taquilla a nivel mundial..



Mi pasado no fue perfecto... hubo oportunidades de oro que desperdicié y que nunca volveré a tener... los momentos históricos no se repetirán.. hubo otras que si pude aprovechar lo mejor que pude... hay cosas que hice que volvería a hacer y otro tanto que no... hay cosas de las que estoy orgulloso y otras que no... pero nadie que quita lo bailado... y lo que está en el pasado, que se quede en el pasado... y por suerte, no se puede cambiar... porque, gracias a eso, estoy aquí hoy... para bien o para mal... 

Saturday, March 10, 2007

MY FAVORITE MOVIE QUOTES OF ALL TIME



Hedley Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives. Taggart: God darnit, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore. Blazing Saddles (1974)

Keaton always said, "I don't believe in God, but I'm afraid of him." Well I believe in God, and the only thing that scares me is Keyser Soze. Who is Keyser Soze? He is supposed to be Turkish. Some say his father was German. Nobody believed he was real. Nobody ever saw him or knew anybody that ever worked directly for him, but to hear Kobayashi tell it, anybody could have worked for Soze. You never knew. That was his power. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. And poof. Just like that, he's gone. The Usual Suspects (1995)

But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona. Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V. V for Vendetta (2005)

You want the Truth? You can't handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know - that Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives; and my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives.A Few Good Men (1992)

You smell that? Do you smell that? Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of napalm in the morning. You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for twelve hours. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like... victory. Apocalypse Now (1982)

I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk? Dirty Harry (1971)

Ray, people will come Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won't mind if you look around, you'll say. It's only $20 per person. They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come. Field of Dreams (1982)

So there's me an' Amy, and we're all inseparable, right? Just big time in love. And then about four months in, I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Dumb move, I know, but you know how it is - you don't really want to know, but you just have to... stupid guy bullshit. Anyway she starts telling me all about him - how they dated for years, lived together, her mother likes me better, blah, blah, blah - and I'm okay. But then she tells me that a couple times, he brought other people to bed with them - ménage a tois, I believe it's called. Now this just blows my mind. I mean, I'm not used to that sort of thing, right? I was raised Catholic. So I get weirded out, and just start blasting her, right? This is the only way I can deal with it - by calling her a slut, and telling her that she was used - I mean, I'm out for blood I want to hurt her - because I don't know how to deal with what I'm feeling. And I'm like "What the fuck is wrong with you?" and she's telling me that it was that time, in that place, and she didn't do anything wrong, so she's not gonna apologize. So I tell her it's over, and I walk. No, idiot. It was a mistake. I wasn't disgusted with her, I was afraid. At that moment, I felt small - like I'd lacked experience, like I'd never be on her level or never be enough for her or something. And what I didn't get was that she didn't care. She wasn't looking for that guy anymore. She was looking for me, for the Bob. But by the time I realized this, it was too late, you know. She'd moved on, and all I had to show for it was some foolish pride, which then gave way to regret. She was the girl, I know that now. But I pushed her away... [lights a cigarette] So I've spent every day since then chasing Amy... [takes a drag from his smoke] So to speak. Chasing Amy (1996)

The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Third rule of Fight Club, someone yells Stop!, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule, no shirt, no shoes. Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.Fight Club (2001)

Rick

Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp. Isn't that true, Louie? Captain Renault: I'm afraid Major Strasser would insist. Ilsa: You're saying this only to make me go. Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. Ilsa: But what about us? Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night. Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you. Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now... Here's looking at you kid. Casablanca (1942)

All train compartments smell vaguely of shit. It gets so you don't mind it. That's the worst thing that I can confess. You know how long it took me to get there? A long time. When you die you're going to regret the things you don't do. You think you're queer? I'm going to tell you something: we're all queer. You think you're a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheat on your wife? You did it, live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it. There's an absolute morality? Maybe. And then what? If you think there is, go ahead, be that thing. Bad people go to hell? I don't think so. If you think that, act that way. A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won't live in it. That's me.Glengarry Glenn Ross (1992)

You find out life's this game of inches, so is football. Because in either game - life or football - the margin for error is so small. I mean, one half a step too late or too early and you don't quite make it. One half second too slow, too fast and you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They're in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team we fight for that inch. On this team we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when add up all those inches, that's gonna make the fucking difference between winning and losing! Between living and dying! Any Given Sunday (1999)

A person is smart. People are dumb. Everything they've ever 'known' has been proven to be wrong. A thousand years ago everybody knew as a fact, that the earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, they knew it was flat. Fifteen minutes ago, you knew we humans were alone on it. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow. Men in Black (1997)

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music? High Fidelity (2000)

I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's work, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad - worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.' Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot - I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first you've got to get mad. [shouting] You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, Goddamnit! My life has VALUE!' So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell, [shouting] 'I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!' I want you to get up right now, sit up, go to your windows, open them and stick your head out and yell - 'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Things have got to change. But first, you've gotta get mad!... You've got to say, 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Then we'll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first get up out of your chairs, open the window, stick your head out, and yell, and say it: [screaming at the top of his lungs] "I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" Network (1976)

[Monty standing in the men's bathroom, talking to himself in a mirror with a "FUCK YOU" written on it] Well, fuck you, too. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky, whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, cheering the Bronx bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place. [pause] No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you dumb fuck! 25th Hour (2002)

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? Trainspotting (1995)

Well, I believe in the soul. The cock. The pussy. The small of a woman's back. The hanging curveball. High fiber. Good scotch. That the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a Constitution Amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas eve. And I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days...Goodnight Bull Durham (1988)

Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha. And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off! He's a tight-ass! He's a SADIST! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? NEVER!The Devil's Advocate (1997)

Respect the cock! And tame the cunt! Tame it! Take it on headfirst with the skills that I will tech you at work and say no! You will not control me! No! You will not take my soul! No! You will not win this game! Because it's a game, guys. You want to think it's not, huh? You want to think it's not? Go back to the schoolyard and you have that crush on big-titted Mary Jane. Respect the cock. You are embedding this thought. I am the one who's in charge. I am the one who says yes! No! Now! Here! Because it's universal, man. It is evolutional. It is anthropological. It is biological. It is animal. We...are...men! Magnolia (1997)

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

The Purpose of the Moon
fiction by Tom Robbins

1
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe.
Marilyn Monroe was so touched that she gave up everything -- her career, her swimming pool, her wiggle, her telephone, her suicide, everything -- and moved to the south of France to be with Vincent van Gogh.
Did they live happily ever after? No, no one ever does. But they pretended to live happily ever after. And since all things become what we pretend they are, fake happiness is as good as the real stuff.

2
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. When she unwrapped the package and found the ear, Marilyn Monroe dished up her famous cat-that-swallowed-the-banana smile.
Marilyn Monroe put the ear in a rosewood box on her dressing table. Every now and again, she would remove the ear from the box, pet it, blow on it, scratch it and giggle. Once, she hooked the ear on a silver chain and wore it to a party. She always intended to write the ear's original owner a pretty thank-you note, but she never quite got around to it.
Was Vincent van Gogh a fool?
Maybe Marilyn Monroe was the fool. After all, Vincent van Gogh made a grand gesture and Marilyn Monroe received it frivolously.

3
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. Some weeks later, the package was returned to Vincent van Gogh. It was marked, ADDRESSEE DECEASED.
Vincent van Gogh checked into the matter and found that it was true. In his research, he learned that Joe DiMaggio had ordered that fresh red roses be placed on Marilyn Monroe's grave every three days, forever. Not for Joe DiMaggio's lifetime, mind you, not for the duration of Hollywood, its films and its cemeteries, but forever.
Vincent van Gogh leaned against the dizzy crown of an epileptic sunflower. Said he, "After the end of the world, Joe DiMaggio is going to have some money coming back."

4
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. Whereupon Marilyn Monroe cut off one of her ears and sent it to Vincent van Gogh.
Vincent van Gogh cut off his little toe and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn Monroe sent one of her little toes in return. Next, Vincent van Gogh cut off an eyelid and posted it. In the return mail, he received an eyelid from Marilyn Monroe. Their friendship was growing warm.
They exchanged ring fingers, tongues, belly buttons and nipples. One day, Vincent van Gogh cut out his heart and rushed it to Hollywood -- but by then Marilyn Monroe had become bored with the whole affair and run off to Tijuana with Warren Beatty.
Vincent van Gogh was shattered. Yet he should not have been so surprised. That is often the pattern love follows.

5
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. Not long afterward, Marilyn Monroe flew to Paris, drove a rented car to the south of France and called on Vincent van Gogh.
Following proper introduction, Marilyn Monroe produced a package of Hostess Twinkies. Because Hostess Twinkies always travel in pairs; because, like the coyote, the gorilla, the killer whale and the whooping crane, Hostess Twinkies mate for life, there was a Twinkie each for them to share.
When the snack was done, Marilyn Monroe reached into her sewing basket, drew out a needle and a spool of green thread and proceeded to stitch Vincent van Gogh's ear right back where it belonged.
"There," she said, licking a smear of Twinkie cream from the corner of her mouth. "There, you naughty boy. And the next time you want to clip off a piece of yourself as a token of affection, you might keep in mind the old Jewish custom. It's less messy, more socially acceptable. Remember, to ear is human, but to foreskin is divine."

6
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe.
The severed ear reminded Marilyn Monroe of a crescent moon, and for hours she contemplated it by moonlight.
She telephoned Vincent van Gogh. "Does the moon have a purpose?" she asked.
Vincent van Gogh considered her question. He decided it was silly.
Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not.
Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end.
Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
There is only one serious question. And that is: Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself.
Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and the end of time.
Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.

7
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. Paul Gauguin was aghast. "That was in very bad taste, Vincent," Gauguin said. "Years from now, after you are dead and gone, you will be better remembered for cutting off your ear than for the beauty and truth of your art."
From beneath his bandages, Vincent van Gogh looked at Paul Gauguin and smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "Art takes care of itself. And what the world thinks of me when I am dead and gone is none of my concern. What matters is life. What matters is love. Yeah."
The next day, Paul Gauguin cut off his wife and sent himself to Tahiti.
"Poor Gauguin," sighed Vincent van Gogh. "He understood only half of what I said."

8
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to Marilyn Monroe. Immediately, he had second thoughts and fell into a deep depression.
"Oh, why was I so presumptuous?" he asked. "An ear is much too intimate. And what if she doesn't fancy ears? I might better have sent violets or phosphor. I should have sent potatoes, tooth paste or brush strokes of significant width. That ear will offend her, I know it. Oh, they ought to call me Vincent van Gauche. I've blown it again." In the midst of all his fretting, a note arrived from America. "Dear Mister," it began, "Thank you so much for the silk purse." Vincent van Gogh relaxed. He grinned from ear to.... Oops.

9
Vincent van Gogh cut off his ear. He wanted to send it to Marilyn Monroe, but he didn't know how to go about it. He couldn't afford to deliver it in person. They had no mutual friends. And were he to send it to her movie studio, a stout woman in a tweed suit would be certain to throw it away.
Dare he trust it to Railway Express? To United Parcel Service? To Brink's?
Vincent van Gogh's ear was his love. Unable to send it through normal channels, he went out into the wheat field and sent it by crow.

Monday, November 06, 2006

10/06/06

A friend challenged me to come up with the soundtrack of my life, but to keep it to just 20 songs... I told her that it was such a difficult task because so many songs have affected my life...
Furthermore, I think that the definate soundtrack of your life should only be released after you die... but, she convinced me saying that this could be the soundtrack of my life volume 1...

So, with that in mind, I started to write down the list and came up with more than 100 songs... then, I started narrowing it down until I had the final top 20...

These are songs that represent most stages of my conscious life... that is, after I entered high school... so, after hours and hours of hard work... I present to you... the soundtrack of my life... volume 1:

1. Mother - Pink Floyd

2. Rock'n'Roll Dreams Come Through - Jim Steinman

3. Breakin' the Law - Judas Priest

4. Confesiones de Invierno - Sui Generis

5. The Living Years - Mike + The Mechanics

6. Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison

7. Tonight It's What It Means To Be Young - Fire Inc.

8. The Search is Over - Survivor

9. Pepper - Butthole Surfers

0. Alegria - Cirque Du Soleil

11. Brain Damage / Eclipse - Pink Floyd

12. Cat's In the Cradle - Harry Chapin

13. Crazy - Icehouse

14. She's Always a Woman - Billy Joel

15. What About Me? - Moving Pictures

16. Nothing Left To Lose - Alan Parsons Project

17. Any Dream Will Do - Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

18. Amiga - Miguel Bose

19. Derroche - Ana Belen & Juan Luis Guerra

20. Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

Monday, September 18, 2006

09/18/06

9:20 AM

I grew up in the 70’s watching all the funky TV shows everybody else watched: Get Smart, The Addams Family, The Munsters, Wild Wild West, The Thunderbirds, The Banana Splits, My Mother The Car, Batman, The Green Hornet, etc…

However, there were some practically unknown shows that, however crappy they might have been, I loved to death… Come to think of it, these obscure shows are my fondest childhood TV memories…


Captain Nice – In the US, this show only ran for a season back in 1967, the year I was born. Still, in Costa Rica, we enjoyed the reruns over and over until the mid-70’s… It’s about a chemist cop who discovers a formula that brings him superpowers… When I was little, I used to drink the liquid that came with cocktail onions and pretend that it was the formula that transformed me into Captain Nice…




The Kids from C.A.P.E.R. – Ah the Civilian Authority for the Protection of Everyone, Regardless… this show also ran for a single season in the US, but, here, we also saw the reruns over and over (do you see a pattern here?)… I loved this funky show and the theme song is still stuck on my head… “We’re the Kids, we’re the Kids, we’re the Kids from CAPER, we'll race to your place, on the case, every time”



Sigmund and the Sea Monsters – I loved the wacky world of Sid & Marty Krofft… and Seigmund was the Krofft brothers at the wackiest best… Because he refused to scare humans, Sigmund the Sea Monster's family harassed him to the point where he was forced to leave his home and wander the beaches alone. He was found and befriended by two brothers, Johnny and Scott who took him back home to live in their clubhouse.



The Red Hand Gang – Another one season flop that enjoyed moderate success down here. Solving crimes and having fun, the Red Hand Gang was a group of five pre-teens from the inner city and their dog. Frankie was the oldest and the unofficial leader, with J.R. was the athletic one, Doc was the smart one, Joanne was the tomboy, and Frankie's younger brother, Lil Bill, was the the junior member. Their adventures included catching a gang of kidnappers, preventing a jewel heist, and foiling a museum robbery.

Ultra 7 – I never cared for Godzilla… However, Godzilla was not the only Japanese show about large monsters that walked around destroying Tokyo… Instead, the “ultra” shows – Ultraman, Ultra 7 and Ultra Q – had equally large superheroes that could battle the large monsters in their own terms… All these shows were all pretty much alike, but Ultraman was by far the most popular character... However, always rooting for the underdog, my fave was Ultra 7.



Miss Comet (Kometto San) – Miss Comet was kind of a Japanese Mary Poppins... Having misbehaved in her home planet, Comet is sentenced to come to Earth and become a magical nanny for two upper class children - Takeshi & Koji - under the supervision of a Jiminy Cricket-like cartoon character known as "The Professor".



Titanes En El Ring – Years before the WWF ever became popular, there was Argentine Wrestling… Titanes was the coolest thing ever and featured wacky wrestlers such as Hippy Jimmy, Yolanka the Alien, The Red Knight, The Mummy, Pepino the Clown, and world-champion Martin Karadagian.

And…

Musica Libre – This was a funky show where a troupe of Chilean dancers performed interpretative dancing to pop songs, such as You’re Sixteen (Ringo Starr), Rock the Boat (Hues Corporation), Jet (Wings) and Seasons in the Sun (Terry Jacks). Hosted by Nelson Hoffmann, who later immigrated to Costa Rica, this show introduced me to a lot of rock music I love today.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

09/06/06

7:44 AM

Today, I want to share with you all an excerpt from a wonderful column by Robert Burney, which illustrates the paradigm shift that has taken place in my life in the last few weeks.

Codependence and interdependence are two very different dynamics.

Codependence is about giving away power over our self-esteem. Taking our self-definition and self-worth from outside or external sources is dysfunctional because it causes us to give power over how we feel about ourselves to people and forces which we cannot control. Any time that we give power over our self-esteem to something outside of ourselves we are making that person or thing our higher power. We are worshiping false gods.

If my self-esteem is based on people, places, and things; money, property, and prestige; looks, talent, intelligence; then I am set up to be a victim. People will not always do what I want them too; property can be destroyed by an earthquake or flood or fire; money can disappear in a stock market crash or bad investment; looks change as I get older. Everything changes. All outside or external conditions are temporary.

The more we can start owning the Truth of who we really are and integrating it into our relationship with ourselves, the more we can enjoy this human experience that we are having. Then we can start learning how to be interdependent - how to give power away in conscious, healthy ways because our self-worth is no longer dependent on outside sources.

Interdependence is about making allies, forming partnerships. It is about forming connections with other beings. Interdependence means that we give someone else some power over our welfare and our feelings.

Anytime we care about somebody or something we give away some power over our feelings. It is impossible to Love without giving away some power. When we choose to Love someone (or thing - a pet, a car, anything) we are giving them the power to make us happy - we cannot do that without also giving them the power to hurt us or cause us to feel angry or scared.

In order to live we need to be interdependent. We cannot participate in life without giving away some power over our feelings and our welfare. I am not talking here just about people. If we put money in a bank we are giving some power over our feelings and welfare to that bank. If we live in society we have to be interdependent to some extent and give some power away. The key is to be conscious in our choices and own responsibility for the consequences.

As we develop healthy self-esteem based on knowing that the Force is with us and Loves us, then we can consciously take the risk of Loving, of being interdependent, without buying into the belief that the behavior of others determines our self-worth. We will have feelings - we will get hurt, we will be scared, we will get angry - because those feelings are an unavoidable part of life. Feelings are a part of the human experience that we came here to learn about - they cannot be avoided. And trying to avoid them only causes us to miss out on the Joy and Love and happiness that can also be a part of the human experience.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

09/05/06

2:33 PM

A co-worker lent me a DVD of AFI's 100 years, 100 movies...

In 1998, The American Film Institute invited 1500 screenwriters, directors, actors, producers, cinematographers, editors, executives, film historians and critics to select the 100 American movies ever made in the first 100 years of American cinema (1896 - 1996). Films released after 1996 were not included.

For the last 11 years, I have watched an average of 185 films per year...
However, I have only seen 57% of the films in this list.
In other words, I have never seen 43 of the 100 best American movies ever made.

This simply won't do!

I need to correct this situation once and for all...
Especially since 11 of the films I have never seen are in the top 30
So, I got my work cut out for me...
I vow right here and now to watch the following films in the next few weeks:

Lawrence of Arabia, On the Waterfront, Sunset Boulevard, The Bridge on the River Kwai, Some Like it Hot, All About Eve, The African Queen, Chinatown, Bonnie & Clyde, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington & The Treasure of Sierra Madre.

I'll post my progress on this blog...
Check back often to see how this project is going.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

09/03/06

9:35 PM

Today I had a whoppin' lunch...
In fact, it was so large I am still full...

We went down to TGIF...
We started off with some Buffalo Wings...
The Blue Cheese sauce was a little light...
I think they must have thin it out with cream cheese or something...
But still... the wings were nice and spicy...
And really hit the spot...

Then, I had a rockin' slab of juicy and tender ribs
Really smothered in a smokey BBQ sauce...
That was really somethin', dude!
Usually you don't get that kind of BBQ down here...
Ahhh... and I almost forget
I washed it down with a jug of Cuervo Gold...

Que cruda mas guey, mano!

However, wolfing down ribs me think about stereotypes...
Stereotypes? Yep, stereotypes...
Allow me to explain...

My sauce covered fingers made me think that
I just can not picture a gay guy devouring
hot-rockin', ass-kickin', gun-shootin' BBQ ribs...
or spicy Buffalo Wings for that matter...

Yeah... I know it's just a stereotype...
and I wouldn't even know what gay food would be...
Maybe pomegranate glazed quail salad
with orange vinaigrette and pecans
And a glass of blush wine...
How the hell would I know?

And why am I even thinking about this?
Gosh... I think a refresher course
At that cultural sensitivity seminar... urgh!
Or maybe I'm just still drunk...

Just ignore me today...

Saturday, September 02, 2006

09/02/06

7:35 PM

It's been quite a long week...

I have been swamped at work...
We're launching a new program
And I have a lot of work backed up...
I guess I'm finally paying the price
for all the goofing off of the last few weeks
Well, can't complain really...
'Cause every little second was well worth it... je je je

There's something in this house...
Every night, when I come home from work...
I start coughing and coughing...
And I usually cough all through the night...
But the moment I leave in the morning
I stop coughing..
And I don't cough anymore -not once-
Until I get home again in the evening...
Things that make you go hmmm...

We went back to Cinnabon today...
And they screwed up my order real bad...
I was pissed... and I looked pissed too...
In fact, the manager came out to apologize
and brought us a free classic Cinnamon Roll...
Cool!... I'm a happy camper here!
Guess it doesn't take much
To make me a happy camper after all...

Well, gotta go back to work
I'm working on a translation for E&Y tonight...
And I just finished watching Superman Returns...
Better than I expected, but not as good as Batman Begins...
I hear there are Green Lantern, Captain America and Iron Man
movies already in pre-production...
And that the Fantastic Four 2: The Rise of the Silver Surfer
is almost nearly done... how exciting
This leaves only one more question to ask...
When will we ever see an Underdog Movie?



Never fear for Underdog is here...