É tudo grego afinal...

Ok, não queria entrar nesta discussão, mas agora está ficando ridículo.
Faz meses que estamos perdendo o fôlego atrás deste assunto miserável e o único que temos para mostrar é metade dos associados do iate-clube de Brasília (sic) presos em Curitiba, e um monte de acusações obtidas à base da marmelada com prêmio.

"Será impossíver que ninguém preste atenção no jogo!" diria o velho Joselino Barbacena.
Os deputados e senadores se deram aumentos salariais nababescos e nem a midia nem ninguém reclamou! Ninguém foi às ruas pedir impeachment, nem carregar cartazes escrito: "Yankees come home... please!"

Dois pesos e duas medidas... Roubo institucionalizado ou instituição do roubo podem parecer contrários, mas são a mesma coisa. Não importa se é nos gabinetes da Petrobrás ou nos porões de Brasília! O pungista no ônibus, ou no trêm, é tão ladrão quanto os juros bancários ou do cartão de crédito. Shylock faria por menos.

Afinal democracia é coisa de grego. E, fora o churrasco da Avenida São João, o único grego que muitos habitantes de Pindorama conhecem, é um yogurte chamado Zorba. Casualmente, dono de uma importante fábrica de roupas de baixo (eufemismo para cuecas) para cavalheiros.

Verdadeiro samba do crioulo doido, eu sei.
Mas, prestem atenção aos elementos que temos visto e que nos mostram diariamente na TV. E, como reagimos a esse assalto com o Maguila.

Supõe-se que, na democracia, os três poderes (e quereres) trabalhariam juntos pelo bem comum, não? É isso que faz com que a democracia floresça, certo?

Temos um executivo todo ausente e manietado, um legislativo autofágico, e um judiciário Dadá e irritado.
Depois, o doido sou eu e o crioulo lá do Stanislaw!
...
Sim, sinhô!

_______________________________________

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Encontrei este post num blog acidental. É tão bom que não conseguí resistir e Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V aqui para compartir com vocês. Sei que contarei com sua licênça e perdoarão meu impulso.
Divirtam-se.


PS
Lamento está em inglês no original e a construção é tão boa que não me atreví a traduzí-lo.

Advice, Like Youth, Probably Just Wasted On The Young

By Mary Schmich

[ Reprinted without permission from the Chicago Tribune. Originally published: Sunday, June 1, 1997. Initially attributed as written by Kurt Vonnegut for the 1997 MIT graduation ceremony. ]

Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker dying to get out, some world-weary pundit eager to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather be Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be invited to sow our words of wisdom among an audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason we can't entertain ourselves by composing a Guide to Life for Graduates.

I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank you for indulging my attempt.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:

• Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
• Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
• Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.
• Do one thing every day that scares you.
• Sing.
• Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
• Floss.
• Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
• Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
• Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
• Stretch.
• Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
• Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
• Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
• Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
• Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
• Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
• Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
• Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
• Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
• Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
• Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
• Travel.
• Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.
• Respect your elders.
• Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
• Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
• Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.



Falando nisso, vou passar o meu. Está quente aqui...

2n2

"Too ugly to prostitute, too dumb to steal"

homeless in Chicago

Listen!

Shut up, Stop whining, and get a life! by Larry Winget.
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