I want to talk about a book I just finished reading.  Considering the sheer amount that I read, I’d like to post every time I finish a book, even if it’s just a few quick sentences.  This post, however, I expect to be lengthy, because the book I want to talk about was definitely a game-changer for me.  It’s called Letters to Auntie Fori by Martin Gilbert, and it’s subtitled ‘The 5,000 Year History of the Jewish People and Their Faith’.  The author, who is a historian and apparently has written THE biography of Winston Churchill (did you know there is a statue of Churchill in downtown Toronto?  A prize to the first commenter that can tell me where it is), presents a series of letters detailing the history of the Jews from Biblical times up to the twentieth century, as well as a section on Jewish practices and worship.  The letters are to Auntie Fori, a woman living in India that took Gilbert in when he traveled there as a young man.  They maintained a correspondence for over forty years, and upon visiting her in the late 1990’s, she revealed that she has been born to a Jewish family in Hungary.  She eventually settled in India, but she told Gilbert she knew nothing of her people’s history, or customs.  Each letter (roughly 3-4 pages) details an aspect of Jewish history or worship.

(Quick aside on how I picked up the book: I went for a walk on a nice late fall day in London, and ended up in a used bookstore.  I don’t remember why I picked out this book, to be honest, but something about it spoke to me I guess.  With apologies to John Locke [the LOST one] it’s hard not to mistake coincidence for fate, especially considering how much Letters to Auntie Fori has affected me.)

It’s a fantastic book because so much of it was new to me.  While many of the stories are quite well known (i.e. Noah’s Ark, David and Goliath) a lot of them were things I was really ignorant about.  Also, the details Gilbert adds are really interesting.  For example, many people (at least anyone who has seen the Ten Commandments), knows the story about Moses coming down with the commandments.  BUT did you know that this story is where the misconception that Jews have horns comes from?  See, Moses is described as radiant, which in Hebrew is karan; this word was mistranslated in the Christian eleventh-centruy Latin Vulgate as keren, which means horns.  So the famous statue of Moses by Michaelangelo with the horns is not really Mike’s fault (It really is a wonderful sculpture, especially since it was done with nunchuks after all all-night pizza binge).  There’s a lot of incredible information in this book; so much so that it can be somewhat overpowering.

Okay so there’s a lot of information in the book; but why was it, you ask, such a big deal to read it?  After all, I read quite a bit, and asking what made this book different is a good question.  First of all, it’s a history of MY people.  Even if the stories are completely allegorical, I have something in common with all of them, from Abraham to Solomon to Shawn Green (please note that Shawn Green is not in the book, but Golberg the wrestler is).  This is something I never felt until reading Gilbert’s book.  All of the old stories were just stories to me, and the Jewish ones were no different than, say, a Jesus story or a Prester John story.  (Prester John is a badass. Look it up!)  While the more modern, less allegorical stories were what I found especially affecting, I really felt a connection to the whole history.  Before starting to read Letters to Auntie Fori, Biblical (Torah-ical?) stories were almost like science fiction to me.  I got so caught up in the impossibility of, say, Adam and Eve and all of us being descended from them, or a talking snake, or whatever else, to understand the message.  In realizing the allegorical aspect of these stories, I understand why they have value and how they have value for me.  Then, going into the more modern aspects of Jewish history that are fact-based, I was also able to see those as lesson and value based.  I don’t know if a religious person is necessarily more moral than a non-believer (I know plenty of scumbags who are religious), BUT I understand how knowledge, if not devout belief, of these values can help make you a better person.

The narrative that the reader can trace throughout the history is one of struggle and loss; at the same time, it’s one of defiance and resolve.  There’s a hell of a lot of destruction, but each instance of this is met with rebuilding, not just of the physical kind, but the rebuilding of a religion, a lifestyle and a tribe.  After reading this book, I now feel like I understand what it means to be Jewish.  It doesn’t necessarily mean you abstain from eating bread during Passover, and it doesn’t really mean that your mom is Jewish.  To be Jewish seems to mean that you carry something with you.  What you carry is the history that’s crammed into the 450+ pages of this book.  You can be an expert or you can know nothing; I knew nothing but I still carried the history with me everywhere I went; now I just know a little more about it.  Of course, history is not exclusive to the Jews and you could say that any group of people carries history with them.  That’s true as well; the reason I’m saying this is that I feel like I finally have an idea of my people’s history.  I’m glad I’m more knowledgeable and I feel a wonderful connection that I wouldn’t trade for anything thanks to reading this book.  As the Coen Brothers wrote (and the line was memorably delivered by John Goodman) “Three thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Moses to Sandy Koufax”.

Just thought I’d let you know what happens to you (or rather, how you are remembered) if you decide to fight back against imperialism and mistreatment of indigenous populations:

BTW if you didn’t recognize the quote in the title here’s a clip to clarify
Big Lebowski – Dude, Do You See What Happens????? Do You?????

EDIT: That link only contains the wonderfully censored TV-version where the line “fuck a stranger in the ass” is turned into “fight a stranger in the alps”.  Here’s the uncensored version:
Walter Sobchak FTW

Also, if anyone has ever fought a stranger in the alps I’d love to hear about it.

Fight Club – 1999

Director – David Fincher

Starring – Edward Norton, Brad Pitt, and Helena Bonham Carter

Firstly, I’d like to mention that this review was a special request from a friend of mine.  Normally all it would get would be a little bullet review simply because I had already seen it, although I do confess it deserves quite a bit more attention.  So, here we go.

Back in 1999, before I had read the book, learned the rules, and become swept up in the fervor that was Fight Club, I was blissfully unaware of what lay before me.  At the time, I was living in an apartment with 3 other guys, all of which lifted weights, and were at least partially if not completely into the pathos of the film.  All of us were in our twenties, none of us were in solid relationships and each of us was steeped in the malaise of the 90’s.  Everything about Fight Club not only seemed fresh, it was fresh.  Released the same year as the other major 1999 film with a genre defining plot twist, The Sixth Sense, I had no clue as to where Chuck Palahniuk’s tale of hard-won maturity was taking me. 

Whether or not you like the film, Fight Club grabs away your attention, and doesn’t let you have it back until finished.  As the very definition of slick and flashy, but with the added bonus of subtext, the film sets forth with a social commentary unique to its place in time.  Equal parts special effects display, close examination of the modern-male condition, romance, and suspense film, Fight Club is unapologetically brazen and wonderful.

For those lucky enough to not know what it’s all about, here’s a brief rundown of the plot (don’t worry, I won’t spoil it).  The narrator, sometimes referred to as Jack (although we never actually learn his name), is stuck.  He finds himself constantly running the treadmill of the daily working-grind.  Business trips, catalog shopping, and time spent avoiding everything of substance in his life is taking its toll, and he finds himself unable to sleep.  In an attempt to turn his life right side up, Jack meets a girl (Marla), makes new friends (Tyler), and goes through the process of systematically dismantling his life in an attempt to put it back together again.  From nameless worker bee, to co-founding an underground street fighting ring, to working to bring down the system all in the name finding cure for the omnipresent male aggression that he suffers from, Jack walks a very long path to find himself in very familiar territory.

Despite its somewhat fractured method of telling it’s story, Fight Club is a fairly straightforward film.  Using a very visual, and interactive method of walking us through the narrative, we are placed directly into the character’s nerve center.  We see first hand, from Jack’s point of view, his plain, drab apartment being populated with equally plain, drab furniture.  We watch as his work-life gets drowned out by his new passion for fighting, and we feel the same panic when the boundaries of his comfort zone are reached.

Fincher utilizes the same grimy chic aesthetic that he used in Seven, and would later use in Panic Room.  Going along with the themes of the source material, everything is worn, threadbare, and ultimately falling apart.  From the house that Jack and Tyler move into on Paper St. to the tenuous relationships that hold our main character to his old life, we watch as the very fabric of his life is torn apart.  Aside from dressing the set accordingly, Fincher utilizes destructive imagery, achieved through the combination of CGI and simple practical effects.  Lighting, post-production coloration of the film, as well as on and off-screen narration provide a glimpse into the inner workings of the distressed mind of our main character.

What to say about the acting…I’ve never liked Brad Pitt better than I do in his role of Tyler Durden, and Edward Norton, coming off of his fantastic run of Primal Fear, and American History X, achieved a level in his career that he hasn’t before, or since.  Helena Bonham Carter provides the perfect foil to the Pitt/Norton duo, by playing crazy with issues in a really grounded sort of way, and numerous wonderful supporting roles are filled out by familiar faces, such as Meatloaf, Zach Grenier, Jared Leto, and a whole host of others that you’ve seen even if you don’t know their names yet.

Since my initial viewing, I’ve come to watch the film time and again on DVD, and I find that the story has changed a bit.  Coming out of the theater the first time, I felt empowered as a film student, a movie goer, and as a young man who didn’t quite know what he wanted out of life.  The macho posturing and gratuitous justification of the character’s extreme measures seemed completely justified to me.  Damn right I wanted to take something back from the world that had taken so much from me!  I too, wanted to punch my way into a happier life, have my anger and discontent work for me instead of against me, and find that dysfunctional, messed up girl who “got” me. (What!?  I said I was in my 20’s.)  Needless to say, I grew up.  My selfish view of the world changed, and I stopped being so focused on my own problems.  As I grew, and watched the film again, I realized there was a satirical bent to the film that I didn’t see when I was steeped in selfishness.  Now that I had a changed view of the world, and myself in it, I could understand the fact that the film wasn’t preaching anarchy, or violence.  Instead it was illustrating the nature of youth, and the power of experience, and acceptance as a means of learning and growing out of it. 

Fight Club is a near perfect film, right up there with The Royal Tenebaums, The Big Lebowski, and Children of Men.  A true 10!

Want to hear me read an excerpt from the book?  That’s what I did for funny man Sam Dingman’s podcast:

http://theroad2shambala.wordpress.com/2009/12/03/exit-9a-sledgehammer-thesis/

That’s right.  I finished the first draft of Dudesong, my epic poem version of “The Big Lebowski”.  The first draft weighs in at 5200+ handwritten lines of rhyming heroic couplets in iambic pentameter.  I’m in the process of typing it all up into a manuscript.  The process is weird, and definitely different from the way I wrote the thing in the first place.  I’m making little tweaks here and there but largely this is just typing and typing and typing.  Still, when it’s done I’ll be able to hit ‘print’ and have a physical actual manuscript of this thing in my mitts.  My groin parts shift just imagining it.

Then there’s the matter of what to do with the manuscript.  I guess the obvious answer is to mail it to everyone.  Licensing agents, literary agents, publishers, journals, bloggers, Jeff Bridges, and anyone else who’ll receive mail.  God only knows whether I’ll be legally allowed to publish the thing for sale.  To tell you the truth, I’d be pretty crushed if I got ceased and desisted.  I want this to be published and distributed.  Not for the money, though money is nice, but more for getting this thing on bookshelves in the big bookstores and placing it in the hands of as many fans as possible.  If I give away free e-books instead of selling this thing, less people will read it.  That’s just how it goes.  I didn’t take a second job and work 8 months for this thing to be some PDF on Bluehost.

I’m stressing about this now but the good news is still that the important part is done: getting the damn thing written.  I like it so far, and I hope lots of people will get to enjoy it.  Wish me luck or, even better, help me get this distributed.  I need helpful fans!

Big Lebowski, The (1998)
★★★ / ★★★★

I usually don’t like screwball comedies because the characters are stupid without any sort of redeeming qualities, the jokes are rude and sometimes mean-spirited, the story has no idea where to go, and I quickly get bored watching them because they fail to get me to think. Strangely enough, I enjoyed “The Big Lebowski,” written and directed by the Coen brothers, because of such qualities except for the fact that it is far from mean-spirited. Jeff Bridges stars as The Dude, whose real name was Jeffrey Lebowski, a guy who was mistaken by two miscreants as the millionaire Lebowski. Since the two didn’t get what they wanted from The Dude, one of them decided to pee on his carpet. What started off as a story about a slacker who wanted compensation for his carpet ended up being about a lot of things: a kidnapped woman (Tara Reid), an artist who had intentions of her own (Julianne Moore), nihilists who craved money, and the dynamics among bowling buddies (Steve Buscemi and John Goodman). All of such disparate elements came to together in a way that didn’t necessarily make sense–in fact, sometimes I had no idea what was going on–but it was very funny because each character was driven by well-defined motivations (no matter how strange they might have been). I did not expect this kind of movie from the Coen brothers because I’m more familiar with their thrillers (“No Country for Old Men,” “Blood Simple”) and dark comedies (“Intolerable Cruelty,” “Fargo”), but after watching the film I was glad that I got a taste of their lighter side. The only real complaint I had with this picture was it had no reason to run for almost two hours long. Somewhere after the half-way point, I began to wonder when it was going to be over because at that point it still did not try to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The characters were still too busy running around like children and it made me restless. Nevertheless, despite its flaws, I still enjoyed watching this movie because of the characters’ funny fixations and interesting mistaken identities. And considering I detest stoner comedies, I think it’s a solid accomplishment.

With apologies to The Dude…

I’m finally allowing myself to admit there may be diminishing returns with every subsequent Coen brothers movie I view. It’s the formula that gets to me. For all their mastery of every aspect of the art of film – from script to soundtrack to direction to cinematography to editing – the plot of nearly every Coen brothers movie can be reduced to the single phrase: “Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.”

That said, I still laughed my ass off at Burn After Reading.

On a continuum of their films, with No Country representing the darkest extreme and Big Lebowski representing the lightest, and Fargo at dead center, I’d place it about midway between Fargo and Lebowski.

Brad Pitt, as always, is an unfortunate distraction in the proceedings. You know what it’s like: you’re trying to get into a movie but can’t get past the fact that Brad Pitt is there being Brad Pitt, all ham and fist, blocking you from actually connecting with the story.

And George Clooney. How many times is he going to play a fast-talking shifty womanizer for the Coen bros? I actually enjoyed it in Oh Brother, but it’s become a pretty thin schtick.

The others are top-notch, however. The Coens always seem to elicit the best from their crew. I thought Richard Jenkins in particular as the tragicomic gym manager with a somewhat unusual past played his role with superb understatement.

• An awesome 100% cotton preshrunk Tshirt

Product Description
Available in Small, Medium, Large, XL

The Big Lebowski Dude ABIDE Funny Movie Charcoal Grey T-shirt, Large

La 2 es, a veces, como uno de esos gartios del centro que no conoce casi nadie, que siempre tiene una mesa libre al fondo y en los que nunca dejaron de sonar Black Crowes, Allman Brothers y The Who. La 2 se convirtió ayer en mi Only You particular.

Era la una de la mañana cuando empezaron a salir del televisor. Aire puro. Todo gratis. En unos segundos tenía sentados a mí alrededor a Rory Gallagher, la Creedence y Jim Morrison. Todos mezclados en una orgía que me cogió por sorpresa. Y una luz amarilla, como sacada del baño del Gran Lebowski, dominando la habitación. Los Cohen también estaban.

Un cocktail de referencias culturales y sonoras que cualquier crítico musical más avezado que yo en estas lides tacharía de “correcto”. O lo sentenciaría diciendo cosas como “funcionan muy bien en su estilo”. Oiga, el tipo de las voces escupía sobre el micro en cada frase. Eso no es funcionar, eso es tirar 10 bolos con un caucasiano en la izquierda un canuto en la derecha y sonando de fondo aquello de “looking out my back door”.

Hay un nuevo grupo en la ciudad. Arizona Baby.

I guess that’s the way the whole durned human comedy keeps perpetuatin’ itself.

Uno de los fenómenos que más me sorprendió en mi viaje a Estados Unidos es el culto al talento y el esfuerzo, algo que tenemos absolutamente olvidado y denostado en nuestra bonita piel de toro.

El talento no sólo se reconoce, sino que se apoya y se refuerza. Me gustó comprobar que la gente que tiene un talento, una habilidad especial para desarrollar determinadas tareas o desempeñar determinadas funciones no tiene que esconderse o rebajar su nivel al del resto para evitar destacar. Esto es muy típico en España. Los superdotados conviven con estudiantes de medio pelo que retrasan sus avances y minan su capacidad de desarrollo; los profesionales brillantes tienen que acabar creando sus propias organizaciones porque se suelen ver limitados por jefes y compañeros que han ascendido “sólo” a base de esfuerzo y no de talento, por lo que le consideran una amenaza para su posición.

Seguro que todos conocéis algún ejemplo de una persona de gran talento que no ha podido desarrollarlo por uno u otro motivo, incluso porque no lo ha necesitado. Mi sensación es que en Estados Unidos (y ésta es una generalización absurda) existen mecanismos para detectar, atraer y desarrollar el talento, y es precisamente eso, el talento, lo que permite que una sociedad y una economía se desarrolle.

En cuanto al esfuerzo, he conocido a personas que han trabajado como animales desde los 15 hasta los 70 u 80 años, no con la aspiración de prejubilarse y jugar al golf, sino de mejorar su posición y contribuir a su comunidad. Esto es algo impensable en una sociedad del mínimo esfuerzo como la nuestra.

Resulta sorprendente ver cómo la gente pone todo su esfuerzo y su mejor voluntad en su trabajo y, cuando se aburre o siente que ha tocado techo, cambia de actividad, de puesto, de ciudad o de sector y sigue adelante, en lugar de dedicarse al tocamiento orgánico. El despido es libre y apenas  hay ayudas sociales, con lo que no hay otro remedio, pero ese contexto social contribuye a que exista una cohesión y un esfuerzo constantes y permanentes por sacar las cosas adelante, en lugar de esperar a que el estado venga a solucionarnos la vida.

En nuestro país vivimos la época de los ninis, que ni estudian ni trabajan; rebajamos cada vez más la exigencia en los colegios para evitar que los más débiles se frustren y procuramos homogeneizar a la sociedad, poniendo el listón a la altura de los menos capaces. Nuestra decadencia social y económica está basada en fuertes pilares de hipocresía, en una concepción trágicamente errónea de la democracia y el principio de igualdad.

No nos engañemos, la democracia no exige que todos seamos mediocres y que penalicemos a los que son mejores que nosotros. La democracia simplemente obliga a que no se discrimine al débil, que todos tengamos las mismas oportunidades, pero debe ejercerse con sentido y responsabilidad, algo que aquí hemos olvidado hace mucho tiempo.

Una sociedad nihilista, que cercena y oculta el talento, que prima el conformismo frente al esfuerzo y promueve la igualdad en el tramo más bajo del potencial de desarrollo no puede crecer ni evolucionar, porque no lo merece. Tal vez el modelo americano no sea justo para todos, resulte extremadamente duro y competitivo para muchos y discrimine a los más débiles, pero nadie te obliga a formar parte de ese sistema, ni de cualquier otro.

No es casual que hayamos perdido el camino del crecimiento en tan pocos años y que ahora hayamos vuelto al furgón de cola del desarrollo. No nos merecemos más. Merecemos estar exactamente como estamos, ser cada vez menos competitivos, cada vez más subsidiados y con menos percepción de la realidad del entorno. Nos arrastramos quejumbrosos mientras otros países corren con la mirada puesta al frente. Lo más triste es que no hace falta ir a Estados Unidos, a China o a Alemania para darse cuenta de esto y aún así seguimos encerrados en nuestra burbuja feliz.

Necesitamos un cambio de paradigma, tatuarnos principios como el stay hungry, stay foolish de Steve Jobs en la frente y retomar el camino del esfuerzo y la retención y promoción del talento; de lo contrario, no creceremos, no saldremos adelante y seguiremos perdiendo generaciones, y no a causa de la crisis, de la construcción, de los bancos o de la globalización.

Simplemente será así porque no nos merecemos más.

Allow me to wax politically correct for a moment…

In a post in which he compares Western and Chinese philosophy, Globe blogger Anson Burlingame uses the term “Chinaman” to describe a Chinese person.

I’m sure no offense was meant by Anson. But it should be pointed out that many people of Asian descent have taken offense to the term over the years as it has often been used in a derogatory way.

I’ll give the last word to Walter Sobchak:

“Dude, ‘Chinaman’ is not the preferred nomenclature.”

L.A.’s hazy hills
Sunset blazes el’s
Another chapter in The Jolly Green Giant Chronicles
Beating paths thru the backstreets
Looking out from the backseat
Dense apartments
Ocean air pulls on my heart strings
Spanish f.m. On the dial
Korea town lasts for miles
Meet up with some people we haven’t seen in a while
Neon lights stretch beyond sight
Roll pins in Hollywood hills
Sippin White Russians it’s at least a dollar a thrill
Windows open city rush in it’s and I’m fulfilled
Speak Hip Hop all nite with heads who understand
Smokin half a gram of that legal Amsterdam
In-N-Out Burger, Colombo’s Italian Steakhouse
Love in the air, rhythm and the rhyme make out
Hit ‘em with the highs as the lows fade out
L.A. we’ll be back some day but for now…

The Dude: Walter, ya know, it’s Smokey, so his toe slipped over the line a little, big deal. It’s just a game, man.
Walter Sobchak: Dude, this is a league game, this determines who enters the next round robin. Am I wrong? Am I wrong?
Smokey: Yeah, but I wasn’t over. Gimme the marker Dude, I’m marking it 8.
Walter Sobchak: [pulls out a gun] Smokey, my friend, you are entering a world of pain.
The Dude: Walter…
Walter Sobchak: You mark that frame an 8, and you’re entering a world of pain.
Smokey: I’m not…
Walter Sobchak: A world of pain.

Unsere Mädels drehen manchmal ganz schön auf. Gestern war so ein Tag. Während wir uns auf die Nacht vorbereiteten, stifteten die Kleinen gehörig Chaos in der Bude. Während  Papa-Hund Boffskel die Decke unter dem Hunde-Popo geklaut wird und es Kartons von der Decke regnet sowie Zeitungsschnipsel durch die Luft fliegen fällt es oft nicht leicht, den Überblick zu bewahren und ruhig zu bleiben. Dennoch – da die Kleinen langsam stubenrein werden, ist es alles halb so schlimm.

Allerdings ist man am Morgen halt sehr müde, wenn man die Nacht zum Tag gemacht hat. Dementsprechend ruhig ging es dann gegen 7 Uhr im “Hundehäuschen” zu. Wir haben mal zwei kleine Filme geschnitten.

Viel Spaß beim Anschauen und liebe Grüße, Euch allen ein schönes Wochenende

Kathleen und Michael

Gestern Abend

Heute morgen

My copy of Thomas Pynchon’s Inherent Vice arrived last week, and I have dipped into it and found it delightful.  Even more delightful is the trailer (above) which, by all reports, is read by Tom himself.  This is precisely the second time in over 50 years that Pynchon has lifted the veil on his very private life, the other time being a voice over for The Simpsons (yes, The Simpsons), in which he did a cameo of himself, with a bag over his head.  No public photos of Pynchon exist.

But here’s what’s even cooler: listen to the voice-over to the video trailer, and tell me he doesn’t sound like The Dude, from The Big Lebowski.  I picture him wandering into the supermarket in bedroom slippers and a bathrobe, sampling the milk and generally chillin’ through life.  I can’t get that voice out of my head, and the book reads better for it.

The Dude Abides

Chi ci ricorda?

Se non vi viene in mente, avete proprio bisogno di riguardarvi il Grande Lebowski.

Drugo: Ma no, sono dei nichilisti, capito?

Donny: Eh?

Drugo: Continuavano a ripetermi che non credono in niente.

Walter: Nichilisti? Mi venga un colpo. Allora è meglio la dottrina nazional-socalista, Drugo. Se non altro, ha alla base l’ethos.

Chissà se Papa Ratzy l’ha mai visto.

Forse il tema meriterebbe anche uno svolgimento più serio, ma sento tutto il peso di agosto sopra di me. Il prossimo post parlo solo di sesso anale, giuro, come la Repubblica.

Cachorro Quente

Es gibt viel zu berichten. Vor Allem sind die Kleinen heute abend endgültig “erwacht”. Sie purzeln munter durch die Gegend und versuchen standhaft, die Hundetoilette zu benutzen. Das klappt nicht immer, aber “immer öfter”. Heute haben die Racker das erste Mal aufgeweichtes Defu-Demeterfutter gekriegt und allesamt gut vertragen. Shiva hat sogar eine kleine Extra-Portion bekommen, damit wir sie zusätzlich etwas aufpäppeln und siehe da: sie hat noch 30 Gramm extra “gewonnen”. Alles in allem macht es sehr viel Spaß. Außerdem haben wir für Joy ein neues Zuhause gefunden, einen Platz, wo sie sich sicherlich sehr wohl fühlen und mit Familie, Kind und Katze aufwachsen wird. Das macht uns wirklich sehr froh. Jetzt suchen noch Zoe und Karma ihre Frauchen und Herrchen. Beide entwickeln sich Tag für Tag zu Spitzenhunden, soviel ist sicher .

Liebe Grüße in die Welt und hier natürlich die Fotos…

Joys erstes Fresserchen

Hmmmm...lecker

Mit etwas Hilfe

Starthilfe

Kleine Berührungsängste mit Wasser

Mein Feind, der Strumpf

Zoe und Papa Boffskel

באתר dudeism.com עלו על קונספט מגניב – לוקחים קטעים מתסריט הסרט The Big Lebowski, אלגוריתם מנתח את את הטקסט, בוחר שלושה קטעים בני 5,7,5 הברות ובונה האיקו ברוח ה”דודיזם” – כל זה בלחיצת כפתור.

I’ll say it again

Don’t mean to be a hard on

Fuck it, let’s go bowl

In-and-Out Burger

Not something to hide behind

Who’s the nihilist?

ואחד שלי -

הרגע דוני

ג’ף יסדר את הכל

הנה, קח חלוק

האתר -

http://www.dudeism.com/haikutomatic.html

©2007 Jude Buffum, mehr auf http://www.flickr.com/photos/judebuffum/

8-Bit-Art hat, insbesondere für mich als klassischen Old-School-Gamer, schon etwas faszinierendes an sich. Leider sind alle Lebowski-Motive schon ausverkauft!

fragmento expandido de um diálogo antenado na livraria cultura:

Cliente: Filho, onde está a seção de “fado”?

Funcionário: O que seria “fado”, minha senhora?

Cliente: Essa juventude…

Fado: substantivo masculino

1. destino, sorte, estrela; o que necessariamente tem de ser; vaticínio, decreto do destino

2.  (regionalismo Portugal) canção popular de Portugal, freq. de caráter lamentoso, sempre acompanhada pela guitarra portuguesa

http://www.fado.com/

3. (regionalismo: Portugal) prostituição

4. (regionalismo: Portugal) vida de fadista (‘desordeiro’); vadiagem

Um terceiro: É Amália Rodrigues, essas coisas…

Funcionário: Ah…

post by erika