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I heard Happiness had died and I went looking for its corpse
When I found her; she had already been desecrated by sages
Who were extracting their tequila worms from her rotting flesh.
She had been buried not too deep and not too far from my abode
Even had a gravestone, underneath her head... a resting pillow
As the sages turned her 'round, I could see on it, the clear drawings of her fate
"Here I laid resting and hopeful, that your kin will come embrace me
Before I could count the time's end, underneath our playing grounds
Hide and Seek,was my fair game, but your clueless steps,
Were treading in the circles which marked my tomb"

Judecand fara Drept II

Libertate cu un asterix - Play more, anything else, less

M-as simti neindreptatit daca lumea m-ar judeca mai putin sever decat o fac eu...

Stii cum arata un "shit-bug"?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4GIMjCSlR4

Cam tot asa arata si apologetii ipocriti ai societatii mercantile. Cei care musca imediat momeala si valideaza campaniile de consum, cei carora li se inventeaza atat de usor nevoi si preiau aceste nevoi ca si parte a "culturii" cu care isi hranesc urmasii, cei carora le poti accesa si schimba credinta foarte usor, deoarece plutesc la suprafata notiunilor, precum un starv care curge de nicaieri inspre Nimic

Altii traiesc ca niste firicele de nisip intr-o clepsidra, asteptand sa ajunga "dincolo", speriati de caderea stramosilor cu care se asemana in trup si suflet, iar anxietatea le este alimentata si de parerea intransigenta ca potentialul ireversibilelor clipe s-a dus, s-a dus, s-a dus...

Cu alte cuvinte, niste bovine hipnotizate, paralizate pe o banda rulanta, ce duce inspre o roata zimtata.

Mai sunt si cei care au fost impinsi de pe creasta in interiorul unui bulgare de zapada si care se dau de-a dura in sunetul unei melodii unice, deci perfecta, pe care o aud doar ei si in functie de care incearca sa-si controleze ritmul salturilor si traseul. S-ar putea ca bulgarele sa se izbeasca de ceva in drumul lui, sau             ajungand jos, sa fie topit de soarele primavaratic, iar locuitorul va pieri si el. amintindu- si cu drag de               calatorie si stiind ca odata si odata, va ninge iar...

Judecand fara Drept

 Multi dintre voi, cei care ii cititi pe clasici si va pierdeti uneori luni din viata ca sa il rasfoiti si sa-l intelegeti pe un oarecare Homer, o faceti cu teama(sau speranta?) nedeclarata de-a sfarsi intr-o cocina de intelectuali betivi, care isi reazama antebratele pe umerii cate unui confrate si caruia, privindu-l patetic in ochi, ii declara: "lumea asta idioata n-a fost pregatita pentru unul ca tine"

   Dar pana atunci, sangele ce va zvacneste prin aorte este hranit de grandoarea povestilor din acele vremuri apuse, unde va imaginati ca va este de fapt locul. A intretine aceasta iluzie echivaleaza cu puterea de-a zugravi un strat rosu purpuriu peste griul descumpanirii; si ce calduroasa este patura care se coaguleaza! Unduitoare si mangaitoare, vibreaza de viata netraita (deci absoluta) si cocheteaza cu idei de esenta pura, in asa masura incat devine foarte imbietoare pentru orice curios, desi nu si pentru orice friguros.

   Sunt unele cuvinte care pot fi descalcite doar de sub o asemenea patura si sunt unele trairi ale caror simplitate poate fi simtita doar cand dai aceasta patura la o parte;cum exista pe lumea asta oameni care ar putea sa-ti inteleaga cu ratiunea lor toate cuvintele pe care le spui, dar nu-ti accepta comportamentul si exista oameni in prezenta carora n-ai simti nevoia sa-ti cenzurezi vreun gest, dar care nu sunt capabili sa-ti digere vreo idee mai complexa. Tu pe care ii vrei in preajma? - daca nu cumva pe cineva care sa indeplineasca ambele caracteristici...

the # button

He was just typing a regular message to a regular person whom he didn't want to call, when he accidentally pressed the # button. "F...ing hell!" he said.

In an instant there was a screeching of a tyre and a fuel truck was sliding sideways into a tree. Because of a smoker who had thrown her cigarette on the street without putting it out, the fuel tank caught fire and a thundering, violent, explosion projected the passers by, dead and injured to the ground, lighting up the trees and cars around. The driver was heard screaming for the first few seconds, but the cry eventually stopped and was replaced by the sound of the flames gnawing greedily at everything around. A few squirrels caught fire and started running around and then falling burnt to the ground. One of them had time to run directly through an opened window on the ground floor of a building, lighting up the curtains which spread the fire all through the apartment. It was a messy room, with clothes thrown all around, so everything lit very fast. A few minutes later, there was another huge explosion, because of the gas pipe which was accidentally hit with the axe by the tenant who had tried to crack the burning door opened. From the third floor, an old couple jumped out of the window with the intention of landing on a tree, but they missed its branches and broke their necks instead. The horrified crowd rushed to their aid, but then other people from the burning building were pouring down to the pavement, making it very dangerous to approach the corpses.

When he snapped out of his amazement at the scene, he checked his phone again and instead of the # button, was a miniature face of the devil.

Ferma animalelor ferme

Daca ar fi sa lucrezi la o enciclopedie in care sa faci o ierarhie a valorii fiecarei forme de viata de pe Pamant te-ai confrunta cu cateva riscuri majore : ai parea nazist, n-ai avea reflexe destule sa te feresti de "pietrele" oamenilor de bun simt (sau mai degraba simt comun, pentru cine face diferenta) si daca ti-ar publica cineva enciclopedia, oprobiul public v-ar fixa trupurile pe o tabla de dartz; si tie si editurii. O mare parte a comunitatii indignate, ar fi invitata sa va bata ritmuri cu creioane peste testicule.
Prin urmare, de dragul cititorului modern ce nu are rabdare, aceasta nu va fi o enciclopedie, ci o insinuare trebnica si mernica.

In imensa ograda a naturii, am inceput toti unicelulari, iar unii au ramas de miliarde de ani unicelulari.
Formele de viata care s-au dezvoltat, au facut-o cu speranta de-a manca mai mult si mai eficient.
In acest sens si-au dezvoltat abilitati proprii, fie de-a mesteca iarba, fie alte animale.
Mai tarziu, cea mai talentata dintre specii a inventat modalitati de-a domina restul speciilor.
Dupa ce au reusit sa-si domine toate fiintele din mediul inconjurator, nu mai era altceva de facut decat a-i supune pe cei din propria specie.
Uneltele de control au fost si sunt, forta bruta, armele si frica.
In cazul speciei umane, frica si lipsa de scop puternic, tine locul grajdului/cotetzului, precum un perimetru invizibil pe care cei mai puternici au devenit de-a lungul timpului tot mai talentati in a-l trasa.

Pentru cei cu adevarat puternici, toti restul sunt niste animale de sacrificiu, fie ca sunt pui crescuti in juma de metru patrat, fie in garsoniera. Si poate ca acei carora le sunt (s)mulse resursele si sunt obligati sa se consume intr-un spatiu sufocant, au o justificare nemaipomenita de-a dezvolta subliminal o empatie fata de formele de viata din grajduri si coteturi, carora viata le este curmata pentru a satisface lacomia fermierilor.

Agents

The Agents

The darkness spread all around the cylinder walls, making it impossible for Dox to distinguish any of the others. As the light grew dimmer, so did their voices, which would have sounded as mysterious as the whispers of a magic spell, if he had not known what they were discussing.  It was obvious that they were addressing the same issues as they had been addressing ever since they had all voluntarily entered the cylinder. The fact that they all agreed on the matter, made Dox wonder if his decision to join them had been a bit too rash. After all, he could have still been on the outside, judging if the cause was truly justified and worthy of his huge sacrifice. On the outside, he could have listened to some arguments, to some pros and cons, whereas, here, everybody had their minds already made up and no one had any arguments or seemed to be in pursuit of the truth. Indeed, here, on the inside, the only thing that ever changed was the intensity of hatred expressed against their common enemy: The Blue. One could claim temporary attention of the entire group if one’s hysteric outburst of hatred would impose silence and dominate the rest by its thundering of the voice and paroxysm of the emotions. The general state of awe, would last just under a minute, as it was always replaced by simultaneous shouts of group members who were aiming for the same kind of attention as their colleague had just had.

How could he doubt the color of his mind, inside such a clearly defined mechanism, which seemed to function “sui generis” and even had the power to propagate these credos in waves reaching far beyond the cylinder? While more and more agents were storming in, to join the green cylinder, would he alone be allowed his exit? What if his doubts will prove to be fundamentally flawed and he will not be allowed to enter ever again, losing all status he had acquired in all this time? This train of thoughts was interrupted by the whisper of his neighbor, Poroo, who addressed him in a snakelike fashion:

“They’re all whispering about a traitor among us and I am sure I know who it is. YOU ARE THE TRAITOR, DOX!” When uttering the last words, Poroo’s voice raised to such a high pitch that it got everyone’s attention. All the lights came on. He continued then, aware of his spotlight:

“Brothers of the Just Cause, we have all been given the blessed opportunity to join the GOOD as soldiers of the Green Cylinder.” The unison voice of the crowd followed: “Hurray, hurray, hurray!” With a raise of the left hand, he silenced them and continued:

“As some of you know, I, Poroo, have been entrusted by the members of the High Sphere with the noble duty of watching for possible spies and weak agents who might turn Blue in our midst. You all know how dangerous that is!” Then they all shouted: “Death to Blue, Death to Blue!” The shouts were followed by humming voices of agents pointing in anger at Dox.

“But brothers” he then went on “for killing Dox, we need clear evidence that he is blue. It is only up to the Supreme Green to sentence him”

At this point, Dox shouted in a thundering voice:

“You are all idiots! What kind of speeches are these? Those of a traitor indeed! It is not only Poroo who’s been entrusted by the High Sphere with checking on the others. We all have this duty! If not officially, then morally! Do you remember Poroo addressing any important issues recently? Did he come up with strategies on how to perfect the serum? Did you hear him shout anything except ?” There was silence and then whispered dialogues among some of the agents who remembered that Poroo had previously accused two more agents of high treason and they had been judged and executed by the Supreme Green.

Dox then continued: “Why would he get rid of agents? Is it maybe time to ask yourselves who is going to be next?

Poroo was astonished by the roles switch and needed a little time to retort. He then rushed into shouting:

“Brothers, in the last couple of days, Dox here, has never raised his eyes from the ground when we were debating the Blue threat, he never really cheered for the Just Cause, he’s got this sad countenance…one could say he’s got “the Blues”.

Dox violently interrupted him: “Ridiculous!! If agent Poroo turns on us so easily in time of peace, imagine if a war broke out! I have nothing against a trial, but let Pooro join me and debate his own loyalty for the Green and treason for his fellow agents. My loyalty has been proven for the 48 days I’ve been here. He only joined a week ago and the Blue seem to have more and more information on us ever since! Does it not seem just a little odd?”

 At this point, everybody started screaming from the top of their lungs “Trial, trial, trial, trial” until Arook, a female agent burst into the dominating shout:

“We need 120 agents to make the serum! We are 101! If the Blue inject themselves first, the Organism will not give us another chance for the next eight generations! You idiots, improve the propaganda, don’t kill each other!”

They knew they were racing against time and according to the last information they had received from their spies, the Blues had already reached 103 agents and were assiduously working on developing their PR strategy to attract new agents. Thus, they all agreed not to denounce each other for anything and try to focus on increasing their numbers.

Dox was taught that joining one side or the other at the Right Age, was the most important thing in the whole world and that being part of the serum injected into the Organism is the greatest achievement anyone could ever dream of. But just before joining the Greens, he had met a retired member of the High Sphere. He told him that the Blue and the Green were equally useful and justified and that the judgments of the Supreme Green and those of the Supreme Blue were equally righteous. Dox thought it was a test of his loyalty to the Green and he praised the doctrines of the Green to the member of the High Sphere, who seemed to be very amused by his determination and unshakeable faith. It was not until recently that Dox remembered this ex member of the High Sphere, at the time when he was trying to understand what the Blues were plotting. He imagined them having the same race against time, the same frustration and debates and he even saw the Blue version of himself there, surrounded by 102 agents with wrung up keys.  

Manifestivity

O figura devenita publica datorita efervescentei cu care milita online pentru cauze de interes national online, postase o poza pe FB, comentand “Cat timp vom ramane indiferenti, in cochilia noastra virtuala, privindu-ne semenii cum sunt umiliti de monstrii de la putere, ne condamnam copiii la si mai mari oribilitati.Individul va fi mereu invins, avem nevoie de tine pentru ca lupta noastra sa aiba o sansa! Haide Vineri, la 7 seara, sa ne redobandim demnitatea in fata Palatului!”
Cele 273 de comentarii ce urmasera in mai putin de o ora, il facura pe M., care vazuse intamplator “thread-ul” sa comenteze si el ceva cu referire la viziunea lui Orwell asupra situatiei curente, dar urmatoarele patru persoane ce comentara, il atacara cu invective ce primira zeci de like-uri .Citise de curand un studiu legat de dezumanizarea individului atunci cand face parte dintr-un grup care are un dusman comun si-si imagina ca daca ar fi fost cu adevarat in mijlocul comentatorilor inversunati, ar fi fost luat la suturi fara mila. Aceste ganduri, avura puterea de-a-l descuraja pe M. in a-si continua firul logicii si de-a mai interveni pe respectiva postare.
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Manifestatia incepuse ca oricare alta: cam 10 indivizi, dispersati in puncte strategice ale grupului, incepura sa scandeze lozinci anti-guvernamentale, anti-stat, impotriva anumitor figuri politice, numindu-si lista de persoane non grata si “soptind-o” si restului grupului care avea mare nevoie de unele date, nefiind atat de bine informat. M. era si el acolo, privind cum grupul de oameni se extinde in palcuri tot mai mari, pregatindu-si cocktailuri Molotov, pe fundalul unor scandari care erau tot mai rasunatoare:
“Luptati, luptati, nu va intimidati”, “Tu de-aici nu ne mai misti,nici cu mii de politisti”, “Nu mai ai al meu mandat, pleaca-acum de la palat” sau“Presedinte fa cu mana, nu mai suportam minciuna”

Televiziunile incepura sa apara la fata locului si sa transmita evenimentul in direct, focusand mereu camerele pe cei mai inversunati dintre manifestanti, lucru care ii facu sa se alature pe tot mai multi curiosi care isi detestau conditia si monotonia casnica. Urletele si defularile celor prezenti se propagau direct proportional cu marirea grupului de protestatari.
“Uneori, oamenii devin atat de inversunati, incat tre sa le dai in cap ca sa te asculte vorbindu-le despre beneficiile non-violentei” gandi in sinea lui M.
Cand manifestatia capata amploare, insusi personajul care starnise spiritele, aparu cu o portavoce repetand unele dintre lozincile strigate anterior, plimbandu-se prin multime si si facandu-i pe toti sa le creada cu si mai multa tarie. Mai tarziu, cineva ii instalase un podium si un stand de microfon, iar boxele aparura, purtate in brate de cate doi oameni fiecare. Discurusl incepu:

"Dragi compatrioti, Cat timp vor sa ne mai insulte inteligenta? Suntem presul unei clasei politice care-si plimba pantofii prin mocirla? Stramosii nostri au aparat acest pamant, au murit cu incredere si liniste in suflet, crezand cu tarie ca mor aparandu-ne noua pamantul. Ei au crezut ca acest pamant e mostenirea lor pentru o noua generatie de patrioti care va lupta si-si va invata si copiii sa lupte pentru ce le apartine, pentru ceea ce le e drept! Au gresit?" Facu o pauza de doua secunde, dupa care repeta cu o voce tunatoare: "AU GRESIT? "
In acel moment uralele si aplauzele impanzira intreaga manifestatie fara prea mult ajutor din partea instigatorilor.

Pana la urma era o poza surprinsa in timp ce o femeie era bruscata de jandarmii care incercau s-o bage in duba. Intreaga poveste era ca impreuna cu alti protestatari, femeia primise rolul de-a provoca si insulta pana la limita fortele politienesti din zona in care era amplasata marea parte a presei. Dupa ce grupul ei ii scuipase, jignise si aruncase inspre ei cocktailuri molotov cu o furie vecina cu paroxismul, jandarmilor li se dadu ordin sa "linisteasca situatia", iar acestia, respectandu-si ordinele, inaintara sa-i captureze. Cand jandarmii se apropiara, femeia isi lua a doua parte a rolului in primire si incepu sa se zvarcoleasca cu istericale si cu tipete grotesti, trantindu-se la pamant si dand din picioare.

Va urma...