Reblogged post from ‘La venganza de Hipatia’ — Lo posmo (2): los coños feroces

And brave men too…

La Venganza de Hipatia

Feminismo… feminismo posmoderno… nadie sale vivo de aquí hoy. ¿Por dónde empiezo esto? Ya sé que la mayoría de la gente que llegue a este texto no se va a parar a leerlo, pasando directamente a los comentarios señalándome como una vil materialización de la falocracia, un enemigo de las mujeres, un apologista de la cultura de la violación y mil barbaridades más que, lamentablemente, los harán sentirse muy bien con ellos mismos. Las razones de la extraña situación de extrema irritabilidad respecto al tema de este texto son varias. En primer lugar, simplemente es cool. Ser una brujita atómica o un guardaespaldas de las indefensas mujeres, ejerciendo de policía del pensamiento e intentando por todos los medios no tener que salir de la zona de confort de lo políticamente, y a veces absurdamente, correcto, es algo que en ciertos círculos da muchos réditos sociales. Y es un drama…

View original post 4,467 more words



by Amos Oz. I finished it a few days ago, I liked it, gave it three out of five stars, which is my standard score for unremarkable good books, but I’m finding the book hovering over my head and refusing to go away, which is what happens to me when I happen to read a remarkable good book.

Perhaps it is, with that soft but indelible impression of unavoidable sadness that leaves upon you, about how human life is and cannot help not being sorrow and loss.

Disguised as human beings

One of my political heroes was the late South African politician Helen Suzman, for many years the only anti-apartheid member of the (all-white) parliament in Cape Town. As a leader of the opposition party she sat right across from the government, speaking directly to their menacing faces. On one occasion she said to them: “You should really visit one of the townships, to see how blacks live in our country. I suggest that you go disguised as human beings.”

From the always excellent Peter L. Berger.

Hang’em High

I was married back in Denver. His name was Paul. He was a doctor, and a very fine man. He used to say this was his place, this was were doctors were needed. One night, after we’d camped, we sat around the fire, talking, husband and wife talk, about how many children we were going to have, and what a wonderful life we were going to have together. And then they came.

So sad the night at Paris, so sorry for the victims and their families.

Let’s see they won’t come back.

You say you want a revolution

Revolution? Don’t dare talk me about revolution. I know all about revolutions and how they start. The people that read the books they go to the people that don’t read the books, the poor people and say, the time has come to have a change, uh? So the poor people make the change, uh? Then the people who read the books they all sit around big tables and they talk and talk and talk and eat and eat and eat. But what has happened to the poor people? They’re dead. That’s your revolution.

There are people out there who I admire that have a positive approach to other people and things —they presuppose the best of them until disappointment comes. They’re outward, radiant, confident, embracing; they can also be bitter, vindictive, and mean. My way, for better or for worse, is just the opposite —I expect the worst until proven wrong. First thing I think first time I meet someone or something (be it a person, a song, a novel, a film, an idea, a new political star, a website, you name it) it’s this is gonna be a waste of time. Most of the time it is, so I quit.

But what exhilarating an emotion you get when it isn’t!

Sergio Leone‘s Giù la testa (A Fistful of Dynamite, aka Duck, You Sucker) gives you one of those.

—If you leave me now, what the fuck is going to happen to me?

—They’ll make you a general.

—Shit, I don’t want to be a general.

Man versus Leviathan, wins Leviathan.

If you happen to have any adolescent boy around in the house, make it happen, just casually —have him watch this film before it’s late.