Wednesday, 27 November 2019

MAKKOX IN ENGLISH!!! - Renzi and Zingaretti with the Sardines


- GO! GO! GO!


One day I'll show them Just what I'm made of The'll be A time When I won't remember what I was afraid of And I'll be swimming In the sea No banging on this glass


"Don't box me in" di Copeland/Ridgway

(OST del film Rumblefish)


MAKKOX

L'ESPRESSO



I have the author's permission 
to devastate his work.
if someone  feel the urge to help 
is welcome (very)...

claudio's trip - GO WITH THE VIETNAM 6


We go into the areas of the Mong ethnic group and visit the famous market of Lung Pinh, market that sees very few tourists and therefore has no parcel. The hillbillies also walk three hours to sell buffalo and buy pots. We arrive in a moment of intense rain and, dressed in multicolored capes (only Annalia wears a megacondom transparent), we get an unprecedented downpour. The water drains everywhere, on our feet, in our necks, in our underwear. But we are among the few tourists and we are proud. We wander among beautiful girls dressed in traditional clothes (the skirt is colorful pleated and swaying) among butchers, herbalists, hardware, clothing, spices, food. It makes me want to get a haircut, but the rain deters me. I’m passionate about an intimate stand where a Giorgio Armani pantsuit excels.

I meet a very nice old lady with traditional clothes, traditional hair, all full of traditional ribbons and all pleated. She looks like a medieval old lady. She turns: she has a Nike backpack. Everything is Vietnamese in size which means the beams are very low. I feel a bang, I turn and find that Annette has given an epic crank. So she learns to be tall. The market is very crowded. From time to time, people get run over by unleashed mopeds that sound like handcuffs and mercilessly slit the crowd of buyers. They also put their buffalo in it. Have you ever seen a buffalo cut the crowd? Stay away from it. Barbara at a certain point feels touched and turns angry to give a smack to the discredited and politically incorrect Vietnamese. But it is a hoax, in the sense of cattle. disappointment. We leave the market and of course the rain ceases. Luna, our little guide (there’s great debate about who is lower, Barbara, Annalia or Luna) tells us that there is also another famous market, always not touristy, where nothing is sold. It’s the love market. Boys and girls go there to get to know each other and chat. It is also very popular because there are few opportunities to get to know each other. The boys in these areas get married very early, around the age of 14 (when they are 30 they are already grandparents). Married couples also go there. You will say: why ever? Simple, For something that resembles the couples exchange. The husband, in fact, is allowed to meet an old flame and so is his wife. For a whole day they can feel free and chat outside the marriage. During the love market you sing you dance you listen to concerts. You mess up all dressed in the traditional way (pants, skirts and jackets are different for each of the sixty ethnic groups). We of course throw ourselves to fish. Let’s go! But the distance does not recommend it. With these roads it would take a whole day. And anyway the Love Market takes place once a year. screwed. We have to settle for the palace of the king of Mong.


CLAUDIO COULD NOT UPLOAD THE PHOTOS, YET...


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Tuesday, 26 November 2019

japanese drums and Collins Islands


http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Collins%20Land/90/177/26


the music of this video is in the second video... I am learning ok? LOL


















The Velvet Underground - Chic Mystique @ Delmonico's Hotel, NY

MAKKOX IN ENGLISH!!! .ì- Danilo Toninelli



Every time a bridge falls I think of him

- I told you bridges were all rotten!
and you made fun of me...
and you preferred to keep Di Maio with his flying Chinese oranges, the navigators of the Mississippi...

- we are sorry, Danilo!
- come back!
- we want to switch!

- I want to hear you pray!

MAKKOX - it won't be long




Il Foglio


I have the author's permission 
to devastate his work.
if someone  feel the urge to help 
is welcome (very)...

Claudio's trip - vietnam 2/3/4/5

vietnam 2

Vietnam is not around the corner as you all know. Right now I’m inside the gigantic Dubai airport, halfway through the journey, waiting for the four hours of the connection to Hanoi. I am lying on a deckchair as one of the gentlemen you see in the photo. I walked km to reach gate A8. On the plane, I saw three films, The First Man, The Martian and Welcome back President. Then I poured a glass of red wine on Barbara’s thigh who pretended not to be upset but asked to change place on the way. That’s not very nice.












vietnam 3

We read everything there was to read. We do not travel for fun but to know. Ours is a journey for intellectuals.










vietnam 4

Little one, with a funny and cheerful face, Luna is waiting for us outside the Hanoi airport. Our guide speaks Italian fortunately and will lead us around North Vietnam on a Transit. But first, it takes us to the hotel where we will descend into the absolute sleep that makes us exceed a ton of jet lag. When we get up and go to the restaurant we will be immersed in the nightlife of Hanoi on Saturday night.

Everything unfolds around the lake of the sword found. Lights, noise, screaming children, young people playing the strange game called dacau, dribbling with a feather, other kids building with square sticks high towers destined to collapse, electric machines that go crazy for the joy of infants, people singing a cappella, concerts. I also find a large pavilion Piazza Italia where they play live Juventus Atalanta between a mini fountain of Trevi and a mini Tower of Pisa, cinema open air where they give “quo vado” Zalone, a stall sponsored by the local Milan Club (but the guy in the red shirt confesses to me that he is rooting for Lazio). And then street food, painters who paint you (could I draw?), bright games. We also come across boys with a cat in their arms that lead them to take some air (polluted). We end up in a bar. Barbara beats every record of crazy risk by ordering a coffee with the egg. Every Saturday night the Old Town of Hanoi has this crazy. Cutting through the crowd, surrounded and overwhelmed by thousands of noisy scooters, untangling ourselves among the microscopic tables where Vietnamese eat food cooked in the street sitting on microscopic car seats, back to the hotel putting an end to our first day hanoiese (hanoica? hanoina? hanoista?). I searched in vain for portraits of Ho Chi Minh. I go to bed wondering if it has always been so the capital of Vietnamese communism.

(I can’t upload the photos, we’ll talk again)




vietnam 5

Let us leave the hustle and bustle of the hustle and bustle of Hanoi towards the deep north, pointing towards the border with China. We will arrive a few kilometers from China and visit Vietnamese ethnic minorities. This is a challenging tour through the beautiful mountains of northern Vietnam (I recommend the tiny one) along with a Transit in a fantastic road without the slightest straight, wide enough to pass a car, sometimes a truck, rarely both.

We’ll eat in unlikely restaurants but fine. We will sleep, tonight, in something like an agriturismo, where the managers, nice, kind, elegant, will dine with us having cooked us a delicious dinner, laughing and joking without understanding a word of what we say to each other and drinking grappa. He, Hang, looks like my editor, Carlo Verdelli. She is a beautiful 45-year-old grandmother. Today I was struck by something beyond the beauty of the mountains rich in hills in the form of steep cones: you don’t see a billboard, you don’t see political propaganda on the walls, you don’t see pictures of Ho Chi Minh, You don’t see priests or monks, you don’t see misery. No child rushes after you asking for alms. And they are all dressed well and clean. You don’t see pagodas, mosques or churches. You can see beautiful valleys full of small paddy fields, also on the slopes, of manicured gardens, of corn fields. We also see many women working. We sleep on what the Japanese call futon, practically on the ground. After teaching Barbara to play burraco. And of course she wins.




Monday, 25 November 2019

OK, i BELIEVE IT IS ENOUGH - THANKS FOR TOLERANCE :-))))


sorry but I will share ALL my learning video :-)







... and the gif LOL



my first video with free's dancing partner :-))))


The Two Minutes of Hate

Luca Sofri
WITTGENSTEIN

November 25th, 2019

A few different things on the same theme. Republic announces today a hate column. He calls it“anti hate”. It is difficult not to relate it to a promotional campaign of the new version of the newspaper whose slogan was “Raises voice“: a slogan directed to a progressive readership audience whose best part had been said until a moment before the evils of the country were attributable to the information too shouted, right-wing politics noisy and aggressive; an audience that demanded moderation, and exhibited literary citations about the art of silence and reflection, and that had thought different from all this, leaving to the right and their newspapers– Fact including– the most greedy and exhibited power of hatred and resentment (while concurring to the building of indignation but with more indirect, more hypocritical and less claimed ways). Enough, end, end of diversity: Raise your voice. The indignation, and then the hate, as commercial products. Will follow merchandising.
And it is difficult not to share all this with the grillization of communicative and political approaches on the left that has been noted in past years. Raise your voice, fuck off, hate board, etcetera. Followed by hate columns (“anti hate”) dedicated to each newspaper, and then TV shows, talent, merchandising.

The other thing I want to mention is a report in the same Republic two weeks ago, about the prosecution of a lady who had written horrible and ferocious things against the President rolling rolling on a social network.



"Prosecutor Gery Ferrara asks you: “Why did I?”. Answer, on the record: “It was a very hot time, when tempers were overheated by some Members of the Five Stars of whom I was sympathetic. I was foolishly infected by these facts.[…] In his interrogation he recalled that in that period there was Grillo shouting on one side, Di Battista on the other. They said: “Let’s get ready to take to the streets. Let’s bring down the whole government”. It was really a tremendous tam tam tam”."

The lady may be trying to unload the blame in her own predicament. But it may also be that what he says and what he has done are concrete proof that the main problem is not“haters”, this human category that we even call to feel different from us, foreign, dark and distant, but“hate” (I keep the term despite not thinking that“hate” is the right word to define a violence that often does not fit with hatred): the most powerful and influential models of the country are deliberately building a climate“an environment that has changed, and every day it seems normal to push it a little further. And if you point it out they’ll tell you“is the country that is so”, ignoring its responsibility to make it so or not to take it elsewhere: a little bit like in the old Indian chief’s joke.




Then there’s the usual Orwell, which is often pulled for the jacket out of place, but in fact.

"In a moment of lucidity, Winston realized he was screaming like everyone else. The horrific thing about Two Minutes of Hate was that no one was forced to act. To avoid getting involved was impossible. A hideous ecstasy, induced by a mixture of fear and deaf resentment, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces with hammers, seemed to cross like an electric current all the people there gathered, transforming the individual, even against his will, into a screaming madman, the face altered by grimaces. And yet, the anger that everyone felt was an abstract, indirect emotion that could be moved from one object to another like a blowtorch."
https://www.wittgenstein.it/2019/11/25/i-due-minuti-dodio/




How polling and election analysis work

(old Indian chief’s joke)

27 May 2014

At the fort the general called a soldier and told him: «Soldier, go to the woods to make firewood for winter». The soldier comes and goes with a load of firewood. Well, will it be enough for this winter? Will it be cold or very cold? On the mountain there is an old Indian chief who knows how to predict how cold winter will be, go and ask him!».

The soldier climbs the mountain from the old Indian and asks him how cold the next winter will be. «augh! Wait…» the Indian puts his hand on his forehead and looks far away, then says: «This winter… it will be very cold». The soldier returns to the fort and reports to the general that he then orders the soldier to go to make an additional supply of wood in the wood. The soldier comes and goes with a further load of firewood. All right, but are we sure it will be enough for this cold winter? Run to the old Indian and ask him if it will be very cold indeed». The soldier returns to the old Indian and asks the question again. The Indian puts his hand back on his forehead and looks away, then says:
«This winter will be very cold indeed».


The soldier returns to the fort to report. The general then orders him to go again to the wood to collect more wood. After another load of firewood the soldier returns to the fort. But the general is not yet convinced that it is enough, if it really will be so cold. So order the soldier to go back to the old Indian and ask him if it’s going to be really cold or cold that he’s never seen. The soldier returns again to the old Indian on the mountain and asks him the same question.
The Indian clasps his eyes, moves his gaze around him, and replies: «This year will be a cold that has never been felt before!». The soldier returns to report to the impressed General, who this time asks him: But how does the Indian chief know if it will be so cold? I want you to go ask him».
The soldier then goes, goes up the mountain again, and tells the Indian chief the question of the general: «How do you know how cold it will be?». And the Indian replied: «Ah, I have no idea, but I see that down at the fort they are collecting lots of wood!».


https://www.wittgenstein.it/2014/05/27/come-funzionano-sondaggi-e-analisi-elettorali/

JUST AN OTHER BEACH













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Sunday, 24 November 2019


Vangelis - Blade Runner Soundtrack (Remastered 2017)















United Kingdom, corbyn wants to tax the super rich. Too bad that its program is not viable


IL FATTO QUOTIDIANO

 Loretta Napoleoni

The great novelty of the election campaign in the United Kingdom is the return of socialist rhetoric to Labour lips. In summary, the message that Jeremy Corbyn sends to the electorate is this: let us redistribute wealth, taking from those in the era of globalization who have become rich, to give to others and thus reducing differences.

Said so is an unbeatable slogan and in fact the campaign of corbyn goes better than expected, in particular its popularity is high among young people. But as everyone knows, behind the slogans are the proposals for real change, which are often less clear than the promises of politicians.

Among the many sectors, Labour promises to nationalize the railways, water and all broadband infrastructure. They also propose financing public sector wage increases, abolishing university fees, and strengthening free health care for the elderly. No one can oppose a social programme like this. To meet the management costs of the return of the state in the economy and in the social one will have to raise taxes. The goal is to increase the government’s tax revenues by about 10 percent.




The key question is, who’s gonna pay? Corbyn has no doubt, will be the new enemy, emerged from the decades of globalization:
the super rich, the tax evaders, the bad masters and the great polluters.

So far no one can object to anything, we all want to punish those who get rich behind the nation’s back. The real problem arises at the tax level in identifying these and implementing the tax increase. And let’s see why.

The increase in the tax burden will be concentrated in the productive sector and specifically on the holding company, in other words the new enemy is hiding there. Let us take the financial one: corbyn said that about GBP 8.8 billion more could be extracted from the derivatives and foreign exchange sector. These are among the most productive sectors of the whole industry. In the United Kingdom, however, there is already a 0.5% financial transaction tax on the purchase of securities. This tax in 2017-2018 generated more than 3.5 billion pounds.

Corbyn, it must be said, is not the only contemporary politician who wants to increase tax revenue by taxing or increasing taxation on this type of activity. Bernie Sanders spoke of this in the United States and the European Union is considering it. But in these countries there is no tax similar to that in the United Kingdom.
The danger is...

Saturday, 23 November 2019

people








I am not positive it is not a joke...



Pier Paolo Pasolini - VALLE GIULIA 1968


The PCI to young people!!
It is sad. The controversy against
PCI had to be done in the first half
of the past decade. You’re late, children.
And it doesn’t matter if you weren’t born then...
Journalists around the world now (including
those of the televisions)
they lick you (as I think they still say in language
University) the ass. I don’t, friends.
You have faces of daddy’s children.
Good race doesn’t lie.
You have the same bad eye.
You are fearful, uncertain, desperate
(very good) but you also know how to be
bullying, blackmailing and confident:
petty-bourgeois prerogatives, my friends.
When you fought in Valle Giulia yesterday
with the cops,
I sympathized with the cops!
Because cops are poor kids.
They come from suburbs, rural or urban.
As for me, I know very well
their way of having been children and boys,
the precious thousand lire, the father also remained a boy,
because of poverty, which gives no authority.
The mother as hardened as a porter, or tender,
for some disease, like a bird;
the many brothers, the cottage
between the kitchen gardens with red sage (in the soil
others, subdivided); the bass
on the cloache; or the apartments in the large
popular buildings, etc. etc.
And then, look at them as they dress: as clowns,
with that rough cloth that reeks of rancour
furry and people. Worse than all, of course,
and the psychological state to which they are reduced
(for about forty thousand lire per month):
without more smile,
no more friendship with the world,
separated,
excluded (in an exclusion that has no equal);
humiliated by the loss of quality of men
for that of policemen (being hated makes you hate).
They are twenty years old, your age, dear and dear.
We obviously agree against the police institution.
But take it against the courts, and you’ll see!
The boys cops
che voi per sacro teppismo (of chosen tradition
Risorgimentale
of father’s children, you have beaten,
belong to the other social class.
Yesterday in Valle Giulia, a fragment was thus obtained
of class struggle: and you, friends (though on the side
of reason) you were the rich,
while the cops (who were on the side
of the wrong) were the poor. Good victory, therefore,
yours! In these cases,
Cops get flowers, man.

Pier Paolo Pasolini



II PCI ai giovani!!
È triste. La polemica contro
il PCI andava fatta nella prima metà
del decennio passato. Siete in ritardo, figli.
E non ha nessuna importanza se allora non eravate ancora nati...
Adesso i giornalisti di tutto il mondo (compresi
quelli delle televisioni)
vi leccano (come credo ancora si dica nel linguaggio
delle Università) il culo. Io no, amici.
Avete facce di figli di papà.
Buona razza non mente.
Avete lo stesso occhio cattivo.
Siete paurosi, incerti, disperati
(benissimo) ma sapete anche come essere
prepotenti, ricattatori e sicuri:
prerogative piccoloborghesi, amici.
Quando ieri a Valle Giulia avete fatto a botte
coi poliziotti,
io simpatizzavo coi poliziotti!
Perché i poliziotti sono figli di poveri.
Vengono da periferie, contadine o urbane che siano.
Quanto a me, conosco assai bene
il loro modo di esser stati bambini e ragazzi,
le preziose mille lire, il padre rimasto ragazzo anche lui,
a causa della miseria, che non dà autorità.
La madre incallita come un facchino, o tenera,
per qualche malattia, come un uccellino;
i tanti fratelli, la casupola
tra gli orti con la salvia rossa (in terreni
altrui, lottizzati); i bassi
sulle cloache; o gli appartamenti nei grandi
caseggiati popolari, ecc. ecc.
E poi, guardateli come li vestono: come pagliacci,
con quella stoffa ruvida che puzza di rancio
fureria e popolo. Peggio di tutto, naturalmente,
e lo stato psicologico cui sono ridotti
(per una quarantina di mille lire al mese):
senza più sorriso,
senza più amicizia col mondo,
separati,
esclusi (in una esclusione che non ha uguali);
umiliati dalla perdita della qualità di uomini
per quella di poliziotti (l’essere odiati fa odiare).
Hanno vent’anni, la vostra età, cari e care.
Siamo ovviamente d’accordo contro l’istituzione della polizia.
Ma prendetevela contro la Magistratura, e vedrete!
I ragazzi poliziotti
che voi per sacro teppismo (di eletta tradizione
risorgimentale)
di figli di papà, avete bastonato,
appartengono all’altra classe sociale.
A Valle Giulia, ieri, si è cosi avuto un frammento
di lotta di classe: e voi, amici (benché dalla parte
della ragione) eravate i ricchi,
mentre i poliziotti (che erano dalla parte
del torto) erano i poveri. Bella vittoria, dunque,
la vostra! In questi casi,
ai poliziotti si danno i fiori, amici.



Pier Paolo Pasolini


https://www.corriere.it/speciali/pasolini/poesia.html


THE ART OF WAR - SUN TZU

REGARDING THE SATIRE...


Letter to Michele Serra on D’Alema and Forattini
23 November
1999

Dear Michele Serra, I don’t agree with you. I write it to you in il Foglio although I know of it not assiduous reader (I’ll give you a call), to try to scatter the cards of the usual factionalism. I write that I do not agree with you at a newspaper that I like and that I almost never agree with you; but this time it would be, because you defended from a usual enemy of this newspaper one with which this newspaper generally agrees. A mess, but stirring up the mess as you did, seems to me the only smart thing to do not to be in a corner or in the other.
So, I don’t agree with you writing D'Alema to withdraw the Forattini lawsuit. I do not believe that satire should live“of forced and distorted”to the point of exposing false, but not paradoxical, things.
The vision of satire as mocking the powerful, David against Goliath, is surpassed by time. The freedom to weigh and damage Forattini seems rather great, as is the one you have that write more low in a single newspaper and less read. In every newspaper the bitter and bitter counter-responses of journalists to the letters of correction and denial show who always has the last word and the sharp knife and the handle.
And if satire is yes“arbitrary as are opinions”, how opinions must then be based on true facts. If you wrote an editorial exposing your thought that I’m a thief and a crook, I wouldn’t sue you, but is that fair? One thing is the opinion, one thing is the fact on which it is expressed. One thing is that Forattini think D'Alema unfair, one thing is that he says to think it because D'Alema rigged the Mitrokhin dossier. So much so that to prove paradoxical, and therefore manifestly false, the thesis of Forattini you are forced to say that D’Alema could not have manipulated the cards“of his own hand”Confirming that it is plausible that someone might have done it: an inference that can enter the hearts of forattini readers gently.


It seems to me instead that an argument can be valid that you have not used, that if D'Alema is in the place where he is, you must also catch the falsities and the lies of satire and give him opinion. But if in place of that D'Alema there had been any insult, or you rigging the accounts of the Unit to pocket the subscription money, would you have found it bearable? Is it not right that people should be able to react to the disproportionate force created by a newspaper article, a cartoon? The lawsuit is a tool that incactivates, and the demand for billions can, in some cases, be an additional cowardice, but the hands itch.
D’Alema, and everyone else in this country, does well to react, as it can and as it can, to the falsities that newspapers write (and do), and that from that moment on hundreds of thousands of people make their own. If there is a satire that does not deserve complaint and is effective much more than the insults beautiful and good (denying it would mean denying the daily work of staino, vincino, vauro, giannelli, bucchi, Altan and also forattini) It means that there may be a limit, that there is no free zone for any lie and offense. Ciao.