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«Perante as novas ameaças ao Atlântico Norte», Augusto Santos Silva vai mandar espiões para... o Afeganistão! (2)

Para quem não notou, neste texto faz-se referência a dois filmes.


O primeiro, é o novo filme de Oliver Stone, "A sul da fronteira".


O segundo, é o filme de Stanley Kubrick "Dr. Estranhoamor" (Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb - 1964).


Foi colocada a ligação para a cena final Dr. Strangelove cujo texto é:

[last lines]

Dr. Strangelove: Sir! I have a plan!

[standing up from his wheelchair]

Dr. Strangelove: Mein Führer! I can walk!


Quem quiser ver o filme todo pode começar aqui:



adaptado de um e-mail enviado pelo Jorge


José de Sousa Saramago (16 de Novembro de 1922 / 18 de Junho de 2010)

José Saramago

Publicado neste blog:


Código do Trabalho: Tempos modernos

Josetxo Ezcurra, Rebelión de 30 de Janeiro


- Já estou farto de ouvir falar da maldita reforma laboral!... E se para variar fizéssemos uma boa reforma empresarial?

Chaplin, sempre actual:

Para Ver o filme completo:

adaptado de um e-mail enviado pelo Jorge


Chico Buarque: Roda Viva

Tem dias que a gente se sente
Como quem partiu ou morreu
A gente estancou de repente
Ou foi o mundo então que cresceu
A gente quer ter voz ativa
No nosso destino mandar
Mais eis que chega a roda-viva
E carrega o destino pra lá
Roda mundo, roda-gigante
Roda-moinho, roda pião
O tempo rodou num instante
Nas voltas do meu coração
A gente vai contra a corrente
Até não poder resistir
No volta do barco é que sente
O quanto deixou de cumprir
Faz tempo que a gente cultiva
A mais linda roseira que há
Mas eis que chega a roda-viva
E carrega a roseira pra lá
Roda mundo, roda-gigante
Roda-moinho, roda pião
O tempo rodou num instante
Nas voltas do meu coração
A roda da saia, a mulata
Não quer mais rodar, não senhor
Não posso fazer serenata
A roda de samba acabou
A gente toma a iniciativa
Viola na rua, a cantar
Mas eis que chega a roda-viva
E carrega a viola pra lá
Roda mundo, roda-gigante
Roda-moinho, roda pião
O tempo rodou num instante
Nas voltas do meu coração
O samba, a viola, a roseira
Um dia a fogueira queimou
Foi tudo ilusão passageira
Que a brisa primeira levou
No peito a saudade cativa
Faz força pro tempo parar
Mas eis que chega a roda-viva
E carrega a saudade pra lá
Roda mundo, roda-gigante
Roda-moinho, roda pião
O tempo rodou num instante
Nas voltas do meu coração

Para ver e ouvir Chico Buarque interpretar a canção «Roda Viva»:

Para Ler:


adaptado de um e-mail enviado pelo Jorge


Charlie Chaplin, 120 anos de juventude!


Charles Spencer Chaplin, Jr. (16 de Abril de 1889 – 25 de Dezembro de 1977)

Discurso final em 

A Jewish Barber: I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible; Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone, and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge as made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me, I say, do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you; who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines, you are not cattle, you are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don't hate! Only the unloved hate; the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers! Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of St. Luke, it is written that the kingdom of God is within man, not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people, have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy, let us use that power. Let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfill that promise. They never will! Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world! To do away with national barriers! To do away with greed, with hate and intolerance! Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers, in the name of democracy, let us all unite! Hannah, can you hear me? Wherever you are, look up Hannah! The clouds are lifting! The sun is breaking through! We are coming out of the darkness into the light! We are coming into a new world; a kindlier world, where men will rise above their hate, their greed, and brutality. Look up, Hannah! The soul of man has been given wings and at last he is beginning to fly. He is flying into the rainbow! Into the light of hope, into the future! The glorious future, that belongs to you, to me and to all of us. Look up, Hannah. Look up!

Cena do processo de Monsieur Verdoux (parte final do filme):

The Prosecutor: Never, never in the history of jurisprudence have such terrifying deeds been brought to light. Gentlemen of the jury, you have before you a cruel and cynical monster. Look at him!
[all heads turn to face Verdoux, who turns around himself to look behind.]
The Prosecutor: Observe him, gentlemen. This man, who has brains, if he had decent instincts, could have made an honest living. And yet, he preferred to rob and murder unsuspecting women. In fact, he made a business of it. I do not ask for vengeance, but for the protection of society. For this mass killer, I demand the extreme penalty: that he be put to death on the guillotine. The State rests its case.
Judge: Monsieur Verdoux, you have been found guilty. Have you anything to say before sentence is passed upon you?
Henri Verdoux: Oui, monsieur, I have. However remiss the prosecutor has been in complimenting me, he at least admits that I have brains. Thank you, Monsieur, I have. And for thirty-five years I used them honestly. After that, nobody wanted them. So I was forced to go into business for myself. As for being a mass killer, does not the world encourage it? Is it not building weapons of destruction for the sole purpose of mass killing? Has it not blown unsuspecting women and little children to pieces? And done it very scientifically? As a mass killer, I am an amateur by comparison. However, I do not wish to lose my temper, because very shortly, I shall lose my head. Nevertheless, upon leaving this spark of earthly existence, I have this to say: I shall see you all...very soon...very soon.


Nos 120 anos de Chaplin dois filmes completos:

adaptado de um e-mail enviado pelo Jorge                                      


Harold Pinter sobre a guerra no Iraque (2005)

     Nobel Prize-winning playwright Harold Pinter, who has died at the age of 78, strongly opposed the war in Iraq, calling it ''a bandit act.'' In a speech he gave in Sweden, he said President George W Bush and UK Prime Minister Tony Blair should be tried as war criminals for instigating the invasion.

Ver vídeo e ler:              

  • Notícia da BBC                              



The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East masquerading - as a last resort - all other justifications having failed to justify themselves - as liberation. A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and thousands of innocent people. 

We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the Middle East'.  

How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is Number 10, Downing Street, London.


Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.


Em francês:

L'invasion de l'Irak était un acte de banditisme, un acte de terrorisme d'État patenté, témoignant d'un absolu mépris pour la notion de droit international. Cette invasion était un engagement militaire arbitraire inspiré par une série de mensonges répétés sans fin et une manipulation flagrante des médias et, partant, du public ; une intervention visant à renforcer le contrôle militaire et économique de l'Amérique sur le Moyen-Orient et se faisant passer – en dernier ressort – toutes les autres justifications n'ayant pas réussi à prouver leur bien-fondé – pour une libération. Une red outable affirmation de la force militaire responsable de la mort et de la mutilation de milliers et de milliers d'innocents.

Nous avons apporté au peuple irakien la torture, les bombes à fragmentation, l'uranium appauvri, d'innombrables tueries commises au hasard, la misère, l'humiliation et la mort et nous appelons cela « apporter la liberté et la démocratie au Moyen-Orient».

Combien de gens vous faut-il tuer avant d'avoir droit au titre de meurtrier de masse et de criminel de guerre ? Cent mille ? Plus qu'assez, serais-je tenté de croire. Il serait donc juste que Bush et Blair soient appelés à comparaître devant la Cour internationale de justice. Mais Bush a été malin. Il n'a pas ratifié la Cour internationale de justice. Donc, si un soldat américain ou, à plus forte raison, un homme politique américain, devait se retrouver au banc des accusés, Bush a prévenu qu'il enverrait les marines. Mais Tony Blair, lui, a ratifié la Cour et peut donc faire l'objet de poursuites.Nous pouvons communiquer son adresse à la Cour si ça l'intéresse. Il habite au 10 Downing Street, Londres.


Aux premiers jours de l'invasion une photo a été publiée à la une des journaux britanniques ; on y voit Tony Blair embrassant sur la joue un petit garçon irakien. « Un enfant reconnaissant » disait la légende. Quelques jours plus tard on pouvait trouver, en pages intérieures, l'histoire et la photo d'un autre petit garçon de quatre ans qui n'avait plus de bras. Sa famille avait été pulvérisée par un missile. C'était le seul survivant. « Quand est-ce que je retrouverai mes bras ? » demandait-il. L'histoire est passée à la trappe. Eh bien oui, Tony Blair ne le serrait pas contre lui, pas plus qu'il ne serrait dans ses bras le corps d'un autre enfant mutilé, ou le corps d'un cadavre ensanglanté. Le sang, c'est sale. Ça salit votre chemise et votre cravate quand vous parlez avec sincérité devant les caméras de télévision.


O discurso completo:

adaptado de um e-mail enviado pelo Jorge


Notícias AQUI


Adenda em 28/12 às 16h45m:


Harold Pinter sobre a guerra da NATO na Sérvia: «We are bandits guilty of murder»

     «THE Nato war is a bandit action, committed with no serious consideration of the consequences, confused, ill thought, miscalculated, an act of deplorable machismo. Yet, according to opinion polls most British people support this war, believing we may have a moral duty to intervene and the moral authority to do so.   

What is moral authority? Where does it come from? How do you achieve it? Who bestows it upon you? How do you persuade others that you possess it? You don't. You don't have to bother. What you have is power. Bombs and power. And that's your moral authority. »


Ler Texto Integral

adaptado de um e-mail enviado pelo Jorge


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