Když mu (na stejném pódiu s Gottem) strčí prst do úst a cloumá Pešákem zaháknutý v koutku jeho dutiny ústní, je to tak překvapivé a na hranici nechutnosti, že tu nelze neuznat jisté extrémní postavení Banjo Bandu ve spektru české televizní zábavy.
This is what economic growth looks like. It is sudden, disruptive, often inconvenient. It messes with the status quo. New stuff gets built and not all of it looks like the Cloisters. All kinds of rough and hungry men flock to it; they sometimes misbehave. They spit on the ground, say unpleasant things about women, and generally fail to meet the behavioral standards of the Upper West Side.
Decline is so much more decorous. Prairie towns slowly wither on the vine; the young people quietly leave, the stores gradually empty and close. Reporters from the Times write haunting and moving stories about the gentle, drifting sadness of it all. Novelists in creative writing programs can write delicate tales of rural decline; filmmakers can make understated little films about the lost hope and vanished promise of the American dream.
“The action was extremely weak (lots of stock footage is used) and the “dramatic” portions of the film were thoroughly coma inducing, but I DID like the scene where Fuller’s wife cornered him and forced him to impregnate her… or else. If the action sequences in this flick were nearly as entertaining as that one scene, Sinai Commandos could’ve been a lot of fun.”—Sinai Commandos
Thinking back on all the complacent conversations I used to have in Brussels, I was struck by a quotation I read this week in The Economist. A European central banker said he had always wondered how Europe’s leaders could have stumbled into World War I. “From the middle of a crisis,” he said recently, “you can see how easy it is to make mistakes.”
God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.
The documents - which contained details of the Government’s plans for a 2 percentage point hike in the top rate of VAT to 23 per cent and a flat rate €100 household levy - were inspected by a German parliamentary committee this week as Taoiseach Enda Kenny held talks with German chancellor Angela Merkel. (…) The manner of the document’s release led to scathing criticism of the Government by the Opposition for allowing a situation arise where German parliamentarians learned of Irish budgetary proposals before the Oireachtas had any sight or knowledge of them.
“Historians have found that Roman tourists kept Sparta afloat half a millennium after the civilization succumbed to demographic suicide, paying to watch the last Spartans oil their hair, don red robes and play flutes until the 2nd century CE.”—Spengler
“When mother smiled, no matter how nice her face had been before, it became incomparably nicer and everything around seemed to brighten up as well. If, at difficult moments of my life, I were able even fleetingly to see this smile, I would not know the meaning of sorrow. It seems to me that what people call the beauty of a face is constituted by its smile: if a smile adds glory to a face, then that face is beautiful; if it does not change it, it is ordinary; and if it spoils it, it is ugly.”—Leo Tolstoy, Childhood. (via mills)