domingo, 30 de novembro de 2008

EU CONSIGO MESMO......

“He raised his torso and looked into the sky,
Shouting his questions, looking for directions.
“What do I do now?””
– Bad Religion, “No Direction”, do álbum Generator, de 1992

“Every day we profit so,
Leaning towards the great unknown,
Asking how it pertains to tomorrow.

Aim for places we’ve not been,
Trample paths that go between,
Yesterday’s foundations and tomorrow.

It’s the way they say it’s got to be,
We spear ahead and forge our destiny.
Who do they represent?
Who do you believe?
Make a sound decision for others to heed.

Try to set a faster pace,
Try to build a master race,
One that will make a contribution to tomorrow.

It’s the way they say it’s got to be,
We put aside our fears and make history.
The clothes are in the dryer and the writing is on the wall,
We’re doing everything we can to stop this fall.

Everyday we profit so,
Leaning towards the great unknown.”
– Bad Religion, “Tomorrow”, do álbum Generator, de 1992

“Thinking it over
I’ve been sad
Thinking it over
I’d be more glad
To change my ways for the asking

Ask me I will play
All the love that I hold inside”
– Simon & Garfunkel, “Song For The Asking”, do álbum Bridge Over Troubled Water, de 1970


Antes do banho, depois de chegar da casa do Rafa (José Rafael Pimentel Barata), levei mais um senhor carão monstro da mamãe. Blá, blá, blá. Nada que eu já não soubesse de cor e salteado e de trás pra frente. Mas o Rafa conseguiu se superar desta vez: ligou aqui pra casa pra dizer pra mamãe que eu tava doidão e que ele tava preocupado comigo por estar naquele estado. Caralho! Ele já me viu em estados piores e não avisou meine Mutter, por quê avisou agora?
Mamãe tem uma ótima teoria com a qual concordo – ele (Rafael) , tanto ele quanto a Laura já ‘tão mais do que de saco de cheio comigo por eu ser o que sou e por, volta e meia, sempre ‘tá lá (na casa deles), infernizando a paciência deles!!!! “Como resolver essa merda?” Simplesmente, sumindo da casa dele por tempo indeterminado! Eu amo tanto ele quanto a Laura por serem o que são, mas, putz!, Frau Ângela tem razão mesmo quanto ao ser o que sou, então, por isso depois de pegar os meus livros e quadrinhos e amp e guitarra e álbuns que baixei na net no PC da Rafa que estão lá, vou dar um sumiço federal de lá, tipo uns dois e/ou três meses mesmo – e depois fazer só visitas relâmpago, de... não sei... uma vez por mês e coisa bem rápida mesmo. Talvez, eu acho que depois disso... sei lá... Vamos ver o que acontece... mas será mesmo que vou conseguir fazer isso?!?)
Hum... Falando em Herr Rafael e em Frau Laura, eu até ia escrever mesmo alguma coisa sobre a festa de aniversário do Heitor (que foi último dia 14 de novembro), mas acabou não saindo porra nenhuma. Bom, (a festa) foi do caralho, de verdade, ainda mais porque ajudei a montar aquela porra, e tudo deu certo, e isso foi fodásticamente do caralho! Bom, se eu tinha... se eu ainda tinha alguma moral lá na casa do Rafa, essa moral foi pro espaço. Num é mais Everybody Hates Chris e sim Everybody Hates Malafaia... (não! Alle jemand haßt Malafaia fica bem melhor!).
Yeah, eu consigo mesmo fazer essas cagadas monstro com a minha vida e ainda fuder com a paciência dos outros, fazendo praticamente-todo-mundo ficar puto comigo. e quando penso que vou conseguir dar uma dentro, consigo ferrar tudo mais ainda! É-UMA-MERDA! Eu tenho que aproveitar que ainda tem gente que ainda canta “Bridge Troubled Over Water” (cuja letra e tradução estão no final desta postagem) pra mim, porque senão...............

É, eu adoro ser preterido no emprego que eu sempre quis por alguém visível e assumidamente mais incapacitado para o cargo do que eu.


Foda, caras, é foda.



BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER >> Ponte Sobre Águas Turbulentas >> Bridge Over Troubled Water >> 1970
When you’re weary Quando você tiver cansada
Feeling small Se sentindo pequena
When tears are in your eyes Quando houver lágrimas nos teus olhos
I will dry them all Eu irei exugá-las

I’m on your side Eu estou do teu lado
When times get rough Quando o tempo maltratar você
And friends just can’t be found E os amigos não puderem ser encontrados
Like a bridge over troubled water Como uma ponte sobre águas turbulentas
I will lay me down Eu irei me colocar
Like a bridge over troubled water Como uma ponte sobre águas turbulentas
I will lay me down Eu irei me colocar


When you’re down and out Quando você estiver pra baixo
When you’re on the street Quando você estiver na rua
When evening falls so hard Quando o anoitecer é difícil
I will comfort you Eu irei confortar você


I’ll take your part Ficarei ao seu lado
When darkness comes Quando a escuridão chegar
And pain is all around E o sofrimento estiver ao redor
Like a bridge over troubled water Como uma ponte sobre águas turbulentas
I will lay me down Eu irei me colocar
Like a bridge over troubled water Como uma ponte sobre águas turbulentas
I will lay me down Eu irei me colocar

Sail on Silver Girl, Navegue, Garota de Prata,
Sail on by Navegue
Your time has come to shine Seu tempo está chegando, para brilhar
All your dreams are on their way Todos teus sonhos estão a caminho

See how they shine Veja como eles brilham
If you need a friend Se você precisar de um amigo
I’m sailing right behind Eu estarei navegando ao teu lado
Like a bridge over troubled water Como uma ponte sobre águas turbulentas
I will ease your mind Eu irei confortar tua mente
Like a bridge over troubled water Como uma ponte sobre águas turbulentas
I will ease your mind Eu irei confortar tua mente













Weiß_Ulf, Annie, Jéssica, Herr Pitts und Frau Cléa, Sydinho, Salomão, Andrei, Bob, Jackass, Alemão, Vítor Morte, Rafa und Laura, Frau Rita, Karen – das post ist für ihnen!

quarta-feira, 19 de novembro de 2008

BAD RELIGION -- STRANGER THAN FICTION -- 1994

:: STRANGER THAN FICTION ::
:: bad religion ::
:: 1994 ::
Greg Graffin - voz
Brett Gurewitz - guitarra
Jay Bentley - baixo
Greg Hetson - guitarra
Bobby Schayer - bateria

INCOMPLETE

(Brett Gurewitz)
Mother, father, look at your little monster,
I'm a hero, I'm a zero,
I'm the butt of the worst joke in history.
I'm a lock without a key, a city with no door,
A prayer without faith, a show without a score,
I'm a bad word, a wink, a nod, a shiver,
An untold story, sex without fury,
A creeping gray memory...
I am incomplete,
Incomplete...

Doctor, cure me; what is the cause of my condition?
This madness shoots me,
Like bullets smashing glass in a silent movie.
I'm a trap without a spring, a temple with no god,
A jack without an ace, the tip of your tongue,
I'm a promise, an unmailed letter,
An unbuilt motor, deck without a joker,
A creeping gray memory...
I am incomplete,
Incomplete...

Tell Saint Peter not to bet on me.
I've got a naked obsession, a good intention gone bad.

I am incomplete,
Incomplete...

LEAVE MINE TO ME
(Greg Graffin)
There are desperate times upon us,
There are codes of white and black,
Political resentment and people start to crack.
There's hate and opposition,
There's fumbling dialog,
Yet you sit there and judge me
And you think it makes a difference.

If you think I'm all alone, you are foolishly wrong,
There's an entire army who blindly follows along.
And you happen to be one of them, believe it or not,
Even though you try not to be, we are of the same plague.

The other ways we're taught to fear,
Don't even scratch the surface of the problem here.
I'm not blind, and I'm not scared,
So many crucial factors exist out there,
And we're but one, and they're but two,
And how we come to terms will help us pull through.

Things cannot change too fast, it took us this much time
To reach our current platform and walk this fragile line.
If I thought I'd make a difference, I'd kill myself today,
But so many are like me lost in the fray.

You create your own reality,
And leave mine to me...

STRANGER THAN FICTION
(Brett Gurewitz)
A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hoping for a heart attack.
Tonight the windows are watching, the streets all conspire,
And the lamppost can't stop crying.

If I could fly high above the world,
Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the world stupidity?
Or would I just see hungry lover homicides, loving brother suicides,
And olly olly oxenfrees who pickaside and hide?

The world is scratching at my door,
My morning paper's got the scores,
The human interest stories and the obituary.

Cockroach naps and rattling traps,
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

In my alley around the corner,
There's a wino with feathered shoulders,
And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back.
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like Thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living.

The world is scratching at my door,
My morning paper has the scores,
The human interest stories and the obituary.

Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back,
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why Hemingway cracked,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Life is the crummiest book I ever read,
There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots,
Pictures to shock and characters an amateur would never dream up.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction...

TINY VOICES
(Greg Graffin)
The brown and orange sky holds its breath
As the sun retreats to the distant horizon,
And our hearts palpitate anxiously as we soon will lay supine
And wait for sleep to overcome us.

And from somewhere in our black,
Subconscious minds when we're asleep,
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices,
Resonating, its screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence,
And the desperate plea for recognition and recompense.

Tiny voices, echoes of our heritage,
Our long and sallow faces turn the other way,
Tiny voices, harbored deep within
As we outwardly deny that they have something to say,
And if we don't confront them they will never go away.

The billions of tiny pinhole embers fade into a morning sky
Filled with poignant morose wonder,
Waking a bear a cosmetic peace that verifies the turmoil
Which we carry deep inside.

And from somewhere in our black,
Subconscious minds when we're asleep,
Comes a haunting swelling mass of voices,
Resonating, its screams of forgotten victims and the cries of innocence,
And the desperate plea for recognition and recompense.

Tiny voices, echoes of our heritage,

Our long and sallow faces turn the other way,
Tiny voices, harbored deep within
As we outwardly deny that they have something to say,
And if we don't confront them they will never go away.

THE HANDSHAKE
(Greg Graffin)
Every time you shake someone's hand
And it feels like your best friend,
Could it be that it's only superficiality?
Without regard to well-being, without an inkling of compromise,
Handshakes are nothing but a subtle "fuck you",
Contracts determine the best friendships.

This is the way of the modern world,
Everyone's vying for patronage,
This is the way of the modern world,
And something has gotta give.

Every time you shake someone's hand,
And you share neither color nor creed,
You gotta overcome the obstacles of history.
There is restrained passion, mistrust, and bigotry
And these have created the new foundations of society,
There's no harmony, just class and race.

This is the way of the modern world,
Everyone's fighting for dominance,
This is the way of the modern world,
And something has gotta give.

Now I believe in unity, and I am willing to compromise,
But I'm not gonna lie or sell my soul.

Every time you shake someone's hand,
It determines where you stand,
And if you won't uphold your side then it's better to
Fend for yourself, and shun the handshake,
Someone's gotta give.

BETTER OFF DEAD
(Brett Gurewitz)
I'm sorry about the sun,
How could I know that you would burn?
And I'm sorry about the moon,
How could I know that you'd disapprove?

And I'll never make the same mistake:
The next time I create the universe
I'll make sure we communicate at length.
Oh yeah...

But until then, better off dead,
A smile on the lips and a hole in the head.
Better off dead, yeah better than this,
Take it away 'cause there's nothing to miss.

I'm sorry about the world,
How could I know you'd take it so bad?
And I'll never make the same mistake,
So if you're looking for a patsy
Why not try the entire human race,
Just to play it safe?

But until then, better off dead,
A smile on the lips and a hole in the head.
Better off dead, yeah better than this,
Take it away 'cause there's nothing to miss.

Better off dead, yeah better off dead,
Why don't you try pushing daisies instead?
Better off dead, yeah better off dead,
A smile on the lips and a hole in the head.

And I'll never make the same mistake:
The next time I create the universe
I'll make sure you participate.

And I'll never make the same mistake:
The next time I create the universe
I'll make sure you participate,
Just in case.

INFECTED
(Brett Gurewitz)
Now here I go,
Hope I don't break down,
I won't take anything,
I don't need anything.
Don't want to exist,
I can't persist,
Please stop before I do it again.

Just talk about nothing, let's talk about nothing,
Let's talk about no one, please talk about no one, someone, anyone...

You and me have a disease,
You affect me, you infect me,
I'm afflicted, you're addicted.
You and me, you and me.

I'm on the edge,
Get against the wall,
I'm so distracted,
I love to strike you.
Here's my confession,
You learned your lesson,
Stop me before I do it again.

Just talk about nothing, let's talk about nothing,
Let's talk about no one, please talk about no one, someone, anyone...

You and me have a disease,
You affect me, you infect me,
I'm afflicted, you're addicted.
You and me, you and me.

You're clear - as a heavy lead curtain I want to drill you - like an ocean,
We can work it out, I've been running out, now I'm running out.
Don't be mad about it, baby...

You and me have a disease,
You affect me (I want to tie you), you infect me (Crucify you).
I'm afflicted (Kneel before you), you're addicted (Revile your body).

You and me (You and me) have a disease (We're made in heaven),
You affect me (I want to take you), you infect me (I want to break you),
I'm afflicted (Supplicate you), you're addicted (With thorny roses).

You and me (You and me), have a disease (are incurable),
You affect me (I want to bathe you), you infect me (In holy water),
I'm afflicted (I want to kill you), you're addicted (Upon the altar).

You and me, you and me...
TELEVISION
(Brett Gurewitz, Johnette Napolitano)Television, television, television, television...

Oh yeah! I want to bask in your golden light,
Submerge in electric waves,
I need my connection to the world outside.

The world outside is buzzing like an angry wasp in summer,
The candidates are running, and soon the son of God is coming,
Crackle mental convolutions tune in to the revolution,
Whereby everyone's included so we'll never have to be alone.

Every atom of my body, blood and sinew, bone and fibre,
I can't distil you from my blood,
You're a hungry germ inside of me.
You're my lover, you're my heroine,
My conscience and my voice,
And I know now that I have learned to let you in
I will never have to be alone.

I'd take after my mother but she's from a different generation,
I prefer my big brother, he's so gentle and understanding,
And I learn what I can from him by the television light,
So that when I'm all alone, I know everything's gonna be alright.

INDIVIDUAL
(Greg Graffin)Individuals run for cover,
For the multitudes of thoughtless clones
Have reached a critical mass. (Have reached a critical mass)Individuals hide in fear, under cover,
Sheltered by the wafer thin veil of intelligence. (Thin veil of intelligence)
Individuals, nowhere to be seen...

Urbana is oozing like a bloated carcass
With maggots cooking in the desert heat, (Cooking in the desert heat)Oozing, with progeny writhing and desperate
For input from someone more determined. (Someone more determined)
Congregating in invisible circles,
Half apart and half a part,
All too aware of the insignificance,
Pushing on with soul and heart.

Individuals don't pray for forgiveness,
When pinned up against the wall
under siege of persecution, (Under siege of persecution)Individuals command exception,
And accept dichotomy,
Maybe you can't choose anymore. (Maybe you can't choose anymore)
Procreation without gain or purpose,
Languid wills and torped minds,
Catapulted ever faster
By the arrow of time...

You take yours and I'll keep mine!

Individuals...

HOORAY FOR ME...
(Brett Gurewitz)
I can see my teenage father standing straight on a desolate corner
In the shadow of tentacled towers by the red light of America.
I imagine how his mother felt when she heard that her husband was dying.
And the underground heroes of the tarmac shooting smack
Were blowing up worlds and damned! out loud.
Hey, can you tell me how does it feel?

Yeah, tell me... Can you imagine, for a second,
Doing anything that you don't have to?
Well that's what I'm accustomed to so hooray for me...
And fuck you!

When I slept with stony faces on the riverbank,
My angeldevil reveler shook me desperately in dying.
I don't exactly want to apologize for anything.
And now we're all mad and tangled in secret rooms
With roman candles on an endless graveyard train.

Yeah, tell me... Can you imagine, for a second,
Doing anything just 'cus you want to?
Well, that's just what I do so hooray for me...
And fuck you!

Yeah, I was dreaming through the "howzlife", yawning, car black,
When she told me "mad and meaningless as ever.."
And a song came on my radio like a cemetery rhyme
For a million crying corpses in their tragedy of respectable existence.

Yeah, tell me... Can you imagine, for a second,
Trying half the things you ever wanted to?
Well, that's just what I do, so hooray for me...
And fuck you!

Oh yeah... I'm not respectable, and never sensible,

I've been incredible, so damned irascible

And I like the things I do so hooray for me...

And fuck you!

SLUMBER
(Greg Graffin)So, you're feeling unimportant
'Cause you've got nothing to say.
And your live is just a ramble,
No one understands you anyway.

Well, I've got a piece of news, son
That might make you change your mind.
Your life is historically meaningful
And spans a significant time.

Slumber will come soon
And you are helping put it to sleep.
Side by side we do our share,
Faithfully assuring that
Slumber will come soon.

Well, now do you feel a little better?
Lift up your head and walk away,
Knowing we're all in this together
For such a short time anyway.

There is just no time to parade around sulking,
I would rather laugh than cry.
The rich, the poor, the strong, the weak:
We share this place together
And we pitch in to help it die.

I'm not too good at giving morals
And I don't fear the consequence.
If life makes you scared and bitter,
At least it's not for very long.

Slumber will come soon
And you are helping put it to sleep.
Side by side we do our share,
Faithfully assuring that
Slumber will come soon.

MARKED
(Brett Gurewitz)If I'm a monster,
I am a willing one,
This roller coaster ride is an enticing one,
On the tip of a continuum flowing wavelike
Through disorder carry me like a vessel to water.

Everything you see leaves a mark on your soul,
Everything you feel leaves a mark on your soul,
Everything you touch leaves a mark on your soul,
Everything you make leaves a mark on your soul.

If I can touch it,
I can destroy it,
If it's imaginable to some degree,
I can become it,
Like a hungry turning vortex that just flickers to existence,
Consuming bits and pieces until I'm finally extinguished.

Everyone you see leaves a mark on your soul,
Everyone you bare leaves a mark on your soul,
Everyone you touch leaves a mark on your soul,
Everyone you love leaves a mark on your soul.

Everything you take leaves a mark on your soul,
Everything you give leaves a mark on your soul,
And all the fear and loneliness that's impossible to control
And every tear you cry leaves a mark on your soul.

INNER LOGIC
(Greg Graffin)
Automatons with business suits, swinging black boxes,
Sequestering the blueprints of daily life,
Contented, free of care, they rejoice in morning ritual
As they file like drone ant colonies to their office in the sky.

I don't ask questions, don't promote demonstrations,
Don't look for new consensus, don't stray from constitution.
If I pierce the complexity I won't find salvation,
Just the bald and overt truth of the evil and deception.

There is an inner logic, and we're taught to stay far from it.
It is simple and elegant, but it's cruel and antithetic
And there's no effort to reveal it.

Graduated mentors stroll in marbled brick porticos
In sagacious dialog they despise their average ways,
Betraying pomp and discipline, they mold their institution
Where they practice exclusion on the masses every day.

I don't ask questions, don't promote demonstration,
Don't look for new consensus, don't stray from constitution.
If I pierce the complexity I won't find salvation,
Just the bald and overt truth of the evil and deception.

There is an inner logic, and we're taught to stay far from it.
It is simple and elegant, but it's cruel and antithetic
And there's no effort to reveal it.

Decorated warriors drill harmless kids on pavement,
Simulating tyranny under red alert.
Protecting the opulent and staging moral standard,
They expect redemption of character and self-growth.

(No equality, no opportunity,
No tolerance for the progressive alternative...)

WHAT IT IS
(Greg Graffin)There's a purpose, there's a goal,
There's virtuous, and immoral,
There's a reason for all of this
And I don't know what it is!

I am one, and plural too,
I accept them, but they exclude,
I could make sense of all of this,
But I don't know what it is!

The seeds of inspiration never germinated in my mind,
The beacon of awakening is somewhere that I can't find.
So I don't know what it is...

There's a beginning, and there's an end,
There's a climax, some would contend,
There's a way to signify this,
But I don't know what it is!

The seeds of inspiration never germinated in my mind,
The beacon of awakening is somewhere that I can't find.
So I don't know what it is.
Show me something more definitive,
I don't know what it is!

21st CENTURY (DIGITAL BOY)
(Brett Gurewitz)
I can't believe it,
The way you look sometimes,
Like a trampled flag on a city street,
Oh yeah.

And I don't want it,
The things you're offering me,
Symbolized bar code, quick ID,
Oh yeah.

I'm a 21st century digital boy,
I don't know how to live
But I've got a lot of toys,
My daddy is a lazy middle class intellectual,
My mommy's on valium,
She's so ineffectual,
Ain't life a mystery?

I can't explain it,
The things they're saying to me,
It's going yayayayayayaya,
Oh yeah.

I'm a 21st century digital boy,
I don't know how to read
But I've got a lot of toys,
My daddy is a lazy middle class intellectual,
My mommy's on valium,
She's so ineffectual,
Ain't life a mystery?

I tried to tell you about no control,
But now I really don't know.

And then you told me how bad you had to suffer,
Is that really all you have to offer?

See I'm a 21st century digital boy,
I don't know how to read
But I've got a lot of toys,
My daddy is a lazy middle class intellectual,
My mommy's on valium,
She's so ineffectual,
Ain't life a mystery?

Cat's foot, iron claw, (21st century digital boy)Neurosurgeons scream for more, (21st century digital boy)Innocence raped with napalm fire, (21st century digital boy)Anything I want, I really need. (21st century digital boy)
21st century schitzoid boy,
21st century video boy,
21st century digital boy,
21st century sofa boy...

NEWS FROM THE FRONT
(Brett Gurewitz, Jay Bentley, Bobby Schayer)
Blood is a river,
Flowing darkly amidst the tangled roots of the tall shining city,
Crazy flowing mantide migrations
Engorge the big ventricle of heartbroken America.
So many heaven hoping, hopeful groping breathers
All tap together quietly and desperately in unison.
Hey, hey, hey, is anybody listening?

News from the front,
News from the front,
We're living in troubled times,
So many fighting for their lives,
Why do the troops despise the news from the front?

Ignorance is the root of fear,
And fear is the kindling of anger.
War is the bringer of shame,
But never has the burden lain so heavily upon the victim.
Rage and desolation,
Pain and loneliness,
Isn't all of it alarmingly familiar?
Hey, hey, hey, silence is a killer.

News from the front,
News from the front,
Yeah, these are troubled times,
How many more will have to die
Before the governors can't deny the news from the front?

Break down the barriers, ally the carriers,
What is your motivation?
Take a good look in the mirror.

News from the front,
News from the front,
So many are fighting for their lives,
How many more will have to die?
Why does the government decry the news from the front?
[disponível nas versões japonesa e européia do álbum]
MARKOVIAN PROCESS
(Greg Graffin)
You will all say
That I am surely crazy ,
Only an unrepentant pessimist
Whose thoughts should be detained.
But facts are sterile,
Not vulgar nor sublime,
And they're not religion,
They're for everyone
And signify the times.

Today is a window,
Tomorrow the landscape.
All you need to do is take a look outside
To know what we're bound to face.

The level of disparity, the common man,
The manner of destruction of the native land,
The poverty of reprisal from all involved
And the scathing trajectory from the past.

Markovian process,
Lead us not in vain.
Prove to our descendants what we did to them,
Then make us go away.
[disponível nas versões japonesa e européia do álbum]









:: ‘til the next! ::

sexta-feira, 14 de novembro de 2008

INFORMAÇÕES IMPORTANTES - MAIS UMA FOTO DE BÊBADOS

ENJOY!

retirado de: http://veja.abril.com.br/noticia/brasil/laudo-deve-apontar-dez-responsaveis-401831.shtml
Tragédia do vôo 3054

Laudo deve apontar dez responsáveis
14 de novembro de 2008

O laudo do Instituo de Criminalística (IC) sobre o acidente com o Airbus A320 da TAM deverá apontar falhas administrativas da Agência Nacional de Aviação Civil (Anac), da Empresa Brasileira de Infra-Estrutura Aeroportuária (Infraero), dos pilotos do vôo 3054 e da própria empresa aérea. O primeiro parecer oficial sobre a tragédia, que deixou 199 mortos em julho do ano passado, foi concluído nesta semana - 16 meses após o acidente - e deverá ser entregue à Policia Civil na próxima segunda-feira, segundo reportagem do jornal O Estado de S. Paulo desta sexta-feira.

São quase 700 folhas e 2.500 páginas de anexo. No documento, segundo fontes ouvidas pelo jornal, o Núcleo de Engenharia do IC culpa a Anac por não ter editado uma norma que vetasse o pouso de aeronaves no Aeroporto de Congonhas em caso de condições meteorológicas adversas (no dia do acidente, a pista estava molhada e escorregadia). Outro erro teria sido da Infraero, por liberar o funcionamento do aeroporto sem grooving (ranhuras que ajudam a escoar a água) e por neglicenciarem normas internacionais e gerenciamento da posta.

Até a fabricante do jato, a francesa Airbus, deve ser apontada como responsável pela maior tragédia da aviação brasileira. O laudo avalia que a companhia deveria ter classificado como "mandatória" - e não apenas "desejável"- a instalação de um alarme sonoro que avisasse os pilotos sobre eventuais equívocos no manuseio das manetes (aceleradores do avião). Na ocasião, um dos reversos (freio aerodinâmico) do avião da TAM estava travado.

Na ótica do IC, o treinamento oferecido pela TAM foi igualmente falho, já que os comandantes Kleiber Lima e Henrique Stefanini di Sacco, que também morreram no episódio, não seguiram as orientações recomendadas pela empresa na hora do pouso. A perícia descartou quebras ou falhas de equipamentos e sistema eletrônicos do avião.

No total, deverá ser indiciado um grupo de dez pessoas, inclusive ex-integrantes da Anac. A lista dos nomes, no entanto, permanece sob sigilo. Os envolvidos deverão responder por crime de atentado contra a segurança de transporte aéreo (artigo 261 do Código Penal) ou por crime de homicídio culposo (sem intenção). O relatório final da investigação, assinado pelo perito Antonia de Carvalho Nogueira Neto, será encaminhado ao Ministério Público Estadual (MPE) de São Paulo.


LINKS RELACIONADOS

* • Em VEJA de 25/7/2007 Como foi o acidente do Airbus da TAM




retirado de: http://super.abril.com.br/blogs/proximafase/128445_post.shtml

Mais sobre a pirataria. Bônus: o que fazer para mudar

Um dos assuntos quentes no Brasil essa semana é, como vocês devem saber, a onda de banimento que a Microsoft começou com os consoles piratas, muitos no Brasil. É só passar em algum lugar como o fórum UOL e ver como há gente desesperada. Vamos às opiniões polêmicas pro povo xingar. A primeira coisa: banir videogames (do serviço online) é normal e correto. Não é contra lei você modificar seu videogame para rodar jogos piratas. Mas quando você entra na Xbox Live, o serviço online (pago) da Microsoft, você assina um contrato que tem seus termos: entre eles, não usar videogames modificados, jogos não originais e especialmente antes de serem lançados. Se você quebra uma dessas regras, está passível de ser banido. Não tem choro. O que aconteceu é que 99% das pessoas que foram banidas da Live jogavam Gears of War 2 semanas antes do lançamento. Era óbvio que a cópia do cara era pirata. Nada mais justo que eles serem banidos do serviço online.

Aí vem aquela mania brasileira de achar que o cliente tem de reclamar mesmo quando não tem a menor razão. Veja: a Microsoft não inutilizou o aparelho – aí sim seria grave. Só fechou as portas para um serviço que oferecia. Assim como a Blizzard, que baniu ontem 350 mil jogadores de Diablo II, Starcraft e Warcraft III porque eles trapaceavam. Não é a mesma coisa? Antes de comprar o aparelho todo mundo já sabe que o jogo é caro. Piratear não é quase uma “necessidade” no Brasil, não importa o preço. É que nem dizer que a solução é comprar uma bolsa Louis Vuitton falsificada porque, afinal, você não tem grana para comprar a original. Ora, você não PRECISA de uma bolsa de marca, então se resolveu comprar uma, siga as regras, ou compre de uma marca qualquer. R$ 270 por jogo é ruim? Importe direto da CDUniverse (sai mais barato, mesmo com imposto - e é 100% legal) ou fique jogando no seu computador, onde os jogos custam R$ 99. As melhores coisas são caras, as supérfluas especialmente caras. Ninguém precisa ter um videogame. Na verdade há 3 opções: arrume outra diversão, siga as regras, ou ainda melhor: brigue para mudar a lei que faz com que videogame no Brasil sofra tributação maior que as máquinas de cassino – eu só mandei e-mail para deputado, reconheço que devo fazer muito mais. Quer fazer? O projeto está nas mãos do deputado Antonio Palocci (aquele), que preside a Comissão de Finanças e Tributação da Câmara, onde o projeto está parado há 3 meses. Fale com ele aqui.

Quer piratear? O Faça, mas não reclame se der algum problema. Até porque você não precisa jogar online. A Live serve basicamente para jogar online. E até poucos meses atrás, quando todo mundo estava satisfeito com o PS2, ninguém reclamava de não poder jogar na internet com os amigos. É necessidade agora? Aliás, há opções para jogar online com o Xbox, como o X-link Kai, que dá um trabalhinho para configurar, às vezes a conexão é meio ruim, mas se você faz questão, é um caminho.

Se o problema é banir, faça um caminho melhor ainda: compre um PlayStation 3. Enquanto a Microsoft bania brasileiros, a Sony silenciosamente abria a PSN (a Live do PS3 e PSP, gratuita) para o Brasil. Você agora pode se registrar lá sem mentir sobre o seu local de residência, como todas as pessoas do País (inclusive funcionários da Microsoft) faziam ao se registrar na Live. Com a PSN, é mais tranqüilo - ainda que a loja em si ainda esteja bloqueada, dá pra jogar com a galera sem lag. Ah, sim, os jogos são ainda mais caros para o PlayStation 3. Mas aí vem o dilema Tostines: jogos no Brasil são caros porque pouca gente compra (a maioria prefere piratear) ou pouca gente compra porque são caros? Ainda não achei a resposta. De volta à programação normal em instantes.




Praça da Bíblia, 8 de novembro de 2008



espero que vocês tenham curtido!

sexta-feira, 7 de novembro de 2008

NÃO ME FALTAVA MAIS NADA MESMO!

“Mas percebo agora
Que o teu sorriso
Vem diferente,
Quase parecendo te ferir.
(...)
Nada mais vai me ferir.
É que eu já me acostumei.”
– Legião Urbana, “Andrea Doria”

Como se fizesse a diferença
O que você acha ruim
Como se eu tivesse prometido
Alguma coisa pra você
Eu nunca disse que faria o que é direito
Não se conserta o que já nasce com defeito
Não tem jeito
Não há nada a se fazer

Mesmo que eu pudesse controlar a minha raiva
Mesmo que eu quisesse conviver com a minha dor
Nada sairia do lugar que já estava
Não seria nada diferente do que sou”
– Matanza, “Eu Não Gosto de Ninguém”


Faz um tempo que não posto nada aqui, né?
Hmmm... Foda-se isso.
Como se já não bastassem todas as merdas que andam acontecendo comigo, ainda tenho que ouvir diariamente da minha mãe que me tornei uma porra dum maldito drogado viciado! Agora, pra convencê-la do contrário está foda! Alguém ou... alguma coisa a convenceu disso e agora fedeu de vez pro meu lado. NÃO ME FALTAVA MAIS NADA MESMO!
Eu gostaria muitíssimo de saber o que foi que aconteceu pra qu’ela começasse a pensar isso. Tá certo que eu sou um maldito alcoólatra vagabundo (eu mesmo admito que isso é inegável, diga-se logo), mas... Não sei... Agora parece que ela surtou em tempo integral ou alguém que (diz que) gosta muito de mim ‘tá metendo muita minhoca na cabeça dela...
Eu ainda me dou bem com ela... Quando ela não está em modo “ou você tava bêbado ou drogado, só pode!”. Bom, nós ainda conversamos, rimos, trocamos umas idéias e falamos sobre a porra da maldita vida, mas... Agora, por ordens dela, tive que cortar o cabelo, porque, por causa dele, eu tava aparentando ser um mendigo viciado! Eu tô muito bem na foto mesmo – mas... eu acho... que ela vai me mandar tirar a barba amanhã... e é claro que eu vou me fazer de surdo, né?!?
É triste.









bis zum nächtz!