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Dilbert by Scott Adams

Oh What A World Of Pretenders

While Nicolás Maduro tries to reach the poll-position for the world race of odd characters, where Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump are standing for long, the world keeps being populated by normal people pretending to love what they do daily.

I don’t like what I’m doing, in every day of my life. I’m bored. Saturated. Getting a new nausea for every very same scene I see everyday. The same faces. The same smiles. The same laughs. The same truths, The same lies. The same news. The same humor. The same pain. The same joy. And I am pretending…

Dilbert

This picture is a courtesy of Dilbert.com

Pretending pays. It’s very often the only way to go if we want to keep us live and, preferrably, minimally happy.
Oh what a world of pretenders we’re living in…

Crossing the 58th constellation…

Just starting. A bitter taste in the mouth. No glory. No hope. No light seen. No illusion, nor disillusion. The contemplation of what could have been done. Expected to be done. But not done. The look of losers. The expectations down there, too deep for my taste. A bitter taste in the mouth…

Crossing an empty universe. Full of little nothings. Sterile nothings. Endless universe. No light seen. Vacuum filling the tiny spaces full of nothings. Where are the stars? Constellation without stars is not a constellation. Or maybe is an empty constellation. Seeking stars for the constellation. Walking, no talking. No faith, no beliefs, no nothing. An empty space full of nothing. Almost. Very much almost…

“I was born a while after my parents decided to make it happen and since then I am surviving. I no longer see time ahead to become one of the powerful man in the world but that won’t make me get dimmed off. After all these years, as I have not been able to find my soul, I am now pretty sure I won’t live forever. But what I am living since I was born has been an enriching conjunction of yesses and nos, ups and downs, lefts and rights, flips and flops, zeros and ones, departures and arrivals.”

I was born with dignity. Need to die with dignity. A must, not an option. Crossing the 58th. Just starting. Towards glory…

Sine Die

Is the normal behavior of many human beings. Going, living, seeing, thinking without a deadline. Commitment is a heavy word for a bunch of people. Might, maybe, “we never know”, “who knows?” are very much frequently used words. And the Portuguese are not exclusive owners of this behavior. Oh no, I have seen much worse people all over…

The Portuguese expression “obra de Santa Engrácia[1]” points to the “sine die[2]” behavior. We have an expression for it, we are a little bit lazy, yes I agree, but “siesta” is not our daily practice and things may happen slow but they happen. In some other countries, same things don’t even start or if they start, everybody already knows they will never end. On the other side, northern European countries for instance, things happen very fast on the basis of a very high stressy life. Stress may kill and that brings me to an interesting question: do we really have to do everything in our life in a hurry?

Capitalism wants us to be good and fast. Faster means more goods in less time. More goods in less time means more money in less time. More money in less time means more power to generate more goods in less time. And so on, and so on, and so on until we break and that power replaces us very fast by someone else younger and full of energy to be part of the mechanism called… capitalism. Is that what we call happiness?

“Sine Die” is no part of my preferences. I rather don’t start anything than start it for nothing. I rather start something knowing the deadline. Work for achieving it. Fight for it. Yeah, I’m a son of a bitch for the fans of Saint Engratia’s works but I’m happy being like so. Yeah, that’s right, I also don’t have many friends for being like so…

As an exception, I wish my death could be “sine die”…

  1. Saint Engratia’s works, in English (see Church of Santa Engrácia). The expression exists due to an odd fact in Portuguese history: a church dedicated to Saint Engratia which construction started in year 1568 and ended only 350 years later.
  2. Latin expression meaning endless or unkown deadline.

May Pedrógão Grande be a lesson…

My condolences !!

Fire kills

Huge fire in Portugal kills more than 60…

May all these victims in a huge fire in Pedrogão Grande at least turn to be a lesson for all of us in Portugal…

Killing for pleasure

Between the terrorism in Manchester, UK, passing through the long lasting war in Syria, and the total madness of Kim Jong-un, the world is crazy, I must say. Agitation is total. Tension is growing up. As days pass, we are more and more a barrel of gunpowder with a short fuse lookalike. I definitely do not believe that human kind is, by nature, something good. No, it is not. On the contrary, we are born mean, evil, bad, nasty, wicked, nefarious, felonious, abject and with a strong inclination to killing, hurting, dominating by cruel force, getting pleasure from other’s suffering.

Is there any other species hurting for pleasure? It seems other species kill for self-protection, for surviving. Other species follow the natural order of things. We not. We kill for power. We kill for pleasure. We kill for killing…

We’re our worst own enemy…

Love Enough For Two

Loving for what? Both us? For two? I just love for myself and even in Portuguese “Amar Pelos Dois” this song is nothing more than a piece of crap very much appreciated by Europe. The old, antique and self-convinced Europe thinking since long the culture resides only between Portugal (westernmost European country) and Russia (easternmost European country)[1].

Whats’s is going on in Europe? As we say in Portugal (literal translation) “age doesn’t forgive”[2]. And Europe is old. Too old. Suffering already of dementia, which is never assumed by whom is suffering of it. The song is awful in all its dimensions:

  • lyrics
  • music
  • performance

Lyrics are cheap poetry. Love for two, for one, for everybody, for no one? Bulshit, cheap poetry…

Portuguese (original)

Se um dia alguém perguntar por mim
Diz que vivi para te amar
Antes de ti, só existi
Cansado e sem nada para dar

Meu bem, ouve as minhas preces
Peço que regresses, que me voltes a querer
Eu sei que não se ama sozinho
Talvez, devagarinho, possas voltar a aprender

Meu bem, ouve as minhas preces
Peço que regresses, que me voltes a querer
Eu sei que não se ama sozinho
Talvez, devagarinho, possas voltar a aprender

Se o teu coração não quiser ceder
Não sentir paixão, não quiser sofrer
Sem fazer planos do que virá depois
O meu coração pode amar pelos dois

English (translation):

If one day someone asks about me
Tell them I lived to love you
Before you, I only existed
Tired and with nothing to give

My dear, listen to my prayers
I beg you to return, to want me again
I know that one can’t love alone
Maybe slowly you might learn again

My dear, listen to my prayers
I beg you to return, to want me again
I know that one can’t love alone
Maybe slowly you might learn again

If your heart doesn’t wish to give in
Not to feel passion, not to suffer
Without making plans of what will come after
My heart can love for the both of us

This is “fado” made jazz or jazz made “fado”. No matter what, never mind. I dislike both. Jazz is bad. “Fado” as well. Both are suffering, hurt, pain, sorrow, hardship, agony, torment. Even worse, performed by a kid[3] that it seems never have had recovered from an overdose or two in his childhood and based on a lyrics made by his sister[4] who seems to have been unhappy her whole life for I don’t know what reason.

The Eurovision Song Contest is one of the upmost useless song contests in the world. It’s not to promote singers, it’s not to promote composers, it’s not to promote writers, it’s not to promote TV channels, it’s not to promote countries participating in this “I don’t know what thing” happening every year. What Portuguese people know now is that their country have to spend millions in the organization of 2018 Eurovision Song Contest without knowing what will be the respective return on investment. Investment? Time for a large laugh here…

What else can be said about this song and success of brothers Sobral? No matter what, will be a waste of time. As long they’re happy and many other Europeans investors are happy with this, anything I say here it’s just waste. And I am too old to deliver myself to the illogical and not grounded pleasures of time waste…

I love enough for myself…

  1. If Russia is an European country, which I doubt.
  2. In Portuguese “A idade não perdoa”
  3. Salvador Sobral
  4. Luísa Sobral

Dating sites reviews -p3

And Monika Brown, one of the thousands of fake profiles in Kismia.com, continues:

Thanks for your response, i am glad to meet a man who want a long term relationship. I am ready to build a relationship that will be permanent. . I was brought up in a farm house, maybe this tells why i know much about animals. I have only had the chance to love once in my life and the man i loved live in Canberra.We got separated when i visited him in Canberra and he left me out in the cold, he lied to me about another woman, since then i have run away from the internet.
I need a man who is mature who is ready to care and love me.I joined the Australian in 2010 just to keep my boring life busy but unfortunately life have been more boring at the camp base here in Humboldt .

i came here for the 2 to 3 weeks intelligent training in Humboldt and would like to meet you if you are ready before we leave here in the next 2 weeks ,…please tell me more about your work, life and your love experience..can you send some pics?

Very often, there is drama in the stories they tell. Girls forced by the father to move to Africa, abandoned by cruel boyfriends, in the army so far away in hostile countries… Stories don’t change much from girl to girl. The common point is: they all are caucasian, beautiful girls with well treated skin and hair and prominent breasts. Yes, breasts. Exactly, that amazing creation in women moving men around the world, by foot, no matter how far they have to go.

Well, this Monika hasn’t been much provided with generous breasts but you’ve been warned anyway…