South Park On My Iphone

Nausea

Funny country, funny custom, masses gather around an orator, hanging from her lips, accepting without questioning or doubts his speech, his worldview, as if he had a truth unknown to all as if he was capable of thinking for thousands of people responsible for their lives, their destiny, their happiness. I do not know
Therefore, I always had the suspicion of crowds, slogans recited in unison, the crowd compact in which only the account number, the crowd reacts like a single person, where the individual is nothing without those around just a unit of all, just an echo of the thought of a charismatic leader who will follow whatever says, although he does that will be acclaimed.
absence of true democracy, gatherings of this kind will follow in Lebanon, 14 February, 8 March, 14 March, 22 September, our politicians seeking legitimacy in the street, legitimacy against something, never for build, always assert themselves, these adversaries who share the same land, the same fate, same wars but we do not tolerate, who is accused of treason and corruption.
No dialogue, no debate, no projects, events and time again, the logic of war, we must spread its power in these referendums live, raise those flags sometimes red, sometimes white, sometimes yellow, sometimes orange . Colors will never take as much importance in the political life of a country, never has been marketing ideological proportions, image display shock launch the catchy slogan to excite this fiber partisan buried somewhere in all of us, those phrases that give goose bumps, these tirades that more drunk by the intelligence of their dresses, that the ideas they convey empty .
If at least there was no hypocrisy! We break the ears with national unity, patriotism, nationalism, solidarity, then for each faction is hiding in his region, with its people, its community, its rites, its feudal leaders, its own policy. One day the southern suburbs, the other Harissa, when we finish with these noisy cars, which run the streets, not knowing where to go, in which dozens of people crammed with their emblems, their photos, their extremist ideologies sometimes nausea ... I saw them pass before me, this feeling almost nihilistic nonsense that there is nothing makes sense, despite their difference and hatred of each other, I am unable to recognize which side they belong, the motivations that drive them to defend the same impetus to the group a common thought, if not totally retrograde at least inapplicable.
I sometimes nausea, I can not help it, it's physical ...

Why Does My Chest Hurt Every Time I Eat

Oblivion (to lebnaniyeh coincidentally)

It does seem to me that nothing happens by coincidence in life, but life itself (the birth almost accidental), it's all about choice all due respect to fatalistic.
Very moving the text that you have deposited in my blog, I totally think like you, the situations you described are also engraved somewhere in my memory, they question me back at times, when and why? I do not know. Unfortunately the child will one day forget what anyone says, it will be the story of a sad and ominous day of the war, an example of human barbarity, nothing more. For him there was neither victory nor defeat, just a second shock after the fall of childbirth, for him there was neither a cause nor resistance, just a quick little breath from heaven, to take life to death, to bury forever in this land which thou hast chosen by coincidence, that burned Sunday morning while I was sleeping peacefully in my bed. How not to blame But I forget.
I still remember there are over 15, the day of Christmas Eve, a little girl died accidentally, a stray bullet (not her), they had passed the information quickly to log 20 hours a vulgar anecdote. Who remembers her? What is known of his games? What would been his life? I do not know why these are individual stories that touch me most about the cycle of violence that has befallen us. Maybe, because my only way of understanding the world is selfish, I feel for this girl, not one faction against another, not an army against another, not an ideology against another, I feel his instinct of survival, her terror, the blood that flows like a tear discreet and quiet to join the flood of anonymous disappeared, I feel its calming the last moment when everything stops. But I tell myself that I join him one day in the solitude of death and we forget me too, justice will be done, oblivion is my only consolation.

Should I Use Corn Oil To Make Brownies

April 13, 1975, the official date of the Lebanon war, the country descended into violence and chaos, friends no longer recognize, on behalf of a cause, I do not know very well why. The death toll begins in the early days, very soon the number of victims runs into thousands, the nameless dead, those who do not understand, caught unawares between 2 traffic lights, going to work, to their doorsteps, in their bath, they would later be called martyrs of the war. These, we forgot them, go for nothing, random shooting, because ideas of their beliefs, their recklessness.
But it is the dead that does not erase the memories that continue to haunt us each year as if time had stopped with their disappearance, the Christian myth of resurrection or unhealthy nostalgia, how to describe a phenomenon that we offers the spectacle of these grim pictures yellowed by the years, plastered on the walls of small streets. Everyone has their own idol, who could have saved the nation from decay, the war hero, an icon of youth, the irreplaceable, the guarantor of freedoms. They are named in poetic speech accents, it is their spokespeople are claiming their progeny, are defending their obsolete ideas, they are our conscience.
In one of his best works, "The Green Room", François Truffaut embodied a character who refused to death at the point of not wanting to live with the living, he decorated his house with portraits of all those around him died, worshiped at the hundreds of missing refusing to be deleted from his memory. But Truffaut's neurosis fell to existential questions, how to accept what we know, this individual experience that takes us into the unknown and leaving in its wake orphans of love.
The culture of death in Lebanon is other, it is demagogy, it is provocative, it is a refusal of the present moment, it is an opportunity to wave flags symbols of the fragmentation of the country, it is fanaticism. These annual commemorations, I emits no emotion, just hate, about crass politics, intentions and devious vengeful crowds.
must honor the dead for who they are, stories, a link with the past, the memory of a happy day, a smile, suffering. They no longer exist, they no longer think, let them rest in peace, take care of those left!

Abortion Is Murder Thesis

The Bad Deaths (Sartre's term)

Soon commemoration attacks of September 11, deep injury of the United States the twenty-first century, open wound that extends these effects on the world especially the Middle East, and under the guise of fighting against fundamentalism beginning of a crusade bloody on Islam in all its forms moderate or fanatical. Best
this could have been offered by the nebulous Al Qaeda in the United States and mercantile Puritan Bush son who succeeds through a kind of transcendence Oedipal what the father tried unsuccessfully to run a decade earlier.
erode the Middle East to create a new world in unequivocal the image of democracy flourishing in North America, a globalized world where civilization is only allowed a single culture that spread from Hollywood, one language, English. If this is not a disguised form of eugenics imagined by some philosophers and dreamed by Hitler, it looks so not in the way but rather in the idea, an idea of uniqueness, of the refusal by fear of difference terror, economic hegemony, Sade rule of the strongest on the mass of small, scattered and persecuted the Palestinians more than ever, Iraq full religious war, Lebanon under the threat of Israel who, despite his supposed defeat on Hezbollah dictates its law unscrupulously and control through the UN borders of Lebanon. And we are talking about a peaceful world, free of conflicts that are tearing Men, free from hatred, fear and the culture of death, when all the generating elements of violence are ubiquitous everywhere, especially Middle East, fanaticism, the nuclear race, racial and xenophobic ideology. Each side sees the other as evil incarnate, the imp of Satan, the diffuser de la souffrance et aucune concession ne semble convenir aux nostalgiques de l’inquisition d’une part et aux intégristes islamistes d’autres part. Entre ces deux parties adverses, les « laissés pour comptes », les esprits libres tentent de se frayer un chemin de traverse sans réussir fautes de pouvoir, de volonté ou de politique de substitution.
L’échec cuisant du communisme, des philosophies existentialistes ou humanistes donne libre court aux extrémismes de tous les bords sans qu’aucune autre alternative ne soit encore envisagée. Des mouvements alter mondialistes gauchisants se propagent un peu partout, mais ne convainquent pas puisqu’ils s’apparentent plus à de la provocative media (like Bové and Moore) as an authentic ethical revolution, a pacifist, human and achievable in the field. Yet history is replete with examples of this type of social dislocation, Gandhi in India, the Carnation Revolution in Portugal
... Is it not possible to establish this form of struggle against the cruelty of the powers that be? In any case I have to believe in utopia, otherwise why are we doing?