Septiembre 02, 2003
Conflicto generacional
Saliendo de la boca del metro, después de un horrible día de Septiembre, choca accidentalmente contra un chiquillo, que corre, quizá sin rumbo fijo por las escaleras del metro sin más motivo que el chocar accidentalmente con la gente que sale del trabajo, y que cae al suelo de culo. El niño se levanta, se sacude un poco la ropa, levanta la mirada y con una voz empalagosa, que suena a “Vamos Lassie, hay que avisar a mamá de que el pequeño Timmy ha caído en el viejo pozo abandonado”; dice:
- perdóneme, señor.
Cuando el hilo de pensamiento se rompe en su cabeza, mira al chaval a los ojos y le acaricia un par de veces la cabeza justo antes de lanzar un súbito gancho que impacta en la parte inferior de la mandíbula del crío. El pobre desgraciado gira sobre si mismo y va a golpear con la espalda la pared empapelada con el último estreno, en la que rebota, y mientras cae hacia adelante, recibe un segundo puñetazo que impacta directo en su nariz, estallándole una buena cantidad de venas y dejando suelto algún diente.
Su víctima cae al suelo, pero no puede levantarse porque empieza a recibir una serie de patadas dirigidas a sus costillas flotantes que crujen y se parten como cañas. Juraría que alguien chilla, pero está demasiado ocupado pisando la cabeza sanguinolenta como para prestar atención a la atónito grupo que observa la paliza, paralizado por el terror de lo que están presenciando.
Para. Se queda mirando el cuerpo inerte que tiene delante de sí.
...
- “Señor” – dice mientras escupe al suelo.- Será hijoputa....
Posted by Towsend at Septiembre 2, 2003 04:03 PM¿Sientan mal las canas? xDDDD ¿A que jode que te traten de usted? Bueno, bueno... voy a afeitarme a ver si logro aparentar mi puta edad
Posted by: MiChAeL on Septiembre 4, 2003 05:40 PMLas canas? Será el traje y la alopecia. Seguro que con vaqueros y camiseta no te llaman de usted. Lo que jode es que cnd sacas a la perra con tus peores pintas: chandal, deportivas y camiseta (la mas ancha y gastada) te siga tratando de usted un chaval de unos 17 que se acerca a pedirte un cigarro eso si que jode, te lo digo yo. Que te lo digan cuando tienes pinta de adulto respetable, es normal, lo otro no. La verdad no se en qué país vivimos.
Posted by: Ulliam on Septiembre 4, 2003 07:27 PMSigo pensando que la vida es bella...
Por cierto, Faith ya tiene teclista...
y Expedicion Zabra toca en las fiestas de Majadahonda...
espero veros alli a todos gritando como locas...
CARPE DIEM
DREAM ON!!
ummm tendré que comprarme la camiseta de chirlider o como se diga
¡JA! Los niños de ahora no piden disculpas. Están más entretenidos sacándote la navaja y atracándote por haberte atrevido a tropezarte con ellos...
Posted by: Adrián on Septiembre 5, 2003 02:12 PMpobre abuelo
Posted by: dario on Septiembre 6, 2003 10:24 PMA mí, un día pasando junto a un colegio a la hora del recreo, unos chavales me pidieron amablemente: "Señor, por favor, ¿nos puede devolver la pelota?". Miro a mi derecha y veo el balón de fútbol que se les había escapado del recinto vallado del patio del colegio. De esto hace... ¿3 años? Entonces, yo tenía más pelo en la cabeza que ahora... Sigh...
Posted by: EarthQuake on Septiembre 9, 2003 02:11 AMTalent does what it can.
Genius does what it must.
You do what you get paid to do.
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You do what you get paid to do.
Go away! Stop bothering me with all your "compute this ... compute that"!
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Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine And then one day you find
Staying home to watch the rain Ten years have got behind you
You are young and life is long No one told you when to run
And there is time to kill today You missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter Hanging on in quiet desperation
is the English way
Never seem to find the time The time is gone, the song is over
Plans that either come to nought Thought I'd something more to say...
Or half a page of scribbled lines
-- Pink Floyd, "Time"
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Eleventh Law of Acoustics:
In a minimum-phase system there is an inextricable link between
frequency response, phase response and transient response, as they
are all merely transforms of one another. This combined with
minimalization of open-loop errors in output amplifiers and correct
compensation for non-linear passive crossover network loading can
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of course, this all means jack when you listen to Pink Floyd.
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In a minimum-phase system there is an inextricable link between
frequency response, phase response and transient response, as they
are all merely transforms of one another. This combined with
minimalization of open-loop errors in output amplifiers and correct
compensation for non-linear passive crossover network loading can
lead to a significant decrease in system resolution lost. However,
of course, this all means jack when you listen to Pink Floyd.
I sit in my cubicle, here on the motherworld.
When I die, they will put my body in a box and
dispose of it in the cold ground.
And in all the million ages to come, I will never
breathe or laugh or twitch again.
So won't you run and play with me here among the
teeming mass of humanity?
The universe has spared us this moment.
-- Anonymous, Datalinks
buy cialis cheap cialisBender: I believe that qualifies as ill. At least from a technical
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When I die, they will put my body in a box and
dispose of it in the cold ground.
And in all the million ages to come, I will never
breathe or laugh or twitch again.
So won't you run and play with me here among the
teeming mass of humanity?
The universe has spared us this moment.
-- Anonymous, Datalinks
uh-ho..... i've learned more about religion in these forums than i ever learned
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A different color or shape than our competitors.
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The glances over cocktails
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Don't seem quite so amorous
Over Shredded Wheat
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Yet creeds mean very little, Coth answered the dark god, still speaking
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-- James Cabell, "The Silver Stallion"
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-- James Cabell, "The Silver Stallion"
Ingrate, n.:
A man who bites the hand that feeds him, and then complains of
indigestion.
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The Tao is elusive and intangible.
Oh, it is intangible and elusive, and yet within is image.
Oh, it is elusive and intangible, and yet within is form.
Oh, it is dim and dark, and yet within is essence.
This essence is very real, and therein lies faith.
From the very beginning until now its name has never been forgotten.
Thus I perceive the creation.
How do I know the ways of creation?
Because of this.
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A man who bites the hand that feeds him, and then complains of
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Prediction is very difficult, especially of the future.
-- Niels Bohr
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"We've got to end the process-oriented world of public schools."
George W. Bush
March 20, 2001
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George W. Bush
March 20, 2001
