martes, 30 de noviembre de 2021
Retropost, 2011: De vocal a presidenta. Ascendiendo.
@FiloInglesaUZ Retropost, 2011. De vocal a presidenta. Ascendiendo. https://t.co/IJNAehwtXb
— JoséAngelGarcíaLanda (@JoseAngelGLanda) November 30, 2021
—oOo—
OLA DE REPENTINITIS
La mejor manera de ocultar algo es ponerlo a la vista de todos.#repentinitis pic.twitter.com/8ERTkh7Kme
— REPENTINITIS (@Repentinitis2) November 30, 2021
No se sabe la causa..... pic.twitter.com/v3PRdX8lFM
— 🇪🇸DaniWolf🏛️#YoNoVoto🇪🇦 (@DaniWolv) December 7, 2021
OMICRON (1964)
Les dejo por acá el final de la película italiana Omicron (1964). Los comentarios sobran. pic.twitter.com/X2wjJT5m7r
— Federico Leicht (@LeichtFederico) November 29, 2021
Applications as Stories
Donde se me cita:
Hancock, Mark (U of Waterloo, 200 University Avenue W., Waterloo, ON N2L 3G1, Canada; mark.hancock@uwaterloo.ca), Rebecca Langer, Amberly H. West, and Neil Randall. "Applications as Stories." Challenges for implementing gamification for behavior change: lessons learned from designing Blues Buddies CHI workshop 2013. 2 May 2013.*
http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/7201/2/7201_4383-vol2.PDF
2013
_____. "Applications as Stories." In Challenges for implementing gamification for behavior change: lessons learned from designing Blues Buddies CHI workshop 2013. 44-49. Online at Academia.*
https://www.academia.edu/5184373/
2021
—oOo—
140.000 lecturas
Un éxito, mi capítulo sobre Aristóteles. Todas las semanas está entre las publicaciones más leídas de la Universidad de Zaragoza, y hoy llega a las 140.000 visitas en ResearchGate:
lunes, 29 de noviembre de 2021
Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN (Kenneth Branagh)
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Dir. Kenneth Branagh. Screenplay by Steph Lady and Frank Darabont, based on Mary Shelley's novel.
Prod. Francis Ford Coppola, James V. Hart, John Veitch. Coprod. Kenneth Branagh, David Parfitt. Prod. design Tim Harvey. Photog. dir. Robert Pratt. Ed. Andrew Marcus. Costumes by James Acheson. Music: Patrick Doyle.
Cast: Robert de Niro, Kenneth Branagh, Hom Hulce, Helena Bonham Carter, Aidan Quinn, Ian Holm, Richard Briers, John Cleese. Cherie Lunghi, Treuyn McDowell.
TriStar Pictures / Japan Satellite Broadcasting / The Indie Prod. Company / American Zoetrope, 1994.
Mi bibliografía de Historia de Francia
_____. "French History." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Online at Multi Language Documents. 2017.*
2022
_____. "French History." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Online at Mexico Documents 15 March 2018.*
2021
_____. "French History." De A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Online at CUPDF 15 mayo 2018.*
2021
_____. "French History." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Online at United States Documents 15 March 2018.*
2023
____. "French History / Mi bibliografía de historia de Francia." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. In García Landa, Vanity Fea 29 Nov. 2021.*
https://vanityfea.blogspot.com/2021/11/mi-bibliografia-de-historia-de-francia.html
2021
—oOo—
Readers and Reading
Aquí insertamos "Readers and Reading", de A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology.
Es otra bibliografía temática procedente de mi Bibliografía de Teoría Literaria, Crítica y Filología, que aparece a trozos en un sitio mexicano, de estos que no sé si los llame repositorios o recopilatorios de textos. Además los retranscribe, como si hiciera falta (a mí ninguna), pero bueno, me gusta que les dé un formato insertable. Este listado va sobre lectores y lectura—literarios, se entiende. Sobre lo que es leer letras y palabras y oraciones hay un listado aparte.
El mismo listado aparece en versión insertable aquí:
_____. "Readers & Reading." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Cupdf 7 March 2018.*
2022
—oOo—
Scientific Texts
_____. "Scientific Texts." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Online at Mexico Documents 27 May 2017.*
2021
_____. "Scientific Texts." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. Online at Vdocuments 27 May 2018.*
2019
_____. "Scientific Texts." From A Bibliography of Literary Theory, Criticism and Philology. In García Landa, Vanity Fea 29 Nov. 2021.*
https://vanityfea.blogspot.com/2021/11/scientific-texts.html
2021
_____. "Scientific Texts." Online at PDFslide.*
2023
domingo, 28 de noviembre de 2021
Flannery O'Connor, Carson McCullers & Joyce Carol Oates
From A History of American Literature, by Richard Gray. (The American Century, pp. 590-94).
"Ours is the century of unreason," Eudora Welty declared once, "the stamp of our behavior is violence and isolation: nonmeaning is looked upon with some solemnity." Flannery O'Connor (1925-1964) would have agreed with some of this, but not all. What troubled her was not lack of reason but absence of faith. "The two circumstances that have given character to my writing," O'Connor admitted in her collection of essays, Mystery and Manners (1969), "have been those of being Southern and being Catholic"; and it was the mixture of these two, in the crucible of her own eccentric personality, that helped produce the strangely intoxicating atmosphere of her work—at once brutal and farcical, like somebody else's bad dream. A devout if highly unorthodox Roman Catholic in a predominantly Protestant region, O'Connor interpreted experience according to her own reading of Christian eschatology — a reading that was, on her admission, tough, uncompromising, and without any of "the hazy compassion" that "excuses all human weakness" on the ground that "human weakness is human." "For me," she declared, "the meaning of life is centered in our Redemption by Christ"; and to this she might well have added that she neither saw humankind as worthy of being redeemed, nor Redemption itself as anything other than a painful act of divorce from this world. With rare exceptions, the world she explores in her work—in her novels Wise Blood (1952) and The Violent Bear It Away (1960) and her stories gathered in A Good Man Is Hard to Find (1955) and Everything that Rises Must Converge (1965) — is one of corrosion and decay. It is a world invested with evil, apparently forsaken by God and saved only in the last analysis by His incalculable grace. It is a netherworld, in fact, a place of nightmare, comic because absurd, and (as in early Christian allegory) the one path by which its inhabitants can travel beyond it is that of renunciation, penance, and extreme suffering.
O'Connor herself was inclined to talk in a distinctly equivocal way about the relationship between the two circumstances that shaped her life, her region and her faith. Sometimes, she suggested, it was her "contact with mystery" that saved her from being stereotypically Southern and "just doing badly what has already been done to completion." In the Bible Belt, after all, Roman Catholics wre and still are in a distinct, occasionally distrusted minority. Other times, she argud that there was a perfect confluence, or at least congruity. "To know oneself," she said once, "is to know one's region." And her region, in particular, enaled her to know herself as a Catholic writer precisely because it was "a good place for Catholic literature." It had, she pointed out, "a sacramental view of life": belief there could "still be made believable and in relation to a large part of society"; and, "The Bible being generally known and revered in the section," it provided the writer with "that broad mythical base to refer to what he needs to extend his meaning in depth." Whatever the truth here—and it probably has to do with a creative tension between her education in Southern manners and her absorption in Catholic mystery — there is no doubt that, out of this potent mixture, O'Connor produced a fictional world the significance of which lied precisely in it apparent aberrations, its Gothic deviance from the norm. Her South is in many ways the same one other writers have been interested in — a wasteland, savage and empty, full of decaying towns and villages crisscrossed by endless tobacco roads. And, like Twain, she borrows from the Southwestern humorists, showing a bizarre comic inventiveness in describing it. Her characters — the protagonist Haze Motes in Wise Blood, for instance — are not so much human beings as grotesque parodies of humanity. As O'Connor herself has suggested, they are "literal in the same sense that a child's drawing is literal": people seen with an untamed and alien eye. Where she parts company with most other writers, however, is in what she intends by all this, and in the subtle changes wrought in her work by this difference of intention.
O'Connor herself explained that difference by saying that "the novelist with Christian concerns will find in modern life distortions which are repugnant to him." His or her audience, though, will find those distortions "natural." So such a novelist has to make his or her vision "apparent by shock." "To the hard of hearing you shout," she says, "and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures." Her figures are grotesque, in other words, because she wants us to see them as spiritual primitives. In order to describe to us a society that is unnatural by her own Christian standards — and to make us feel its unnaturalness — she creates a fictional world that is unnatural by almost any accepted standards at all. O'Connor's characters are distorted in some way, social or physical, mental or material, because their distortions are intended to mirror their guilt, original sin, and the spiritual poverty of the times and places they inhabit. That is only half the story, though. From close-up, these characters may seem stubbornly foolish and perverse, ignorant witnesses to the power of evil. But ultimately against their will, they reveal the workings of eternal redemption as well. They are the children of God, O'Connor believes, as well as the children of Adam; and through their lives shines dimly the possibility that they may, after all, be saved. So an extra twist of irony is added to everything that happens in O'Connor's stories. Absurd as her people are, their absurdity serves as much as it does anything else, as a measure of God's mercy in caring for them. Corrupt and violent as their behavior may be, its very corruption can act as a proof, a way of suggesting the scope of His extraordinary forgiveness and love. As, for instance, O'Connor shows us Haze Motes preaching "the Church without Christ" and declaring "Nothing matters but that Jesus was a liar," she practices a comedy of savage paradox. Motes, after all, relies on belief for the power of his blasphemy: Christ-haunted, he perversely admits the sway over him of the very faith he struggles to deny. Every incident in Wise Blood, and all O'Connor's fiction, acquires a double edge because it reminds us, at one and the same time, that man is worthless and yet the favoured of God — negligible but the instrument of Divine Will. The irremediable wickedness of humanity and the undeniable grace of God are opposites that meet head on in her writing, and it is in the humor, finally, that they find their issue, or appropriate point of release. What we are offered on the surface is a broken world, the truth of a fractured picture. But the finely edged character of O'Connor's approach offers an "act of seeing" (to use her own phrase) that goes beyond that surface: turning what would otherwise be a comedy of the absurd into the laughter of the saints.
A writer whose fictional world wa as strange yet instantly recognizable as O'Connor''s was Carson McCullers (1917-1967). "I have my own reality," McCullers said once toward the end of her life, "of language and voices and foliage." And it was this reality, her ghostly private world that she tried to reproduce in her stories (collected in The Mortgaged Heart (1971)), her novella The Ballad of the Sad Café (1951), and her four novels: The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter (1940), Reflections in a Golden Eye (1941), The Member of the Wedding (1946), and Clock without Hands (1961). She gave it many names, over the years, and placed it consstently in the South. Southern though its geographical location might be, however, it was like no South ever seen before. It was another country altogether, created out of all that the author had found haunting, soft, and lonely in her childhood surroundings in Georgia. It was also evolved out of her own experience of melancholy, isolation, and occasional if often illusory happiness. "Everything that happens in my fiction has happened to me," she confessed in her unfinished autobiography (Illumination and Night Glare (2000)). Her life, she believed, was composed of "illumination," moments of miraculous insight, and "night glare," long periods of dejection, depression, frustration—feelings of enclosure within herslf. So are the lives of her characters. The people she writes about may seem or feel strange or freakish because of their anomalous desires, aberrant behavior, or grotesque appearance. But in their freakishness they chart the coordinates of all our lives; their strangeness simply brings to the surface the secret sense of strangeness all of us share in what McCullers sometimes called our "lonesomeness." So, for example, The Ballad of the Sad Café revolves around a dance macabre of frustrated love, thwarted communication "There are the lover and the beloved," the narrator tells us, "but these two come from different countries." Similarly, The Member of the Wedding is an initiation novel in which the lonely, sensitive, 12-yar-old protagonist, Frankie Adams, is initiated into the simple ineradicable fact of human isolation: the perception that she can, finally, be "a member of nothing." At the heart of McCullers's work lies the perception Frankie comes to, just as the protagonist of Clock Without Hands, J. J. Malone does when he learns that he has a few months to live. Each of us, as Malone feels it, is "surrounded by a zone of loneliness"; each of us lives and dies unaccompanied by anyone else; which is why, when we contemplate McCullers's awkward and aberrant characters, we exchange what she called "a little glance of grief and lonely recognition."
Whereas McCullers published only four novels in her short life, and O'Connor only two, Joyce Carol Oates (1938-) has produced more than fifty. In addition, she has written hundreds of shorter works, including short stories and critical and cultural essays, and several of her plays have been produced off Broadway. Often classified as a realist writer, she is certainly a social critic concerned in partiular with the violence of contemporary American culture. But she is equally drawn toward the Gothic, and toward testing the limits of classical myth, popular tales and fairy stories, and established literary conventions Many of her novels are set in Eden Country, based on the area of New York State where she was born. And in her early fiction, With Shuddering Fall (1964) and A Garden of Earthly Delights (1967) she focuses her attention on rural America with its migrants, social strays, ragged prophets, and automobile wrecking yards. In Expensive People (1968), by contrast she moved to a satirical meditation on suburbia; and in Them (1969) she explored the often brutal lives of the urban poor. Other, later fiction, has shown a continued willingness to experiment with subject and forms. Wonderland (1971), a novel about the gaps between generations, is structured around the stories of Lewis Carroll. Childwold (1976) is a lyrical portrait of the artist as a young woman. Unholy Loves (1979), Solstice (1985), and Maya: A Life (1986) cast a cold eye on the American professional classes. You Must Remember This (1987) commemorates the conspiratorial obsessions of the 1950s; Because it is Bitter, and Because it is My Heart (1991) dramatizes the explosive nature of American race relations. Blonde (2000) is an imaginative rewriting of the life of the movie icon Marilyn Monroe, while My Sister, My Love (2008) reimagines an actual murder case, focusing on how ambitious parents alternately push and ignore their unhappy children. Her fiction is richly various in form and focus; common to most of it, however, including recent works like Missing Mom (2005) and The Gravedigger's Daughter (2007), is a preoccupation with crisis. She shows people at risk: apparently ordinary characters whose lives are vulnerable to threats from society or their inner selves or, more likely, both. In Oates's much anthologized short story "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" (1970), for instance, the central character, Connie, is an all-American girl, fatally at ease with the blandness of her adolescent life. She becomes the helpless victim of a caller, realistically presented yet somehow demonic, whom she mistakes for a friend. Her sense of security, it is intimated, is a dangerous illusion. The stories and novels of Oates are full of such characters. Some, like Connie, find violence erupting from their surroundings; others, frustrated by the barren or grotesque nature of their lives and social circumstances, erupt into violence themselves. With all of them, there is the sense that they are the victims of forces beyond their control or comprehension. Whatever many of them may believe to the contrary, they are dwellers in a dark and destructive element.
Why We Tell Stories: The Science of Narrative
—oOo—
sábado, 27 de noviembre de 2021
Almudena Grandes, muerte súbita
#MIRONEWS Muere la escritora Almudena Grandes. Solo 61 años ¿cuantas víctimas vamos a soportar sin abrir los ojos? ¿Otra casualidad? Descanse en Paz. Un aullido pic.twitter.com/dCu9oz6XVh
— FERNANDO LÓPEZ-MIRONES (@FLMIRONES) November 27, 2021
#MIRONEWS “Tenía cancer” caso resuelto. A ver, “cáncer” tenemos casi todos, se curan el 70% y se puede vivir con uno o varios 40 años. No sean ignorantes. Gente con esta patología controlada desde hace años fallece justo AHORA tras inocularse. No el año pasado, AHORA
— FERNANDO LÓPEZ-MIRONES (@FLMIRONES) November 27, 2021
#MIRONEWS Cómo se miente con protocolos; en España se considera “NO VACUNADO” a todo paciente con una dosis o pautacompletas de menos de 14 días. Así todos los muertos recién inoculados pasan por “no vacunados” cuando en realidad fallecieron por repentinitis. Un aullido
— FERNANDO LÓPEZ-MIRONES (@FLMIRONES) November 27, 2021
Nos ha dejado Almudena Grandes. Escritora brillante y mujer comprometida. Un abrazo a su familia y amigas. Eskerrik asko por tu literatura, por tu compromiso y por tu solidaridad. pic.twitter.com/BBoeORMFBg
— Arnaldo Otegi 🔻 (@ArnaldoOtegi) November 27, 2021
—oOo—
MANIFESTACIÓN MASIVA CONTRA SÁNCHEZ Y SUS SOCIOS DE LA ANTIESPAÑA
🤪Más de 150.000 personas en la manifestación convocada por #Jusapol contra la reforma de la #LeyDeSeguridadCiudadana.#NoALaInseguridadCiudadana#27NMadrid
— jusapol (@jusapol) November 27, 2021
💪🇪🇸@jucilnacional @JupolNacional pic.twitter.com/lqI1viA6kx
viernes, 26 de noviembre de 2021
Vox denuncia el Apartheid Sanitario
‼️ #URGENTE
— G.P. de VOX en Cataluña (@VOX_Cataluna) November 26, 2021
Mensaje de @Igarrigavaz denunciando el 'apartheid sanitario' creado por el separatismo:
"Plantaremos batalla donde haga falta, y animamos al conjunto de los ciudadanos a reivindicar sus derechos y libertades". pic.twitter.com/v2Lx0UFC38
La OMS sobre las mascarillas
@FacultadFiloZgz La OMS sobre las mascarillas - https://t.co/2Kk2BitwrO
— JoséAngelGarcíaLanda (@JoseAngelGLanda) November 26, 2021
Enseñanzas sobre Prevención de Riesgos Laborales en Unizar
Una vez más quiero dejar mi protesta por la obligatoriedad que tenemos los profesores de impartir las clases con mascarilla, tanto las personas que están felices con ella como los que la llevamos muy a disgusto y aguantando su molestia permanente. La ley en sí es abusiva y estúpida, más digna de Afganistán que de España (y ahí lo dejo, que si no no acabo)—pero deja margen a que no use la mascarilla quien tenga dificultades respiratorias con ella. SIN DICTAR MÁS REQUISITOS AL RESPECTO.
Pero a continuación viene la Universidad, y el reglamento, que aplica esa ley de modo abusivo, obligando a presentar un certificado médico de un neumólogo que acredite que se sufren enfermedades que hacen imposible el uso de la mascarilla. Este paso y este requisito añadido es UN ABUSO. A mi entender y en mi libre opinión, que ya está en duda en este país si podemos opinar libremente sobre estas cuestiones.
En fin, que el ABUSO ADMINISTRATIVO se ve redondeado cuando se aplica selectivamente la norma, y se obliga al uso continuado de la mascarilla excepto en los casos en que el Rectorado o las autoridades o la Unidad de Prevención deciden hacer la vista gorda, o no usar mascarilla ellos mismos. Sin requerirse al parecer un certificado médico (el que yo les presenté en cambio no les valía, y me abrieron un expediente sancionador), e instruyéndonos sobre la obligatoriedad de seguir estas normas A LA VEZ QUE ELLOS LAS IGNORAN (ver por ejemplo minuto 44.44, o continuadamente en estas Jornadas organizadas por Prevención de Riesgos Laborales).
Esto es (por parte del Rectorado y sus aplicadores de Protocolos) no sólo incoherente, sino también PREPOTENTE Y ABUSIVO. Es un atropello a la libertad de las personas mucho más allá de lo que dictan las necesidades de aplicar una ley ya de por sí más que cuestionable. A mí se me acusaba de grave atentado a la salud pública al no aceptarse mi certificado médico, ni que usase pantalla facial, y me amenazaban con suspensión de empleo y sueldo durante AÑOS. Finalmente quedó el expediente, afortunadamente y con mejor criterio, en una amonestación por parte del Rectorado.
PUES YO TAMBIÉN LES AMONESTO, SEÑORES. NO ABUSEN, NO CONTRIBUYAN A POTENCIAR EL ALARMISMO, Y NO SE NOS RÍAN EN LA CARA.
Respuesta de Prevención de Riesgos Laborales ante las pandemias
—oOo—
—oOo—
jueves, 25 de noviembre de 2021
Pope and the Scriblerians
Bragg, Melvyn, et al. "The Scriblerus Club." BBC4 (In Our Time) 9 June 2005.*
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p003k9cm
2014
_____. "Pope." BBC4 (In Our Time) 9 Nov. 2006.*
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0038x97
2021
A lecture on Pope's Essay on Criticism:
Arco Parlamentario y Vacuna Covid
Nada más ver este gráfico, se sacan indicaciones claras sobre si hay que vacunarse o no. La respuesta es, por supuesto, QUE NO. https://t.co/CnTVtdn4oN
— JoséAngelGarcíaLanda (@JoseAngelGLanda) November 25, 2021
Relatos del cambio climático
Me citan (nos citan) en una tesis de Stuttgart sobre el tema:
Arnold, Annika. (Göttingen). "Narratives of Climate Change: Outline of a Systematic Approach to Narrative Analysis in Cultural Sociology." Ph.D. diss. U of Stuttgart, 2015. Online at Academia.*
https://www.academia.edu/26753872/
2021
—oOo—
miércoles, 24 de noviembre de 2021
The Fake "Covid Pandemic" Was Orchestrated in Order to Impose Tyranny
Un articulo de Paul Craig Roberts denunciando la Plandemia:
The Fake “Covid Pandemic” Was Orchestrated In Order to Impose Tyranny
Paul Craig Roberts • November 23, 2021 • 600 WordsThe
extraordinary measures we are witnessing in Austria and Europe and the
news report that Australia is moving covid patients and contacts into
quarantine camps comprise proof that the covid measures are unrelated to
public health. https://twitter.com/
Both HCQ and Ivermectin are known Covid cures and preventatives. The
evidence is overwhelming. In India’s largest province, Uttar Pradesh,
with a dense population three times larger than the combined population
of Australia, Canada, and New Zealand, covid was contained by the use of
Ivermectin. https://
In no country has covid vaccination had success, much less success like Ivermectin in India.
Fake “fact check” sites funded by Big Pharma have tried to bury the news of India’s success with Ivermectin by covering it up with disinformation in order to protect Big Pharma profits.
In Uttar Pradesh, Ivermectin was used as a preventative as well as a cure. A pill a week keeps the virus away. Moreover, it is thoroughly established that covid’s mortality is essentially limited to people with serious illnesses who are not treated with HCQ or Ivermectin when they catch Covid, but are left to get well on their own and when they don’t are killed in hospitals with ventilators or remdesivir, two proven highly unsuccessful “treatments.”
The Austrian lockdown makes no sense for a variety of reasons. The most obvious is that Austria’s lockdown does not apply to people who go to work. So a large percentage of Austrians will be free to move about. What is the point of allowing people to go to work but not to a restaurant? It is too silly for words and must have some other purpose.
In Law, Legislation, and Liberty, Friedrich A. Hayek wrote that emergencies are the pretexts that governments use to erode civil liberties and that the erosions remain after the emergency passes or the pretend emergency is exposed. In the past 20 years we have seen the demise of civil liberty because of the “war on terror” and now again on the basis of a faked “Covid pandemic.” President George W. Bush used 9/11, an obvious false flag attack, to set aside the Constitutional protection of habeas corpus and detain people indefinitely without presentation of evidence to a court. President Obama used the fake war on terror to execute citizens on suspicion alone without due process of law. Now people are losing their jobs, businesses, and freedom based on an occasionally lethal virus, the prevention and cure of which is blocked by Big Pharma and Big Medicine’s Covid protocol.
When the Soviet Union collapsed and China abandoned communism, people expected a reign of freedom to result. Instead, the Western World has seen an assault on civil liberty that is reminiscent of life under Stalin and Mao. In America today and throughout the so-called “free West” people are punished for exercising First Amendment rights. The Constitution and human rights laws do not protect them. Journalist Julian Assange has been held in violation of Anglo-American habeas corpus for a decade, and no court has done anything about it. There are no protests from law schools, bar associations, or journalists. An obvious conclusion is that the members of institutions designed to support civil liberty no longer believe in civil liberty.
As the belief in freedom has weakened in the West, unless we join together and revive it by refusing to accept lockdowns and “vaccine” mandates, we won’t much longer be free.
—oOo—
10 Aniversario Radio Unizar. Inauguración
Comentario que pongo:
Si el futuro es ahora, el futuro muestra cosas poco prometedoras también, como la intolerancia y el regreso de la censura, muy prominente hoy en el periodismo y en las redes, cuando hace bien poco era "cosa de Franco". Hoy se acepta y se defiende. Sin ir más lejos, la propia Facultad de Filosofía y Letras acaba de cerrar la posibilidad de poner contribuciones o comentarios en su página de Facebook, que de moderadamente multivocal se ha vuelto unidireccional y meramente institucional. Una red social donde sólo habla el Administrador no merece tal nombre. Enmiéndese por favor esta deriva tan perniciosa, habilitando un espacio donde pueda haber conversación y opinión en el ámbito de la Facultad.
—oOo—
martes, 23 de noviembre de 2021
Se acabó la conversación
Esto lo pongo en un par de rincones que se han olvidado de cerrar a los comentarios. Pero está claro que las opiniones no son bienvenidas, las disidentes (¿de quién?) por supuesto, pero ni tan siquiera las favorables o consonantes. Hale a cerrar el chiringuito hasta que escampe y se acabe el virus. El mental, digo.
Para poner todo esto un poco más en contexto, quizá no sobre aclarar que semana sí semana también, desde hace años, soy el profesor más leído de mi universidad—al menos según los repositorios.
Igual da. Aquí vale más la consigna que radian las mentes más simples —"¡negacionista! negacionista!"—que la reflexión propia, el pensamiento, el debate o la conversación abierta.
Esta plaga moral de intolerancia y prepotencia, esta afición franquista (por utilizar un término comprensible en nuestro entorno) a la censura y a impedir la libertad de opinión, no es sin embargo privativa de nuestra Facultad. Ésta se mueve con el signo de los tiempos, y mucho me temo que me ha censurado por poner opiniones ofensivas al Covidismo o Tragacionismo ambiental. Cosas por ejemplo contra las Vacunas, que son el sacramento de esta nueva religión que nos ha invadido, al igual que las Mascarillas son su shibboleth impuesto por la fuerza.
Les avisé, en efecto, a mis colegas de la facultad, de que no continuaran con sus pautas de vacunaciones pues en Reino Unido la mortandad entre vacunados es el doble que entre no vacunados. Una cosa que podría uno pensar que les afecta y va en favor del interés público. Y si estoy equivocado (en su opinión) bien me podrían decir "Estimado compañero: gracias por tu información y por tu preocupación por nuestra salud; ahora bien, queremos señalar que los datos que nos pasas tienen otras lecturas por tal y cual, o no son fiables por tal y cual, etc., y nosotros por nuestra parte animamos a la gente a vacunarse por el bien público etc. etc." Eso es una conversación académica, informada (si aportan datos) y educada.
Esto es todo lo contrario. Esto es histeria azuzada, cierre de filas conformista, despotismo, tragacionismo,
En AEDEAN se ha producido el mismo fenómeno. En lugar de decir: "Estimado socio y compañero, esta página es temática y borraremos todas las publicaciones que no estén relacionadas directamente con los estudios ingleses y norteamericanos, con los literarios queremos decir, no con asuntos políticos o sociológicos de ningún tipo en estos tiempos de pandemia y desinformación" (etc.).
(Esa opción ya sería discutible, de hecho, más que discutible...)
Pero no. Prefieren ante la duda cargarse el espacio de diálogo para todo el mundo. Yo esta gente no sé realmente cómo le funciona la cabeza, o qué criterio les asoma al mirarse al espejo.
Y mientras en periódicos y radios y televisores ya se airean sin el menor pudor las nociones más nazis que imaginarse puedan acerca de qué hacer con los no vacunados, o con los negacionistas, cómo confinarlos, perseguirlos, o inocularlos a la fuerza por el Bien Común. Que son sin duda gente infectada, muy enferma de actitud, y que deben ser apartados de la sociedad según procedimientos bien acreditados por la Historia, y estudiados con horror y aspavientos de escándalo por todo este patético personal académico.
_____________________
P.S. Continúa la conversación de arriba, con el administrador de la página de Filosofía y Letras.
___________
PS: El nuevo blog de AEDEAN:
https://twitter.com/search?q=%40aedeaninfo&src=typed_query&f=live
Y el nuevo blog de la Facultad:
https://twitter.com/search?q=%40FacultadFiloZgz&src=typed_query&f=live
—oOo—
lunes, 22 de noviembre de 2021
El más leído en mi universidad
Por desgracia, les he salido negacionista y políticamente incorrecto. Lo mismo pasa en Ibercampus, que se han puesto nerviosos con mis opiniones sobre el Covid y el Covidismo. Aunque no han llegado a abrirme un expediente como la Universidad, sí me han comunicado que no publicarán mas artículos míos sobre cosas pandémicas. En fin, la censura va que cabalga orgullosa y controlando, como la Bestia Trionfante.
VOX contra el Pasaporte Covid y contra la vacunación obligatoria
Muy bien Vox contra el pasaporte Covid, contra los abusos del despotismo sanitario y contra la vacunación obligatoria.
AHORA BIEN, en Vox no se han opuesto a la OBLIGATORIEDAD de la mascarilla, medida abusiva, inútil, ridícula, indigna y HUMILLANTE. Ahí no emplean su criterio ni su defensa de las libertades y de la cultura y tradición española, NO AFGANA.
Tampoco han manifestado ningún interés por los efectos negativos de las vacunas—como si fuese un problema del cual se puede uno desentender así sin más. Vermos si esto va a más, como es muy de temer, y si se hace insostenible seguir ignorándolo.
¡¡PÓNGANSE LAS PILAS SEÑORES, QUE PARA ESTAR DE PERFIL YA TENEMOS A MUCHOS OTROS!!
—oOo—
EXCELLENT PROFIT!!!
En bucle pic.twitter.com/GUyxr93LWP
— Noelia de Trastámara (@N_Trastamara) November 20, 2021
FRAUDE GLOBAL COVID-19
Davis, Ian. "Covid-19 Evidence of Global Fraud." Off-Guardian 17 Nov. 2021.*https://t.co/QnmSCP76Tv
— JoséAngelGarcíaLanda (@JoseAngelGLanda) November 22, 2021
2021
______. "Evidencia de fraude global Covid-19." Biblioteca Pléyades https://t.co/NRTdOF5h0d
2021
MORTANDAD DE VACUNADOS COVID
OJO A INGLATERRA: Los vacunados Covid menores de 60 tienen mortalidad DOBLE a los no vacunados. NO SE VACUNEN. https://t.co/ufLeNY37IK
— JoséAngelGarcíaLanda (@JoseAngelGLanda) November 22, 2021
PS: Médicos por la verdad americanos han logrado la
publicación de los informes internos que Pfizer quería esconder durante
55 años. Éste es el primero, con decenas de miles de víctimas, más de
1200 mortales.
Pfizer. (With Worldwide Safety). "5.3.6 CUMULATIVE ANALYSIS OF POST-AUTHORIZATION ADVERSE EVENT REPORTS OF PF-07302048 (BNT162B2) RECEIVED THROUGH 28-FEB-2021." Online at Public Health and Medical Officials for Transparency. (Nov. 2021).*
https://phmpt.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/5.3.6-postmarketing-experience.pdf
2021
—oOo—
domingo, 21 de noviembre de 2021
Censura Covidiana en SSRN
Este artículo lo ha censurado SSRN al poco de colgarlo. No me lo deja colgar ni en la sección de artículos personales. Me comunica educadamente un tal Travis W., esbirro de la voz de su amo:
Thank you for your interest in submitting your paper to SSRN. Given the need to be cautious about posting medical content, SSRN is selective on the papers we post. Your paper has not been accepted for posting on SSRN.
Y le contesto:
I see the long tentacles of globalist interests reach out into SSRN, and you keep on censoring academic freedom of thought. Shame on you. I suppose it is only to be expected when one sees on your cover "race" as a promoted item with a fist. NAUSEATING, that's the state American freedoms are in.
Encima el sistema tiene la cara dura de decirme que lo he eliminado yo, "Removed by Author" (Eso es que la censura ni entraba inicialmente en sus planteamientos, pero todo va cambiando). Aquí se ve la lista de las cosas que les alarman y que tienen que censurar para protegernos de ideas peligrosas y de contagios del pensamiento independiente:
El artículo puede leerse en Academia, que de momento no censura estas cosas—aquí:
El alarmismo pandémico de la Covid-19: Una bibliografía
—oOo—
Los farmacéuticos y las farmacéuticas
Ver aquí: https://youtu.be/3123lHT_dfc
Quién nos hubiera dicho que esta moza acabaría transformada en semejante perniciosa covidiana. Ahora nos quiere imponer el pasaporte de vacunación, y si le dejan, la inyección obligatoria en modo Menguele. Todo por nuestro bien, claro, todo para el pueblo, pero sin el pueblo.
______
Un análisis penetrante y aguzado de la situación nos propone el conde de Rochester:
García Landa, José Angel. "Experimental Darts (The Famous Pathologist)." In García Landa, Vanity Fea March 2022.*
https://vanityfea.blogspot.com/2022/03/experimental-darts-famous-pathologist.html
2022
—oOo—
Luis Carlos Martín Jiménez, La esencia del Derecho, sesión 1
La esencia del derecho es el derecho a ir sin mascarilla. Al menos en España; de Afganistán no digo nada.
—oOo—
sábado, 20 de noviembre de 2021
Confessionals - The Lonely I in poetry
From the chapter "Formalists and Confessionals" (The American Century), in Richard Gray's History of American Literature. (Some paragraph divisions added).
"Be guilty of yourself in the full looking glass," a poet of slightly earlier generation, Delmore Schwartz, had said; and that injunction, to see and know the trught about oneself no matter how painful or embarrassing it might be, is clearly the enteprise, the heart of these poems.
This rediscovery of the personal in American poetry assumed many forms—as various, finally, as the poets involved. At one extreme are poets who attempted to blunge into the unconscious: in the work of Robert Bly (1926-) (whose best collection is The Light around the Body (1967)), Robert Kelly (1935-) (some of whose best work is in Finding the Measure (1968)), Galway Kinnell (1927-) (whose Selected Poems appeared in 1982), and James Wright (1927-1980) (Collected Poems (1971)), for example, the poet dives down beneath the level of rational discourse, using subliminal imagery and a logic of association to illuminate the darker areas of the self, the seabed of personal feeling, dream and intuition.
In Robert Bly's case, exploration of the subrational has led him toward "tiny poems," in imitation of the Chinese, and prose poems that are, as he put it, "an exercise in moving against 'plural consciousness'." His aim is to uncover the "dense energy that pools in the abdomen," as he put it in a poem titled "When the Wheel Does Not Move"; the fierce, mystical forces that unite him, at the deepest level, with the looser, livelier froms of the natural world.
Kelly and Kinnell dip perhaps even further down. "My wife is not my wife" Kelly insists in one of his poems called "Jeaousy," "/ wife is the name of a / process, an energy moving, / not an identity, / nothing in this world is / mine but my action." To articulate the process, the activity that constitutes identity, Kelly has devised a poetry that is a haunting mixture of dream, chant, and ritual: his poems are an attempt to translate the interpenetration of things into intelligible (although not necessarily paraphraseable) signs and sounds. "The organism / of the macrocosm," as he puts it in "prefix," "the organism of language / the organism of I combine in ceaseless natureing / to propagate a fourth, / the poem, / from their trinity."
Kinnell began from a rather different base from Kelly, in that his earlier poems were informed by a traditional Christian sensibility. But, while retaining a sacramental dimension, his later work burrows ferociously into the self, away from the traditional sources of religious authority—and away too, from conventional notions of personality.. "If you could keep going deeper and deeper;" he wrote in 1978, "you'd finally not be a person ... you'd be an / animal; and if you kept going deeper and / deeper, you'd be ... / ultimately perhaps a stone. And if a stone / could read poetry would speak for it."
The poems that issue from this conviction (as a collection like When One Has Lived a Long Time Alone (1990)) illustrates) show Kinnell trying to strip away formal, verbal, and even surface emotional constructs, anything that might dissipate or impede the poet's continuing exploration of his deepest self and experience. "How many nights," he asks in "Another Night in the Ruins," "must it take / one such as me to learn / ... / that for a man / as he goes up in flames, his one work / is / to open himself, to be / the flames?" Short, chanting lines, a simple, declarative syntax, emphatic rhythms, bleak imagery and inssitent repetition: all turn the poet into a kind of shaman, who describes strange apocalyptic experiences in which he throws off the "sticky infusion" of speech and becomes one with the natural world ("The Bear") or participates in the primal experiences of birth ("Under the Maud Moon") and death ("How Many Nights").
The tone of James Wright's work is quieter, less prophetic than this, but he too attempts to unravel from his own unconscious the secret sources of despair and joy. Of another poet whom he admired, Georg Trakl, Wright said this: "In Trakl, a series of images makes a series of events. Because these events appear out of their 'natural' order, without the connection we have learned to expect from reading the newspapers, doors silently open to unused parts of the brain." This describes the procedures of many of Wright's own poems, which evolve quietly through layers of images until they surface with the quick thrust of a striking final image or epiphany. For instance, in "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota" Wright carefully annotates his surroundings. "Over my had," he begins, "I see the bronze butterfly / Asleep on the black trunk / Blowing like a leaf in green shadow." The vision of the butterfly suggests a being wholly at one with the world: entrusted, pliable, possessed of the stillness of a plant or even a mineral ("bronze"). This feeling persists into the following lines thorugh the subtle harmonizing of time and space ("The distances of afternoon") and the sense of cowbells, heard from far off, as the musical measure of both. It is growing late, however, and as "evening darkens" a succession of images toll the poet back to his sole self. The last two lines complete the series and confirm the discovery: "A chicken hawk floates over, looking for home. / I have wasted my life." The hawk, presumably, will find its home; it possesses the ease, the buoyancy and assurance, that characterize the other natural objects in this landscape. But the poet will not. He can see in the things of this world only a vivvid, subliminal reminder of ruin, his failure truly to live. Surprising though this last line may seem, it has ben carefully prepared for by the hidden agenda of the poem; the images that constitute the argument, strange and emotionally precise as they are, have opened the doors to the revelation.
While writers such as Wright and Kinnell have tried to register the movements of the subconscious, others have dramatized the personal in more discursive, conscious forms. These include poets like Richard Hugo (1923-1982), Karl Shapiro, and Louis Simpson, who explore the self's discovery of the outer world and its reaction to it and, rather more significant, those like John Logan (1923-1987), Adrienne Rich (1929-), Anne Sexton (1923-1974), and W. D. Snodgrass (1926-2009), who incorporate elements of their personal histories in their poems.
In the poetry of Richard Hugo, collected in 1984, the personal dimension is founded on the relationship between the private self of the poet and the bleak, lonesome world he describes. The setting he favours is the Far West: not the Far West of legend, however, but a far more inhospitable, emptier place. Looking at one decaying township in Montana, he asks himself, "Isn't this your life?"; and his own poetic voice, somber and laconic, seems to answer him in the affirmative. Yet he can also learn from his surroundings; their strength of spirit, "rage" and endurance, have stamped their mark on him. "To live good, keep your life and the scene," he concludes in "Montgomery Hollow" "/ Cow, brook, hay: these are the names of coins": the currency of the West has, in fact, saved him from moral bankruptcy, helped him pay his duess to himself and the world. Hugo's poetic stance has hardly shifted over the years.
By contrast, Shapiro and Simpson began (as we have seen) as poets of public event, and only gradually changed their interests and allegiances. As the personal element in their poetry grew, so its shape and tone altered too. "Sabotage the stylistic approach," Shapiro commanded in "Lower the standard: that's my motto," "Get off the Culture Wagon. Learn how to walk the way you wan." Attacking "the un-American-activity of the sonnet," writing pieces with titles like "Anti-Poem," he adopted a long, flowing line somewhere between free verse and prose poetry. With this, he has explored himself and his surroundings (in volumes like Poems of a Jew (1958) with sometimes embarrassing frankness: "When I say the Hail Mary I get an erection," he admits in "Priests and Freudians will understand," adding wryly, "Doesn't that prove the existence of God?"
The alteration in Simpson's work (as a collection like At the End of the Open Road: Poems (1963) indicates) has been less radical: his verse, while becoming freer, has retained an iambic base. But he, too wants to know what it is like to be him at this moment in history, "an Amrican nurse / installed amid the kitchen ware." Like Whitman, he is concerned wit hthe representative status of his self, his Americanness; unlike Whitman, his landscapes are often suburban. "Whare are you Walt?" Simpson asks in "Walt Whitman at Bear Mountain," observing sardonically, "/ The Open Road goes to the used-car lot": that observation measures the distance, as well and the kinship, between it author and the person addressed, the first, finest poet of national identity.
Of the four poets just mentioned who insert their own stories directly into their narratives, John Logan (whose several collections include The Bridge of Change: Poems 1974-9 (1980) is the most apparently casual. His poems seem simple, informal: "Three moves in six months," begins one, "and I remain the same." But, in fact, they are carefully organized to allow for a subtle orchestration of theme and tone. In the poem just quoted, for instance, "Three Moves," he graduates from startling colloquialism ("You're all fucked up") to moments of lyricism and grace: "These foolish ducks lack a sense of guilt / and so all their multi-thousand-mile range / is too short for thee hope of change." And although, as these lines imply, Logan himself suffers from "a sense of guilt" from which the animal kingdom is blessedly free, he can occasionally participate in the vitality, the innocence of the natural world around him. "There is a freshness / nothing can destroy in us—," he says in "Spring of the Thief"; "Perhaps that / Freshness is the changed name of God."
The voice of W. D. Snodgrass, and his stance toward nature, is at once more controlled and intense. His finest work is "Heart's Needle" (1959), a series of poems which have as their subject his daughter and his loss of her through marital breakdown. "Child of my winter," begins the first poem: "born / When the new fallen soldiers froze / In Asia's steep ravines and fouled the snows . . . " Cynthia, the poet's child, was born during the Korean War and she is, he gently suggests, the fruit of his own cold war: the static, frozen winter campaign that is getting nowhere is also Snodgrass's marriage. The allusions to the war, and descriptions of the season, are there, not because of any intrinsic interest they may possess, historical, geographical, or whatever, but because they image the poet's inner world, his personal feelings. "We need the landscape to repeat us," Snodgrass observes later. The measured, musical quality of his verse, and his frequent attention to objects and narrative, disguise an obsessive inwardness, a ferocious preoccupation with the subjective.
"My poems ... keep right on singing thee same old song": the words could belong to Snodgrass, but in fract they were spoken by Ann Sexton, whose first two collections, To Bedlam and Part Way Back (1960) and All My Pretty Ones (1962), established both her reputation and her intensely personal stance. Even those pieces by Sexton that appear not to be concerned with herself usually turn out to be subjeective, to have to do with her predicament as a woman. "The Farmer's Wife", for instance, begins as a description of someone in rural Illinois, caught up in "that old pantomime of love," and then concludes with lines that suddenly switch the focus from farmer and wife to the poet and her lover. Elsewhere, when the narrative mask is dropped, the tone can be painfully raw and open, and given a further edge by elaborate rhyme-schemes or tight stanzaic forms. "All My Pretty Ones" is a good illustration of this. Addressed to the poet's father, the contrast between the passion and intimacy of the address and the strictness of the given measure only intensifies the feeling of the poem. It is as if the disciplines of the poetic form, which Sexton confronts in a half-yielding, half-rebellious fashion, were part of the paternal inheritance, something else that the father she both loves and hates has left her to deal with. However, she was not only concerned with the pain of being daughter, wife, mother, lover. She also sang, as she put it, "in celebration of the woman I am." Long before it was fashionable to do so, she wrote in praise of her distinctive identity, not just as an American poet, but as an American female poet. "As the African says:" she declares in "Rowing," "This is my tale which I have told"; and for her this tale was, finally, a source of pride.
A similar pride in the condition of being a woman characterizes the poetry of Adrienne Rich. Rich's early work in A Change of World (1951) and The Diamond Cutters (1955) is decorous, formal, restrained. But even in here there is a sense of the subversive impulses that lie just below the smooth surfaces of life. In "Aunt Jennifer's Tigers", for example, the character who gives the poem its title sems to be crushed beneath patriarchal authority: "The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band / sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand." However, the tigers she has embroidered "across a screen" suggest her indomitable spirit. Even after her death, "The tigers in the panel that she made / Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid." "Sleek chivalric" and poised as they are, these animals nevertheless emblematize certain rebellious energies, turbulent emotions that will not be contained polite on the surface, passionate beneath, Aunt Jennifer's art is, at this stage, Adrienne Rich's art. Gradually, though Rich came to feel that she could "no longer go to write a poem with a neat handful of materials and express these materials according to a prior plan." "Instead of poems about experience," she argued, "I am getting poems that are experiences." A work like "Diving into the Wreck," the title poem in her 1973 collection, measures the change. In it, the poet tells of a journey under the sea, during which she has to discard all the conventional supports, the crutches on which she has leaned in the upper world. "I came to xplore the wreck," she says: "The words are purposes. / The words are maps ...." And she describes shat she calls "the thing I came for: / the wreck and not the story of the wreck / the thing itself and not the myth." Diving deep into the deepest recesses of her being, exploring the "wreck" of her own life, Rich feels compelled to jettison inherited techniques and fictions. A more open, vulnerable, and tentative art is required, she feels, in order to map the geography of her self: a feling that is signaled in this poem, not only by its argument, but by its directness of speech, its stark imagery and idiomatic rhythms, above all by the urgency of its tone. The map, as it happens, is not just for her own use. "We are all confronted," Rich has declared in the preface to On Lies, Secrets and Silence: Selected Poems 1966-1978 (1979), "with ... the failure of patriarchal politics." "To be a woman at this time," she goes on, "is to know extraordinary froms of anger, joy and impatience, love and hope." "Poetry, words on paper, are necessary but not enough," she insists, "we need to touch the living who share ... our determination that the sexual myths underlying the human condition can and shall be ... changed." In Rich's later work, as in fact a volume like Fox: Poems 1998-2000 (2001) illustrates, the confrontation with hrself is insparable from her broader, feminist purposes; her work has become intimate, confessional, but it is an intimacy harnessed to the service of the community, the invention of a new social order.
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