The Fanatic, Fraudulent Mother Teresa

I think it was Macaulay who said that the Roman Catholic Church deserved great credit for, and owed its longevity to, its ability to handle and contain fanaticism. This rather oblique compliment belongs to a more serious age. What is so striking about the "beatification" of the woman who styled herself "Mother" Teresa is the abject surrender, on the part of the church, to the forces of showbiz, superstition, and populism. It's the sheer tawdriness that strikes the eye first of all. It used to be that a person could not even be nominated for "beatification," the first step to "sainthood," until five years after his or her death. This was to guard against local or popular enthusiasm in the promotion of dubious characters. The pope nominated MT a year after her death in 1997. It also used to be that an apparatus of inquiry was set in train, including the scrutiny of an advocatus diaboli or "devil's advocate," to test any extraordinary claims. The pope has abolished this office and has created more instant saints than all his predecessors combined as far back as the 16th century. As for the "miracle" that had to be attested, what can one say? Surely any respectable Catholic cringes with shame at the obviousness of the fakery. A Bengali woman named Monica Besra claims that a beam of light emerged from a picture of MT, which she happened to have in her home, and relieved her of a cancerous tumor. Her physician, Dr. Ranjan Mustafi, says that she didn't have a cancerous tumor in the first place and that the tubercular cyst she did have was cured by a course of prescription medicine. Was he interviewed by the Vatican's investigators? No. (As it happens, I myself was interviewed by them but only in the most perfunctory way. The procedure still does demand a show of consultation with doubters, and a show of consultation was what, in this case, it got.) Read the rest at http://www.slate.com/id/2090083/

Australian surfer Mark Visser surfs an 11 metre (36 foot) wave at Cow Bombie, near the West Australian town of Gracetown, 280km (174 miles) south of Perth, in this handout photograph obtained September 28, 2009. The organisers claim that Visser has caught one of the biggest waves in Australia for 2009. The Cow Bombie break is gaining a reputation as one of the hot spots for big wave surfing. REUTERS/Calum Macauley/Handout

무소유

고려 말의 학자이자 명신인 이조년李兆年은 호가 매운당梅雲堂인데 유명한 시조 "이화에 월백하고"를 지은 시인이기도 하다. 소년 시절 그는 형 억년과 한강 가를 걸어가다 우연히 길가에서 금덩이를 주웠다. 하나씩 나누어 가진 두 형제가 기쁨에 들떠서 나룻배를 타고 강을 건너고 있었는데 갑자기 동생 조년이 금덩이를 강물 속에 던져버렸다. 깜짝 놀란 형이 이유를 묻자 조년이 대답했다. "형님, 금덩이를 버리고 나니 마음이 편안해졌어요. 금을 형님과 나누어 갖고 난 후 줄곧 욕심이 솢구쳐 마음이 편치 않았어요. 형님이 없었더라면 내가 몽땅 가질 수 있었을 텐데 라는 생각도 들고, 형님의 것을 뺏고 싶다는 충동마저 느꼇지 뭡니까. 그래서 나는 황금이 요물임을 깨닫고 버린 것입니다." 이 말을 들은 형 억년도 금덩이를 한강 물 속에 던져 넣으며 말했다. "나도 마음속으로 너와 똑같이 생각하고 있었다. 하마터면 우리 사이에 금이 갈 뻔했구나." 후세 사람들은 형제들이 금을 던졌던 양천나루를 투금탄投金灘이라고 불렀다. 오늘날 우리들이 살고 있는 이 시대는 황금만능의 물질시대이다. 지금이야말로 은밀하게 부정한 방법으로 돈주머니를 채우는 행위에서 벗어나 황금을 강물 속에 던져버리는 이조년 형제의 사상을 본받아 실천할 때인 것이다.

Like one who, on a lonely road, Doth walk in fear and dread, And, having once turned round, walks on, And turns no mare his head; Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread -Samuel Taylor Coleridge, passage from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Self-Pity

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself. -D.H. Lawrence

사랑

우정이라 하기에는 너무 오래고 사랑이라 하기에는 너무 이릅니다. 당신을 사랑하지 않습니다. 다만 좋아한다고 생각해 보았습니다. 남남이란 단어가 맴돌곤 합니다. 어처구니 없이 난 아직 당신을 사랑하고 있지는 않지만 당신을 좋아한다고는 하겠습니다. 외롭기 때문에 사랑하는 것이 아닙니다. 사랑하기 때문에 외로운 것입니다. 누구나 사랑할 때면 고독이 말없이 다가옵니다. 당신은 아십니까.. 사랑할수록 더욱 외로와진다는 것을. -이해인

Heaven

신이 맺은 운명의 선 나만의 구원인게 분명해 넌 절대 부정해선 안돼 악의 안개속을 걸어 갈때 내 눈부신 빛과 방패 It's you 내가 쉬는 숨은 너 Yeah, it's you 내가 꿈꾸는 너 내가 한 방울의 물을 원할 땐 바다를, 또 내가 한알의 모래를 원할 땐 사막을 주는 너 No place to go We've got no place to go My heaven is you -Epik High

"One of the major consequences of the 9/11 movement has been to draw enormous amounts of energy and effort away from activism directed to real and ongoing crimes of state." -Noam Chomsky

"The descendants of apes need no savior!" -Charles Lee Smith, 1929

Nike

Good enough to get your ass out there and work out

The Chaser

"야, 4885 너지?" *Two Enthusiastic Thumbs Up

Jordan’s night to remember turns petty

By Adrian Wojnarowski http://sports.yahoo.com/nba/news?slug=aw-jordanhall091209&prov=yhoo&type=lgns SPRINGFIELD, Mass. – The tears tumbled, flooding his face and Michael Jordan had yet to march to the microphone at Symphony Hall. He had listened to the genuine stories and speeches of a remarkable class. He had watched a “This is Your Life” video compilation of his basketball genius. Everything flashed before him, a legacy that he’s fought with body and soul to never, ever let go into yesterday. Yes, Michael Jordan was still fighting it on Friday night, and maybe he always will. Mostly, he was crying over the passing of that old Jordan, and it wouldn’t be long until he climbed out of his suit and back into his uniform and shorts, back into an adolescent act that’s turned so tedious. This wasn’t a Hall of Fame induction speech, but a bully tripping nerds with lunch trays in the school cafeteria. He had a responsibility to his standing in history, to players past and present, and he let everyone down. This was a night to leave behind the petty grievances and past slights – real and imagined. This was a night to be gracious, to be generous with praise and credit. “M.J. was introduced as the greatest player ever and he’s still standing there trying to settle scores,” one Hall of Famer said privately later. Jordan didn’t hurt his image with the NBA community, as much as he reminded them of it. “That’s who Michael is,” one high-ranking team executive said. “It wasn’t like he was out of character. There’s no one else who could’ve gotten away with what he did tonight. But it was Michael, and everyone just goes along.” Jordan wandered through an unfocused and uninspired speech at Symphony Hall, disparaging people who had little to do with his career, like Jeff Van Gundy and Bryon Russell. He ignored people who had so much to do with it, like his personal trainer, Tim Grover. This had been a moving and inspirational night for the NBA – one of its best ceremonies ever – and five minutes into Jordan’s speech it began to spiral into something else. Something unworthy of Jordan’s stature, something beneath him. Jordan spent more time pointlessly admonishing Van Gundy and Russell for crossing him with taunts a dozen years ago than he did singling out his three children. When he finally acknowledged his family, Jordan blurted, in part, to them, “I wouldn’t want to be you guys.” Well, um, thanks Dad. He meant it, too. If not the NBA, he should’ve thought of his children before he started spraying fire at everyone. No one ever feels sorry for Isiah Thomas, but Jordan tsk-tsked him and George Gervin and Magic Johnson for the 1985 All-Star game “freeze-out.” Jordan was a rookie, and the older stars decided to isolate him. It was a long time ago, and he obliterated them all for six NBA championships and five MVP trophies. Isiah and the Ice Man looked stunned, as intimidated 50 feet from the stage, as they might have been on the basketball court. The cheering and laughter egged Jordan on, but this was no public service for him. Just because he was smiling didn’t mean this speech hadn’t dissolved into a downright vicious volley. Worst of all, he flew his old high school teammate, Leroy Smith, to Springfield for the induction. Remember, Smith was the upperclassman his coach, Pop Herring, kept on varsity over him as a high school sophomore. He waggled to the old coach, “I wanted to make sure you understood: You made a mistake, dude.” Whatever, Michael. Everyone gets it. Truth be told, everyone got it years ago, but somehow he thinks this is a cleansing exercise. When basketball wanted to celebrate Jordan as the greatest player ever, wanted to honor him for changing basketball everywhere, he was petty and punitive. Yes, there was some wink-wink teasing with his beloved Dean Smith, but make no mistake: Jordan revealed himself to be strangely bitter. You won, Michael. You won it all. Yet, he keeps chasing something that he’ll never catch, and sometimes, well, it all seems so hollow for him. This is why he’s a terrible basketball executive because he still hasn’t learned to channel his aggressions into hard work on that job. For the Charlotte Bobcats, Jordan remains an absentee boss who keeps searching for basketball players on fairways and greens. From the speeches of David Robinson to John Stockton, Jerry Sloan to Vivian Stringer, there was an unmistakable thread of peace of mind and purpose. At times, they were self-deprecating and deflective of praise. Jordan hasn’t mastered that art, and it reveals him to be oddly insecure. When Jordan should’ve thanked the Bulls ex-GM, Jerry Krause, for surrounding him with championship coaches and talent, he ridiculed him. It was me, Jordan was saying. Not him. “The organization didn’t play with the flu in Utah,” Jordan grumbled. For Jordan to let someone else share in the Bulls’ dynasty will never diminish his greatness. Just enhance it. Only, he’s 46 years old and he still doesn’t get it. Yes, Jordan did gush over Scottie Pippen, but he failed to confess that he had wanted Krause to draft North Carolina’s Joe Wolf. Sometimes, no one is better with a half a story, half a truth, than Jordan. All his life, no one’s ever called him on it. Whatever Jordan wants to believe, understand this: The reason that Van Gundy’s declaration of him as a “con man” so angered him is because it was true on so many levels. It was part of his competitiveness edge, part of his marketability, and yes, part of his human frailty. Jordan wasn’t crying over sentimentality on Friday night, as much as he was the loss of a life that he returned from two retirements to have again. The finality of his basketball genius hit him at the induction ceremony, hit him hard. Jordan showed little poise and less grace. Once again, he turned the evening into something bordering between vicious and vapid, an empty exercise for a night that should’ve had staying power, that should’ve been transformative for basketball and its greatest player. What fueled his fury as a thirtysomething now fuels his bitterness as a lost, wandering fortysomething who threatened a comeback at 50. “Don’t laugh,” Michael Jordan warned. No one’s laughing anymore. Once and for all, Michael: It’s over. You won.

L'ELISIR D'AMORE

Act One The story plays out in an idyllic north Italian village. Nemorino, a simple peasant, loves Adina, who comes from a wealthy family. As the curtain rises, Adina reads the story of Tristan and Isolde to a group of peasants who are taking a break from the harvest. The sounds of a march interrupt this pastoral episode. Sergeant Belcore swaggers onto the scene at the head of a platoon of soldiers and is instantly drawn to Adina. He gives her flowers and proposes marriage, but Adina is not so easily wooed. The whole scene upsets Nemorino, who tries to persuade Adina to love him instead, but she would rather stay unattached. Dr. Dulcamara, a traveling huckster, enters the square and begins peddling his cure-all. Impressed, Nemorino asks if he happens to be selling any of Isolde's legendary love potion. Nemorino listened to the story and remembers what the potion did for Tristan, perhaps it might do the same for him. The doctor obliges with a bottle full of "elixir" which is really just wine, promising it will take effect in twenty-four hours. Nemorino takes a swig, and his confidence increases immeasurably. Adina, irritated at Nemorino's new self-assurance, spites him by promising to marry Belcore in six days. Of course, that doesn't faze Nemorino; the elixir will have worked by then. A soldier arrives with orders calling the platoon to the front the next day, and, faced with Belcore's departure, Adina agrees to push the wedding forward to today. This throws Nemorino into a panic. How can he win Adina without the help of the elixir? Act Two The wedding celebration is going full steam. Dulcamara and Adina perform a duet about a dirty old Venetian Senator lusting after a gondolier girl to amuse the guests. The notary arrives, but Adina tries to stall. She doesn't see Nemorino, and, since she's only marrying to torment him, why bother until he's there to see it? Everyone heads off to continue celebrating, but Dulcamara stays behind to pick over the remnants of the feast. Nemorino enters, heart-broken, and asks the doctor what to do. Dulcamara naturally recommends another dose of elixir, but Nemorino has no money. That puts things in a different light, so Nemorino decides to enlist in Belcore's platoon to raise the price of another bottle. But Nemorino's wealthy uncle has died and left a fortune to the boy, and news has reached the village girls, who rush to throw themselves at him. Clueless about his inheritance, Nemorino thinks that the second dose has done the trick. Adina can't believe what she's seeing. Her interest piqued, she asks Dulcamara if he knows what's going on, and he tells her about how Nemorino enlisted to buy the elixir and win her love. Touched that he would go to such lengths to win her, Adina realizes that she's loved Nemorino all along. She buys his enlistment back from Belcore and confesses her true feelings to Nemorino. Everyone in the village celebrates their happiness and, of course, the power of Dulcamara's elixir. -My very first opera attended... The Elixir of Love by Gaetano Donizetti

넌 날개를 펴 지옥에서 날 꺼내줘 내가 힘들 때는 가녀린 니 어깨를 줘 작은 손으로 머리를 만져주면 불면증도 도망가 불 같은 나를 잠재우는 소방관 넌 너무 쉽게 꼭꼭 잠궈둔 내 맘의 금고를 부셨어 그리고 아주 비싼 내 마음을 훔쳤어

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" "That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat. "I don't much care where..." said Alice. "Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat. -Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man. -George Bernard Shaw, Maxims for Revolutionists