lunes, 31 de octubre de 2011
Sister´s love
A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON
Published: October 30, 2011
Related
Opinion: The Genius of Jobs(October 30, 2011)
Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.
By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.
When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.
We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.
I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.
I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.
Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.
Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.
That’s incredibly simple, but true.
He was the opposite of absent-minded.
He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.
When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.
He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.
Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.
For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.
He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.
His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”
Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.
He was willing to be misunderstood.
Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.
By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.
When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.
We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.
I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.
I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.
Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.
Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.
That’s incredibly simple, but true.
He was the opposite of absent-minded.
He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.
When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.
He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.
Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.
For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.
He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.
His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”
Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.
He was willing to be misunderstood.
Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.
domingo, 30 de octubre de 2011
rajoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Los españoles quieren justicia y venganza???? Por culpa de Franco, algunos vascos quisieron justicia y otros venganza, y los que optaron por la segunda acabaron llamandose ETA.
Por eso se necesita PAZ, para que no se vuelvan a repetir ninguna de las DOS cosas. Pero con políticos como Rajoy y partidos políticos como el PP nunca se conseguirá llegar a eso.
Acaso en Sudáfrica e Irlanda acabo todo sin negociar?? Pues claro que no, y para eso esta la historia, para aprender y no volver a cometer errores.
Que nos espera con políticos así??
viernes, 28 de octubre de 2011
jueves, 27 de octubre de 2011
lunes, 24 de octubre de 2011
hmmmm
Coming in June 2012...
And here's the blurb on the book from the publisher, New Page Books:
The Pyramids and the Pentagon is a detailed study of how and why government agencies have, for decades, taken a clandestine and profound interest in numerous archeological, historical, and religious puzzles.
Focusing primarily upon the classified work of the U.S. Government, The Pyramids and the Pentagon invites you to take a wild ride into the fog-shrouded past.
It’s a ride that incorporates highlights such as:
•The CIA’s top-secret files on Noah’s Ark;
•U.S. Army documents positing that the Egyptian Pyramids were constructed via levitation;
•Disturbing military encounters with Middle Eastern djinns;
•Claims of nuclear warfare in ancient India;
•Links between the Face on Mars and the pharaohs;
•And many more.
Nick Redfern’s The Pyramids and the Pentagon clearly and provocatively demonstrates that deep and dark conspiracies exist within the shadowy world of officialdom—conspiracies that have the ability to rock the foundations of civilization, religion, and history to their very core.
The strange and amazing secrets of the past are just a heavily guarded government vault away.
And here's the blurb on the book from the publisher, New Page Books:
The Pyramids and the Pentagon is a detailed study of how and why government agencies have, for decades, taken a clandestine and profound interest in numerous archeological, historical, and religious puzzles.
Focusing primarily upon the classified work of the U.S. Government, The Pyramids and the Pentagon invites you to take a wild ride into the fog-shrouded past.
It’s a ride that incorporates highlights such as:
•The CIA’s top-secret files on Noah’s Ark;
•U.S. Army documents positing that the Egyptian Pyramids were constructed via levitation;
•Disturbing military encounters with Middle Eastern djinns;
•Claims of nuclear warfare in ancient India;
•Links between the Face on Mars and the pharaohs;
•And many more.
Nick Redfern’s The Pyramids and the Pentagon clearly and provocatively demonstrates that deep and dark conspiracies exist within the shadowy world of officialdom—conspiracies that have the ability to rock the foundations of civilization, religion, and history to their very core.
The strange and amazing secrets of the past are just a heavily guarded government vault away.
HOw i AM LOVING this
Did he or didn’t he? That is the question. The debate over whether William Shakespeare could write his own name, let alone the body of works considered among the greatest in English literature, has consumed minds for more than 150 years.
Now a new film, Anonymous, by Independence Day director Roland Emmerich, is about to throw more fuel on the fire.
Anonymous, released on October 28, is set in the political snake-pit of Elizabethan England. It asserts that Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford, was the true author of the Bard’s plays. And Shakespeare, an actor, was a mere provincial frontman for the plays so Oxford’s authorship could remain secret.
The film includes a masterful performance from Rhys Ifans as the brooding genius Oxford, with the mother-and-daughter team of Joely Richardson and Vanessa Redgrave playing the young and old Queen Elizabeth. Ifans might seem a more obvious choice for the comic role of the buffoonish, scheming Shakespeare, but that part is taken by Rafe Spall, son of Timothy.
Anonymous is no wordy but drab costume drama. Emmerich brings his epic style to bear on the exterior shots, swooping over Tudor London in all its teeming glory and culminating in Elizabeth’s funeral procession along a frozen Thames, an icy finality to the story.
It is however, the Shakespeare question which will spark most talk. Perhaps the identity of the genius behind the work is not important. The plays speak for themselves. But the row between the Shakespeare-supporting “Stratfordians” and the earl-backing “Oxfordians” is as heated now as when it first raged in the 1850s.
We ask two experts to present their opposing cases:
Charles Beauclerk argues that William Shakespeare did not write the plays attributed to him
Professor Stanley Wells believes that Shakespeare did write the plays
We ask two experts to present their opposing cases:
Charles Beauclerk argues that William Shakespeare did not write the plays attributed to him
Professor Stanley Wells believes that Shakespeare did write the plays
domingo, 23 de octubre de 2011
sábado, 22 de octubre de 2011
Beautiful Boy
Beautiful Boy
BEAUTIFUL BOY TRAILER
“Beautiful Boy” is a film about a couple and their failing relationship. At the beginning the husband is about to move out, and the wife is pissed because he was supposed to go on vacation with her and their kid. But it all turns out okay. The vacation gets canceled. Their son shoots a large number of people, and that brings them back together.
It’s a film about how a couple’s son, plus two dozen other people, must die to save their marriage. The majority of the film shows these two being quiet and depressed; scenes of characters being quiet and depressed while washing dishes; quiet and depressed while drinking coffee. The couple gets in a real fight only once.
If ever a character which ought to be important is treated as an object, this is it: the ultimate narcissist film. In the entire movie, the closest thing to an explanation behind the son’s mass killing is this: “You all have blood on your hands. You have vandalized my heart and you break my soul.” A movie doesn’t need to go in depth, but this is supposed to be an important character who the lead characters love. He’s the title character and the driving force. Yet the couple’s awkwardness and quiet depression attaches to nothing – they don’t investigate; they run away from reporters. The dad gets pissed because the people at work are looking at him; he’s self-conscious, and at another point, while talking to a hotel employee, frankly doesn’t give a damn when someone says his son is a psychopath right to his face. He has to turn off the TV when a Glenn Beck look-a-like says the parents should come forward so the dead kids’ parents can “take a crack at them.”
Nearly the only time the son gets mentioned in conversation is when the parents wonder if they should blame themselves. The parents crash at a hotel and get off work, get drunk, eat junk food, and live the way their son should’ve been living at college. Then this happens:
Narcissist 1:“Did we do something?”
Narcissist 2: “No! — Why does it have to be our fault?” (Note: He definitely doesn’t say, “Honey, it’s not your fault.”)
We know that the kid is quiet and doesn’t have a lot of friends – we can take for granted that the script writer has zero imagination, but are we supposed to think the son was quiet and didn’t have a lot of friends for no reason? It’s entirely possible they did do something or let something happen. It’s also entirely possible they had nothing to do with it.
There’s a fight later and narcissist 2 has a change of heart:
“It was our fault. We didn’t give him hope. We didn’t show him how to be happy.”
This is as meaningless as “you have vandalized my heart”. Nobody’s parents give them hope or show them how to be happy. So maybe the kid had a brain tumor. Maybe he had lupus. Maybe he got made fun of for writing bad poetry.
Or: he was a greater narcissist than his parents were. He learned their absurd, suburban self-consciousness. He moved to college and became nobody, and it was too much. At home he was at least the furniture-kid, and his parents said he was special just because it’s part of their role. At college he would have to actually do something so other people thought he was in some way valuable. He had no other narcissists around to reflect off of, so his identity had to be louder. Bad poetry didn’t impress anyone and being alone and miserable is so passé. He cobbled together an identity that would be sure to get someone’s attention.
The parents are to blame because the kid learned what mattered from them. And what matters is what you project, your image, your brand. Not what you do or who you are.
If a few dozen people need to die so you can be popular, son, so you can feel fulfilled, that’s fine with us. We’ll get a book deal and live the dream with you. We’ll look like we’re crying.
“Beautiful Boy” is a film about a couple and their failing relationship. At the beginning the husband is about to move out, and the wife is pissed because he was supposed to go on vacation with her and their kid. But it all turns out okay. The vacation gets canceled. Their son shoots a large number of people, and that brings them back together.
It’s a film about how a couple’s son, plus two dozen other people, must die to save their marriage. The majority of the film shows these two being quiet and depressed; scenes of characters being quiet and depressed while washing dishes; quiet and depressed while drinking coffee. The couple gets in a real fight only once.
If ever a character which ought to be important is treated as an object, this is it: the ultimate narcissist film. In the entire movie, the closest thing to an explanation behind the son’s mass killing is this: “You all have blood on your hands. You have vandalized my heart and you break my soul.” A movie doesn’t need to go in depth, but this is supposed to be an important character who the lead characters love. He’s the title character and the driving force. Yet the couple’s awkwardness and quiet depression attaches to nothing – they don’t investigate; they run away from reporters. The dad gets pissed because the people at work are looking at him; he’s self-conscious, and at another point, while talking to a hotel employee, frankly doesn’t give a damn when someone says his son is a psychopath right to his face. He has to turn off the TV when a Glenn Beck look-a-like says the parents should come forward so the dead kids’ parents can “take a crack at them.”
Nearly the only time the son gets mentioned in conversation is when the parents wonder if they should blame themselves. The parents crash at a hotel and get off work, get drunk, eat junk food, and live the way their son should’ve been living at college. Then this happens:
Narcissist 1:“Did we do something?”
Narcissist 2: “No! — Why does it have to be our fault?” (Note: He definitely doesn’t say, “Honey, it’s not your fault.”)
We know that the kid is quiet and doesn’t have a lot of friends – we can take for granted that the script writer has zero imagination, but are we supposed to think the son was quiet and didn’t have a lot of friends for no reason? It’s entirely possible they did do something or let something happen. It’s also entirely possible they had nothing to do with it.
There’s a fight later and narcissist 2 has a change of heart:
“It was our fault. We didn’t give him hope. We didn’t show him how to be happy.”
This is as meaningless as “you have vandalized my heart”. Nobody’s parents give them hope or show them how to be happy. So maybe the kid had a brain tumor. Maybe he had lupus. Maybe he got made fun of for writing bad poetry.
Or: he was a greater narcissist than his parents were. He learned their absurd, suburban self-consciousness. He moved to college and became nobody, and it was too much. At home he was at least the furniture-kid, and his parents said he was special just because it’s part of their role. At college he would have to actually do something so other people thought he was in some way valuable. He had no other narcissists around to reflect off of, so his identity had to be louder. Bad poetry didn’t impress anyone and being alone and miserable is so passé. He cobbled together an identity that would be sure to get someone’s attention.
The parents are to blame because the kid learned what mattered from them. And what matters is what you project, your image, your brand. Not what you do or who you are.
If a few dozen people need to die so you can be popular, son, so you can feel fulfilled, that’s fine with us. We’ll get a book deal and live the dream with you. We’ll look like we’re crying.
viernes, 21 de octubre de 2011
martes, 18 de octubre de 2011
sublime
Fernando Sánchez Dragó acaba de lanzar el primer volúmen de su biografía, Esos días azules. Memorias de un niño raro. En una entrevista concedida a 20 minutos, el polémico escritor habla de su obra, critica el ¡Indignaos!, de Stéphane Héssel, y afirma que el movimiento del 15-M se está "cargando la democracia".
En el libro dice que las mujeres de 30 se convierten en señoras ¿no le gustan? Siempre que tengan menos de 26 años. Nunca me he enredado con alguien mayor de esa de edad porque me gusta la disponibilidad y una señora no me acompaña en mi ritmo de vida. No es por carne fresca... tampoco me gustan las decentes porque yo no lo soy.
¿Y por qué dice que los jóvenes del 15-M son prefascistas? Eso lo dije en una columna de El Mundo. Son prefascistas y no lo saben. Cuatro años antes de la Revolución Francesa, un abad publicó un librito muy parecido al de Hessel que se llama Qué es el Estado llano y surgieron los enrages (cabreados). Cuatro meses después llegó Robespierre. Se están cargando la democracia. El libro de Héssel son flores y pajaritos. Ha caído en el momento justo.
¿A quién le daría el timón? El fin del mundo ha llegado y no hay salvación. Esta tormenta se lleva al mundo occidental y a EE UU. No hay nada que hacer. El timón pasa al sudeste asiático. Los chinos están ahí. Europa no tiene arreglo, no puedo proponer a nadie.
Pero a alguien preferirá... No me gustaría que los socialistas siguieran gobernando, pero yo ya he atacado a toda la clase política y en esto podría coincidir con los del 15-M. No basta con ser antisistema, que yo también lo soy.
¿Cómo es la sociedad con la que sueña? Con el estado de responsabilidad, que es lo contrario de el del bienestar. Una sociedad sin adolescentes eternos.
¿Lo que más le molesta es que le llamen provocador? No me enfado porque no me enfado ni cuando me llaman hijo de puta. Lo que provocan son mis ideas, no yo. ¿Qué hago? ¿me falsifico?
¿Muchos piensan cómo usted? Me atrevo a decir en voz alta lo que muchos piensan en voz baja.
lunes, 17 de octubre de 2011
domingo, 16 de octubre de 2011
Assange
“To punish the oppressors of humanity is clemency; to forgive them is barbarity”
Roberspierre
Roberspierre
viernes, 14 de octubre de 2011
what are you waiting for?
WASHINGTON — President Barack Obama said Thursday that officials at the “highest levels” of the Iranian government must be held accountable for a brazen and bizarre plot to assassinate the Saudi ambassador to the United States on American soil, insisting leaders of the world will believe the U.S. case without dispute once they absorb the details.
U.S. officials, meanwhile, confirmed the Obama administration has had direct contact with Iran over the allegations. The U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, Susan Rice, met with Iranian officials at Iran’s mission to the U.N. on Wednesday — a highly unusual contact for two countries that do not have diplomatic relations.
Obama would not say whether Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, or its president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, knew of the alleged plan. Yet he called it part of a pattern of “dangerous and reckless behavior” by the Iranian government and said people within that government were aware of a murder-for-hire plot.
The U.S. considers it an attempted act of terrorism.
U.S. says Quds tied to plot to kill ambassador (Oct. 11)“We believe that even if at the highest levels there was not detailed operational knowledge, there has to be accountability with respect to anybody in the Iranian government engaging in this kind of activity,” Obama said in a news conference tied to the state visit of South Korean President Lee Myung-bak.
Iran has vehemently denied anything to do with the alleged plot to kill the Saudi envoy to the United States, Adel Al-Jubeir, at a Washington restaurant.
U.S. officials have described it as a remarkably clumsy but deadly serious operation by Iran’s elite foreign action unit, the Quds Force. Two men were charged in New York federal court Tuesday for allegedly trying to hire a purported Mexican drug cartel member to carry out the assassination with a bomb attack.
U.S. officials, meanwhile, confirmed the Obama administration has had direct contact with Iran over the allegations. The U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, Susan Rice, met with Iranian officials at Iran’s mission to the U.N. on Wednesday — a highly unusual contact for two countries that do not have diplomatic relations.
Obama would not say whether Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, or its president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, knew of the alleged plan. Yet he called it part of a pattern of “dangerous and reckless behavior” by the Iranian government and said people within that government were aware of a murder-for-hire plot.
The U.S. considers it an attempted act of terrorism.
Related reading
Ambassador plot shines light on Quds force (Oct. 13)U.S. says Quds tied to plot to kill ambassador (Oct. 11)
Iran has vehemently denied anything to do with the alleged plot to kill the Saudi envoy to the United States, Adel Al-Jubeir, at a Washington restaurant.
U.S. officials have described it as a remarkably clumsy but deadly serious operation by Iran’s elite foreign action unit, the Quds Force. Two men were charged in New York federal court Tuesday for allegedly trying to hire a purported Mexican drug cartel member to carry out the assassination with a bomb attack.
jueves, 13 de octubre de 2011
Tracy
Protesting Gets Results
It’s absolutely true that people, especially the youth, should be upset at both the government and the financial elite. Their entire future has been destroyed by these people. They have been sold into slavery by their elders, and they are not getting any of the benefit. It is going to take a revolution to change the situation so that they are no longer slaves and have a chance to make their own future.Unfortunately, that’s not what most of these people are protesting for. Most of them are Socialists and Communists. They want MORE slavery. They are begging the slave masters to increase their rations. Most of them are protesting capitalism. Most of them are protesting the concept of private property, and they want to change the existing system only slightly, so that they get to keep larger amounts of the capital gains from their own enslavement.
I have no doubt that there is and will continue to be a major backlash amongst leftists as the effects of Wall Street’s fraud and the banksters’ larceny, facilitated by government, continue to take shape in the form of austerity measures. These people believe that the free market is to blame for what has happened.
Of course this is the direct result of a completely rigged market. There was never anything free about it. The government has granted the Federal Reserve a monopoly on the issuance of currency and the regulation of its quantity, which determines its value. The government has opted the country into an international system of trade and finance where an elite circle of unelected bureaucrats decide what countries will export which products to whom, and at what price. The government decides the price of labor and the conditions under which it can be rendered. The Fed loans money to banks at 0% interest and the government encourages them to use it to pump up the stock market, where 70% of trades are done via computers trading shares back and forth multiple times per second, rigging the price of each stock with precision.
There is no proper measure of the amount of wealth that has been fraudulently extracted from the individuals who live in this country. It’s impossible to quantify where the other 95% of the value of the US dollar has gone in the last century. What does it mean that most taxpayers spend a third of the year working to pay income taxes, and that’s not including the sales taxes and licensing fees that everybody pays? What does it mean that now two or more incomes are required to achieve a subsistence standard of living that was formerly achievable with just one income? What does it mean that we once had billions of dollars of gold bullion circulating as money that was confiscated by the government and given to foreign banks? What does it mean that the property that people live on was mortgaged with money created from thin air, and that each property has probably been sold to several lenders, neither of whom has any real right to own the property, because they haven’t tendered any valuable consideration? What does it mean that most of the manufacturing in this country has been relocated elsewhere by an international body that was created to fairly regulate international trade?
These are the questions that any self-respecting revolutionary should be asking, but I’m not going to hold my breath and wait for the folks currently “occupying Wall Street” to figure it out. They’re too busy obsessing on how much money CEOs make, how much they spend on vacations and fine dining. They don’t care about how that wealth was stolen. What they care about is that someone else has something that they don’t have, and that bothers them. So instead of destroying the inherently broken and immoral system of slavery and larceny, they just want someone to rig it in their favor. They want more useless jobs created for the public sector and government-granted monopolies. They want free food and free health care from the government. They want higher taxes for the rich. They actually think that will solve everything.
The fact is that if you continue this relationship where you have to have a hippy dippy protest march demanding things from the government every time you need a raise all you are doing is perpetuating your own enslavement. The way to fight the system is not to demand another system, which will inevitably continue to enslave you, but to remove yourself from the system as much as possible. The answer is not to throw a tantrum and demand more attention, but to simply stop giving them your attention. Stop treating them like they are your masters, because that is the reason why they are your masters.
miércoles, 12 de octubre de 2011
domingo, 9 de octubre de 2011
sábado, 8 de octubre de 2011
lunes, 3 de octubre de 2011
domingo, 2 de octubre de 2011
Bastards
Game
by Maxine Kumin
Before he died
Archduke Franz Ferdinand,
gunned down in Sarajevo
to jump-start World War I,
bragged he had shot three
thousand stags and a miscellany
of foxes, geese, wolves, and boars
driven toward him by beaters,
stout men he ordered to flush
creatures from their cover
into his sights, a tradition
the British aristocracy
carried on, further aped
by rich Americans
from Teddy R. to Ernest H.,
something Supreme
Court Justice Antonin
Scalia, pudgy son of Sicilian
immigrants, indulged in
when, years later, he had
scores of farm-raised birds
beaten from their cages and scared
up for him to shoot down
which brought him an inner joy.
What happened
to him when he was a boy?
by Maxine Kumin
Before he died
Archduke Franz Ferdinand,
gunned down in Sarajevo
to jump-start World War I,
bragged he had shot three
thousand stags and a miscellany
of foxes, geese, wolves, and boars
driven toward him by beaters,
stout men he ordered to flush
creatures from their cover
into his sights, a tradition
the British aristocracy
carried on, further aped
by rich Americans
from Teddy R. to Ernest H.,
something Supreme
Court Justice Antonin
Scalia, pudgy son of Sicilian
immigrants, indulged in
when, years later, he had
scores of farm-raised birds
beaten from their cages and scared
up for him to shoot down
which brought him an inner joy.
What happened
to him when he was a boy?
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