Tive muito êxito na vida. E agora decidi fazer da minha vida um êxito.
Busco o que é perene e eterno neste Universo composto de mudança.
Portanto tenho muito com que me entreter.
Aqui vou publicando textos e links que acho serem suficientemente curiosos para trocarmos ideias sobre os temas focados.
Muitos têm que ver com as minhas dúvidas.
Portanto um blog de discussão.
Com poucas certezas. Pois obviamente tudo o que aqui se diz é pura ficção.
terça-feira, 20 de maio de 2008
O meu Tributo à Feminilidade!
Está a apetecer-me prestar o meu tributo às mulheres mais femininas de que me lembro. Vá clicando para ver as melhores imagens de Marilyn, Romy, Audrey, Sara, Carmen, Milu. E um viva a nós! Mulheres.
1 comentário:
Anónimo
disse...
é isto que queres? People in Huxley's nightmare do not reproduce through sex or family life. Instead, they are bred in Hatcheries, and then divided into castes - the Alphas and Betas running the show, the Gammas, Deltas and Epsilons are slaves.
Is this really so far-fetched? In the past few days, Parliament has pooh-poohed the idea that human beings, artificially bred in a laboratory, need fathers or father-substitutes.
The same law-makers, who see nothing wrong with aborting a child aged 24 weeks in the mother's womb, have also joyfully given the go-ahead to research which will involve the creation of human-animal hybrids in laboratories.
This is a momentous step. A decent society is one in which every man, woman and child is regarded as a sacrosanct individual, but such a belief is untenable if our law is also to allow scientists to tinker with our DNA, the stuff of life itself, and to mix it with the DNA of other species.
Who is to say that scientists, over the years to come, will not persuade legislators to go further in the cause of disease eradication? If it can be proved that cells harvested from a four-week-old hybrid embryo can end Alzheimer's disease, why should the law not be changed to allow this to happen?
What would be the next step? And the next? How far will our scientists persuade Parliament to go over the coming few decades? Allow your minds to stretch into the future and, without any help from H. G. Wells or Aldous Huxley, take yourself into an imaginary Britain of 2058. . . Just occasionally, in those not so far-off days, you will hear stories of families who have insisted on hanging on to their men.
It is only in remote, primitive parts of the country, of course, such as the Welsh mountains and the Outer Hebrides, that these pathetic specimens of humanity survive. Their old grey beards and gravelly voices would frighten the children in the bright new conurbations of the Midlands and the South, where male human beings have not been seen for two generations.
As all New Brits learn in their Herstory lessons (the term History is banned, of course, because of its male connotations), it was a very old President Cherie, after the tragic demise of her husband in the Middle East, who decided on the most humane method of reducing crime: lower the amount of testosterone.
It began with compulsory oestrogen injections for rapists and muggers, but such were the benefits of turning the criminal population into round-breasted, round-bottomed hermaphrodite sloths that it was soon decided that the male element in society was altogether redundant. A few die-hards insisted on such foolish old mantras as 'everyone needs a dad', but the appendage 'like a hole in the head' was soon tacked on by the rest of society.
1 comentário:
é isto que queres?
People in Huxley's nightmare do not reproduce through sex or family life. Instead, they are bred in Hatcheries, and then divided into castes - the Alphas and Betas running the show, the Gammas, Deltas and Epsilons are slaves.
Is this really so far-fetched? In the past few days, Parliament has pooh-poohed the idea that human beings, artificially bred in a laboratory, need fathers or father-substitutes.
The same law-makers, who see nothing wrong with aborting a child aged 24 weeks in the mother's womb, have also joyfully given the go-ahead to research which will involve the creation of human-animal hybrids in laboratories.
This is a momentous step. A decent society is one in which every man, woman and child is regarded as a sacrosanct individual, but such a belief is untenable if our law is also to allow scientists to tinker with our DNA, the stuff of life itself, and to mix it with the DNA of other species.
Who is to say that scientists, over the years to come, will not persuade legislators to go further in the cause of disease eradication? If it can be proved that cells harvested from a four-week-old hybrid embryo can end Alzheimer's disease, why should the law not be changed to allow this to happen?
What would be the next step? And the next? How far will our scientists persuade Parliament to go over the coming few decades? Allow your minds to stretch into the future and, without any help from H. G. Wells or Aldous Huxley, take yourself into an imaginary Britain of 2058. . . Just occasionally, in those not so far-off days, you will hear stories of families who have insisted on hanging on to their men.
It is only in remote, primitive parts of the country, of course, such as the Welsh mountains and the Outer Hebrides, that these pathetic specimens of humanity survive. Their old grey beards and gravelly voices would frighten the children in the bright new conurbations of the Midlands and the South, where male human beings have not been seen for two generations.
As all New Brits learn in their Herstory lessons (the term History is banned, of course, because of its male connotations), it was a very old President Cherie, after the tragic demise of her husband in the Middle East, who decided on the most humane method of reducing crime: lower the amount of testosterone.
It began with compulsory oestrogen injections for rapists and muggers, but such were the benefits of turning the criminal population into round-breasted, round-bottomed hermaphrodite sloths that it was soon decided that the male element in society was altogether redundant. A few die-hards insisted on such foolish old mantras as 'everyone needs a dad', but the appendage 'like a hole in the head' was soon tacked on by the rest of society.
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