Profetas de tormentas financieras

Impresionante video del señor Peter Schiff prediciendo la crisis de las subprimes. El enlace está aquí, se trata de diferentes entrevistas a lo largo del tiempo. Es curioso resaltar la valentía y obstinación con la que Mr. Schiff defendía sus postulados frente a la horda de increpantes financieros.

Me juego el pellejo a que la FOX usaba al señor Schiff únicamente para atraer la ira de sus semejantes y hacer sus shows más atractivos para el televidente medio. Más de uno se estará comiendo sus palabras...

¿Procrastina...qué?

La palabra proviene del latín pro (adelante) y crastinus (referente al futuro).

Aparece cuando al tener diversos quehaceres que cumplir valga la semi-redundancia, decidimos, como arrastrados por una fuerza superior, a no realizarlos, o a realizar otros que acarreen un esfuerzo menor o generen una experiencia más placentera. Dicho de otra manera, si alguna vez te has visto "obligado" por tu yo interior (perezoso y con ganas irrefrenables de hacer otra cosa) a posponer cosas que podrías ponerte a hacer en ese mismo momento podrás "fardar" delante de tu camaradería diciendo que has sufrido un episodio de procrastinación.

Personalmente, es una conducta a la que tengo cierto cariño pues llevo conviviendo con ella desde hace años (yo también tuve mi época responsable y puntual pero parece que fue diluyendose con el tiempo...). Para aquellos que tengan tendencia a "dejar para mañana (o para dentro de una semana, o un mes o cinco años como es el caso de mi carnet de conducir...) lo que pueda hacerse hoy", leer esto. Lo más probable es que no os sirva para casi nada (para nada en caso de no saber inglés) pero siempre es bueno estar al tanto de que existe cura para este tipo de trastornos del comportamiento.

Thanks Microsiervos!

despertares

Primera entrada. Y a modo de presentación y haciendo honor al título del blog...

Oh, where have you been,
my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been,
my darling young one?

I've stumbled on the side
of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled
on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle
of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of
a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles
in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard,
it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see,
my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see,
my darling young one?

I saw a newborn baby
with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds
with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood
that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men
with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder
all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers
whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords
in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard,
it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear,
my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear,
my darling young one?

I heard the sound of a thunder,
it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave
that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers
whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin'
and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve,
I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet
who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown
who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard,
it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet,
my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet,
my darling young one?

I met a young child
beside a dead pony,
I met a white man
who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman
whose body was burning,
I met a young girl,
she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man
who was wounded in love,
I met another man
who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard,
it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now,
my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now,
my darling young one?

I'm a-goin' back out
'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths
of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many
and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison
are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley
meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face
is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly,
where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color,
where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it
and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain
so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean
until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before
I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard,
it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

A hard rain is gonna fall (1963) - Bob Dylan