Bill Clinton

Nos últimos 15 anos, os republicanos conseguiram desenvolver um discurso eficaz, capaz de atrair aqueles que regra geral deveriam votar no partido democrata. Graças a um discurso moralmente conservador/religioso, mas com perfil populista, cultivam as intolerâncias de um classe média pouco disposta a tolerar a diferença. Os problemas económicos e sociais são assim camuflados (e eficientemente abafados) pelo soar dos tambores da guerra ao terrorismo e aos maus costumes.

Apenas um verdadeiro mestre do populismo (como Bill Clinton) será capaz de ultrapassar esta dinâmica de vitória.

Resistência!!!

Democracy for America ;)

Triste realidade!

Frustração...

E' impressionante o sentimento colectivo de desespero e frustração que neste momento se sente em Nova Iorque. Uma colega já confessou que se calhar o Lincoln devia ter perdido a guerra civil.

12.42am (NYC)

Que grande treta! tenho dito e vou para a cama...

11.01pm (NYC) CNN projects Kerry will win Pennsylvania

Ufa!, por amor de deus!...

10.08pm (NYC)

Aquilo na Florida esta' mau!...

9.06pm (NYC): Business as usual!

Bush ganha onde deve ganhar, e onde ninguém no seu perfeito juízo vai...

8.10pm (NYC)

CNN projects Kerry will win New Jersey, Maryland, Massachusetts, Delaware, Illinois, Connecticut, Maine and Washington, DC.


OLE'!!!!!

Bush versus Kerry: GO KERRY!

Ok, let the games begin!

7.45pm (NYC): Tudo sobre control!

Drivin' on 9 (Breeders)

Drivin' on nine
You could be a shadow
Beneath the street-light
Behind my home

Drivin' on nine
I sure miss you
Pass the motels
Looking at the pines

Drivin' on nine
Looking for one thirty
Maybe I passed it
Go another mile

Drivin' on nine
I'll sure look pretty
In Carson City
Walking down the isle

Drivin' on nine
Does daddy have a shutgun
He said he'd never need one
Go another mile

Drivin' on nine
Looking out my window sill
Wondering if I want you still
Wonderin' what's mine

The King Of Carrot Flowers (Neutral Milk Hotel)

When you were young you were the King of carrot flowers,
And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees,
In holy rattlesnakes that fell all round your feet.

And your Mum would stick a fork right into Daddy’s shoulder,
And Dad would throw the garbage all across the floor,
As we would lay and learn what each other’s bodies were for.

And this is the room one afternoon I knew I could love you,
And from above you how I sank into your soul,
Into that secret place where no-one dares to go.

And your mum would drink until she was no longer speaking,
And Dad would dream of all the different ways to die,
Each one a little more than he could dare to try…