Laandra did not remember much of her life before the crash of the Exodar. Of course, stories of the Outland and the siege on Tempest Keep were being shared among all the Draenei survivors, but apart from that bit of collective history, her mind was void.
Her only vivid memory was waking up in a pile of wreckage. She had wandered for a while, back and forth, calling out for anyone that might hear her. She vaguely knew that she probably had a family, mother, father or siblings that must have been still there, buried under some rocks or fallen trees. There was a fire all around, a strange blaze, emitting from the broken crystals but she found no living soul. In the end she had just collapsed somewhere, her spirit leaving her body for a while, away from the pain of blistered skin and broken bones…
When she woke up again she laid on a warm blanket. She wore a clean, simple, white robe and the pain had for long subsided. Struggling to remember anything about how she got there, she got up and staggered away Fighting dizziness, she saw lines of unconscious bodies surrounding her, all laying on grey, soft -looking blankets.
The sight scared her. Maybe her family were somewhere there too. But did she really have a family? She could not remember it, so, instead of investigating the wounded, she staggered away, towards the entrance.
Luckily, someone was there. A tall Draenei male which made haste to come towards her, joy temporary softening his otherwise grim expression.
“So you made it. I have watched you closely for the past days. I had a feeling you’ll eventually pull out”.
Laandra looked at him confused. She tried hard to utter anything, but found out she couldn’t. The Draenei took her arm and helped her sit down on a boulder of rock.
“You do remember the crash, do you?” he softly asked her.
Laandra felt her eyes well with tears.
“Yes” she mumbled, relieved to find out that she still could speak. "But nothing else. All is blurred”.
He gave her a small pat on the shoulder and smiled encouragingly.
“Amnesia. We have set up this first aid point here and we tend on those with severe wounds. Meanwhile, all those not too badly injured have started building up some sort of settlements from the remains of Exodar.”
They stood silent for a while and Laandra understood he was just letting the news to sink in.
But she could not make any sense of what he had just said. She just felt lost and scared, longing for a caring embrace, for someone stronger to lean on to. Dropping her hands to her knees she stood motionless for what it had seemed like ages, fighting against tears, forcing herself into awareness. But nothing came out of the mess in her head, only a line of a familiar prayer and she repeated it over and over, hanging desperately on its meaning. “ Light is with me and so I stand in harm’s way and I am not afraid.”
Monday, December 31, 2007
The homecoming
Laandra stepped on the pier and, raising her hands upon her head took a deep breath.
Under the soft light of the morning sun, Azuremyst Isle appeared quiet and peaceful, a place of untamed beauty.
The wind ruffled her hair and Laandra smiled. From the same pier, so many seasons ago, she had set forth to Darkshore, carrying a message to the night elves. One of the Hand then, still one of the Hand now.
She brushed her robes, a bit crumpled after the long journey and made a mental note to give them a good washing when she finally reached home.
“Home”. Abbruptly stopping for a moment she wondered if the words hid any meaning or were just empty shells to define a reality she no longer believed in.
Was this still her home? She had left a young, untamed girl, whose affinity to elemental magic was “promising”. Now she returned, weathered by storms and rains and scorching fires, her face slightly creased with lines of concentration and worry. A respectable mage and alchemist, hardened in many battles against the evils of Azeroth.
One of the Hand of Argus nonetheless.
“ I am home” Laandra said to herself. Behind her the Veiled Sea whispered with a thousand voices, its incredibly sad melody. The mage gave a small shrug, brushed her robes again, into proper order and started to walk on the narrow road, with no cobblestones, as she had done in the days of her youth. To her left, the Exodar rose to the sky, its majestic shape of gleaming crystals. Laandra only gave it a melancholic look before taking the right path, which lead to the center of the island and the settlement of Azure Watch.
She didn’t feel up to seeing Prophet Velen right then. Not after what she had been through lately.
It could wait.
So many other things could wait.
With a sigh, she bent down on a knee to the moist, grass covered soil and picked up a delicate white peacebloom flower.
Under the soft light of the morning sun, Azuremyst Isle appeared quiet and peaceful, a place of untamed beauty.
The wind ruffled her hair and Laandra smiled. From the same pier, so many seasons ago, she had set forth to Darkshore, carrying a message to the night elves. One of the Hand then, still one of the Hand now.
She brushed her robes, a bit crumpled after the long journey and made a mental note to give them a good washing when she finally reached home.
“Home”. Abbruptly stopping for a moment she wondered if the words hid any meaning or were just empty shells to define a reality she no longer believed in.
Was this still her home? She had left a young, untamed girl, whose affinity to elemental magic was “promising”. Now she returned, weathered by storms and rains and scorching fires, her face slightly creased with lines of concentration and worry. A respectable mage and alchemist, hardened in many battles against the evils of Azeroth.
One of the Hand of Argus nonetheless.
“ I am home” Laandra said to herself. Behind her the Veiled Sea whispered with a thousand voices, its incredibly sad melody. The mage gave a small shrug, brushed her robes again, into proper order and started to walk on the narrow road, with no cobblestones, as she had done in the days of her youth. To her left, the Exodar rose to the sky, its majestic shape of gleaming crystals. Laandra only gave it a melancholic look before taking the right path, which lead to the center of the island and the settlement of Azure Watch.
She didn’t feel up to seeing Prophet Velen right then. Not after what she had been through lately.
It could wait.
So many other things could wait.
With a sigh, she bent down on a knee to the moist, grass covered soil and picked up a delicate white peacebloom flower.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Sarid de Vera Lonza couldn’t sleep again.
The room seemed suddenly too big and too cold, silence frightening her. Warning whispers in the back of her mind and the bad dreams, as usual when her husband was away…Nothing to do, just wait and hope, always hope for the best.
The tiny flame of the candle was almost gone. The last cut. Gazing at the wall Sarid counted the long hours of the night. Four.
She sighed, turning into herself as in a protective shell. Her long, slender hands extinguished the last flicker of light, then she rose and went to the window. She drew away the soft, white curtains and stared into the darkness. Her body yearned for some rest. But uneasiness, like a sharp blade between her and her own heart, kept her awake.
So cold it was, Sarid thought, with a shiver, even in the middle of summer. Cold was her soul crippled by anguish and waiting days and the so little love she had known…
Nights made her remember the worst things in her life. In daylight, it was easy to put them away and pretend happiness.
She sobbed, struggling to keep the tears at bay. No good shedding them. No deliverance from the fear that chilled her soul every time he was away...for the fire and rage she felt when he was close. Her husband, her men, yet not hers. Never so.
Taking a few steps around the room, Sarid finally sat on the bed, huddling under the covers. Nevertheless, coldness kept wrapping tightly around her shivering self.
The room seemed suddenly too big and too cold, silence frightening her. Warning whispers in the back of her mind and the bad dreams, as usual when her husband was away…Nothing to do, just wait and hope, always hope for the best.
The tiny flame of the candle was almost gone. The last cut. Gazing at the wall Sarid counted the long hours of the night. Four.
She sighed, turning into herself as in a protective shell. Her long, slender hands extinguished the last flicker of light, then she rose and went to the window. She drew away the soft, white curtains and stared into the darkness. Her body yearned for some rest. But uneasiness, like a sharp blade between her and her own heart, kept her awake.
So cold it was, Sarid thought, with a shiver, even in the middle of summer. Cold was her soul crippled by anguish and waiting days and the so little love she had known…
Nights made her remember the worst things in her life. In daylight, it was easy to put them away and pretend happiness.
She sobbed, struggling to keep the tears at bay. No good shedding them. No deliverance from the fear that chilled her soul every time he was away...for the fire and rage she felt when he was close. Her husband, her men, yet not hers. Never so.
Taking a few steps around the room, Sarid finally sat on the bed, huddling under the covers. Nevertheless, coldness kept wrapping tightly around her shivering self.
Friday, December 21, 2007
A bit of prose
Still desiring, we live without hope.
[It., Senza speme vivemo in desio.]
Dante - Inferno (IV, 42)
Pain. So much pain.
His consciusness fights hard to retain control over the broken body. Every muscle, every bone aches terribly and would give up, collapsing under its own weight if it were not for the glimpse of will that – still – keeps him together.
Yet, the pain grows stronger until he knows he cannot endure it anymore. A step, another one, and the path winds endlessly towards the top of the mountain, towards the sky…
Pain is chewing at him fiercely, making him gasp and struggle for each tortured breath he takes. His wretched body staggers from one side to the other, as a drunken man would do.
Every step is an agony.
His own mind blackened from all the suffering he still understands that if he falls they’ll come for him. Thrown in the small confines of the cell, never to see the light of day, until he tells them what they want. And pain again. All those horrible things they’re doing to him, hoping he’ll break down and betray the men that put their trust in him.
Tell the truth and it stops now. A quick, merciful death. Tell us what we want to know.
Only voices. He forgot the faces, because he keeps his eyes shut all the time. Trying so hard to pretend he’s not there. Yet, no matter how many walls he puts around his mind, the voices reach in, with every stab of pain, every cut, every burn…
He’ll not survive it.
But won’t say a word either.
He cannot fall. So he steps forward onto the narrow path, the wheezing sound of his own breath filling his ears.
When he is safe, he can die.
Death it’s a promise. Silence. Absence. No more pain. It’s the only thing that keeps him walking, like the embrace of a lover at the end of a long harsh day. To die is not to feel and after all he has been through, he can wish no more.
So, reaching out with blind fingers that grope at leaves and branches and rocks, everything that can offer even the tiniest bit of support, he goes on, through the infernal pain, not knowing if there is darkness outside or only behind his closed eyelids.
1
Octavian d’Ennery woke up sweating. His hand had slid to the side and his fingers were tightly wrapped on the hilt of the dagger. Panic clenched his throat, suffocating him. Then, slowly taking in his surroundings, he fell back on the crumpled blanket and forced himself to breathe steadily.
A nightmare, he thought. Nothing more.
Except for the fact that he had had the same recurring nightmare for twenty years.
He opened his eyes again and gazed at the starlit sky, trying to shake away the last remnants of horror. Then, through the shadows of the night, he could perceive someone come closer and sit in the lush grass by himself.
Ayden de Azena, Octavian remembered. It was his guard shift.
The other man asked nothing, and Octavian knew he had probably trashed again from side to side and screamed in his dream, unable to free himself from the overwhelming pain and despair. But Ayden had seen it all before, so he did not worry…he just reached out and put a firm hand on his shoulder, sharing his reassuring strength for a moment, until Octavian found himself able to let the dagger go.
There was no danger.
Around them the mountain swirled and whispered in the night with a thousand voices…The rustling of leaves and the soft chanting of water over stones. The sounds filled his hearing…even though the forest itself was quiet. He remained alert for a while, listening intently, then closed his eyes again and sighed.
“If you wanna get some rest Ayd, I’ll take on the guard for you” he said in a low voice. “I can’t sleep anymore…”
“Nah’. The other man shrugged. Octavian could not see his face in the dark. ‘It’s only an hour or so till dawn, anyway.’ His words trailed off as he gazed over Octavian’s shoulder to a certain point in the air.
‘ You sure ‘bout bringing that man with you?’
‘ Well…everyone deserves a chance. If he’s a spy, there’ll be plenty of time to get rid of him’
It sounded so matter of factly, he discovered, as if they were not talking about the life or death of another human being. Sometimes it frightened him. But most of the time it was just plain simple: they were at war.
[It., Senza speme vivemo in desio.]
Dante - Inferno (IV, 42)
Pain. So much pain.
His consciusness fights hard to retain control over the broken body. Every muscle, every bone aches terribly and would give up, collapsing under its own weight if it were not for the glimpse of will that – still – keeps him together.
Yet, the pain grows stronger until he knows he cannot endure it anymore. A step, another one, and the path winds endlessly towards the top of the mountain, towards the sky…
Pain is chewing at him fiercely, making him gasp and struggle for each tortured breath he takes. His wretched body staggers from one side to the other, as a drunken man would do.
Every step is an agony.
His own mind blackened from all the suffering he still understands that if he falls they’ll come for him. Thrown in the small confines of the cell, never to see the light of day, until he tells them what they want. And pain again. All those horrible things they’re doing to him, hoping he’ll break down and betray the men that put their trust in him.
Tell the truth and it stops now. A quick, merciful death. Tell us what we want to know.
Only voices. He forgot the faces, because he keeps his eyes shut all the time. Trying so hard to pretend he’s not there. Yet, no matter how many walls he puts around his mind, the voices reach in, with every stab of pain, every cut, every burn…
He’ll not survive it.
But won’t say a word either.
He cannot fall. So he steps forward onto the narrow path, the wheezing sound of his own breath filling his ears.
When he is safe, he can die.
Death it’s a promise. Silence. Absence. No more pain. It’s the only thing that keeps him walking, like the embrace of a lover at the end of a long harsh day. To die is not to feel and after all he has been through, he can wish no more.
So, reaching out with blind fingers that grope at leaves and branches and rocks, everything that can offer even the tiniest bit of support, he goes on, through the infernal pain, not knowing if there is darkness outside or only behind his closed eyelids.
1
Octavian d’Ennery woke up sweating. His hand had slid to the side and his fingers were tightly wrapped on the hilt of the dagger. Panic clenched his throat, suffocating him. Then, slowly taking in his surroundings, he fell back on the crumpled blanket and forced himself to breathe steadily.
A nightmare, he thought. Nothing more.
Except for the fact that he had had the same recurring nightmare for twenty years.
He opened his eyes again and gazed at the starlit sky, trying to shake away the last remnants of horror. Then, through the shadows of the night, he could perceive someone come closer and sit in the lush grass by himself.
Ayden de Azena, Octavian remembered. It was his guard shift.
The other man asked nothing, and Octavian knew he had probably trashed again from side to side and screamed in his dream, unable to free himself from the overwhelming pain and despair. But Ayden had seen it all before, so he did not worry…he just reached out and put a firm hand on his shoulder, sharing his reassuring strength for a moment, until Octavian found himself able to let the dagger go.
There was no danger.
Around them the mountain swirled and whispered in the night with a thousand voices…The rustling of leaves and the soft chanting of water over stones. The sounds filled his hearing…even though the forest itself was quiet. He remained alert for a while, listening intently, then closed his eyes again and sighed.
“If you wanna get some rest Ayd, I’ll take on the guard for you” he said in a low voice. “I can’t sleep anymore…”
“Nah’. The other man shrugged. Octavian could not see his face in the dark. ‘It’s only an hour or so till dawn, anyway.’ His words trailed off as he gazed over Octavian’s shoulder to a certain point in the air.
‘ You sure ‘bout bringing that man with you?’
‘ Well…everyone deserves a chance. If he’s a spy, there’ll be plenty of time to get rid of him’
It sounded so matter of factly, he discovered, as if they were not talking about the life or death of another human being. Sometimes it frightened him. But most of the time it was just plain simple: they were at war.
Reflectii organizationale
Am scris candva despre Homo Corporatus. Astazi aleg o alta "mutatie' nascuta din somnul ratiunii globalizate, si anume Oaia corporatista.
Pai da, oaia, nu numai pentru ca se asorteaza mai bine in peisajul politic romanesc ( atentie, cliseu) ci si pentru ca spiritul de turma exercita o fascinatie aparte asupra mea.
Un 'murphism' nu foarte celebru sustine ca omul, luat individual, mai e cum mai e, dar ca sa atingi culmile absurdului ai nevoie de o gloata. In grup, gandirea devine difuza si ca orice proces nestructurat, are rezultate confuze.
Am spus "spirit de turma"?
Ma scuzati, voiam sa discut despre "corporate culture". Da, stiu ca promoveaza comunicarea, rezolvarea conflictelor si munca de echipa. Da, tin minte de la cursul de management ca e indispensabila functionarii eficiente a oricarei organizatii. Si-apoi, ce ne-am face fara team buildinguri si excursii platite de firma? petrecerea de Craciun? Cadourile standardizate ( oare ce reducere se obtine pentru o comanda de 500 de treninguri cu sigla companiei?)
Oaia corporatista inoata in cultura de grup si se scufunda in ea derivand delicii intelectuale din statutul ei de rotita bine unsa intr-un mecanism perfect. Din fericire nu cunosc multe asemenea personaje. Majoritatea oamenilor retin o detasare sanatoasa fata de acest fenomen cultural. Din fericire. Va dati seama ce-ar insemna sa ne imbracam toti in trening si sa iesim la un jogging? Pentru promovarea imaginii organizatiei, bineinteles...!
(Imi iau cadoul de Craciun din partea companiei si il ascund in geanta.) Sa pastem sanatosi!
Pai da, oaia, nu numai pentru ca se asorteaza mai bine in peisajul politic romanesc ( atentie, cliseu) ci si pentru ca spiritul de turma exercita o fascinatie aparte asupra mea.
Un 'murphism' nu foarte celebru sustine ca omul, luat individual, mai e cum mai e, dar ca sa atingi culmile absurdului ai nevoie de o gloata. In grup, gandirea devine difuza si ca orice proces nestructurat, are rezultate confuze.
Am spus "spirit de turma"?
Ma scuzati, voiam sa discut despre "corporate culture". Da, stiu ca promoveaza comunicarea, rezolvarea conflictelor si munca de echipa. Da, tin minte de la cursul de management ca e indispensabila functionarii eficiente a oricarei organizatii. Si-apoi, ce ne-am face fara team buildinguri si excursii platite de firma? petrecerea de Craciun? Cadourile standardizate ( oare ce reducere se obtine pentru o comanda de 500 de treninguri cu sigla companiei?)
Oaia corporatista inoata in cultura de grup si se scufunda in ea derivand delicii intelectuale din statutul ei de rotita bine unsa intr-un mecanism perfect. Din fericire nu cunosc multe asemenea personaje. Majoritatea oamenilor retin o detasare sanatoasa fata de acest fenomen cultural. Din fericire. Va dati seama ce-ar insemna sa ne imbracam toti in trening si sa iesim la un jogging? Pentru promovarea imaginii organizatiei, bineinteles...!
(Imi iau cadoul de Craciun din partea companiei si il ascund in geanta.) Sa pastem sanatosi!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
(I am your spoken truth, I am the lies in you. I am your lighted way, and I'm your darkest day.*)
Through this window frame
world seems so little
nowhere to run away
and hide
I choke on words left unsaid
burning through my blood throbbing in my veins
over and over.
I still am unbroken.
* Lyrics from 'I am'- Godsmack
Through this window frame
world seems so little
nowhere to run away
and hide
I choke on words left unsaid
burning through my blood throbbing in my veins
over and over.
I still am unbroken.
* Lyrics from 'I am'- Godsmack
Friday, November 23, 2007
Campania pentru europarlamentare a fost...cetoasa. Atat de cetoasa si de lipsita de vizibilitate incat, gandindu-ma ca peste doua zile e scrutinul stau si ma intreb si eu precum turmentatul cetatean ce facea deliciul piesei lui Caragiale : " Eu cu cine votez?"
La televizor nu prea stiu ce-a fost, fiindca fac alergie la talk-show-uri si dezbateri televizate. Cred ca Murphy spunea ca daca individual prostia mai poate fi suportata, in grup atinge paroxismul.
Pe strada, cateva panouri outdoor lipsite de "sare si piper", concentrate in jurul "stelutelor" europene - 12 sau 15 sau cate or fi ele acolo, aureoland vreo figura de politician mai mult sau mai putin cunoscuta...
Mesaje sobre,lipsite de atractivitate, pana intr-acolo incat imi vine greu sa-mi amintesc vreunul.
Ba nu, gresesc, mi-l aduc aminte pe cel al PSD-ului, cu pensia decenta, tocmai fiindca m-a frapat prin falsitatea sa.
Ma intreb daca vreunul dintre cei ce a alcatuit pliantele de campanie PSD si-a dat vreodata osteneala sa citeasca macar o descriere de jumatate de pagina a Parlamentului European.
(Pentru cine simte ca are restante la acest capitol si vrea sa afle ce face Parlamentul European - The voice of the People, cum i se mai spune : http://www.europarl.europa.eu/parliament/public/staticDisplay.do?language=RO&id=46)
Va pot spune eu insa ce nu face aceasta institutie supranationala. Parlamentul European, dragii mei, nu da bani pensionarilor din Romania.Nici ajutoare de intretinere sau caldura. Nici nu investeste mai bine banii din agricultura. Nu sustine cresterea economica a Romaniei. Nu adopta legi si planuri nationale ori sisteme de sanatate pentru Romania. Nu propune nici nu aproba bugetul tarii...toate elemente de baza in "angajamentele" PSD.
Acestea sunt toate responsabilitati ale PARLAMENTULUI SI GUVERNULUI ROMANIEI. Nu ale Parlamentului European si ale reprezentantilor Romaniei in cadrul acestuia. Ce-si propune PSD sa faca la guvernarea Romaniei, daca va castiga alegerile parlamentare si va forma guvernul, e cu totul altceva. Dar sa nu incurcam borcanele si mai ales sa nu mai exploatam imaginea Uniunii drept paradis al cainilor cu covrigi in coada. Nu ne face nimeni reforma, nu ne baga nimeni pe gat legile cele bune si masurile de guvernare cele intelepte. Tot noi...adica voi...trebuie s-o faceti, de-aici, de pe malul Dambovitei...
Apoi mai era ad-ul PNTCD cu batranica si nedreptatea.Miscator,pentru Surprize Surprize. Dar da prost la Europarlamentare. Adica asa a ajuns Romanica noastra, o tara a nedreptatii cumplite incat singurul mod de a o ajuta e sa votezi PNTCD ca sa...Ca sa ce? Pai daca nu se observa saracia si nedreptatea de-aici, de-aproape, din deal, din Casa Poporului, ce m-ar face pe mine sa cred ca se vede mai bine de la Bruxelles?
Adica va zic, nu ma impingeti ca ametesc.
Slava Cerului ca se confrunta si altii, mai mari ca noi, cu problemele si crizele democratiei.
Nu ca am avea noi idee cu ce se mananca notiunea asta, dar nu conteaza.
Cu noi in Europa?
Pai tocmai asta este, nu vreau sa merg cu voi!
Si asta imi aduce aminte de minunatul referendum pentru votul uninominal. Romanii nu stiu despre ce e vorba, dar voteaza "Da". Voteaza "Da" pentru Basescu, dupa ce-au votat "Nu" in primavara. Si e grav si periculos si trist ca acest pas inspre adevarata schimbare la fata a clasei politice se face cu atata sila si inconstienta.
Am citit si eu cate ceva despre pericolele lipsei de reprezentativitate etc, etc ale variantei de uninominal propuse. Poate ca nu va fi mai bine. Dar m-am saturat de liste. Adica nu, nu de liste in sine, ca nici macar nu cunosc numele de pe ele. Dar sunt cam aceleasi fete. Mai reciclati-va si voi frate!
Mi s-a spus ca daca acum nu suntem in stare sa enumeram mai mult de douazeci de bucati parlamentar...ce-o fi cu uninominalul? Pai tocmai de-aia, spun eu, daca tot nu fac nimic 4 ani, in afara de cativa, 20-30 care tin capul de afis si in ziar si la TV si pe Internet si numai Dumnezeu mai stie unde de ti se acreste de fetele lor, lasa-i ca macar din 4 in 4 ani, la alegeri, sa transpire putin pentru un vot. Sa vina sa ne stranga mana, sa ne intrebe de sanatate. E ...razbunarea mea de cetatean constiincios...parol!
Poate pana duminica imi dau si eu seama cu cine votez...
(Ofteaza)
Desi e cam seceta...
(Iese fredonand "Lasa-ne, lasa-ne...")
La televizor nu prea stiu ce-a fost, fiindca fac alergie la talk-show-uri si dezbateri televizate. Cred ca Murphy spunea ca daca individual prostia mai poate fi suportata, in grup atinge paroxismul.
Pe strada, cateva panouri outdoor lipsite de "sare si piper", concentrate in jurul "stelutelor" europene - 12 sau 15 sau cate or fi ele acolo, aureoland vreo figura de politician mai mult sau mai putin cunoscuta...
Mesaje sobre,lipsite de atractivitate, pana intr-acolo incat imi vine greu sa-mi amintesc vreunul.
Ba nu, gresesc, mi-l aduc aminte pe cel al PSD-ului, cu pensia decenta, tocmai fiindca m-a frapat prin falsitatea sa.
Ma intreb daca vreunul dintre cei ce a alcatuit pliantele de campanie PSD si-a dat vreodata osteneala sa citeasca macar o descriere de jumatate de pagina a Parlamentului European.
(Pentru cine simte ca are restante la acest capitol si vrea sa afle ce face Parlamentul European - The voice of the People, cum i se mai spune : http://www.europarl.europa.eu/parliament/public/staticDisplay.do?language=RO&id=46)
Va pot spune eu insa ce nu face aceasta institutie supranationala. Parlamentul European, dragii mei, nu da bani pensionarilor din Romania.Nici ajutoare de intretinere sau caldura. Nici nu investeste mai bine banii din agricultura. Nu sustine cresterea economica a Romaniei. Nu adopta legi si planuri nationale ori sisteme de sanatate pentru Romania. Nu propune nici nu aproba bugetul tarii...toate elemente de baza in "angajamentele" PSD.
Acestea sunt toate responsabilitati ale PARLAMENTULUI SI GUVERNULUI ROMANIEI. Nu ale Parlamentului European si ale reprezentantilor Romaniei in cadrul acestuia. Ce-si propune PSD sa faca la guvernarea Romaniei, daca va castiga alegerile parlamentare si va forma guvernul, e cu totul altceva. Dar sa nu incurcam borcanele si mai ales sa nu mai exploatam imaginea Uniunii drept paradis al cainilor cu covrigi in coada. Nu ne face nimeni reforma, nu ne baga nimeni pe gat legile cele bune si masurile de guvernare cele intelepte. Tot noi...adica voi...trebuie s-o faceti, de-aici, de pe malul Dambovitei...
Apoi mai era ad-ul PNTCD cu batranica si nedreptatea.Miscator,pentru Surprize Surprize. Dar da prost la Europarlamentare. Adica asa a ajuns Romanica noastra, o tara a nedreptatii cumplite incat singurul mod de a o ajuta e sa votezi PNTCD ca sa...Ca sa ce? Pai daca nu se observa saracia si nedreptatea de-aici, de-aproape, din deal, din Casa Poporului, ce m-ar face pe mine sa cred ca se vede mai bine de la Bruxelles?
Adica va zic, nu ma impingeti ca ametesc.
Slava Cerului ca se confrunta si altii, mai mari ca noi, cu problemele si crizele democratiei.
Nu ca am avea noi idee cu ce se mananca notiunea asta, dar nu conteaza.
Cu noi in Europa?
Pai tocmai asta este, nu vreau sa merg cu voi!
Si asta imi aduce aminte de minunatul referendum pentru votul uninominal. Romanii nu stiu despre ce e vorba, dar voteaza "Da". Voteaza "Da" pentru Basescu, dupa ce-au votat "Nu" in primavara. Si e grav si periculos si trist ca acest pas inspre adevarata schimbare la fata a clasei politice se face cu atata sila si inconstienta.
Am citit si eu cate ceva despre pericolele lipsei de reprezentativitate etc, etc ale variantei de uninominal propuse. Poate ca nu va fi mai bine. Dar m-am saturat de liste. Adica nu, nu de liste in sine, ca nici macar nu cunosc numele de pe ele. Dar sunt cam aceleasi fete. Mai reciclati-va si voi frate!
Mi s-a spus ca daca acum nu suntem in stare sa enumeram mai mult de douazeci de bucati parlamentar...ce-o fi cu uninominalul? Pai tocmai de-aia, spun eu, daca tot nu fac nimic 4 ani, in afara de cativa, 20-30 care tin capul de afis si in ziar si la TV si pe Internet si numai Dumnezeu mai stie unde de ti se acreste de fetele lor, lasa-i ca macar din 4 in 4 ani, la alegeri, sa transpire putin pentru un vot. Sa vina sa ne stranga mana, sa ne intrebe de sanatate. E ...razbunarea mea de cetatean constiincios...parol!
Poate pana duminica imi dau si eu seama cu cine votez...
(Ofteaza)
Desi e cam seceta...
(Iese fredonand "Lasa-ne, lasa-ne...")
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