Nathalie Lourenço

Alejandro Burdisio, ou Burda como é conhecido, vive em Córdoba na Argentina e é um excelente desenhista, ilustrador e cartunista apaixonado por carros antigos.

Ele é ilustrador profissional na área de arquitetura há mais de vinte anos e tem seu próprio estúdio onde trabalha em parceria com uma equipe multidisciplinar.

Seus desenhos são uma mistura do estilo futurista com mecanismos vintage, combinando muito bem e resultando em um cenário steampunk, onde as formas arredondadas e cores pastéis dão o tom a um elaborado sci-fi dos anos 50.

Conheça seu trabalho na galeria abaixo.

 

The post Conheça as ilustrações vintage futuristas de Alejandro Burdisio, O “Burda” appeared first on Dope.

Estação de trem de Nova Iguaçu, domingo: mulher na plataforma em frente pega um cigarro e começa a procurar alguma coisa na bolsa.

Homem na mesma plataforma que eu pula da plataforma, atravessa os trilhos com um isqueiro entre os dentes, sobe na outra plataforma e acende o cigarro da moça.

The first three words that pop into my mind – strange, childhood, dreamy/nightmarey. Ok, that was technically four words, but I couldn’t just leave it at dreamy… these scare me just a tiny bit. And I like it.  This is the beautifully bizarre work of Montreal based artist Dominique Fortin. Ok, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… a finished face, and an unfinished everything else is pure magic to me… and don’t even get me started on those fire breathing dogs on paint brush stilts. M.A.G.I.C.

{ps. I featured more of Dominique’s work in my ART GOES HERE post, that just went up today, over at sfgirlbybay}

These are the most beautiful real estate pages I’ve ever seen! These gorgeous cut-newspaper installations are by American artist Pat Shannon. She meticulously cuts away the text, leaving only the sweet little houses behind. She does this with all sorts of newspapers {comics, want-ads, inserts}, but for me, it’s all about these tiny houses! Love.

Gasp! I love these, very, very, very much. All of these dreamy images are from a series, titled “Flying Houses”, by French photographer Laurent Chéhère. {If you happened to be in Paris last fall, you might have seen them on display at Galerie Paris-Beijing – I wish I had been in Paris to see these last fall!} Laurent is an award-winning advertising photographer, who left it all behind to travel the world and pursue his personal work – pulling up roots, and flying off to see the world… hm.

{via Colossal}

I’m just back from Alt Summit, but instead of doing a recap post, I have to write about this! Stefan Sagmeister probably needs no introduction, but just in case… he’s an Austrian born, New York based designer. As a designer myself, I’ve admired him for years, and at Alt I got to hear him speak. He talked about the in’s and out’s of happiness – it was fascinating, and to be completely candid, life-changing for me. He, and his “filming accomplice”, David Hillman Curtis {shown with Stefan, above} worked together to make a beautiful film, called The Happy Film. We only got to see 12 minutes of it {it will be shown in film festivals later this year}, but what we saw was amazing! The idea is that “in the course of a year, Sagmeister will experiment with various practices that are widely touted as increasing one’s happiness: meditation, cognitive therapy, and pharmaceuticals.” It was so interesting, touching, inspiring, and don’t even get me started on the typography!

I think that this film is going to be a huge hit, and I truly hope that:

……………………………………… but wait, there’s more ………………………………………..

i’m jealous of stefan sagmeister … part II

So, it’s not quite enough that he’s made this beautiful film, but he has also transformed his happiness research into an interactive art/design exhibition, quite appropriately called The Happy Show. It just left Philadelphia, and is now in Toronto at The Design Exchange {until March 3, 2013}… and I believe LA and Paris are up next. Charts that show happiness when it comes to marital status, free candies {Stefan’s favorites}, gum balls that let you rate your own happiness, and a lovely white stationery bike that reveals an illuminated message as you exercise… all perfectly designed, of course. Have a look:

Brilliant! You know what else is brilliant? This:

Yep! Not even the overly harsh lighting can take away the happiness I felt meeting, talking, and getting a smooch from Stefan Sagmeister!

{The Happy Show credits: CREATIVE DIRECTION: Stefan Sagmeister // ART DIRECTION & DESIGN: Jessica Walsh // DESIGN: Verena Michelitsch, Jordan Amer, Simon Egli, Martin Gnadt}

Now you can style yourself after your favorite rainbow farting intergalactic feline by sporting the Nyan Cat hoodie. This fashionable and comfortable sweater will keep you warm and give you that awesome 8-bit look without the unsightly pop-tart body ruining your figure. Buy It $59.99 via ThinkGeek.com

It doesn't hurt because if you keep hurting the same part of you again and again and again, the nerve endings all die. And when that happens, that part of you goes numb. That's why it doesn't hurt. Don't be proud of it.

(vía The Perry Bible Fellowship)

O fotos feitas pelo francês David Keochkerian parecem frames de um sonho, de viagem de ácido, ou feitas em outro planeta. A troca que cria árvores douradas e com cor de chiclete, é resultado das fotos feitas em infravermelho.

‘

Dá vontade de lamber.
.

Tweet Tags: fotografia, infrared, ingravermelho, paisagem

The yellow submarine tea infuser will take a tumble into the depths of your tea for the purpose of giving your beverage flavor and body. The submarine troop takes its mission seriously, and it will sink to the bottom of your mug to release your tea’s essence. Buy It $9.08 via Amazon.com

Elas trocaram os cabelos longos, vestidos e a possibilidade da maternidade por calças longas, cabelos curtos e um rifle. As virgens juramentadas da Albânia tornaram-se patriarcas de suas famílias para conseguirem sobreviver em uma região extremamente pobre, flagelada pela guerra e regida por valores machistas.

A necessidade da troca de identidade veio com o papel severamente restrito das mulheres na sociedade. Elas apenas tinham o direito de tomar conta das crianças e do lar e caso o chefe de família morresse sem deixar herdeiros masculinos, as mulheres casadas da família, automaticamente, estavam desprotegidas, sozinhas e sem nenhuma autonomia.

Ao fazerem o voto de virgindade, estas mulheres poderiam assumir o papel masculino como chefes de família, ser proprietárias, portar armas e locomoverem-se livremente.

Esta tradição de necessidade remonta ao Kanum, um código de conduta que foi passado verbalmente entre os clãs do norte da Albânia durante mais de 5 séculos, que regulamenta os crimes de sangue.

Atualmente, ainda existem cerca de 20 mulheres que vivem como homens. É o caso de Qamile Stema, que passou a chamar-se Qamil. A filha menor entre oito irmãs jurou, há quase 8 décadas, que nunca se casaria e que permaneceria virgem até o fim de sua vida. A decisão, por livre e espontânea vontade, veio depois que seu pai foi assassinado. Para não perder o direito de ter a chance de zelar por sua família, Qamil transformou-se em homem e fez com que seu sobrinho matasse a pessoa que tirou a vida de seu pai. Um tempo depois, seu sobrinho foi morto.

Qamil

Qamil diz que não se arrepende de um dia ter tomado o partido de tomar conta de sua família, e lembra das longas conversas entre fumaça de fumo picado em companhia dos homens, de quando levava as cabras para pastar, da temporada de produção de raki (aguardente), nas orações com os homens nas sextas-feiras na mesquita. Momentos que nunca poderia ter vivenciado sendo uma mulher.

Hoje em dia as mulheres da Albânia conquistaram uma igualdade social e vivem normalmente sem a necessidade de se transformarem em virgens juramentadas.

*Todas as fotos por Jill Peters
.

Tweet Tags: Albânia, homens, Jill Peters, Mulheres, virgens juramentadas

Tom Hanks

 

Jeff Victor é ilustrador e vive em Los Angeles. Ele fez uma deliciosa linha do tempo com os personagens interpretados por atores como Johnny Depp, Tom Hanks, Bill Murray, Jack Nicholson e Uma Thurman, ao longo das suas carreiras. Uma ótima oportunidade pra galera que adora exibir sua memória cinematográfica.

Além de atores, a série inclui uma linha do tempo das diferentes versões de Batman ao longo dos anos, uma linha com as diferentes faces do vilao  Biff Tannen, em De Volta para o Futuro personagem Biff Tannen. 

Johnny Depp

Bill Murray

Jack Nicholson

Kurt Russel

Natalie Portman

Rick Moranis

Sigourney Weaver

Uma Thurman

Biff Tannen

Batman
.

Tweet Tags: Bill Murray, Jack Nicholson, Jeff Victor, johnny depp, Uma Thurman

Quando eu não tenho intimidade com a pessoa:

Quando eu tenho intimidade com a pessoa:

(por @mayra__araujo)

In May of 2000, an episode of Will & Grace aired in which one of its gay characters, Jack, joins an ex-gay ministry in an effort to get close to, and seduce, its formerly gay leader, Bill (played by Neil Patrick Harris). Unsurprisingly, the ex-gay community — people who claim to have suppressed or sometimes even "cured" their homosexuality — weren't depicted in the best of lights. Shortly after the episode was aired, the show's story editor, Jon Kinnally — himself a gay man — received a letter of complaint from Mike Haley, a "former gay man" and Youth & Gender Specialist at Focus on the Family, a Christian organisation which actively promotes sexual orientation conversion therapy.

His letter and a response composed by the Will & Grace staff, both of which were subsequently published by an infuriated Focus on the Family, can be read below. When later questioned about the matter, Jon Kinnally said, "What [Focus on the Family] are doing is reprehensible, wrong, and fear-based."

Transcripts follow. Apologies for the image quality.

(Source: Bradlands, via Will & Grace producer Jeff Greenstein; Image above via.)




Transcripts

June 9, 2000

Mr. Jon Kinnally
Story Editor
Will and Grace
NBC Television Network
30 Rockefeller Plaza
New York, NY 10112-0002

Dear Mr. Kinnally:

I am writing to request a meeting with you regarding a recent episode of Will and Grace. The show in question grossly misrepresented thousands of individuals struggling to come out of homosexuality. As a former gay man, and now a national spokesman and expert on homosexuality and youth issues for Focus on the Family — one of the country's largest organizations who, among other things, assists gays and lesbians who desire to be heterosexual — I know first-hand how frustrating and painful it is to be mocked by those who haven't taken the time to find out what this process is all about. I'm specifically talking about references in the show to former homosexuals, and those wrestling with their sexual identity, as "freaks," "self-loathing closet cases," "morally wrong" and as members of "cults." Nowhere in this episode are we portrayed as honest men and women seeking help.

You may vehemently disagree with this position, but I'd at least like the opportunity to sit down with you and talk about it. Our conversation may not change your mind about the possibility of coming out of homosexuality, but at the very least it will put a real face behind the caricature you depicted on prime time TV. And in the end, hopefully it will encourage you to think twice before ridiculing the belief systems of those who differ from you. With that in mind, please respectfully consider my request, Mr. Kinnally. I can be reached at [redacted]. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Mike Haley
Public Policy/Youth & Gender Specialist

---------------------

July 14, 2000

Mr. Mike Haley
Focus on the Family
8605 Explorer Drive
Colorado Springs, CO 80920

Dear Mr. Haley,

I received your letter dated June 9, and was very interested in your point of view. The issues you raised are the very same ones that we on the Will & Grace writing staff debate on a daily basis. Our decision to present the story on the ex-gay ministry was solely in the interest of creating the most comedic episode possible. And it was certainly not our intention to offend you in any way. But come on, Mike, even you've got to admit that fags trying to pretend they're straight is pretty darn funny.

In response to your request for a meeting, well, I think I can read between the lines on that one. I'm about 6'1", brown hair, green eyes and I'm into rollerblading, baking cookies, and cleaning up afterwards. My dislikes include game-playing, negative attitudes, and condoms.

If any of this interests you, I can be found every Sunday at the Brunch and Beer Bust at the Motherlode in West Hollywood. I do hope you show, because like you, I am an expert on homosexuality, and in my expert opinion, this "hard-to-get thing" you're playing is Hot, Hot, Hot!

Respectfully,

(Signed)

Jon Kinnally
Executive Story Editor
Will & Grace

P.S. Keep on watchin'!

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In 1834, 21-year-old Jarm Logue (pictured above some years later) managed to steal his master's horse and escape the life of slavery into which he had been born. Sadly, his mother, brother and sister remained. 26 years later, by which time he had settled down in New York, opened numerous schools for black children, started his own family, become a reverend and noted abolitionist, and authored an autobiography, he received a letter from the wife of his old owner in which she demanded $1000.

That letter, and his furious reply, can be read below.

Note: After escaping slavery, Logue changed his name to Jermain Wesley Loguen.

(Source: Slavery in the United States; Image: J. W. Loguen, via.)

Maury Co., State of Tennessee,
February 20th, 1860.

To JARM:—

I now take my pen to write you a few lines, to let you know how well we all are. I am a cripple, but I am still able to get about. The rest of the family are all well. Cherry is as well as Common. I write you these lines to let you the situation we are in—partly in consequence of your running away and stealing Old Rock, our fine mare. Though we got the mare back, she was never worth much after you took her; and as I now stand in need of some funds, I have determined to sell you; and I have had an offer for you, but did not see fit to take it. If you will send me one thousand dollars and pay for the old mare, I will give up all claim I have to you. Write to me as soon as you get these lines, and let me know if you will accept my proposition. In consequence of your running away, we had to sell Abe and Ann and twelve acres of land; and I want you to send me the money that I may be able to redeem the land that you was the cause of our selling, and on receipt of the above named sum of money, I will send you your bill of sale. If you do not comply with my request, I will sell you to some one else, and you may rest assured that the time is not far distant when things will be changed with you. Write to me as soon as you get these lines. Direct your letter to Bigbyville, Maury County, Tennessee. You had better comply with my request.

I understand that you are a preacher. As the Southern people are so bad, you had better come and preach to your old acquaintances. I would like to know if you read your Bible? If so can you tell what will become of the thief if he does not repent? and, if the the blind lead the blind, what will the consequence be? I deem it unnecessary to say much more at present. A word to the wise is sufficient. You know where the liar has his part. You know that we reared you as we reared our own children; that you was never abused, and that shortly before you ran away, when your master asked if you would like to be sold, you said you would not leave him to go with anybody.

Sarah Logue.

----------------------

Syracuse, N.Y., March 28, 1860.

MRS. SARAH LOGUE:—

Yours of the 20th of February is duly received, and I thank you for it. It is a long time since I heard from my poor old mother, and I am glad to know she is yet alive, and, as you say, "as well as common." What that means I don't know. I wish you had said more about her.

You are a woman; but had you a woman's heart you could never have insulted a brother by telling him you sold his only remaining brother and sister, because he put himself beyond your power to convert him into money.

You sold my brother and sister, ABE and ANN, and 12 acres of land, you say, because I ran away. Now you have the unutterable meanness to ask me to return and be your miserable chattel, or in lieu thereof send you $1000 to enable you to redeem the land, but not to redeem my poor brother and sister! If I were to send you money it would be to get my brother and sister, and not that you should get land. You say you are a cripple, and doubtless you say it to stir my pity, for you know I was susceptible in that direction. I do pity you from the bottom of my heart. Nevertheless I am indignant beyond the power of words to express, that you should be so sunken and cruel as to tear the hearts I love so much all in pieces; that you should be willing to impale and crucify us out of all compassion for your poor foot or leg. Wretched woman! Be it known to you that I value my freedom, to say nothing of my mother, brothers and sisters, more than your whole body; more, indeed, than my own life; more than all the lives of all the slaveholders and tyrants under Heaven.

You say you have offers to buy me, and that you shall sell me if I do not send you $1000, and in the same breath and almost in the same sentence, you say, "you know we raised you as we did our own children." Woman, did you raise your own children for the market? Did you raise them for the whipping-post? Did you raise them to be driven off in a coffle in chains? Where are my poor bleeding brothers and sisters? Can you tell? Who was it that sent them off into sugar and cotton fields, to be kicked, and cuffed, and whipped, and to groan and die; and where no kin can hear their groans, or attend and sympathize at their dying bed, or follow in their funeral? Wretched woman! Do you say you did not do it? Then I reply, your husband did, and you approved the deed—and the very letter you sent me shows that your heart approves it all. Shame on you.

But, by the way, where is your husband? You don't speak of him. I infer, therefore, that he is dead; that he has gone to his great account, with all his sins against my poor family upon his head. Poor man! gone to meet the spirits of my poor, outraged and murdered people, in a world where Liberty and Justice are MASTERS.

But you say I am a thief, because I took the old mare along with me. Have you got to learn that I had a better right to the old mare, as you call her, than MANNASSETH LOGUE had to me? Is it a greater sin for me to steal his horse, than it was for him to rob my mother's cradle and steal me? If he and you infer that I forfeit all my rights to you, shall not I infer that you forfeit all your rights to me? Have you got to learn that human rights are mutual and reciprocal, and if you take my liberty and life, you forfeit your own liberty and life? Before God and High Heaven, is there a law for one man which is not a law for every other man?

If you or any other speculator on my body and rights, wish to know how I regard my rights, they need but come here and lay their hands on me to enslave me. Did you think to terrify me by presenting the alternative to give my money to you, or give my body to Slavery? Then let me say to you, that I meet the proposition with unutterable scorn and contempt. The proposition is an outrage and an insult. I will not budge one hair's breadth. I will not breathe a shorter breath, even to save me from your persecutions. I stand among a free people, who, I thank God, sympathize with my rights, and the rights of mankind; and if your emissaries and venders come here to re-enslave me, and escape the unshrinking vigor of my own right arm, I trust my strong and brave friends, in this City and State, will be my rescuers and avengers.

Yours, &c.,
J.W. Loguen

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Embroidery & crochet. On leaves. And rocks. And sticks.

Gah! My artistic mind is officially blown. These stunning little pieces are the work of Cornwall based artist Susanna Bauer, and yes, I am now planning to spend my weekend looking for leaves, and rocks, and sticks. Maybe I’ll be able to convince Susanna to cover them in yarn! ♥

{via Meighan O’toole on Pinterest}

Shhh...

Danger isn't always loud and angry.

Red, fire engine, fire, clouds.

A fight doesn't always end when you've been knocked down.

Fight, punch, fruit juice, islands.

Sometimes, the world will try and convince you that dying is the most polite thing you could do.

Please, thank you, no I don't mind at all, go ahead. 

Sometimes, they will make giving up feel just like going to sleep.

You've done enough, rest now, there's no need to carry on. 

You are not in your bed. You are on the street. And you need to wake up and fight.

Now.

The city of Troy, Michigan got its first public library in 1962 and in 1970 that library got its first children’s librarian, Marguerite Hart. Early in her tenure, she launched a letter campaign to dozens of celebrities — authors, politicians, artists, and more — simply asking that they reply with their thoughts on the importance of libraries and books.

She received 97 replies, many of which can be seen at the library’s site. Here is a selection of six…

Dr. Seuss

E. B. White

George Romney

Isaac Asimov

Neil Armstrong

Ronald Reagan

(via This Isn’t Happiness)

pintinho publicado nesta sexta no especial eleições, da folha de s.paulo.

In June of 1956, Frank Lloyd Wright — a man posthumously recognised as "the greatest American architect of all time" by the AIA — received an unusual letter from 12-year-old Jim Berger, a boy looking to commission the design of a home for his dog, Eddie, by the same architect who designed his father's house 6 years previous. Incredibly, Frank Lloyd Wright agreed and, as seen below, supplied a full set of drawings for "Eddie's House" the next year. Construction was eventually completed by Jim's father in 1963.

Eddie hated his new home. It was demolished in 1973.

The full exchange can be found below, along with a photo of the completed dog house. It was the smallest structure ever designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, and possibly the least used.

(Sources: Architizer & Deborah Wright; Image: Frank Lloyd Wright, via Wikimedia.)



Transcript

June 19, 1956

Dear Mr. Wright

I am a boy of twelve years. My name is Jim Berger. You designed a house for my father whose name is Bob Berger. I have a paper route which I make a little bit of money for the bank, and for expenses.

I would appreciate it if you would design me a dog house, which would be easy to build, but would go with our house. My dog's name is Edward, but we call him Eddie. He is four years old or in dog life 28 years. He is a Labrador retriever. He is two and a half feet high and three feet long. The reasons I would like this dog house is for the winters mainly. My dad said if you design the dog house he will help me build it. But if you design the dog house I will pay you for the plans and materials out of the money I get from my route.

Respectfully yours,

Jim Berger

Transcript

Dear Jim:

A house for Eddie is an opportunity. Someday I shall design one but just now I am too busy to concentrate on it. You write me next November to Phoenix, Arizona and I may have something then.

Truly yours,

Frank Lloyd Wright

June 28th, 1956

Transcript

Dear Mr Wright

I wrote you June 19, 1956 about designing my dog Eddie a dog house to go with the house you designed for my dad. You told me to write you again in November so I ask you again, could you design me a dog house.

Respectfully yours,

Jim Berger

The Result




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On January 30th of 1937, two years after his older brother, Baoth, succumbed to meningitis, 16-year-old Patrick Murphy passed away following a seven year battle with tuberculosis. The boys' 20-year-old sister, Honoria, remained. A few days later, the children's distraught parents, Gerald and Sara Murphy, received the following letter of condolence from their friend, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

(Source: The Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald; Image: Sara Murphy in 1926 with her children, via.)

January 31, 1937

Dearest Gerald and Sara:

The telegram came today and the whole afternoon was so sad with thoughts of you and the happy times we had once. Another link binding you to life is broken and with such insensate cruelty that it is hard to say which of the two blows was conceived with more malice. I can see the silence in which you hover now after this seven years of struggle and it would take words like Lincoln's in his letter to the mother who had lost four sons in the war to write you anything fitting at the moment. The sympathy you will get will be what you have had from each other already and for a long, long time you will be inconsolable.

But I can see another generation growing up around Honoria and an eventual peace somewhere, an occasional port of call as we all sail deathward. Fate can't have any more arrows in its quiver for you that will wound like these. Who was it said that it was astounding how deepest griefs can change in time to a sort of joy? The golden bowl is broken indeed but it was golden; nothing can ever take those boys away from you now.

Scott

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And just a shout out to reddit here, for some formal confirmation type stuff…

In July of this year, in an admirable attempt to secure him as a guest on his Nerdist Podcast, Chris Hardwick sent a beautiful 1934 Smith Corona to noted typewriter collector Tom Hanks and popped the question. Within days, Hanks responded with the charming letter seen below, typed on the Corona.

Unsurprisingly, the anecdote-filled podcast that resulted is wonderful. It can be heard here.

Transcript follows.

(Source: Chris Hardwick; Image: Tom Hanks, via.)



Transcript

13 July 2012

PLAYTONE

Dear Chris, Ashley, and all the diabolical genuies at Nerdist Industries.

Just who do you think you are to try to briibe me into an apperance on your 'thing' with this gift of the most fantastic Cornona Silent typewriter made in 1934?

You are out of your minds if you think... that I... wow, this thing has great action... and this deep crimson color... Wait! I'm not so shallow as to... and it types nearly silently...

Oh, OKAY!

I will have my people contact yours and work out some kind of interview process...

Damn you all to hell,

(Signed, 'Tom Hanks')

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pelas frestas
ferrugens e finais

olhar bem um canto do assoalho
gritar na varanda

uma vida inteira
pra tentar descobrir
onde começam

a reforma e a pintura
das casas velhas que são
quem a gente quer bem

Frankie the mini dachshund will burrow into anything!

When, in 2007, author Pat Conroy was told by a concerned student that two of his books, The Prince of Tides and Beach Music, had been banned by the Kanawha County school board following complaints from parents, he sent the following letter to the area's local newspaper, The Charleston Gazette, and made known his disgust at such censorship. It was immediately published. After much deliberation and publicity, the bans were eventually lifted.

To read other letters of note related to the banning of books, click here. To discover more about Banned Books Week, which ends tomorrow, click here.

(Source: Pat Conroy; Image: Pat Conroy, via Tulsa Town Hall.)

October 24, 2007

To the Editor of the Charleston Gazette:

I received an urgent e-mail from a high school student named Makenzie Hatfield of Charleston, West Virginia. She informed me of a group of parents who were attempting to suppress the teaching of two of my novels, The Prince of Tides and Beach Music. I heard rumors of this controversy as I was completing my latest filthy, vomit-inducing work. These controversies are so commonplace in my life that I no longer get involved. But my knowledge of mountain lore is strong enough to know the dangers of refusing to help a Hatfield of West Virginia. I also do not mess with McCoys.

I've enjoyed a lifetime love affair with English teachers, just like the ones who are being abused in Charleston, West Virginia, today. My English teachers pushed me to be smart and inquisitive, and they taught me the great books of the world with passion and cunning and love. Like your English teachers, they didn't have any money either, but they lived in the bright fires of their imaginations, and they taught because they were born to teach the prettiest language in the world. I have yet to meet an English teacher who assigned a book to damage a kid. They take an unutterable joy in opening up the known world to their students, but they are dishonored and unpraised because of the scandalous paychecks they receive. In my travels around this country, I have discovered that America hates its teachers, and I could not tell you why. Charleston, West Virginia, is showing clear signs of really hurting theirs, and I would be cautious about the word getting out.

In 1961, I entered the classroom of the great Eugene Norris, who set about in a thousand ways to change my life. It was the year I read The Catcher in the Rye, under Gene's careful tutelage, and I adore that book to this very day. Later, a parent complained to the school board, and Gene Norris was called before the board to defend his teaching of this book. He asked me to write an essay describing the book's galvanic effect on me, which I did. But Gene's defense of The Catcher in the Rye was so brilliant and convincing in its sheer power that it carried the day. I stayed close to Gene Norris till the day he died. I delivered a eulogy at his memorial service and was one of the executors of his will. Few in the world have ever loved English teachers as I have, and I loathe it when they are bullied by know-nothing parents or cowardly school boards.

About the novels your county just censored: The Prince of Tides and Beach Music are two of my darlings which I would place before the altar of God and say, "Lord, this is how I found the world you made." They contain scenes of violence, but I was the son of a Marine Corps fighter pilot who killed hundreds of men in Korea, beat my mother and his seven kids whenever he felt like it, and fought in three wars. My youngest brother, Tom, committed suicide by jumping off a fourteen-story building; my French teacher ended her life with a pistol; my aunt was brutally raped in Atlanta; eight of my classmates at The Citadel were killed in Vietnam; and my best friend was killed in a car wreck in Mississippi last summer. Violence has always been a part of my world. I write about it in my books and make no apology to anyone. In Beach Music, I wrote about the Holocaust and lack the literary powers to make that historical event anything other than grotesque.

People cuss in my books. People cuss in my real life. I cuss, especially at Citadel basketball games. I'm perfectly sure that Steve Shamblin and other teachers prepared their students well for any encounters with violence or profanity in my books just as Gene Norris prepared me for the profane language in The Catcher in the Rye forty-eight years ago.

The world of literature has everything in it, and it refuses to leave anything out. I have read like a man on fire my whole life because the genius of English teachers touched me with the dazzling beauty of language. Because of them I rode with Don Quixote and danced with Anna Karenina at a ball in St. Petersburg and lassoed a steer in Lonesome Dove and had nightmares about slavery in Beloved and walked the streets of Dublin in Ulysses and made up a hundred stories in The Arabian Nights and saw my mother killed by a baseball in A Prayer for Owen Meany. I've been in ten thousand cities and have introduced myself to a hundred thousand strangers in my exuberant reading career, all because I listened to my fabulous English teachers and soaked up every single thing those magnificent men and women had to give. I cherish and praise them and thank them for finding me when I was a boy and presenting me with the precious gift of the English language.

The school board of Charleston, West Virginia, has sullied that gift and shamed themselves and their community. You've now entered the ranks of censors, book-banners, and teacher-haters, and the word will spread. Good teachers will avoid you as though you had cholera. But here is my favorite thing: Because you banned my books, every kid in that county will read them, every single one of them. Because book-banners are invariably idiots, they don't know how the world works—but writers and English teachers do.

I salute the English teachers of Charleston, West Virginia, and send my affection to their students. West Virginians, you've just done what history warned you against—you've riled a Hatfield.

Sincerely,

Pat Conroy

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“and then there are times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.”

- george carlin

Peter Gronquist há algum tempo vem discutindo em sua arte a sociedade de consumo e o belicismo. Sua série de armas estampando marcas como Fendi e Chanel, rodou a internet nos últimos meses.

Nessa série que apresentamos hoje, o artista mistura taxidermia e símbolos que discutem o valor das coisas, bem como o valor das vidas.

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