Information is beautiful: En honor al frío

En honor al frío

Desde Desingyoutrust nos llega a la redacción de Diapo_7 toda una colección invernal.

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Monologos. Conla iglesia hemos topao

Con la iglesia hemos topao

Fuente: Publico

Fuente: subete aquí y pedalea

Fuente: El Estado actual

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The plan: mi mayor deseo es

Mi mayor deseo es....

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so cute: iCat

iCat

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Monologos: Ricky Gervais: …about “God”

ADVERTENCIA:Para no dañar la integridad de la obra hemos decidido publicarlo en su idioma original

Ricky Gervais: …about “God”.

Why don’t you believe in God? I get that question all the time. I always try to give a sensitive, reasoned answer. This is usually awkward, time consuming and pointless. People who believe in God don’t need proof of his existence, and they certainly don’t want evidence to the contrary. They are happy with their belief. They even say things like “it’s true to me” and “it’s faith.” I still give my logical answer because I feel that not being honest would be patronizing and impolite. It is ironic therefore that “I don’t believe in God because there is absolutely no scientific evidence for his existence and from what I’ve heard the very definition is a logical impossibility in this known universe,” comes across as both patronizing and impolite.

Arrogance is another accusation. Which seems particularly unfair. Science seeks the truth. And it does not discriminate. For better or worse it finds things out. Science is humble. It knows what it knows and it knows what it doesn’t know. It bases its conclusions and beliefs on hard evidence -­- evidence that is constantly updated and upgraded. It doesn’t get offended when new facts come along. It embraces the body of knowledge. It doesn’t hold on to medieval practices because they are tradition. If it did, you wouldn’t get a shot of penicillin, you’d pop a leach down your trousers and pray. Whatever you “believe,” this is not as effective as medicine. Again you can say, “It works for me,” but so do placebos. My point being, I’m saying God doesn’t exist. I’m not saying faith doesn’t exist. I know faith exists. I see it all the time. But believing in something doesn’t make it true. Hoping that something is true doesn’t make it true. The existence of God is not subjective. He either exists or he doesn’t. It’s not a matter of opinion. You can have your own opinions. But you can’t have your own facts.

Why don’t I believe in God? No, no no, why do YOU believe in God? Surely the burden of proof is on the believer. You started all this. If I came up to you and said, “Why don’t you believe I can fly?” You’d say, “Why would I?” I’d reply, “Because it’s a matter of faith.” If I then said, “Prove I can’t fly. Prove I can’t fly see, see, you can’t prove it can you?” You’d probably either walk away, call security or throw me out of the window and shout, ‘’Fuckiing fly then you lunatic.”

This, is of course a spirituality issue, religion is a different matter. As an atheist, I see nothing “wrong” in believing in a god. I don’t think there is a god, but belief in him does no harm. If it helps you in any way, then that’s fine with me. It’s when belief starts infringing on other people’s rights when it worries me. I would never deny your right to believe in a god. I would just rather you didn’t kill people who believe in a different god, say. Or stone someone to death because your rulebook says their sexuality is immoral. It’s strange that anyone who believes that an all-powerful all-knowing, omniscient power responsible for everything that happens, would also want to judge and punish people for what they are. From what I can gather, pretty much the worst type of person you can be is an atheist. The first four commandments hammer this point home. There is a god, I’m him, no one else is, you’re not as good and don’t forget it. (Don’t murder anyone, doesn’t get a mention till number 6.)

When confronted with anyone who holds my lack of religious faith in such contempt, I say, “It’s the way God made me.”

But what are atheists really being accused of?

The dictionary definition of God is “a supernatural creator and overseer of the universe.” Included in this definition are all deities, goddesses and supernatural beings. Since the beginning of recorded history, which is defined by the invention of writing by the Sumerians around 6,000 years ago, historians have cataloged over 3700 supernatural beings, of which 2870 can be considered deities.

So next time someone tells me they believe in God, I’ll say “Oh which one? Zeus? Hades? Jupiter? Mars? Odin? Thor? Krishna? Vishnu? Ra?…” If they say “Just God. I only believe in the one God,” I’ll point out that they are nearly as atheistic as me. I don’t believe in 2,870 gods, and they don’t believe in 2,869.

I used to believe in God. The Christian one that is.

I loved Jesus. He was my hero. More than pop stars. More than footballers. More than God. God was by definition omnipotent and perfect. Jesus was a man. He had to work at it. He had temptation but defeated sin. He had integrity and courage. But He was my hero because He was kind. And He was kind to everyone. He didn’t bow to peer pressure or tyranny or cruelty. He didn’t care who you were. He loved you. What a guy. I wanted to be just like Him.

One day when I was about 8 years old, I was drawing the crucifixion as part of my Bible studies homework. I loved art too. And nature. I loved how God made all the animals. They were also perfect. Unconditionally beautiful. It was an amazing world.

I lived in a very poor, working-class estate in an urban sprawl called Reading, about 40 miles west of London. My father was a laborer and my mother was a housewife. I was never ashamed of poverty. It was almost noble. Also, everyone I knew was in the same situation, and I had everything I needed. School was free. My clothes were cheap and always clean and ironed. And mum was always cooking. She was cooking the day I was drawing on the cross.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when my brother came home. He was 11 years older than me, so he would have been 19. He was as smart as anyone I knew, but he was too cheeky. He would answer back and get into trouble. I was a good boy. I went to church and believed in God -– what a relief for a working-class mother. You see, growing up where I did, mums didn’t hope as high as their kids growing up to be doctors; they just hoped their kids didn’t go to jail. So bring them up believing in God and they’ll be good and law abiding. It’s a perfect system. Well, nearly. 75 percent of Americans are God-­‐fearing Christians; 75 percent of prisoners are God-­‐fearing Christians. 10 percent of Americans are atheists; 0.2 percent of prisoners are atheists.

But anyway, there I was happily drawing my hero when my big brother Bob asked, “Why do you believe in God?” Just a simple question. But my mum panicked. “Bob,” she said in a tone that I knew meant, “Shut up.” Why was that a bad thing to ask? If there was a God and my faith was strong it didn’t matter what people said.

Oh…hang on. There is no God. He knows it, and she knows it deep down. It was as simple as that. I started thinking about it and asking more questions, and within an hour, I was an atheist.

Wow. No God. If mum had lied to me about God, had she also lied to me about Santa? Yes, of course, but who cares? The gifts kept coming. And so did the gifts of my new found atheism. The gifts of truth, science, nature. The real beauty of this world. I learned of evolution -– a theory so simple that only England’s greatest genius could have come up with it. Evolution of plants, animals and us –- with imagination, free will, love, humor. I no longer needed a reason for my existence, just a reason to live. And imagination, free will, love, humor, fun, music, sports, beer and pizza are all good enough reasons for living.

But living an honest life -– for that you need the truth. That’s the other thing I learned that day, that the truth, however shocking or uncomfortable, in the end leads to liberation and dignity.

So what does the question “Why don’t you believe in God?” really mean. I think when someone asks that they are really questioning their own belief. In a way they are asking “what makes you so special? “How come you weren’t brainwashed with the rest of us?” “How dare you say I’m a fool and I’m not going to heaven, f— you!” Let’s be honest, if one person believed in God he would be considered pretty strange. But because it’s a very popular view it’s accepted. And why is it such a popular view? That’s obvious. It’s an attractive proposition. Believe in me and live forever. Again if it was just a case of spirituality this would be fine.

“Do unto others…” is a good rule of thumb. I live by that. Forgiveness is probably the greatest virtue there is. But that’s exactly what it is -­‐ a virtue. Not just a Christian virtue. No one owns being good. I’m good. I just don’t believe I’ll be rewarded for it in heaven. My reward is here and now. It’s knowing that I try to do the right thing. That I lived a good life. And that’s where spirituality really lost its way. When it became a stick to beat people with. “Do this or you’ll burn in hell.”

You won’t burn in hell. But be nice anyway.

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Freaks: Semana pasada:you tube

Semana pasada: You tube.

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El pixel del día: Asier Etxeandía

Asier Etxeandía

Asier Etxeandía es uno de los mayores artistas que ha dado la escena de este país, posiblemente el que más admira esta pequeña teatrera. Su capacidad de transformación, su presencia escénica, su inmensa VOZ hacen estremecerse al patio de butacas en cada representación, impidiendo que despeguemos la mirada un solo segundo de él. Ha dado guerra y la seguirá dando porque su fotografía en camerinos, antes de la función Inferno, es por fin expuesta en el Teatro Español tras cinco meses de retraso (ya fue retirada en Mérida).

El equipo de nuestra querida alcaldesa ya ha dicho que no se volverá a “herir sensibilidades o creencias religiosas con dinero público», pero al menos esta batalla la hemos ganado y la exposición Camerinos vuelve a presentarse ante los ojos del público a pesar de las quejas del integrismo católico.

Solo espero que la próxima vez no nos dejemos aplastar por 20.00 beatas trasnochadas. Ante el abuso de poder de los payasos que pretenden colarnos a un fascista cual demócrata honorable (a propósito de censura), nos quedan la cultura y la libertad de expresión, así que sigamos haciendo ruido hasta que revienten.

Espero que estos ojos puedan seguir viendo a Etxeandía y a tantos otros artistas que se comprometen con su profesión y con un mundo en el que todavía hay muchas cosas que cambiar.

"Camerinos" puede verse hasta el 26 de febrero en el Teatro Español. De martes a sábado de 12:00 a 19:00 horas, y domingos de 12:00 a 17:00 horas.

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so cute: Dog talks about food

Dog talks about food

A este perro tan majo se le hace la boca agua cuando su compi le habla de comida. Atentos al diálogo

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La SOPA, por si no te enteraste

Compartimos con nuesta audiencia una fantástica infografía en la que se explica qué está pasando con la nueva ley de internet en USA

Amplía tu navegador para leerla bien (ctrl + ) o bien entra en este enlace 

Y sino que te lo explique Hitler

 

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Suecos de España, unisos

Aun estás a tiempo de ver participar a Martin Lexell

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Lady SWF....

FOR THE....

Un miembro de esta nuestra publicación diaria se despide. Lady SWF hace las maletas y se embarca en una nueva aventura que le llevará por muchos nuevos retos que superar y muchas facetas que descubrir.

En una entrevista a esta cadena, Lady SWF confiesa que se ha sentido muy arropada por su equipo Diapo_7 y que en él ha descubierto una via de escape y locura que le desconectaba por un momento del Matrixking digital en el que se encuentran día a día.

En declaraciones exclusivas, comenta con melancolía que echará de menos esas tostadas con tomate y su correspondiente pincho de tortilla de los viernes, los momentos subidón de cafeína de Dra Buffy, los cambios de reloj de Fru Svenska (ahora doctorsita Fru Svenska), las grabaciones in situ de Piña realizadas por Sita Moki, el reparto de libros de Frau Flish Flash, las cogorzas psicológicas de Pequeño Saltamontes, los relatos de Noeli o la confusión ante todos estos personajes de la Rous más bonita de la oficina.

Recogiendo sus cachivaches de la mesa nos revela que no dejará Diapo_7 totalmente, seguirá visitando los post de sus compañeras y compañero para estar al tanto de las locuras y especialidades de cada uno, estando al tanto de las últimas tendencias en fotografía y vídeos sobre niños, obras de teatro recomendables, medicamentos y sus usos, etc.
Ya va cruzando el paso de cebra regentado por un galán con chaleco ámbar que la desafía…

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la salúh: Como gustes III

Esta es la tercera parte de la carta de una afectada por la sanidad publica española. Recuerda toda la historia

Como gustes Ihttp://diapo7.blogspot.com/2011/11/la-saluh4.html

Como gustes II http://diapo7.blogspot.com/2011/11/la-saluh4-como-gustes-ii.html

Y continúa...

Como Gustes III

Estamos en la tercera semana de nuestro proceso catarral. Es viernes (el 4º viernes desde que comenzó el proceso, porque antes de decidirme a ir al médico ya llevaba una semana jodida). Voy de camino a mi ciudad natal en un autocar express de autores (lo de express es principalmente por la comodidad de los asientos, no por el tiempo empleado en el viaje o por la velocidad del autocar) perteneciente a la compañía Avanzabus.

El caso es que durante el viaje debido a la temperatura que suele hacer en el autobús: o estamos a 0° o a 35°, igual que ocurre en los edificios inteligentes, o te congelas o te cueces, pues ese día tocó lo primero. Parece ser que el duendecillo que se encarga de regular el termostato, solo soporta las temperaturas extremas, y ese día su temperatura corporal debía estar a 50 grados, porque durante todo el viaje parecía que estábamos en la casa de los otros: echando humo por la boca del frío que hacía. Y claro, la consecuencia fue que el señor Manolo volvió peor que nunca.

El sábado, mi día libre para disfrutar en el pueblo, me encontraba igual que 2 semanas atrás, muy jodida. Con mucho apuro decidí volver a hacer uso de las urgencias españolas pero esta vez en una comunidad distinta. A continuación relato la última consulta (al menos de momento porque viendo cómo va evolucionando el invierno me temo que se va a alargar hasta la vuelta a la jornada continua. Vamos, como diría Sita Moki, un par de meses (equivalencia de los tiempos de Sita Moki y la realidad 2=7).

- Dra. ¿Qué le pasa?

Con voz del Señor Manolo recién levantado le cuento el asunto. Le explico mis anteriores visitas y le enumero todas y cada una de las “medicinas” que me han recetado en las mismas. Al decirle que me recetaron vitamina A para la garganta, se sorprende mucho. De lo que deduzco que la idiota que me las recetó, me coló un puto placebo.

Antes verme la garganta, le comento:

- Le informo que no fumo, no soy cantante ni profesora de nada. (Lo cierto es que estoy un poco sarcástica, y la pobre mujer no tiene culpa de nada).

- Dra.: abra la boca, y diga “ahhhhh”

- Yo: Ahhh….

Dra.: Tiene usted placas

Yo: por fin…gracias (yo lo había deducido ya hacía 2 semanas exactamente, pero bueno…)

Dra.: ¿no le habían recetado antibióticos anteriormente?

Yo: no. (Debe ser que en Madrid son muy caros).

La doctora otra vez un tanto extrañada.

Dra.: le voy a recetar entonces unos antibióticos.

Yo: Mil Gracias (casi llorando de la alegría)

Finalmente salí de la consulta con mi receta y me fui directamente a la farmacia a por los tan deseados antibióticos (deseados porque ya estaba harta de que cada semana me quedara afónica y de tomar pastillas que no me hacían nada).

Tres días después…

Y en relación a la preguntada formulada al principio de este megapost:

¿Hacia dónde va la sanidad española?

A la PUTA MIERDA!!!!!

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Monologos visuales: tu cara

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Information is beautiful: Fotos de Moda Móvil

Fotos de Moda Móvil

Las siguientes fotografías son obra de J K Rolling....digo de Jamie Beck and Kevin Burg, una pareja artística residente en NYC que experimentan con el formato fotoperiodístico del universo de Harry Potter....Quiero decir que experimentan con el formato gif desde 2009 creando estas curiosas fotografías nunca vistas (salvo en los libros y películas del pequeño-no tan pequeño famoso mago).

Sea como sea el resultado es elgante, curioso, sofisticado, y móvil.

Podéis ver más imagenes de los autores en su galería web: http://cinemagraphs.com

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