Siempre deseé ser Paul Thomas

Paul Thomas era un muy joven actor segundón que se dió a conocer en la mítica Jesus Christ Superstar (1973, as Philip Toubus, era Peter). Muy pronto supo que era otro su camino. Y acertó.

Desde The Devil's Playground (1974) no cesó de actuar y dirigir cine para adultos. Salvo en alguna incursión estilo Emanuelle - perché violenza alle donne? (1977) su porno ha sido cristalino. Me presentó a Ginger Lynn (Allen), Amber Lynn, Tom Byron, Christy Canyon, Ron Jeremy, Marc Wallice, Loni Sanders, Peter North, Steve Drake, Vanessa Del Rio, mi princesa Hyapatia Lee o la icónica Traci Lords en la inolvidable It's My Body.

Tuve siempre cariño a su facha destartalada y su barba canosa de dos días. Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que solo querias ser él. Solo él consiguió que Janine Lindemulder se acostara con hombres Maneater (2004). Ahora vuelve al ataque dando fama a Sunrise Adams y gobierna los AVN awards 2005 con la multipremiada The Masseuse. Estoy deseando ver The New Devil in Miss Jones (2005).

Su ultimo gran exito. Jenna Jameson is The Masseuse. Winner of Best Adult Film of 2005, along with Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Director, and Best Couple’s Sex Scene. Starring Jenna Jameson as a masseuse whose client is a socially awkward virgin male (played by real-life husband Justin Sterling). A great couple's flick with a compelling plot, veteran director Paul Thomas pair hardcore with bondage in this remake of the original.

Tampa show: I wanna be there!

This is the FINAL LIST for our 13th Annual TAMPA SHOW in October, 2005:

The Babes:

• CHARLEE CHASE • SUNNY LANE • SIERRA • LISA SPARXXX • ASHLEY BLUE • MISSY MONROE • CARMEN LUVANA • CYTHEREA • CHEYENNE • TYLER FAITH • KAMI ANDREWS • BROOKE HAVEN • MARI POSSA • FLOWER TUCCI • ANGELICA SIN • JERSEY JAXIN • JESSE JANE • LEXI LAMOUR • DAVIA ARDELL • SUMMER HAZE • DELILAH STRONG • COURTNEY CUMMZ • DAPHNE ROSEN • MAYA (AKA Wendy) DIVINE • BRANDIE MAY • VIVIAN WEST • RITA FALTOYANO • HEATHER PINK • OLIVIA O'LOVELY • TRINA MICHAELS • Jenny Hendricks (new) • Kylee Kennedy (new) • Katie Gold • Sky Lopez

And CLUB JENNA contract stars: ASHTON MOORE, MCKENZIE LEE.

The Sausages:

• RON JEREMY • MIKE SOUTH

• WANKUS • Eric Masterson • Sean Michaels • Ethan Cage • Billy Glide • Tommy Gunn • Nick Sparks • Craig Valentine

Currently scheduled to co-host this event are: RON JEREMY, JULI ASHTON, SEAN MICHAELS, CARMEN LUVANA, and JESSE JANE.•

Menuda puta mierda

Papá Tamames alucinará contigo, hijo pijo. Monchito arrastra su antiamericanismo. El pobre no logró un buen empleo en USA a pesar del enchufe de papaito Ramón. Los datos que emplea son falsos; los argumentos, inconsecuentes; las conclusiones, contrarias a la lógica, y la mala fe, manifiesta. Libro para el que lleva pañuelo palestino, escucha a la Electrica Dharma, pinta grafitis antisistema, tiene más de dos piercings y odia a la policía, como describe John Chappell. Un libro lleno de odio hacia los estadounidenses: "La amistad no parece existir ya de una forma natural en EEUU"; "Al estadounidense en general sólo le importa una cosa: ganar dinero"; "Ellos mismos han perdido el sentido de la sinceridad". Para denunciar en comisaria.

Y yo sigo con lo mio... Jenna Jameson

Una vez que he servido a la alegria de mis ingenuos y escasos amigos de lo guay, vuelvo a lo mío. Jenna (she lives in Scottsdale) juega al golf. Y dedica los premios a fines benéficos. No puedo añadir nada mas... Lloro de amor.

Make

Jessica Biel

Esta señorita se encuentra en la cresta de la ola del cine chistorra; lo que mas se ve ahora en USA. The Illusionist (2006), London (2005), Elizabethtown (2005), Stealth (2005), Blade: Trinity (2004), Cellular (2004), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003), The Rules of Attraction (2002) Nunca pensaria que en semejante momento iba yo a recordar aquellos nefastos días.

Estigmas preteritos en los que no soñaba con poder ser la lustrosa interprete de metodo que ahora mira hacia arriba, olvidando sesiones memas de foto y sus ruegos por una linea en la cola del water. Aunque es preciosa, ¿Verdad?

Asi son los actores. Unos hijos de puta.

Cardenas y las lápidas

En su insólito hábito irresponsable, el gobierno de Rodriguez ha encargado abrir otra lápida para pasear gusanos. Cualquier motivo de celebración es bueno para rememorar los malos tiempos, el rencor del perro mal alimentado, el acero del rico nuevo.

Pollock

1912-1956

Hoy he visto la terrible biopic de Jackson Pollock, interpretada y dirigida por el tenaz e irreductible Ed Harris, artista también del Action Painting. El pintor siempre vivió torturado su fracaso y su éxito "haunted by the sense that he's a fraud".

Full Fathom Five, explicado de forma magistral aquí.

Eyes in the Heat (mas aquí).

La pelicula muestra de forma cristalina el gran dolor del creador. Un alcohólico depresivo que intervenía en el proceso artístico de un modo devastador. Solo me venia al craneo la idea de la petulancia del artista. La rebelión del ser que niega su intervención como mero vehículo, que decía Borges. Solo existe una obra y un artista. Pollock se aniquiló intentando no negarse a si mismo, incluso en aquellos tiempos en los que su presencia frente a los lienzos era casual, episódica. Vanitas vanitatis. Pintaba como un oriental. No lo era. No se le puede negar su heroico propósito.

Lavender mist y Moby-Dick, despues y antes en Pollock.

La Merche

Mercedes Galdos Arzuaga es nuestra Merche. La vida no ha sido justa con ella, muchachilla vitalista que solo ha sembrado futuro. No se supo jamas valorar tan tremendo ideario, prieto en compromisos y amor a su patria. El fascismo la persiguió desde su pubertad inocente y fue castigada a arrastrar sus dias de mazmorra a letrina, sometida al estado que reprimió tanto pundonor. Su entrega en las prisiones (devota y afanosa estudiosa de pedagogía, tenaz en sus actividades de limpieza, aerobic, mecanografía o fútbol sala) ha fructificado, haciendo hincar la rodilla al villano opresor, sometido a textos y burocracias. Nuestra Merche fue condenada, la pobre infeliz, a 829 años de prisión, y se ha visto beneficiada por el Código Penal de 1973 (que la juzgó tan severamente y que permite la aplicación de redenciones de pena por estudios y actividades en la cárcel sobre el límite máximo de 30 años de cumplimiento efectivo de condena) combatiendo al maléfico y sombrió señor feudal con sus propias tretas de papel. ¿Cual fue el delito que llevó los huesos de nuestra candida activista a un terrible ingreso en prisión el 9 de abril de 1986 y a semejante torticero periplo por diferentes centros penitenciarios como el de Carabanchel (Madrid), Castellón, Málaga y Murcia -donde ha permanecido más tiempo presa-, además de en Soto del Real (Madrid) y en Topas (Salamanca).? Nuestro angel se declaro culpable, en su afan redentor, de implicación directa en 17 asesinatos cometidos desde 1977. Muertes de alevosos maquetos de mierda, españolazos de frenopatico, vulgo de segunda que provocaba las nauseas con sus grotescos bailes de nuestro santo Arana. ¿No os bastan, miserables castellanos, los 19 años entre vuestra escoria? Ingresada entre palurdos y entregada a labores de limpieza, aerobic, mecanografía o fútbol sala la fundadora de la ONG 'comando Nafarroa'. Mas de un año por muerto, miserables. Ya os vale. Mira que maja es su mamá, aún viva. Malos.

The New Devil in Miss Jones

AVN otorga y/o concede 5 estrellas a la nueva cosa de Jenna Jameson. Acompaña la trama Savanna Sansom, sucia como siempre.

Es la Ricci y ya no es gorda

Según DoubleViking:

As voluptous as she used to be three years ago, I think she’s finally figured out her “hot weight”. Some of you may disagree with me and say that she looks like a vagina. And honestly, you’re right, nobody wants to look like a vagina? But I can safely say the memory of her as Casper has been erased and I can now sleep soundly at night thinking about her performance in Prozac Nation.

El show de Tyra Banks

¿Cual es el empeño de la deliciosa Hewitt y la proteica Banks? Ambas, en el exitoso programa de la modelo negra, tratan de convencer a la audiencia del gran tema: sus temas no son postizas.

No me gusta que en los toros...

Llego ahora mismo del Bernabeu de ver como una panda de 60.000 mongolos irredentos chillaban e insultaban a una panda de millonarios amanerados. Esa clase de gente es la que, sin empleo ni televisión o hipoteca, acaba condenando a muerte a una tenista de 18 años, como Sania Mirza, por llevar la minifalda.

Superagente en misión divina. Don Adams is gone

Don Adams quedó apresado en el cuerpo de un patoso, Maxwell Smart y, por fin, creía librarse de tan lamentables misiones este 25th September de 2005, tal como glosa el siempre fiable obituario del IMDB. Pero el superagente 86 tiene ahora que trabajar mas que nunca. Ya no hay comunistas, nazis, villanos de K.A.O.S. Ahora, en compañia de la deliciosamente subnormal "agente 99", debe detener a los tontos. Todo esto está lleno de tontos... y gobiernan. Get smart.

The end of the affair

En un fin de semana volcado en el consumismo y la ebriedad mas perezosa, he sentido uno de esos destellos que dan sentido a la nada. Via la madre Amazon-UK, recibí este filmete, perseguido por mi a traves de la inepta FNAC y vehículos mil desde hace años, a mayor gloria de mi primo Ralph Fiennes y demostración de magisterio del gran Neil Jordan, primus inter pares. También venía en el paquete cierta oferta jugosa que involucraba a mi mitico juguete de solteria, Jenna Jameson. Decepcionante la ausencia de pornografía.

Dentro del colapso consumista, en un leve atisbo de lucidez, percibí la oferta de MediaMarkt en torno al mito Bruce Lee y el chollo Oliver Stone colection. El errático director resultaba víctima de su distribuidor y me hize con la capea entera, 3 pelis y 3 documentales, mas que nada por la joya ninguneada que resulta Any Given Sunday, "a massive 150-minute American football drama which, for all its ferocity and cynicism".

Tera fue al estreno de Dirty Love

Y aquello no solo parecia el show de los AVN Awards; nadie sabia que coño hacían allí Jenny McCarthy o Carmen Electra. Eran las estrellas de la película "completely lacking in common sense or any instinct for self-preservation".

Devinn Lane

Podría decir que revisito mi simpatía hacia Devinn Lane por culpa de la última cita del grupo de intelectuales, activistas y, ocasionalmente, personalidades del porno que compone la Free Speech Coalition, en contra de la censura que sufren en America.

Podría decir que esto demuestra, una vez mas, que la belleza de un cuerpo turgente no evita que en su interior mas intimo resida una inquietud espiritual, cognitiva, ideológica, incluso solidaria, que demuestra la presencia en todos nosotros la bendición del paráclito.

O que Sydnee Steele ya no solo representa el cuerpo herculeo estadounidense que mejor opera entre unas mancuernas de 10 libras sino que revela en su gesto un despreciado peso marterno-marital, íntegro, al igual que Nina Hartley (el mejor patio trasero del globo), Margo Rothman (esa stripper fundamental), Danni Ashe (sin palabras) o Mike Horner (su sensato aizcolari).

Pero al final solo ves lo que ves. Su disfraz de estudiosas apologetas de lo libertario no pueden tirar por tierra años de lúbricas enseñanzas, imposibles cópulas, anales contrarios a la física, fantasías ridículamente envidiables e inexorables DP´s. Quieres que se quiten las gafas y te llamen al baño, sacralizando el mas nauseabundo espacio con tan poderosas gargantas que condenan a lo exiguo la mas poderosa erección. Free Speach. Di que si, bonita.

Sobrinos

Maria y Lorenzo han adoptado a un perrillo. Se llamará Dino. Yo prefería Paco pero María me paró los pies. A Lorenzo le da igual. El canalla es capaz de pisarle los huevos a Don Quijote en la misma puerta de su casa.

JORGE LUIS BORGES, A MASTER OF FANTASY AND FABLE, IS DEAD

Ayer encontré esto en el The New York Times: Book Review Search Article y me gustó mucho.

June 15, 1986, Sunday, Late City Final Edition Section 1; Part 1, Page 1, Column 4; By EDWARD A. GARGAN.

Jorge Luis Borges, the Argentine short-story writer, poet and essayist who was considered one of Latin America's greatest writers, died yesterday in Geneva, where he had been living for three months. He was 86 years old.

Mr. Borges died of liver cancer, the executor of his estate, Osvaldo Luis Vidaurre, said in Buenos Aires.

While almost unknown outside Argentina before 1961, his stories, punctilious in their language and mysterious in their opaque parodoxes, later attained a modest following in the United States, a following that grew steadily to international proportions.

His writings explored the crannies of the human psyche, the fantastic within the apparently mundane, imaginary bestiaries and fables of obscure libraries and arcane scholarship.

His prose provoked the literary imaginations of general readers, scholars and critics, and many hailed him as the most important Latin American writer of this century.

Among his works of fiction that have appeared in the United States are ''Ficciones,'' ''The Aleph and Other Stories'' and ''Labyrinths,'' all published in 1962, and ''A Universal History of Infamy,'' in 1971. Among his collections of essays available in English are ''The Book of Imaginary Beings'' (1969) and ''An Introduction to American Literature'' (1971). ''Selected Poems, 1923-1967'' was published in 1972 and ''In Praise of Darkness,'' which consists of poetry and short pieces, in 1974.

In 1975 John Updike wrote that Mr. Borges's ''driest paragraph is somehow compelling. His fables are written from a height of intelligence less rare in philosophy and physics than in fiction,'' he said. ''Furthermore, he is, at least for anyone whose taste runs to puzzles or pure speculation, delightfully entertaining.'' Moreover, Mr. Updike insisted, ''For all his modesty and reasonableness of tone, he proposes some sort of essential revision in literature itself.''

It is, the historian and philosopher George Steiner wrote, perhaps something even more: ''Borges's universalism is a deeply felt imaginative strategy, a maneuver to be in touch with the great winds that blow from the heart of things.

''When he cites fictitious titles, imaginary cross-references, folios and writers that have never existed, Borges is simply regrouping counters of reality into the shape of possible other worlds. When he moves, by wordplay and echo, from language to language, he is turning the kaleidoscope, throwing the light on another patch of the wall.''

One of his earliest short stories, ''Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote,'' compressed this embrace of language and illusion, foreshadowing the tenor of his later work. In the story, written in 1938, Mr. Borges proposed, in short, an extreme examination of T. S. Eliot's dictum that each new work of art alters the perception of previously existing works of art.

For Mr. Borges, the short story - a literary form ''whose indispensable elements are economy and a clearly stated beginning, middle and end'' -was the most compelling form. Once he wrote: ''In the course of a lifetime devoted chiefly to books, I have read but few novels and, in most cases, only a sense of duty has enabled me to find my way to their last page. I have always been a reader and rereader of short stories.''

Beginning in 1927, when he had a series of operations on his eyes, Mr. Borges was increasingly afflicted by blindness, which ran in his family. While he called it a ''slow, summer twilight,'' it did not impede his work.

Jorge Luis Borges was born in Buenos Aires, in the house of his maternal grandparents, on Aug. 24, 1899. His father, of Italian, Jewish and English heritage, professed the law but, as Mr. Borges once wrote, ''was a philosophical anarchist - a disciple of Spencer -and also a teacher of psychology.'' His mother, of Argentine and Uruguayan stock, lived far into her 90's and translated William Saroyan, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Virginia Woolf and Herman Melville into Spanish.

While he was very young, his parents moved to the northern suburbs of the capital, to Palermo, a place he later described as a slum. But it was not, he wrote, a slum in the American sense. It was, rather, a district where ''shabby-genteel people as well as more undesirable sorts'' lived.

At the age of 6 or 7, the young Borges began to write. ''I was expected to be a writer,'' he recalled much later in life. He confessed that his first writing was modeled on classic Spanish writers, mostly Cervantes. The young man's first effort, ''The Fatal Helmet,'' was avowedly romantic - ''nonsensical,'' he later called it - and very much a stylistic derivative of Cervantes.

In 1914 the family moved to Europe so that Jorge and his sister could attend school in Geneva. Jorge enrolled at the College of Geneva. In school, the young man was immersed in Latin, and outside it he tackled German. He learned to love the language through Heine and found his way to Schopenhauer, who was to be his favorite.

''Were I to choose a single philosopher, I would choose him,'' Mr. Borges wrote. ''If the riddle of the universe can be stated in words, I think these words would be in his writings.''

After Mr. Borges received his degree in Geneva, his family moved to Spain for a year, and it was there that his first poem was published. Called ''Hymn to the Sea,'' it was deliberately fashioned in the style of Walt Whitman.

In 1921, he returned with his family to Buenos Aires, where he continued to write, experimenting with styles of prose that were either artificially Latinate or sodden with Argentine colloquialisms. Of his early works, he was relentlessly scornful. The ''real beginning'' of his career came, Mr. Borges wrote, in the early 1930's with a series of sketches called ''A Universal History of Infamy.''

In these, which ''were in the nature of hoaxes and pseudo-essays,'' Mr. Borges chronicled the lives of Lazarus Morell, who at once freed and imprisoned slaves; of Tom Castro, an implausible prodigal son; of the widow Ching, a pirate who terrorized the seas of Asia; of Monk Eastman, a New York gunman and ''purveyor of iniquities''; of Kotsuke no Suke, who refused to commit hara-kiri, ''which as a nobleman was his duty.''

With his next story, ''The Approach to al-Mu'tasim,'' written in 1935, the shape of many of his later stories was established. The story is a fictive review of a book purportedly published in Bombay. Mr. Borges invests the mythical volume with a genuine publisher and reviewer but, as he wrote later, ''the author and the book are entirely my own invention.''

In this early story, many of the basic literary elements that came to characterize Mr. Borges's style were apparent: a concern for history and identity; the central role of an obscure scholarly work; a maze of discourse laden with elaborate and Byzantine detail; footnotes; meticulous references to remote academic journals, and the presence of deliberately translucent paradox.

Mr. Borges took his first full-time job in 1937 as the first assistant in the Miguel Cane branch of the Buenos Aires Municipal Library; he was paid about $70 a month, and was to remain there for nine years, completing his work each day in an hour or so and devoting the rest of his time to reading and writing.

In this period, he wrote ''Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote'' - a ''halfway house between the essay and true tale,'' he wrote.

''Pierre Menard'' led to a story of a strange world that displaces our planet - ''Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius'' - and then quickly to another and then the next, stories concerned with labyrinths and mirrors and encyclopedias that came to form the foundation of Mr. Borges's oeuvre. ''The Garden of Forking Paths,'' an anthology of short stories, was published in 1941, and three years later ''Ficciones,'' perhaps his most celebrated collection of short stories, went into print.

In 1946, Juan Domingo Peron - ''a President,'' Mr. Borges wrote, ''whose name I do not want to remember'' -came to power. Not long afterward, Mr. Borges was named inspector of poultry and rabbits in the public markets. He found his selection for this new position baffling, and he resigned.

By then, his reputation as a writer was secure, and he was asked to lecture on English literature at the Free College of Higher Studies and the Argentine Association of English Culture.

After the Peron Government was overthrown in September 1955, Mr. Borges was appointed director of the National Library in Buenos Aires. The next year he became a professor of English and American literature at the University of Buenos Aires.

With Adolfo Bioy-Casares, whom he met in the 1940's, he collaborated in writing a collection of short stories under the name H. Bustos Domecq. Mr. Borges once described the ''Chronicles'' of Bustos in 1967: ''These are articles written on imaginary, extravagantly modern artists - architects, sculptors, painters, chefs, poets, novelists, couturiers - by a devotedly modern critic. But both the author and his subjects are fools, and it is hard to tell who is taking in whom.''

By the late 1950's, Mr. Borges was completely blind. ''One salient consequence of my blindness was my gradual abandonment of free verse in favor of classical metrics,'' he wrote later. ''In fact, blindness made me take up the writing of poetry again. Since rough drafts were denied me, I had to fall back on memory. It is obviously easier to remember verse than prose and to remember regular verse forms rather than free ones.'' After he shared the Formentor Prize with Samuel Beckett in 1961, Mr. Borges's books began to sell increasingly well internationally, and he was invited abroad to lecture and to take up visiting professorships. Over the following years he traveled extensively in the United States and Europe, lecturing and receiving bouquets of literary awards. And though he was perennially a candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature, it was denied him. It was perhaps less a concern to him than to others. After winning the prize in 1982, the Colombian novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez said of Mr. Borges, ''I hope he receives it, and I still don't understand why they haven't given it to him.'' Some have insisted that it was Mr. Borges's aversion to politics, his unwillingness to criticize the repression of post-Peronist regimes - ''I suppose they are a necessary evil, for the next 50 years, or so,'' he said - that kept him from becoming a Nobel laureate. He was, however, sympathetic to the plight of mothers whose children were victims of death squads that were tacitly or actively supported by Argentina's military Government. ''I had my say about the disappeared,'' he told an interviewer. ''But what can I do? I'm an old man. What can they do to me? Torture me, eh?'' An Unworldly Life Mr. Borges led a hermetic, unworldly life. Seemingly fragile in his last years, as he leaned on a vertebral wooden cane, he was gentlemanly in manner and locution. With blindness he relied increasingly on assistants to read to him and to write what he dictated. Always Mr. Borges wrote and read, and perhaps it was, in the end, the latter that was paramount. ''To me, reading has been a way of living,'' he once said. ''I think the only possible fate for me was a literary life. I can't think of myself in a bookless world. I need books. They mean everything to me.'' During his lecture tours, he had a particular fondness for New Orleans. When he was not writing in his hotel room there, he was listening to jazz, invariably distinguished in his suit and tie from other jazz club patrons. ''My father told me a gentleman never goes in public in his shirt sleeves,'' he said, ''but I think these people are right to dress comfortably when it is hot.'' At the age of 68, Mr. Borges was married for the first time, to a childhood sweetheart, Elsa Astete Millan, the widow of a friend. It proved to be an unhappy episode, and they divorced three years later. He married Maria Kodama, his 41-year-old secretary and longtime traveling companion, a few weeks ago. 'Dreary' Buenos Aires In later life, Mr. Borges was not so happy as he had once been with Argentina and its capital. ''Buenos Aires is a dreary city now,'' he told an interviewer during the war with Britain over the Falkland Islands in the spring of 1982, a war he termed ''atrocious.'' ''I don't understand my own country. But the world is not meant to be understood by men. Every night, I dream. I have nightmares - of being lost, of being in an unknown city. I don't remember the name of the hotel, or I can't find my way home in Buenos Aires. Maybe I feel very lost because the world is meaningless.'' Yet Mr. Borges found meaning in his own work. At the end of his published conversations with the literary scholar Richard Burgin, Mr. Borges wrote: ''Through the years, a man peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, tools, stars, horses, and people. Shortly before his death, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the image of his own face.''

Payasos con platea

Hay que tener un don muy grande para poder joder el maravilloso desayuno a un ciudadano el domingo por la mañana. Los del BOE lo logran. En su pagina de atras, la del cacas, entrevistan a uno de esos personajes mongos y mermados que han elevado a la infamia escenica. Esta pobre mamarracha, que gestiona millones de nuestros bolsillos, repita la palabra YO una centena de veces en tan corto panfletillo.

La cretina egolatra reitera su plena merma de continuo:

• Pienso muchísimo, muchísimo. Dicen algunas personas que soy atrevida, pero es que cuando pienso mucho las cosas y encuentro la certeza, me muevo poco, porque pienso mucho.
• He hecho muchos esfuerzos en mi proceso de crecimiento. Y soy bastante segura de mí misma.
• Sé más latín que pelos tengo en la cabeza. Hice siete años de latín y cuatro de griego. Le contesté en andaluz.
• Yo en el Consejo de Ministros intervengo de manera muy medida.
• Y yo no sé si hablo mucho o si lo que digo a muchas personas las hace pensar y las incomoda.
• Nos entendemos en un metalenguaje de sonrisas.
• Estoy harta de esclavitudes. Yo me paso el día entero trabajando. Yo transmito que soy muy yo, y que voy de yo por la vida. Soy una tía a la que no doblan.Yo no renuncio a mis vaqueros ni a nada. Cuando deje de ser ministra seguiré siendo yo, que es mi verdadero cargo.

Dios mio. Protege a este pais.

Familias

Ayer, con motivo de la fiesta mejicana organizada en el predio de los Garrido-Garcia Alarilla sito en Valdetorres del Jarama, volvimos a vernos muchos. Guillermito, hijo de Piluca Garrido y el homónimo pater, ha crecido mucho y tiene los ojos dicharacheros de sus papitos.

Doña Maria Teresa, la faraona del Jarama, acogió nuevamente a los amigos de sus hijos, en ese afan tan castellano de perpetuar la unidar familiar y los valores que han edificado un modus vivendi. Chema Garrido y un servidor, aprovechando la fiesta local, nos metimos unas cuantas Coronitas entre pecho y espalda, postulando la holganza imposible, sin cesar de condenar el trabajo como ese cancer que no nos abandonará nunca.

Jessica Alba

Nunca entendi el tronío que se daba Jessica Alba, el bombo y platillo que se daba en derredor de una presentadora de MTV con el pelo teñido que repudiaba de su origen chicano. Hoy empezamos a dar oportunidades a la niñita, aunque solo sea por ese neumatico culito en pompa...

Que es Syriana?

Syriana

Yo descubri a Carmen Luvana

Era morena y fria ante la camara. La verdad que escupia su mirada, su gesto, la hizo una estrella en dos dias. Rapidamente era apadrinada por Jenna, Jesse Jane, Evan Stone, Janine, Tony Tedeschi, Sean Michaels, Holly Hollywood. Como Tera Patrick, sufrió la comedura de oreja y se ha operado sin necesidad. Nadie es perfecto...

Operada aquí, desafortunadamente

Will Eisner

Hoy en mi transito Barcelona-Madrid conoci la obra de un judio errante, padre de la "novela grafica" o, como él definia, el "arte secuencial".

Epicas

Hoy he presenciado uno de esos eventos que reconfortan al hombre con sus extremos agónicos, con la verdad de sus limites, con la hermandad del dolor. Dos hombres se sometian al juicio de lo imposible bajo el testigo de sus voluntades. La crueldad nos hace mas humanos que el amor. La fuerza. Las cercanias de la muerte.

Ya casi quiero a Mary Pierce

Agassi y Graff

Hay gente escogida para señalar un tiempo. Gente que siempre capitanea su vida, gobernando hasta los mas terribles fracasos. André Agassi es uno de esos iconos que sobrevive a una calvicie terrorífica, un divorcio con la novia de América y el paso del tiempo en forma de 35 años llenos de lesiones y agotamiento. André ha sonreído en las derrotas y su boda con la Graff ha sido un éxito cuando en cualquier otro caso las risas llegarían hasta aquí. Su emblemática melena oxigenada con jeans prohibidos no ha sufrido ese tránsito hacia la brillante alopecia de un padre dedicado. Todo ha parecido sencillo.

Mary Pierce

Otros seres, como Mary Pierce, siempre han reflejado el sufrimiento de un oficio con un glamour de sostenimiento delicado. Mary era maltratada por su padre yankee, que humillaba en público sus errores de tenista adolescente. Era el bollito de escote generoso que los francesitos necesitaban para reflotar un torneo que solo encontraba representación gala en un chaval negro muy cachondo, un rasta con muñequeras de Camerun. 

Mary no soportó la adopción masiva de sus compatriotas y se metió en el gimnasio. No se sabe que la llevo a esa obesidad impropia de un tenista. La medicación, la bulimia de la presión, la obsesión por las pesas. La vedette devino vacaburra y sufría en sus lumbares la ciática, los desgarros en los muslos copiosos. Mary ha jugado este año 2 finales de Grand Slam y ha perdido ambas. Ha abrazado a la otra gorda, una belga fatigosa. Sabe perder empaticamente. Ya no es la pena derrotada. Casi la quiero. Siendo francesa y todo.