Rizzo Quotes

Failure to plan ahead is a plan sure to FAIL!

I got so many hickeys, people will think I'm a leper." -Rizzo

I’m up for it. What do you want us to be? Nurse and patient? Rizzo and Kenickie? I still have that skirt.” Lloyd pulled Wesley tight against him and whispered in his ear. “How about fiancés?” Wesley’s stomach dropped and didn’t stop. A nervous flutter leaked into his voice. “Fiancés?

Mejor no hablar o asumir que luego de los artificios, en realidad hay un gran número de humanos que escriben y crean siguiendo unos patrones tan predecibles, que hasta un programa que depende del código puede emularlos.

We have created a mindset in our society where everyone wants what they want when they want it. And if we don't get what we want when we want it, we feel ripped off. To make matters worse, we intensify our problems by continuously rehashing our woe-is-me story to the entire world. Whatever it is that has the potential to keep you from enjoying the day, understand that it's not the situation itself that is causing you to be unhappy. It's your thoughts and how you allow them to control you. It's what you choose to focus on that fuels your emotions and defines your reality.

Sandy: "Are you making fun of me, Riz? " Rizzo: "Some people are so touchy.

Actually, Ma, he’s going to drive by slowly enough for me to dive through the open passenger window like Wonder Woman.

Angelo Rizzo; 34. Vittoria – Tori Romano; 23.

I’d rather be Rizzo than Sandy, no question. Rizzo found love without changing a thing about herself. Sandy had to dress like a skank and get that horrible perm and take up smoking.

pickle smell. Jenny winced. Gross. Shaking her

Porque, después de todo, uno puede volverse completamente loco, siempre y cuando se haga con estilo, en soledad y sin testigos.

In quel momento Sara si alzò dalla panca, passò le mani tra i capelli fissando i due giovanotti: «Mia figlia è molto creativa. Certe doti sono innate».

He’d peed on that tree so many times, he should have a reserved sign on it.

believe we each have our own path to travel. Sometimes we make false starts and detours, but we have this internal compass that knows our true path. We just have to listen to it.” He

D’istinto le venne da abbracciare il ragazzo ma lui si ritrasse: «Mi attacchi il raffreddore!». Coco non rise più. Il rifiuto la offese. Ma David le afferrò le mani e infine la strinse a sé in un abbraccio caloroso. Sensuale. Le sussurrò nell’orecchio: «Sei speciale. Attaccami pure il raffreddore!». Coco chiuse gli occhi. Sentì suonare tutti i violini del mondo. L’unico rumore pesante e profondo fu quello del battito del cuore. David aveva un odore buono. Fresco.

Every time somebody asks me, “How ’bout the Cubs?” I want to respond with “Yeah, the Cubs, they’re going to die someday. Do you ever think about that? All of them. All of them. Rizzo. Bryant. The one with the goatee. The other ones. The entire team. Some of them probably soon, you don’t know. They could be dying right now while we’re sitting here making conversation about baseball. Death is lurking.” Susie always wants me to come with her to these type of gatherings and she almost always regrets it.

A climate's changes are tough to quantify. Butterflies can help. Entomologists prefer "junk species--" the kind of butterflies too common for most collections-- to keep up with what's going on in the insect's world. They're easy to find and observe. When do something unusual, something's changed in the area. Art Shapiro's team at UC Davis monitors ten local study sites, some since the 1970s. The ubiquitous species are the study's go-tos, helping distinguish between lasting changes (climate warming, habitat loss) and ones that will right themselves (one cold winter, droughts like last year's). Consistency is key; they collect details year after year, no empty data sets between. A few species have disappeared from parts of the study area altogether, probably a lasting change. On the other hand, seemingly big news in 2012 might be just a year's aberration. Two butterflies came back to the city of Davis last year, the umber skipper after 30 years, the woodland skipper after 20-- both likely a result of a dry winter with near-perfect breeding conditions of sunny afternoons and cool nights.

Industria, desarrolladores y compradores parecen ir todos hacia un mismo lugar, sea por voluntad propia o arrastrados por una corriente de cambio demasiado poderosa para poder oponerse con éxito. Tal y como sucede con el cause de las grandes voluntades planetarias, aunque en privado mucha gente denuncie cierto hastío proveniente de tener que estar pensando en cambiar las cosas con tal celeridad, o llegue a la honestidad brutal de admitir enojo ante ello; las empresas que enfilan el timón en esa dirección, siguen siendo las más exitosas y actuales de todas. El flujo de dinero, no se detiene. Así, el modelo se revalida.

Amy always tried to maintain some semblance of dignity in front of me. Even so, I never met the same Amy more than once. On some days she behaved like a small child, sucking her thumb, talking in a baby voice and sitting on my knee; at other times she'd adopt the aggressive, butch act, the Rizzo character - the girl who had 'out-Jaggered Jagger'. The more vulnerable she felt, the more pronounced that persona would become. I think she brought her characters out as coping mechanisms, to get her through anxious moments or stressful situations. In all honesty there was rarely a time at Camden Square [her last home] when Amy was a whole person. Rather, she continued to be this fragmented girl, a series of creations I suppose I'd become accustomed to.

الحياة سلسلة من اللحظات ، و اللحظات تتغير دائما ، تماما مثل الأفكار ، السلبية و الايجابية. و رغم أنه ربما كانت من ظبيعة الانسان أن يستقر ، فهذا أمر غير منطقي كما هي الكثير من الأشياء الطبيعية ، غير منطقي أن يسمح لفكرة واحدة أن تسكن رأسه لأن الأفكار مثل الضيوف ، أو أصدقاء وقت الرخاء. فولر أن تصل ، يمكن أن تغادر ، و حتى الأفكار التي تستغرق وقتا طويلا لتخرج بالكامل يمكنها أن تختفي في غمضة عين. اللحظات ثمينة ، أحيانا تتلكأ و في أحيان أخرى تمضي سريعا ، مع ذلك يمكن أن تُنجز فيها الكثير ، يمكن أن تغير رأيا ، يمكن أن تنقذ حياة ، و يمكن أن تقع في الحب.

I freely admit that the best of my fun, I owe it to Horse and Hound - Whyte Melville (1821-1878) "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought And sheathed their swords for lack of argument: Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!" ... King Henry V 1598 (William Shakespeare) I can resist anything except temptation - Oscar Wilde (Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892) In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different - Coco Chanel When it comes to pain and suffering, she's right up there with Elizabeth Taylor - Truvy (Steel Magnolias) She looks too pure to be pink (Rizzo, Grease) I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow - Scarlett O'Hara (Gone With The Wind.)

The work of the Underground Railroad was rightly covert in a state (NJ) where an elected senator claimed that the difficulty in the state was "not about surrendering fugitive slaves to their legal masters but rather how to get rid of those worthless slaves which the South suffer to escape into our territory, and remain there to the annoyance of our people." Tensions between blacks and whites were palpable, even in a "tolerant" community in the "free" North.

Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

It’s not uncommon to feel like your life is a runaway train. It’s part of the human condition.

Heidi Hannah consults people on the relationship between their nutrition, energy, and performance. She also tells her clients to make a snack list. "When we have too many options we have so much information that the brain just gets really overwhelmed and it can be 'analysis paralysis'. Then we just don't do anything," she says.

Las masas suelen premiar o felicitar todo aquello que las interpele desde algún sitio. Incluso, desde la incomodidad o el misterio.

Es muy difícil volver a convencer a la gente cuando se ha puesto de un lado en particular o armado una narrativa que le convenza. Ignorarán a su total conveniencia cualquier tipo de prueba que inhabilite el pensamiento ya elegido, siguiendo la ley del menor esfuerzo.

¿Cómo es que nos hemos vuelto tan predecibles en nuestros gustos, al nivel de que eso pueda ser codificado, interpretado y llevado a cabo con la fría eficiencia de una computadora?

Glorias y miserias de la autoría, los derechos editoriales, el pedazo del alma que se vende al publicar.

In 2014, former Deputy Counsel or Acting General Counsel of the CIA, John Rizzo, wrote, ‘The CIA has long had a special relationship with the entertainment industry, devoting considerable attention to fostering relationships with Hollywood movers and shakers—studio executives, producers, directors, big-name actors.

In 2014, former Deputy Counsel or Acting General Counsel of the CIA, John Rizzo, wrote, ‘The CIA has long had a special relationship with the entertainment industry, devoting considerable attention to fostering relationships with Hollywood movers and shakers—studio executives, producers, directors, big-name actors.

Millones de comentarios no moverán la aguja de la calidad ni un centímetro, cualidad perdida en batalla mitómana de los tiempos tecnológicos en que vivimos.

Las máquinas, por eficientes que sean, son a su vez aburridas a ojos de quien busca una conversación.

Si te obsesionas con quien te dice las cosas, te pierdes del contenido real.

Ahí afuera, pueden haber millones de máquinas, computadoras o programas ejecutándose en ellas. Escribiendo, componiendo música o bien haciendo cualquier otra cosa atribuida a los seres humanos. ¿Cómo puede alguien quedarse tan tranquilo y dormir bien al saber eso?

Quien vive adelantado o atrasado, lo hace sin embargo fuera de su tiempo, el único que le ha tocado para existir.

La obsolescencia es así. Es posible que la época del humano vaya llegando a su fin, y que aún no nos hayamos dado cuenta de ello.

Las ideas delirantes suelen correr por parte de los autores, quienes por pudor se abstienen de hacerlas demasiado públicas.

Es complejo analizar, incluso en nuestros días contemporáneos tan atravesados por la tecnología, si la ética continúa siendo algo relevante para quienes diseñan estos inventos. ¿Lo ha sido realmente alguna vez? Algunos aún celebran a los científicos que crearon la bomba atómica.

No se puede vivir en otro tiempo que no sea el propio.

Federalism should not provide state and local governments with the power to ignore the Constitution in any area, least of all in policing. Rizzo v. Goode, followed a short time later by City of Los Angeles v. Lyons, eliminated the power of federal courts to remedy proven patterns of racist, unconstitutional policing.

Si hay un autor más relevante que los demás en su concepción, es ese quien, irónicamente, puede no haber escrito ni una sola palabra, pero si haber orquestado las demás.

Sea a través de escritores anónimos, cantautores olvidados en el tiempo, poetas remotos o míticos como Homero. Alguien o algo, así se trate de una construcción social del inconsciente colectivo materializado en aportes a lo largo del tiempo, es su creador.

Extraña reacción de lo masivo, que por singular o diferente, si se repite lo suficiente acaba por aburrir o volverse habitué.

Cuando la evidencia falta, las elucubraciones abundan.

La fantasía de seguridad que tiene el domador con su látigo, sin darse cuenta de que al igual que el tigre o el león que cree controlar, está atrapado tras barrotes. Si la fiera lo desea, si en verdad intenta merendarse a su captor, no habrá látigo que lo detenga. Y allí, el domador aprenderá que los barrotes también lo encierran.

La triste realidad que afrontan los creadores de todo tipo de contenido, en la disyuntiva de tener que aggionarse o morir en la sombra del fracaso popular.

Nos volvemos obsoletos, y apenas nos estamos dando cuenta.

Rizzo had been Bud’s favorite player on the current roster.

Sometimes when things go bad in life, we just need to hit the reset button.

had back in the seventies

like banking.

Porque estar loco, al menos, era algo que podía tratarse. ¡El mundo tenía locos de sobra! ¿Qué daño haría ser uno más? Pero si en verdad cedía a los comentarios de esa entidad, a lo que intentaba comunicarle, ¿dónde terminaría, hasta dónde lo llevaría? Quizás la única forma de saberlo, sería abrir la puerta a esa posibilidad.

¿Acaso la gente felicitaba a los soldados luego de cada pequeña muesca inútil en su rifle? ¿Gozaban los trabajadores de tales agasajos, cada vez que su tarea era cumplimentada con la misma eficiencia, holgazanería o mediocridad que siempre? Entonces, ¿por qué él merecía dicho premio social por haber hecho su trabajo, siendo escritor? Es más, y esta era la pregunta que le molestó, la que de verdad hizo un daño: ¿Había hecho su trabajo, dando todo lo que tenía?

La verdad no necesita defensores ni amigos, ya que se impone con su presencia.

¿Qué es escribir ficción, si no es crear o manipular realidades?

Después de todo, no era ni sería mucho menos el único tipo perdiendo la cabeza o siendo acosado por rivales imaginarios en representación de sus miedos inconscientes, irracionales, incontrolables. ¿No?

Less than twenty-four hours ago, in what I and any sane person would call a very unfortunate chain of events, I managed to tick off the mob, the federal government, and break up with my idiot boyfriend of two years, Johnny Rizzo, all within a fifteen-minute span.

The car was a rental, but the ID on file traced back to a George Rizzo.” George? Huh. “Okay?” “He’s fucking DEA, Valentina. How the hell are you involved with the DEA?

February 9: Marilyn arrives at 6:00 p.m. for the photo shoot with Rizzo and apologizes, pleading extreme fatigue. Another appointment is scheduled for the next day.

February 10: In a four-hour afternoon shoot, Rizzo captures Marilyn in close-up and in various positions on a lounger and at the edge of her Brentwood home pool. He later said she seemed “immensely sad . . . and that sadness was very visible in the pictures.

February 8: Newcomb calls Rizzo to postpone the shoot. Marilyn was tired and planning to move into her new home soon, Newcomb explains. But another appointment is set for the next afternoon. Marilyn’s Brentwood home is purchased with a fifteen-year mortgage at 6.5 percent interest, with payments of $320 a month. Marilyn arranges to have a new kitchen built for $1,393.46.

February 6: Photographer Willy Rizzo meets with Pat Newcomb about a photo shoot scheduled for February 8. Milton Ebbins, a Sinatra friend and vice president of Peter Lawford’s production company, drives Marilyn to and from a dinner in honor of John F. Kennedy at the home of Fifi Fell, widow of John Fell, an investment banker. Marilyn accompanies the Strasbergs to a performance of Macbeth at the Old Vic Theatre in New York.

How can you eat donuts—jelly donuts no less—just before viewing a postmortem examination?” Al licked his lips clean. “What’s the big deal? Donuts are one of the five major food groups.” “Oh, really?” “Never heard of them?” “Not your version.” Al grinned boyishly. “Pizza, burgers, carne asada, donuts, and pussy.

Le movenze delle mani, il tentennare della testa e il ciuffo ribelle che danzava sulla fronte di David. Tutto sembrava così inverosimile. C’era pace in quella musica. C’era dolcezza. C’era quello di cui Constanze aveva bisogno. Si alzò dal letto appena lui staccò le dita dai tasti. David rimase seduto a guardarla incantato dai suoi occhi verdi, illuminati dalla bellezza. L’abbraccio fu interminabile. Fu come il volo di due gabbiani sul mare azzurro. L’incontro dei volti, il contatto delle guance e poi delle labbra.

This new generation of Italian American entertainers shared Sinatra’s view of the new dance music that emerged in the 1950s. “Rock-and-roll is the most brutal, ugly, desperate, vicious form of expression it has been my misfortune to hear,” Sinatra told Congress in 1958. “Rock-and-roll smells phony and false. It is sung, played, and written for the most part by cretinous goons, and by means of its almost imbecilic reiteration, and sly, lewd—in plain fact, dirty—lyrics … it manages to be the martial music of every sideburned delinquent on the face of the earth.” In response to the raw, driving sexuality of black-influenced rock, young Italian American men in New York and Philadelphia did to the new music what Sinatra and his generation had done to jazz. A style combining smooth vocal harmonies, romantic lyrics, and a stationary stage presence, doo-wop was invented in the 1940s by black youth on street corners, but it shot to the top of the pop charts in the late 1950s when Italian Americans adopted it as their own—just as most African American performers moved toward “soul music.” From 1958, when Dion (DiMucci) and the Belmonts placed several songs on the pop charts, until the “British Invasion” of 1964, Italian American doo-wop groups dominated American popular music. All wearing conservative suits and exuding a benign romanticism, the Capris, the Elegants, the Mystics, the Duprees, the Del-Satins, the Four Jays, the Essentials, Randy and the Rainbows, and Vito & the Salutations declared the arrival of Italians into American civilization. During the rise of doo-wop and Frank Rizzo, Malcolm X mocked the newly white Italians. “No Italian will ever jump up in my face and start putting bad mouth on me,” he said, “because I know his history. I tell him when you’re talking about me you’re talking about your pappy, your father. He knows his history. He knows how he got that color.” Though fewer and fewer Italian Americans know the history of which Malcolm X spoke, some have reenacted it.

I never pick up the phone unless I know who it is and I’m scheduled to talk to that person at that time.

Bullshit, la Sicilia non esiste, gli sentiamo dire in tono piuttosto agitato dalla cucina. Io lo so perché ci sono nato. Senza offesa, bro', ma è tutta la sera che dici cazzate. Cosa succede?, chiedo, portando in tavola il pesce che Pupetta ha preparato per secondo. Dice Sicilia, e tz, fa tz con la bocca, l'amico americano. E basta, cazzo. Ma non si possono più sentire queste storie sulla specialità di quest'isola di merda. Come se in Sardegna non ci fosse il mare, come se in Irlanda non avessero la campagna, come se in Australia non ci battesse il sole. Tesoro, sono cazzate. Ha bevuto un po' troppo, cerca di spiegare Pupetta al fidanzato. [...] No, no, lascialo continuare, dice però John, è interessante, quando i siciliani si arrabbiano è interessante, mi ricordano certi personaggi di Pirandello. Pirandello fa cacare, dice Gaga. Tomasi di Lampedusa fa cacare. E Camilleri, anche Camilleri fa cacare?, chiede l'americano. Camilleri è il male assoluto. Dovrebbero imprigionarlo e rileggerli tutti i romanzi di Montalbano fino a che non implori pietà. Bisognerebbe mettere mano alla pistola ogni volta che qualcuno dice della splendida decadenza de dell'irrimediabilità di questo posto, come fanno Camilleri Pirandello Tomasi. Bisognerebbe appiccare il fuoco, incendiare tutto, la, togliere ogni punto di riferimento agli isolani e al resto del mondo. Bisognerebbe, ecco, bisognerebbe che qualcuno si decidesse a scrivere un piccolo manuale per organizzare una guerra lampo, radere al suolo la Sicilia e resettare la mente di quelli un po' cretini come te. Senza offesa, tesoro, era solo un esempio.

L'opulenza e lo splendore della città sono tali, gli agrigentini costruiscono case come se non dovessero morire mai e mangiano come se dovessero morire l'indomani, diceva Empedocle - il mare, già allora, doveva essere un cesso.

Secondo me, ogni volta che si scrive un articolo si racconta la storia di uno di loro, secondo me bisognerebbe fare questa premessa: il pidocchio tal dei tali ha vissuto di merda, ha ingoiato la merda degli altri pidocchi e degli sbirri ogni giorno che il cielo l'ha mandato in terra, ha dormito in posti di merda per scappare alla merda del carcere duro, è finito in cella a spalare merda, ha finito per puzzare di merda e, ah, sì, una volta l'hanno visto guidare una macchina di lusso. Strappo un sorriso a Mario, che però subito replica: È più complicato di così. Certo che è più complicato di così, gli rispondo. Non mi sognerei mai di dire che Il padrino ha fatto crescere il numero dei pidocchi, forse quello dei turisti, ma non quello dei pidocchi. Però se la si smettesse di far sembrare i pidocchi sempre dei fichi, forse male non farebbe. Voglio dire, pure i Sopranos, belli, per carità, e di Toni si sente anche un po' il profumo della merda che pesta ogni giorno, però mai una volta una cosa brutale che faccia dire Oh, gran bei coglioni questi, tutta questa vucciria per vivere così di merda.

Mi sembrano tutte molto belle, l'estate, in questi locali vicino al mare con gente che suona e balla e suda, questi locali della provincia dell'impero dove si suona l'elettronica europea e la gente si emoziona, proiettata nel futuro come gli sembra di essere

Andè, mi domanda, ma tu dove sei? Non afferro subito. Che dici, Totò? Dove sei?, ripete lui. Lara mi guarda strano, non la capisce una domanda del genere, non lo sa che da anni, nei paesi della Sicilia, si stanno disegnando nuove geografie dell'Italia e del mondo, che i paesani adesso sono costretti a mandare giù non più - o non solo - i prefissi e i cap di Milano Torino Roma, le città dei primi emigrati, ma anche quelli di Brembate di Sopra, Cittadella, Bolzano, paesi che fino a vent'anni fa nessuno conosceva, e a ragione, e che adesso si sono trasformati negli eldorado dei nuovi migranti. E a chi sta fuori la domanda va fatta, l'interlocutore può sempre avere notizie di prima mano su una qualche zona della Bassa padana dove le graduatorie dei bidelli sono ancora accessibili, non come a Milano Torino Roma, o magari sa qual è la situazione nei provveditorati trentini nelle fabbriche venete nei supermercati friulani.

Oh, andiamo, sempre a prendervi sul serio. È incredibile quante storie fate su quest'isola. Se uno vi dice che è bella voi dite che è brutta, se uno dice che è brutta voi dite che è bella. Starci una settimana o un mese come fanno quelle come me non dà il diritto a esprimere opinioni, secondo voi. Se uno riconosce che ci sono dei problemi voi dite che chi viene da fuori, per carità, non si deve nemmeno permetter di venirveli a spiegare, questi problemi. E non sia mai di prendervi in giro: subito gridate al luogo comune, alla superficialità, persino a un certo danno alla vostra immagine. Ma andiamo, non è che dietro tutte queste manfrine c'è solo il fatto che siete tremendamente permalosi? Be', insomma, balbetto, non è proprio così.

San Calò è il santo nero arrivato dall'Africa a colonizzare la Sicilia. Come tutti i colonizzatori dell'isola ha avuto vita facile. La Sicilia è stata greca romana e araba, barbarica e bizantina, normanna angioina aragonese borbonica, italiana e quasi americana, e se venisse qualcuno da Marte diventerebbe immediatamente Marziana

In Sicilia l'unica cosa seria è la ristorazione, le dico, alzandomi. E anche quella è un bluff. Il novanta per cento è roba fritta, panelle arancine cazzilli, ci piace vincere facile.

Andiamo, dice, non rovinare tutto, non sopporto i siciliani che si lamentano dei siciliani. Hai ragione, le dico, è il nostro sport preferito. Peggio c'è solo una cosa. Cosa?, chiede lei, iniziando a risalire il curvone che ci riporta alla strada di terra battuta dove abbiamo lasciato l'auto. I siciliani che non si lamentano dei siciliani.

Il punto è che tutti sembrano ossessionati, snorfo, bisogna salvare la Sicilia, bisogna lottare, bisogna riscattarla. Ma che minchia è, questa, la terra degli assistenti sociali?, dice. Tutti a occuparsi della salvezza altrui, tutti con l'idea esatta per farlo, nessuno che si preoccupi di salvare se stesso.

There are no victims, only volunteers.

Uno puede dejar un libro con un final raro. Pero para eso, mínimo hay que ser Kafka. Y digamos que en vida no le fue muy bien haciendo eso.

Tampoco es que uno va a reinventar la literatura cada vez que se sienta a escribir.

Que tipos raros son los que escriben... la mayoría de la gente se va con esa pasión de sus trabajos. Nunca entran así.

El mero concepto de un organismo de control me revuelve el estómago tanto como los idiotas que pueden defender un sistema basado en la vigilancia perpetua. Nadie vigila nunca en verdad. Es otra ilusión de verificación imposible. Solo aquellos con las capacidades, medios y conocimientos específicos pueden auditar algo así. ¿Qué queda entonces para todo el resto? Confiar ciegamente.

Lo humano a la larga, siempre resulta momentáneo.

La posteridad no admite medias tintas. Si no se quiere ser tratado como masa imbécil, no hay que comportarse como una.

Eres joven pero a este paso, la tecnología de la información va a pasarte por arriba, y nadie extrañará tu joven cadáver pisoteado si no le sacan una foto para las redes sociales.

Es difícil de entender porque resulta contraintuitivo para los calores humanos de comprensión. La cantidad de data que se genera en un segundo, en el mundo actual es tan grande que la hemos dejado como algo incognoscible. Hemos asumido que se encuentra por fuera total de nuestro alcance o raciocinio. La hemos llamado destino, voluntad de Dios o suerte azarosa. Cuando en verdad, no hay nada en este universo librado al azar.

Todos los críticos son prostitutos intelectuales. Algunos por dinero y otros por gusto.

Vivimos en una era en la que la verdad es selectiva. A voluntad.

«Ti vengo ancora incontro. Capace che si poteva fare ancora qualche cosa, hai detto. Qualcosa come spostare la macchina dalla mannara, fare trovare il morto da qualche altra parte? Questo pensavate che Rizzo vi avrebbe domandato di fare?». «Sissi». «E sareste stati disposti a farlo?». «Certo! Abbiamo telefonato apposta!». «Cosa speravate in cambio?». «Che quello magari ci cangiava di travaglio, ci faceva vincere un concorso per geometri, ci trovava un posto giusto, ci levava da questo mestiere di munnizzari fitusi. Commissario, lei u sapi megliu di mia, se uno non trova vento a favuri, non naviga».

The actual antecedents of contemporary populist politicians like Trump are to be found not in interwar Central European totalitarian states but in state and local politics, particularly urban politics. In Europe, pro-Brexit Boris Johnson was the mayor of London before becoming prime minister, and Italy’s Matteo Salvini was on the city council of Milan from 1993 to 2012. In the United States, the shift from post-1945 democratic pluralism to technocratic neoliberalism was fostered from the 1960s onward by an alliance of the white overclass with African Americans and other racial minority groups. The result was a backlash by white working-class voters, not only against nonwhites who were seen as competitors for jobs and housing, but also against the alien cultural liberalism of white “gentry liberals.” The backlash in the North was particularly intense among “white ethnics”—first-, second-, and third-generation white immigrants like Irish, German, Italian, and Polish Americans, many of them Catholic. The disproportionately working-class white ethnics now found themselves defined as bigots by the same white Anglo-Saxon Protestant (WASP) elites who until recently had imposed quotas on Jews and Catholics in their Ivy League universities, but who were now posing as the virtuous, enlightened champions of civil rights. This toxic mix of black aspiration, white ethnic backlash, and WASP condescension provided a ripe habitat for demagogues, many of them old-school Democrats like Frank Rizzo, mayor of Philadelphia, Sam Yorty, mayor of Los Angeles, and Mario Angelo Procaccino, failed mayoral candidate in New York. These populist big-city mayors or candidates in the second half of the twentieth century combined appeals to working-class grievances and resentments with folksy language and feuds with the metropolitan press, a pattern practiced, in different ways, by later New York City mayors Ed Koch, a Democrat, and Rudy Giuliani, a Republican. In its “Against Trump” issue of January 22, 2016, the editors of National Review mocked the “funky outer-borough accents” shared by Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders. Indeed, Trump, a “white ethnic” from Queens with German and Scots ancestors, with his support in the US industrial states where working-class non-British European-Americans are concentrated, is ethnically different from most of his predecessors in the White House, whose ancestors were proportionately far more British American. Traits which seem outlandish in a US president would not have seemed so if Trump had been elected mayor of New York. Donald Trump was not Der Führer. He was Da Mayor of America.

Giorgio is…well, he’s a narcissistic asshole. There’s no other way to put it. Everyone knows there are only five bosses in the Cosa Nostra – Rizzo, Torrisi, Vitale, La Rosa, and Falco. The five families run New York, and no one dares go against them.

I can’t believe I just came face-to-face with Angelo Rizzo. God, the man is intense. And handsome. And freaking scary.

My cousin was supposed to take over the Rizzo seat in the Cosa Nostra, but he was assassinated by the Quintero cartel when they tried to move into New York. I was nineteen when I took over so my uncle could retire as head of the Rizzo family.

Fuck, has it already been fifteen years? Time flies when you’re making money. No wonder Uncle Maurizio’s been on my case about getting married. He’s scared I’ll be taken out before I get the chance to give the Rizzo family an heir.

the Romanos are way beneath the Rizzos. At least she’s fucking Sicilian. I shake my head again because I sure as fuck don’t want Giorgio for a brother-in-law.

Qué es un humano, sino una serie de olvidos justificados

Many organs in our bodies make molecules and release them into our bloodstream as a way to talk with other organs. These endocrine organs include the pancreas, the pituitary gland, the ovaries, and the testes. But few had thought of muscle as an endocrine organ until Pedersen’s work. Interleukin-6 was just the start. Scientists have now discovered over a hundred molecules that our muscles make and release into the blood as we walk. Pedersen’s team discovered that one of these, oncostatin M, shrank breast tissue tumors in mice and could be yet another reason why exercise is beneficial to humans with breast cancer. In 2003, Pedersen coined a name for this amazing family of molecules: myokines. As a myokine, interleukin-6 is an anti-inflammatory. Among other roles, it helps shut down the problematic tumor necrosis factor (TNF). It is the body’s natural ibuprofen. Pedersen’s team also discovered that interleukin-6 can mobilize cells called “natural killers” to attack and destroy cancerous tumors, at least in mice. For some reason, this myokine needs to be produced by muscles during exercise in order to work. But that does not require walking. Can the 3 million Americans in wheelchairs generate myokines? Yes. Researchers at the Department of Rehabilitation Medicine at Wakayama Medical University in Japan have discovered elevated interleukin-6 levels, and lowered tumor necrosis factor, after wheelchair half-marathons and basketball games. As Juliette Rizzo, 2005 Ms. Wheelchair America, said, “Walking is a way to get from A to B, and I do that.” Myokines, however, are not magic potions. They cannot be injected or swallowed. They are made only when the body is in motion, and in modern societies it often is not.

Difícil determinar lo que en el universo miniaturizado de los sueños sucede.

En el fondo, todos estamos en algún tipo de submarino, en cierta clase de océano insondable. Es nada más que una cuestión de tiempo hasta que lo entendamos. Hasta que el navío al que llamamos cuerpo, haga agua y nos deje tiesos

Es lo que tiene la grandeza: hasta el más pequeño puede reconocerla cuando se manifiesta de una forma tan directa.