Perguntas simples

Não será possível nomear Artur Baptista da Silva como consultor do Programa para o Desenvolvimento Humano das Pessoas Unidas sobre os impactos do cavaquismo em Portugal? Ou como Alto Comissário para os refugiados do passosgasparismo? E que tal, pura e simplesmente, alguém lhe perguntar o que acha do caso BPN, das origens e exploração do processo Freeport, das escutas à moda de Aveiro ou da “Inventona de Belém”?

Os portugueses têm direito à boa informação, pouco importa o canal utilizado.

3 thoughts on “Perguntas simples”

  1. Artur Batista Silva pode ter sido de muita utilidade para o país.

    Para mostrar ao mundo, tal como Alves dos Reis já tinha feito, como é fácil “brincar” com governações e regimes políticos sem pés nem cabeça.

    Já os “herois dos BPN e dos outros Bancos assim como os sindicalistas, todos estes anos chantagearam e achincalharam este regime político e seus diversos governos.

    Porque este regime por falta de ideias e patriotismo, apenas substituiu o «salazarismo».

    Ora como o «anti-salazarismo» não tem ideias nem patriotismo, nunca pode evitar um Alves dos Reis ou um Batista da Silva, ou um BPN.

    Foi o regime de Salazar que julgou e condenou Alves dos Reis.

    Obrigado Batista da Silva, que também envergonha o jornalismo!

  2. ignatz, agora que ouvi o postal musical da prostituta de Minneapolis, lembrei-me deste dramalhão da Carolina… Até te ofereço as lyrics, que estão demais.

    I’m not sure if there’s a point to this story
    But I’m going to tell it again
    So many other people try to tell the tale
    Not one of them knows the end

    It was a junk-house in South Carolina
    Held a boy the age of ten
    Along with his older brother Billy
    And a mother and her boyfriend
    Who was a triple loser with some blue tattoos
    That were given to him when he was young
    And a drunk temper that was easy to lose
    And thank god he didn’t own a gun

    Well, Billy woke up in the back of his truck
    Took a minute to open his eyes
    He took a peep into the back of the house
    And found himself a big surprise
    He didn’t see his brother but there was his mother
    With her red-headed head in her hands
    While the boyfriend had his gloves wrapped around an old priest
    Trying to choke the man

    Ah Ah Ahhh…

    Billy looked up from the window to the truck
    Threw up, and had to struggle to stand
    He saw that red-necked bastard with a hammer
    Turn the priest into a shell of a man
    The priest was putting up the fight of his life
    But he was old and he was bound to lose
    The boyfriend hit as hard as he could
    And knocked the priest right down to his shoes

    Well, now Billy knew but never actually met
    The preacher lying there in the room
    He heard himself say, “That must be my daddy”
    Then he knew what he was gonna do
    Billy got up enough courage, took it up
    And grabbed the first blunt thing he could find
    It was a cold, glass bottle of milk
    That got delivered every morning at nine

    Ah Ah Ahhh…

    Billy broke in and saw the blood on the floor, and
    He turned around and put the lock on the door
    He looked dead into the boyfriend’s eye
    His mother was a ghost, too upset to cry, then
    He took a step toward the man on the ground
    From his mouth trickled out a little audible sound
    He heard the boyfriend shout, “Get out!”
    And Billy said, “Not till I know what this is all about”
    “Well, this preacher here was attacking your mama”
    But Billy knew just who was starting the drama
    So Billy took dead aim at his face
    And smashed the bottle on the man who left his dad in disgrace, and
    The white milk dripped down with the blood, and the
    Boyfriend fell down dead for good
    Right next to the preacher who was gasping for air
    And Billy shouted, “Daddy, why’d you have to come back here?”
    His mama reached behind the sugar and honey, and
    Pulled out an envelope filled with money
    “Your daddy gave us this,” she collapsed in tears
    “He’s been paying all the bills for years”
    “Mama, let’s put this body underneath the trees
    and put Daddy in the truck and head to Tennessee”
    Just then, his little brother came in
    Holding the milk man’s hat and a bottle of gin singing,

    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la, la la la…
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la, la la la…
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah
    La la la la, la la la la, yeah

    Well now you heard another side to the story
    But you wanna know how it ends?
    If you must know, the truth about the tale
    Go and ask the milkman

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