Majoritatea spitalelor din judet refuza sa interneze copii handicapati de la Ionaseni, lasindu-i sa moara incet pe paturile lor din camin

Ultimul caz a fost inregistrat in urma cu o saptamina cind un copil diagnosticat la Ionaseni ca fiind suferind de hernie a fost plimbat pe drumuri, fiind refuzat de medicii de la Spitalul Municipal Dorohoi care au decis ca respectivul caz nu este de competenta lor. Copilul a fost transportat de urgenta la Botosani unde a stat internat o zi, timp in care nu i s-a facut nici o analiza, ci doar o simpla papaverina care ar fi putut fi facuta oricind la Ionaseni. La aceasta ora copilul este in stare grava, conducerea caminului facindu-si griji in privinta starii de sanatate a acestuia. In mai putin de o saptamina copilul a slabit mai mult de 10 kilograme, refuzind orice aliment.

Pai probabil ca mai sunt. Unde am zis eu ca nu mai sunt. La cum se poarta oamenii moderni cu ei asta e. Si de ce s-ar purta altfel, ei insisi sunt defectati de era moderna. Pentru ca societatea moderna sa functioneze de astia avem nevoie. Semi oameni, masini, suruburi, executanti, visatori la bani, etc.

Nu bani.

Hell's Angels - un trib modern.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2917470813040343101

Aceasi libertate individuala totala si lipsa ordinelor, nici unul din ei nu dadea ordine celorlalti, iar seful la fel ca seful de trib indian era sef pentru ca era respectat. Nu pentru ca avea el "functie". La fel ca seful de trib nici el nu putea da ordine directe sub amenintare. Era ascultat din respect. In rest orice "angel" putea sa plece daca avea chef, restul ii respectau decizia stiind ca nici lor nu le place sa le spuna nimeni ce sa faca. Avem deci o mare ceata de individualisti care nu accepta nici un ordin de la nimeni dar stau impreuna - pentru ca le place. Contribuie la grup si se ajuta intre ei fara sa ceara bani - gift based economy.

Mai sunt multe de spus.

se vede ca el o are cea mai mare, deci impune respect. Nici el nu ar putea da ordine directe sub amenintare, este ascultat doar din respect!

Nu stiti nimic. Imaginati-va ca merg Hell's Angels pe drum si incepe sefu :mergem in directia aia, fara explicatii ca asa vreau eu.

Nu stiti nimic. Imaginati-va ca merg Hell's Angels pe drum si incepe sefu :mergem in directia aia, fara explicatii ca asa vreau eu. Poate il asculta de curiosi. Daca o tine tot asa si in zilele urmatoare il lasa sa se duca singur. Nu sunt la armata. Ce va imaginati ca incepe sa-i bata sau ce ? Nu poate da ordine decat daca e respectat. Si nici nu sunt ordine sunt "idei" sau "sfaturi" - cand e ascultat.
Asa e intr-un trib/grup de prieteni. Asa erau si sefii la indieni, consiliul batranilor - care nu era ales, faceau parte din el oricine era mai batran, dadea sfaturi dar nu putea impune celor tineri ce sa faca.

Asa e intr-un trib/grup de prieteni. Asa erau si sefii la indieni, consiliul batranilor - care nu era ales, faceau parte din el oricine era mai batran, dadea sfaturi dar nu putea impune celor tineri ce sa faca.

Intre doua sesiuni de carat droguri peste granita si batut concurenta, cred ca se mai gandeste sefu' si la dickstractia motocicletilor sai... ii duce mai incolo la stripclub. Unde nobilul salbatic urmeaza "ideile" si "sfaturile" sefului.

You have church groups, relief agencies, military operators, social scientists, archeologist's, etc...all dying to get their hands on people like this. Of course, they would get killed trying to do it from the ground, these tribes will out and out kill you as an outsider. The west shows up with radios and food, they look at it hastly and toss it aside, tell you to leave. One kid starts messing with the radio and picks up some music, people in the tribe start to get intrigued. They open up the food, and have a taste, its good and safe. A few weeks later, a landrover shows up with more things, they communicate in archaic means, give them t-shirts with Nike logos and shoes to boot.

They move into the nearest big city, get shaved up, loose the war paint and get a job cleaning urinals at the local Hilton hotel. Before you know it, the tribe has lost contact with each other and the people individually begin to enter into a deep cycle of poverty, they are unbelievably sad. They get a group of people back together, by shear luck, they take a bus to the border of the inhabited areas, they go and take rental cars as far as they can go. They walk back into their lands, its nothing but smoke, machinery, cane fields and a totally lost culture. They go back, live off the rest of their lives a miserable existence. In Brazil, we talked to Army guys that were born into these kinds of situations, they can talk about this stuff at great length. It so sad to listen to, they were living a fairly decent life. They had death and other issues, but at the very least they were happy, until man showed up and tempted them.

The story gets repeated over and over again so many times people have lost count. When I would train in areas like this in S.A., we would run into friendly tribes, I always told them to just hold onto what you have and ignore us. We cannot do anything better for you than you can for yourself. We are just passing through. The only time I'd do anything for them was to help someone who was injured, I had medicine so I gave it to them. Never stayed to see if the antibiotics worked out, but thats about the limit of my engagements. They need to be left alone, its better in the jungle than in the city.

Hell's Angels asta sunt - un trib fara teritoriu. Fata de sistem ei sunt "banditi". Intre ei sunt frati. Aceleasi legaturi povestite de aia care au fost la razboi impreuna. Asa erau si vechile triburi. Hell's Angels nu vin la tine in oras sa "loot and pillage". Desi sunt "rebeli" si cauta libertatea, ei nu ii vad pe ceilalti oameni ca "tribul inamic". Stiu ca oamenii obisnuiti nu au nimic cu ei.

Conteaza cum se poarta oamenii din trib intre ei. Din afara pot fi vazuti ca salbatici sau "derbedei". E normal sa fie in conflict cu civilizatia, nu au un teritoriu al lor unde sa poata trai din ce au acolo - fara sa munceasca. Cum au facut oamenii milioane de ani si inca fac lucrul asta unde nu am ajuns "noi".
Ideea ca de la o anumita varsta in viata e normal sa iti pierzi 8 ore pe zi facand lucruri neinteresante (asa trbuie sa fie) e propaganda. Divide et impera. Cultura stapanilor de sclavi. Numai divizati acceptam asa ceva. Si suntem divizati-separati intre noi inca de la gradinita. Chiar mai devreme.
Am spus - copii din triburi nu au jocuri competitive nici jocuri de-a razboiul. Nu simteau nevoia sa dovedeasca ceva pentru a fi "acceptati". Simteau deja ca sunt acceptati total si nu mai aveau nevoie sa dovedeasca nimic nimanui.

Hell's Angels asta sunt - un trib fara teritoriu. Fata de sistem ei sunt "banditi". Intre ei sunt frati.

De asta admir eu triburile : libertate, modul in care oamenii se poarta intre ei, lipsa muncii, toata viata fiind o joaca. Neverland ? Ia ziceti de ce sunt copii fascinati de "Pirati" ?

Am spus - copii din triburi nu au jocuri competitive nici jocuri de-a razboiul.

Era un interviu prin filmul de mai sus "Cum e sa locuiesti pe aceasi strada cu Hell's Angels ?" "Foarte bine, ne ajuta sunt respectuosi si nici un hot nu indrazneste sa vina aici" .

Then there are the Chugach Natives of Alaska. The Port of Valdez, Alaska, is arguably one of the most valuable pieces of real estate on Earth, the only earthquake-safe ice-free port in Alaska that could load oil from the giant North Slope field. In 1969, Exxon and British Petroleum companies took the land from the Chugach and paid them one dollar. I kid you not.

Wally Hickel, the former Governor of Alaska, dismissed my suggestion that the Chugach deserved a bit more respect (and cash) for their property. "Land ownership comes in two ways, Mr. Palast." explained the governor and pipeline magnate, "Purchase or conquest. The fact that your granddaddy chased a caribou across the land doesn't make it yours." The Chugach had lived there for 3,000 years.

No oil company would dream of digging on the Bush family properties in Midland, Texas, without paying a royalty. Or drilling near Malibu without the latest in environmental protections. But when Natives are on top of Exxon's or BP's glory hole, suddenly, the great defenders of private property rights turn quite Bolshevik: lands can be seized for The Public's Need for Oil.

Some Natives are "re-located" through legal flim-flam, some at gunpoint. The less lucky are left to wallow, literally, in the gunk left by the drilling process.

One of the most pernicious manifestations of the control and, therefore, elimination of play has come through organized sports, which started with Little League and extend today into all sports and all age groups. The sandlot, the playground, the neighborhood, and the vacant lot, where children were once free to hammer out their own rules, choose their own teams, and resolve their own disputes, have been replaced by yet another supervised realm where play means going through a prescribed set of motions and where the social interaction is mediated and guided by authority. In a way, the children do not play the game at all: the game plays the children, who are just accessories, placeholders fulfilling functions determined by rules created and enforced by adults. Here play has lost its essential creative nature. I do not know what to call it, but it really is not play any more at all. It is, however, an excellent conditioning method for producing people who look to authority for instructions on how to "play the game". Have you ever felt like you are, still, one of these "placeholders" fulfilling functions determined and enforced by some unchallengeable authority?

The globe of my childhood was already a step away from real life, the open-ended infinite that is nature, the real world. Already, what I was exploring was a manufactured representation of the world. At least, though, my experience within the confines of that representation was unprogrammed. Through my imaginings, I still played with that globe. It did not play me, turn me into its operator, the button-pusher that moves the game from start to finish.

Like a child moving through his lessons at school, making his way through the prescribed body of information that constitutes an "education," like a bunch of confused six-year-olds trying to follow the instructions of their t-ball coach, so do we move through modern life. We go through the steps of a life prepared for us by others, a life that is not our own. As the final step in the conversion of the whole world into money, we are selling off our very lives.

What is important here is not so much money but control. The destruction of the human spirit, accomplished mostly during childhood and maintained to the grave, is another aspect of the taming of the wild, the conquest of nature, the fulfillment of the technological and scientific program at the level of the individual. Life, in other words, has been brought under control, or so we would persuade ourselves. Why else the emphasis on safety, security, and practicality? As observed, these boil down to an emphasis on survival, which, in our specialized society, is a function of money. Again, we are selling off our very lives, purchasing experiences instead of creating them, being run by our machines, our schedules, our clocks and our calendars. Time is money.

There are other aspects to the conversion of spiritual capital into money, the diminishment of the human spirit for the sake of profit. Each human being is born as a magnificent, creative, spontaneous spirit, an enormous spiritual being capable of incredible feats of learning. To reduce that spirit to something willing to occupy one of the narrow, meaningless roles in society as we know it, to make that spirit accept the imitation of life today's world offers (and upon which our economy depends), is an enormous enterprise and a shameful crime. We do not really understand what is happening when, as children and teenagers, vast swaths of our spirit are sold off to the demands of the monetized world. We know only that we have been robbed.

Vedeti compania aia din Japonia care scaneaza fata angajatilor cu un computer sa fie siguri ca zambesc pentru clienti.

Daca insa se intampla sa faci cea ce faci la munca, pentru ca iti place, fara program, sefi, instructiuni, sau probleme de profit, chiar daca este exact acelasi lucru - aia nu e munca, e joaca si asa trebuie sa fie tot ce facem.

"The twentieth-century linguistic revolution," says Boston University anthropologist Misia Landau, "is the recognition that language is not merely a device for communicating ideas about the world, but rather a tool for bringing the world into existence in the first place. Reality is not simply `experienced' or `reflected' in language, but instead is actually produced by language. "

From the point of view of the psychedelic shaman, the world appears to be more in the nature of an utterance or a tale than in any way related to the leptons and baryons or charge and spin that our high priests, the physicists, speak of. For the shaman, the cosmos is a tale that becomes true as it is told, and as it tells itself.
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Because our maps of reality are determined by our present circumstances, we tend to lose awareness of the larger patterns of time and space. Only by gaining access to the Transcendent Other can those patterns of time and space and our role in them be glimpsed. Shamanism strives for this higher point of view, which is achieved through a feat of linguistic prowess. A shaman is one who has attained a vision of the beginnings and the endings of all things and who can communicate that vision. To the rational thinker, this is inconceivable, yet the techniques of shamanism are directed toward this end and this is the source of their power.

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Common sense assumes that, though languages are always evolving, the raw stuff of what language expresses is relatively constant and common to all humans. Yet we also know that the Hopi language has no past or future tenses or concepts. How, then, can the Hopi world be like ours? And the Inuit have no first-person pronoun. How, then, can their world be like ours?

E foarte interesant ce spui legat de cuvantul "noi". Ma gandesc ca poate fi doar o "mostenire" straveche a limbii tribului, pentru ca nu-mi pot imagina ca mai poti fi atat de liber si individualist asimilandu-l permanent cu ideea de unitate a comunitatii.

Crezi ca putea cineva sa ii dea ordine lui Crazy Horse ? Sau oricarui indian ? Intre ei nici unul nu ii spunea altuia ce sa faca, la fel cum intre prieteni nu ai nici o dorinta sa incepi sa dai ordine. Nu exista un ego separat de trib.

Crezi ca putea cineva sa ii dea ordine lui Crazy Horse ? Sau oricarui indian ? Intre ei nici unul nu ii spunea altuia ce sa faca, la fel cum intre prieteni nu ai nici o dorinta sa incepi sa dai ordine. Nu exista un ego separat de trib.

Ai fost vreodata in vreo rezervatie a indienilor de acolo ?

Adica zici ca era un trib fara sef si fara sfatul batranilor? Ma cam indoiesc...
Daca niste oameni sunt prieteni, asta nu inseamna ca nu se vor sfatui niciodata, ceea ce inseamna ca unul dintre ei. la un moment dat, poate sa asculte ce-i spune altul sa faca.

The Moken, also known as the "sea gypsies", are a nomadic people living off the coasts of Burma and Thailand.

In their language, there is no word for " want."

Think about it.
(Above reported in The Sunday Times.)

This reminded me of my visit to the Quechuan Indians high up in the Andes in Peru in 1998. Most of the tribe had never met anyone from the " developed world" at that time.

In their language, there is no word for "I" nor indeed is there any word for "doubt."

I recall asking one of their leaders whether or not he ever got depressed. My English was translated to Spanish and then to Quechuan. Pasculito the Shaman was mindboggled by this word. Couldn't understand it!

No want, no I, no doubt - developed wisdom from an "undeveloped world."

Fa ceva care sa nege idea ca esti prieten cu ceilalti si o sa fii "pedepsit".

The pre-separation mind is able to affirm, all at once and without contradiction, "I am this body," "I am this tribe," "I am the jungle," "I am the world." No matter how much of the jungle we control, we are smaller than the one who knows, "I am the jungle." No matter how dominant we are socially, we are far less than one who knows, "I am my tribe." And far less secure, too, because all of these appendages to our tiny separate selves may be easily sundered from us

"anomalie" ? Ce i aia ?
"de aceasi natura" ?
Vezi mai sus. Treaba cu lipsa "eu" era des intalnita in triburi.

toti indienii au harley davidson si sunt membri cu carnetel in clubul de golf hell's angels.

What, then, of the victims? What shall we say to the men, women, and children whose ruined lives have followed in the wake of our "ascent"? Should we not lament the billions of passenger pigeons whose flocks once darkened the skies? Should we not mourn the dodo, the great auk, the American chestnut, and the millions more now following them to extinction? What of the elder bushes, a century old, keystone species of a fantastic ecology torn up and paved over to build a new road? What of the forests turned to deserts? The native children shot for sport by white settlers? The women tortured and burned alive as witches for practicing herbal medicine? The schoolchildren today, cajoled, coerced, and medicated into spending the Kingdom of Childhood behind a desk, in a room, standing in line? The coal miners of 19th-century England, emerging decades later stunted, broken, and destitute from the mines? The babies deprived of the breast? The women raped, the men tortured and killed, the children watching the soldiers who did it? What can we say of the concentration camps, Auschwitz, the Gulag, the unspeakable hardship of the men sentenced to a lingering death at hard labor? What shall we say to the victims of communist purges, and to the families sent a bill for the executioner's bullet? What of the black man beaten and lynched, and a picture postcard of the event sent to his mother? What shall we say to the starving children, past the point of hunger, bodies falling apart? And what shall we say to their mothers? And what of the children working working in toy factories, rug factories, chocolate plantations? The countless assembly line workers, their human creativity reduced to a few rote movements, producing empty consumer junk out of toxic materials destined sooner rather than later for the landfill? The betrayal after betrayal of the Native Americans, people massacred, lands cheated, religion outlawed, culture purposefully destroyed? The cancer victims of a poisoned world? The slaves long ago who labored on the Pyramids? Contrast a life carrying stone to the life of a hunter-gatherer, and the bargain we have made becomes clear. In this, the first monument to the Machine, the folly and the horror of our ascent is clear: an exchange of life for labor to erect a useless edifice.

It's all gone wrong. Our belief in everything has been shattered by a series of shock revelations that have shaken our core to its core. You can't move for toppling institutions. Television, the economy, the police, the House of Commons, and, most recently, the press ... all revealed to be jam-packed with liars and bastards and graspers and bullies and turds.

And we knew. We knew. But we were deep in denial, like a cuckolded partner who knows the sorry truth but tries their best to ignore it. Over the last 18 months the spotlight of truth has swung this way and that, and one institution after another was suddenly exposed as being precisely as rotten as we always thought it was. What's that? Phone-in TV quizzes might a bit of con? The economic boom is an unsustainable fantasy? Riot police can be a little "handy"? MPs are greedy? The News of the World might have used underhand tactics to get a story? What next? Oxygen is flavourless? Cows stink at water polo? Children are overrated? We knew all this stuff. We just didn't have the details.

What about each other? Society? Can we trust us? Doubt it. We're probably not even real, as was revealed in the popular documentary The Matrix. That bloke next door? Made of pixels. Your co-workers? Pixels. You? One pixel. One measly pixel. You haven't even got shoes, for Christ's sake.

As the very fabric of life breaks down around us, even language itself seems unreliable. These words don't make sense. The vowels and consonants you're hearing in your mind's ear right now are being generated by mere squiggles on a page or screen. Pointless hieroglyphics. Shapes. You're staring at shapes and hearing them in your head. When you see the word "trust", can you even trust that? Why? It's just shapes!

Right now all our faith has poured out of the old institutions, and there's nowhere left to put it. We need new institutions to believe in, and fast. Doesn't matter what they're made of. Knit them out of string, wool, anything. Quickly, quickly. Before we start worshipping insects.

— Corect. Povestirea pe care Takerii o pun în scenă aici de zece mii de ani nu doar că e dezastruoasă pentru omenire şi pentru această lume, ci e şi fundamental nesănătoasă şi nesatisfăcătoare. Este fantezia unui megaloman, iar punerea ei în în scenă a dat Takerilor o cultură ciuruită de lăcomie, cruzime, boli mentale, infracţiuni şi dependenţă de droguri.
— Da, aşa se pare.
— Povestirea pe care Leaverii o pun în scenă aici de trei milioane de ani nu-i o povestire a cuceririi şi a stăpânirii. Punerea ei în scenă nu le dă putere. În schimb, punerea ei în scenă le dă vieţi satisfăcătoare şi pline de semnificaţie. Aste vei găsi printre aceştia. Ei nu fierb de nemulţumire şi de rebeliune, nu se ciondănesc veşnic, dezbătând ce ar trebui permis şi ce ar trebui interzis, nu se acuză intr-una unii pe alţii cum că nu trăiesc cum trebuie, nu trăiesc în teroare unii faţă de ceilalţi, nu-şi pierd minţile pentru că vieţile lor par atât de goale şi lipsite de sens, nu au nevoie să se drogheze cu stupefiante pentru a putea rezista încă o zi, nu inventează câte o nouă religie săptămânal pentru a avea ceva de care să se agaţe, nu caută într-una ceva de făcut sau ceva în care să creadă care să le facă vieţile să merite a fi trăite. Şi repet, asta nu-i din cauză că trăiesc aproape de natură sau pentru că nu au nici un fel de conducere formală sau pentru că ar fi nobili din naştere. E pur şi simplu din cauză că pun în scenă o povestire care funcţionează foarte bine pentru oameni, o povestire care a funcţionat bine timp de trei milioane de ani, şi care încă mai funcţionează bine acolo unde Takerii încă n-au reuşit s-o strivească sub picioare.

Intr-adevar nu mai e nici o valoare a civilizatiei care sa merite respectata.

Asa e la moda acu. Pe vremuri era franceza.

Asa e la moda acu. Pe vremuri era franceza.

Takerii, Leaverii
What a f..k is[/url]

One of the most pernicious manifestations of the control and, therefore, elimination of play has come through organized sports, which started with Little League and extend today into all sports and all age groups.