Saturday, May 29, 2010

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THE END OF THE GAME

This week we have seen clearly that the time the government of President Zapatero and the PSOE has been completed. With the economy ailing and almost five million unemployed, with the confidence and the stock market in tatters and with outstanding international observatories in our country, Rodriguez Zapatero has exhausted all the credit, if he had any.

is already speculating on the possibility of early elections and is likely to happen, given that many political groups that supported the budgets of this Government in the past do not seem willing to do over the next.

I made it very clear Mr. Duran i Lleida , CiU, claiming that they abstained from voting on the famous "snip", but would vote against it in future budgets. Duran's attitude has been much lauded in much of the press but I think it is scandalous opportunism: they do not want early elections an overlap with the Catalan, to be held this fall. Therefore, exemplary attitude, no nothing.

And neither the PP Mariano Rajoy should rub his hands by these recent events, because in my humble opinion is not doing anything to prove they are real and strong alternative to ruin zapateresca. Should not rely on the state or imply dead Zapatero, who is tanned and Fox seems to have more lives than a cat.

In fact, I think that Zapatero will do everything possible and impossible to exhaust the Legislature and not to call elections. We already know that Zapatero is like those magicians who have always provided a rabbit out of his hat, and so far, somehow or other, has been saving from the burn. So I would not be dead Zapatero, although it is clear that the cycle as a politician, to use the words of Mr. Duran, he is "buttoned up."

no doubt that is the end of the game, the end of socialism zapateresco, but the agony can be long. May be forced to call early elections, but it gives me that your idea will endure as I can these two years left hoping to sell to the public the data from a timid economic recovery.

Endgame and to Zapatero, but you can follow the magician pulling a rabbit from a hat and the public increasingly unhappy with his tricks, you can send it to ride to the first opportunity. Hopefully events as coming really a warm autumn.

Until we meet again, dear friends, take care much and God bless you all.

Monday, May 17, 2010

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TRADITIONAL PRAYERS: Ave Verum

After Sunday will celebrate the Ascension of the Lord, today I bring you a new installment of the traditional prayers. It is this time of "Ave verum corpus" , better known as "Ave verum", meaning "Hail, true body".

seems that is a very ancient hymn of the Middle Ages, specifically the fourteenth century, and has been attributed to Pope Innocent VI. It is a liturgical hymn of the Eucharist itself, sings the belief in transubstantiation, that is, that is enshrined as the 'real body' of Christ, as in the wine is his blood. Just sung just after the consecration and is a beautiful hymn about Christ's presence in the Eucharist.

In these times when so many many times to attack the Catholic Church for no other reason than the hatred of a confession and an ancient faith, but do not read these hymns to comfort, despite the daily sufferings, and to strengthen our faith in God.

I leave you with the Latin version of "Ave verum" and its translation into Castilian as well as a musical version, that of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart , which is the known of all. It's a beautiful performance, led by Leonard Bernstein . Hope you like it.

Ave Verum Corpus

Ave verum corpus, natum
De Maria Virgine,
passum Vere, immolatum
In cruce pro homine,
deceased latus perforatum
Unda fluxit et sanguine,
Esto nobis praegustatum
In mortis exanime.  
O Iesu dulcis, o Iesu pie, o Iesu, Fili Mariae.  

SALVE, VERDADERO CUERPO  

Salve, Verdadero Cuerpo nacido  
de la Virgen María,
truly tormented, killed
on the cross for mankind,
whose pierced side
flowed water and blood
Be for us a foretaste
in the throes of death.
Oh, sweet Jesus, O merciful Jesus,
oh, Jesus son of Mary!




May God bless and Mary protect you forever. Until we meet again.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

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Chestertonian

It is still wonderful to see how the huge and stormy waters of the constantly growing Internet pages devoted to the figure of Gilbert Keith Chesterton . We would not be us alone in writing about the British teacher, missing more. There are many people that this writer and his work like so much that decided to occupy a good deal of time to write pages about the life and writings of English author colossal.

This comment comes to mind a comment I received yesterday from a page called Argentina Testing GK Chesterton of Fides and Ratio. This is a blog dedicated especially Chestertonian articles and essays, which provide translated into Castilian, which is a huge bonus for those who are not fluent in the language of Shakespeare and we approach the thought of Chesterton to fully understand .

This young blog has been open since 2009, but I foresee a long and fruitful life. I am sure that many texts give us Chesterton unaware or were in English and therefore were not accessible to the understanding of everyone. I invite you to visit their pages.

Another site I discovered recently and is also fully dedicated to our favorite author A called Nommo Chesterton, written in French. It is the website of the Association des Amis de GK Chesterton and, like all societies Chestertonian-whether Europe or America, devotes its efforts in raising awareness of the life and work of the great English polygraph, as well as all the writers who had a relationship with him, one way or another Belloc as , Bernard Shaw, Lewis , Baring or Tolkien.

This site, created in 2008, has a beautiful design and an interesting section of books on Chesterton, most written by French essayists, as expected. Deserves is worth visiting, even if we do not know French, because it has some references appealing about this author and his world.

To those already well known American Chesterton Society and The Chesterton Society, the UK, have been joined in recent times as the other Sociedad Argentina Chestertonia , that of Italy (with its excellent blog L'Uomo Vivo ) and the latter that I have glossed here, of France ( A Chesterton Nommo ). I have no doubt that others will appear, because the interest in Chesterton figure is growing. Proof of this are the pages mentioned, which have become small corners, across the world, from which radiates the thinking Catholic, Christian, sane and happy to be one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century.

Chesterton, as it is fashionable in the Internet network and that is cause for joy in our space, which is nothing more than a humble tribute to his life, his work and their ideas.

Beware much, God bless and until we meet again, friends.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

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PAGES OF TERROR CASTLE

THE CASTLE OF TERROR
(humorous tale of fear, a tribute to Bela Lugosi)


quite some time I needed a vacation and, finally, after some discussion with another my bosses, I could convince them to give me a license in one week and decided to get away as possible from the bustle and noise of the city's scandalous. They were already too many troubles of every day.

Determined to make the most of those well-deserved days off and rest, I took the car and went to a distant provincial town, where no doubt relieved to breathe and rest in peace. I had heard very good things that people unknown and lost, so it seemed good to go there to rest and find out for myself. It was a barely inhabited, very quiet and picturesque.

Thanks to the recommendation of a friend, I could stay at the only hostel in the population, called "Casa Inés", although none of the people who ran it was called Agnes, which did not stop surprising. The hostel had whitewashed walls and was a three-story house with few rooms, but clean and well arranged. I was lucky that gave me the saw, so that the views were wonderful. What sunsets enjoyed delicious!

Everything flowed peacefully until one night, the third happened in the village, it occurred to me to ask for some old castle, during my solitary walks about the place he had seen on the outskirts of town. It was the hostel owner, Don Facundo, who told me that the castle had belonged to a farmer in the neighboring town, but was abandoned for many years.

"However," whispered Don Facundo, "Some nights we heard noises in the castle and we saw lights turning off and on as if by magic. In any case nobody wants to risk a nighttime stroll around Castle and, of course, I would not recommend it. "

Stung by an insane given my natural curiosity and adventurous nature, I resolved to stop by the castle. If you were deserted, nothing could happen. And if someone lived in it, time was because it was discovered.

Uploaded on a bike that had given me, it did not take half an hour to reach the limits of the castle. The tower was demolished and its ruinous mole seemed to shout at the sky with a bleak sadness.

The wind howling and the owls troubled me for several minutes. Recovered from the shock, I took my flashlight and decided to go into the castle. The gate, old and dilapidated, did not offer any resistance. I went in and before my eyes I could see a spacious room filled with dust, cobwebs and junk everywhere. In front of me, a staircase led upstairs and I could not resist the temptation to climb it.

The upstairs was not in top condition. The total darkness just allowed me to distinguish some forms of others, but it was a cluster of antiques, dirt and old furniture.

Suddenly I heard a strange noise. A door creaked and a few steps, the steps of a stranger who came toward me! There was someone in the castle ... His heart began to latirme me tight and accelerated breathing. The steps were getting closer!

a bundle of nerves, I dropped the flashlight to the ground. Then I noticed how a cold hand touched my back. I screamed and tried to run from that ghostly apparition, but she stopped me and led me into the room from which it came.

the faint of candles, I envision the room where lived the strange, comprising an old table, a chair upholstered in green Gaunt and a coffin that was making a bed. Everywhere there leftover food and the air we breathed was strained by the sour smell of snuff and alcohol vapors.

"Calm down, dude," said the stranger. "I'm as surprised as you. Nobody had ever come to me, so I sort of glad your visit."

"Are you the owner of the castle?" I whispered, still trembling.

"No, indeed. My name is Anselmo Lugones. Many years ago I worked in this castle. Well see ... I made a living in the movies, scary movies, series B, and years ago we used this castle in several productions. Have you seen The Seven Brides of Dracula, The Curse of Dracula or The Return of the Living Dead ? "In my refusal, the man, almost an old man sighed several times, ran a hand through face, rough and wrinkled by the passage of time, and told me his story. The story of a sleazy actor (and unlucky) who had participated in some filming at the desolate castle.

"When the movie industry's fear of series B collapsed, I was on the dole. However, I was able to nostalgia, and I decided that was my home during those happy days. So I feel a bit like the evil count who appeared in those films, and even sleep in the coffin that we used in the shootings. subsist with some produce from the garden that I collected. The owner was not the wine cellar and with that and little more, I workaround. Please do not say anything in the villages around here. I live happy, almost like a hermit, and I will not bother anyone. "

I left him, even with a heavy heart. It was the scariest time I spent in my life. But fear gave way to sadness, because the history of failed Lugones Anselmo made me think about how ruthless and how unfair life is to some people.

I returned to the big city. Of course, none of the people told him about my adventure at the castle, but could never abandon the vision of that poor man, wandering alone through the ruins and dusty rooms of the castle as a lonely ghost, accounting for perhaps one last movie never see anyone.

course, was the last time I did ask for a rental permit. Poor, poor "count" Anselmo Just imagine him in that desolate place makes you break my heart and cry inconsolably.