(click on the image to enlarge)

Sou um azarado de um sortudo.

"We have retreated from the perennial values. I don't think that we need any new values. The most important thing is to try to revive the universally known values from which we have retreated.
As a young man, I really took to heart the Communist ideals. A young soul certainly cannot reject things like justice and equality. These were the goals proclaimed by the Communists. But in reality that terrible Communist experiment brought about repression of human dignity. Violence was used in order to impose that model on society. In the name of Communism we abandoned basic human values. So when I came to power in Russia I started to restore those values; values of "openness" and freedom"
(Mikhail Gorbachev, 1997)

"I made a mistake in presuming that the self-interests of organizations, specifically banks and others, were such as that they were best capable of protecting their own shareholders and their equity in the firms"
(Alan Greenspan, 2008)

Precipitei para as escadas rolantes - "Please stand to your right" - assim fiz.

A escadaria parecia infindável pelo que, involuntariamente, me deixei invadir pela pela panóplia de imagens que acompanhavam a descida.

-"Excuse me, excuse me"- gritou um autóctone em passo acelerado pela esquerda - imperturbável olhei-o com desdém e pensei - Este caralho é estúpido! O tempo que não espera nas escadas tem de cumprir na plataforma...

A gestão do "underground" estava entregue a Lúcifer e, embora Hades e Plutão ainda fizessem parte da administração já não eram tidos nem achados nas grandes decisões da empresa - aliás, rezam as más linguas que Perséfone até batia no marido como consequência da sua inutilidade atirando -lhe constantemente à cara o exemplo de Caronte - incapaz de aderir ao dinheiro de plástico e ao "Oyster Card" foi despedido e tornou-se arrumador de carros (Cf,Martins, João).

Eskimo Nell

Traditional lyrics

There are multiple variations to the poem and some stanzas are left out of certain versions but the basic narrative structure remains constant. It details the adventures of the generously-endowed Deadeye Dick and his gunslinging sidekick, Mexican Pete. Fed up with their sex life at Dead Man's Creek, they travel to the Rio Grande. There they visit a whore-house, but before Dick has finished with two out of the 40 whores, they are confronted by Eskimo Nell. She is described as something of a sexual champion, and challenges Dick to satisfy her. Dick accepts but Nell's skill and power soon gets the better of him and he climaxes prematurely. Pete attempts to avenge his mate's affront by sticking his gun up Nell and firing all six rounds but all this achieves is to bring Nell to her own orgasm. Disappointed, Eskimo Nell chides the pair for their poor performance. She expresses nostalgia for her home in the frozen North, where the men apparently have better staying power. Dick and Pete return to Dead Man's Creek, their pride severely dented.

The opening lines (in one version) are:

Gather 'round, all ye whorey!

Gather 'round and hear my story!

When a man grows old, and his balls grow cold,

And the tip of his prick turns blue,

Far from a life of Yukon strife,

He can tell you a tale or two.

So pull up a chair, and stand me a drink,

And a tale to you I will tell,

About Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete,

And a harlot named Eskimo Nell.

Other stanzas:

When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete

Go forth in search of fun,

It's Dead-Eye Dick that swings the prick,

And Mexican Pete the gun.

When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete

Are sore, depressed and sad,

It's always a cunt that bears the brunt,

But the shooting's not so bad

Now Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete

Lived down by Dead Man's Creek,

And such was their luck that they'd had no fuck

For nigh on half a week.

Oh, a moose or two, and a caribou,

And a bison cow or sow,

But for Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick,

This fucking was mighty slow.

Dick pound on his cock with a huge piece of rock

And said, "I want to play!"

It's been almost a week at this fucking creek,

With no cunt coming my way.

So, do or dare, this horny pair

Set off for the Rio Grand.

Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick,

And Pete with his gun in hand.

Then as they blazed their noisy trail,

No man, their path withstood.

Many a bride, her husbands pride,

A pregnant widow stood.

They reached the strand of the Rio Grand
At the height of a blazing noon.
To slake their thirst, and do their worst,
They sought Black Mike's saloon.

The swinging doors they pushed back wide,
Both prick and gun flashed free.
"According to sex, you bleeding wrecks,
You'll drink or you'll fuck with me!"

Now, they'd heard of the prick of Dead-Eye Dick,
From the Yukon to Panama,
So, with scarcely worse than a muttered curse,
The fellows all sought the bar.

When Dick walked in to a house of sin,
The whores all cursed their luck,
Not even a tart dared let out a fart,
When he said - "I want to fuck!"

The girls they knew of his playful ways
Down on the Rio Grande,
And forty whores pulled down their drawers
At Dead-eye Dick's command.

For they saw the finger of Mexican Pete
Move on the trigger grip,
So they didn't wait and at a fearful rate
Those whores began to strip.

Now, Dead-Eye Dick was breathing quick
With lecherous snorts and grunts,
So forty butts were bared to view,
And likewise forty cunts.

Now, forty butts and forty cunts,
If you can use your wits,
And if you're slick, at arithmetic,
Makes exactly eighty tits.

Sure, eighty tits are a gladsome sight
For a man with a raging stand.
It may be rare in Berkeley Square,
But not on the Rio Grande!

Now Dead-Eye Dick had fucked a few
On the last preceding night,
This he had done just to have some fun
And to whet his appetite.

His phallic limb was in fucking trim.
As he backed and took a run,
He made a dart at the nearest tart,
and scored a hole in one.

The lady he bore to the dusty floor,
And there he filled her fine,
And though she grinned, it put the wind
Up the other thirty-nine.

When Dead-Eye Dick lets loose his prick,
He has no time to spare,
With speed and strength, combined with length,
He fairly singes hair.

He had made a dart at the next fair tart,
When into that harlot's hell
Strode a gentle maid who was unfraid:
Her name was Eskimo Nell.

But Dead-Eye Dick had got his prick
Well into number two,
When Eskimo Nell let out a yell.
She bawled to him, "Hey, you!"

Dick gave a flick of his muscular prick,
And the girl flew over his head,
He then wheeled about with an angry shout;
His face and his balls were red.

Nell glanced our hero up and down,
His looks she seemed to decry.
With utter scorn, she sneered at the horn
Which rose from his hairy thigh.

She blew the smoke of her cigarette
All over his steaming knob.
So utterly beat was Mexican Pete
That he failed to do his job.

It was Eskimo Nell who broke the spell
In accents clear and cool:
"You cunt-struck shrimp of a Yankee pimp!
You call that thing a tool?

"If this here town can't take that down,"
She said to those cowering whores,
"There's another cunt that can do the stunt,
But it Eskimo Nell's, not yours."

She dropped her garments one by one
With an air of consumate pride,
And as she stood in her womanhood,
They saw the Great Divide.

She seated herself on a table top,
Where someone had left a glass.
With a twitch of her tits, she crushed it to bits
Between the cheeks of her ass.

She flexed her knees with supple ease,
And spread her thighs apart.
With a friendly nod to the mangy sod,
She gave him the cue to start.

Now, Dead-Eye Dick knew more than one trick,
And he meant to take his time,
For a woman like this was orgasmic bliss,
So he played the pantomime.

He flexed his asshole to and fro,
And made his balls inflate,
Until they looked like the granite knobs
On the top of a palace gate.

He blew his anus inside out,
His balls increased in size,
His mighty prick grew twice as thick
And reached almost to his eyes.

He polished his dick with alcohol,
Then, to make it steaming hot,
He finished the job, when he sprinkled his knob
With a cayenne pepperpot.

Then he did neither start to run
Nor did he take a leap,
Nor did he stoop, but with a swoop
Began a steady, forward creep.

As a marksman might, he took a sight
Along his mighty tool,
And his steady grin as he pushed it in
Showed a calculated cool.

Have you ever seen the pistons
On the mighty C.P.R.,
With the driving force of a thousand horse?
Well, then you know what pistons are.

Or, you think you do, but you've yet to see
The ins and outs of the trick
Of the work that's done on a non-stop run
By a fellow like Dead-Eye Dick.

But Eskimo Nell was no infidel,
As good as a whole harem
With the strength of ten in her abdomen
And the Rock of Ages between.

With nary a scream, she could take the stream
Like the flush of a watercloset.
Now, she gripped his cock like a Chatswood Lock
On the National Safe Deposit.

But Dead-Eye Dick would not come quick,
He meant to conserve his powers,
For if he'd a mind, he'd grind and grind
For sixteen solid hours.

Nell lay a while with a subtle smile,
Then the grip of her cunt grew keener,
And a squeeze of her thigh then sucked him dry
With the ease of a vacuum cleaner.

She performed this trick in a way so slick
As to set in complete defiance
The principal cause and basic laws
That govern sexual science.

She calmly rode through the phallic code
Which for years had withstood the test,
And the ancient rules of the classic schools
In a moment or two, went west.

Right here, my friend, we come to the end
Of copulation's classic:
The effect on Dick was sudden and quick
And akin to an anaesthetic.

He fell to the floor, and he knew no more,
His passions extinct and dead,
Nor did he shout as his cock fell out,
Though 'twas stripped right down to a thread.

Then, Mexican Pete did leap to his feet
To avenge his pal's affront,
With a jarring jolt of his blue-nosed Colt,
He rammed it up Nellie's cunt.

He rammed it hard to the trigger guard,
Then fired two times three,
But to his surprise, Nell closed her eyes
And smiled in ecstacy.

She rose to her feet with a smile so sweet,
Then "Bully," she said, "for you.
Though I might have guessed that that was the best
That you two poor pimps could do.

"When next, my friend, that you intend
To sally forth for fun,
Buy Dead-Eye Dick a sugar stick,
And yourself an elephant gun.

"I'm going forth to the frozen North
Where the peckers are hard and strong,
Back to the land of the frozen stand
Where the nights are six months long.

"It's hard as tin when they put it in
In the land where spunk is spunk.
Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream,
But a solid, frozen chunk.

"Back to the land where they understand
What it means to fornicate,
Where even the dead sleep two in a bed
And the babies masturbate.

"Back to the land of the grinding gland,
Where the walrus plays with his prong,
Where the polar bear wanks off in his lair,
That's where they'll sing this song.

"They'll tell this tale on the Arctic trail
Where the nights are sixty below,
Where it's so damn cold the jonnies are sold
Wrapped up in a ball of snow.

"In the Valley of Death with baited breath,
That's where they'll sing it too,
Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle
And the rotting corpses screw.

"Back to the land where men are Men,
I'll say 'Terra Bellicum,'
And there I'll spend my worthy end,
For the North is calling: 'Come!'"

Then Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Slunk away from the Rio Grande,
Dead-Eye Dick with his useless prick,
And Pete with no gun in his hand.

The closing stanza mimics the opening:

When a man grows old, and his balls grow cold,

And the tip of his prick turns blue,

And the hole in the middle refuses to piddle,

I'd say he was fucked, wouldn't you?

Nautical or Maritime Tattoos - are tattoos derived from the very roots and history of modern tattooing. Sailors were among the first to revive the art and practice of tattooing when they visited the islands of Polynesia in the South Pacific and other lands in Southeast Asia. Captain Cook in his famous explorations to Tahiti, Hawaii and New Zealand was the first to record the tattooing of the indigenous people in 1786. The word tattoo in the English language come from the Tahitian word, 'ta-taw', which was thought to mimic the sound made by the traditional Polynesian tattooing implements as they made a tattoo. When the sailors returned to Europe with tattoos that were essentially exotic souvenirs of their travels and adventures, European audiences were fascinated.

Life at sea was hard and only the toughest men survived. Sailors, being at the mercy of the wind and the sea and the elements, and the very capriciousness of Mother Nature, were a very superstitious lot. It did not take long for them to build up an extraordinarily elaborate set of tattoo symbols that spoke a language all their own. Tattoos told the story of were a sailor had traveled, if he had been around Cape Horn or crossed the Equator, if he had visited the Orient. Many of the tattoos were amulets and talismans of protection to keep from falling overboard, drowning or being eaten by a shark.

From tattooing the words on their knuckles, to numerous tattoo designs and symbols like the Nautical Star that were meant to keep them safe and guide them safely back to their home port. Many sailors used to tattoo images of their full-rigged ships on their bodies, often taking up large spaces on their chest, backs and arms to pay respects to their homes upon the waves. Often times, despite their often raucous and rowdy lifestyle, many sailors would have religious images and icons tattooed upon their backs, sometimes even full Psalms or the Lord's Prayer. Part of this was to remind themselves to be virtuous, but it was also believed that you were less likely to as flogged as severely if you got twenty lashes across your back for misbehaving!

The expression Stewed, Screwed and Tattooed comes from this Maritime tradition - it was a colourful synopsis of shore leave for many sailors after having spent many months at sea! A good port of call for men who worked at sea often earned it's reputation by the qualities - or lack thereof - of it's drinking establishments, women and tattoo artists.

And of course many sailors at sea often thought of their families and the girls they had left behind in port, whether it was one port or two ports or even more! Mermaids and pin-up girls, hearts and the names of loved ones were always popular with sailors.

Tattooing HOLD on the fingers of the right hand, just below the knuckles, and FAST in the same place on the left hand, in the hopes that it would keep the sailor from losing his grip high in the riggings of the ship.

A Swallow tattoo was for a sailor who logged five thousand miles at sea. At ten thousand miles a sailor could add a second Swallow. Swallow tattoos were also thought to be good luck in finding land and in returning to your home port.

An Anchor usually meant that a sailor had sailed across the Atlantic Ocean.

A Sea Turtle showed that a sailor had sailed across the Equator

A Dragon tattoo showed that a sailor had sailed into a port in China.

A Golden Dragon was for sailors who had crossed the International Date Line.

A Rope Knot, was meant to denote a Four Knot Sailor, or one who had crossed the Equator, International Date Line, Arctic and Antarctic circles.

A Full-Rigged Ship meant that a sailor had made the passage around Cape Horn.

Traditionally, a sailor who had rounded Cape Horn was entitled to wear a gold loop earring — in the left ear, the one which had faced the Horn in a typical eastbound passage — and to dine with one foot on the table; a sailor who had also rounded the Cape of Good Hope could place both feet on the table.

Another tradition holds that the practice of wearing gold hoops or earrings among sailors was that should you drown at sea and wash up on a strange shore, the gold in the earring would pay for a decent Christian burial.

Another source says that in addition to the Full-Rigged Ship tattoo that a sailor was entitled to get for having rounded Cape Horn, he could also get a small blue star on the left ear. Five times 'round the Cape, and you could add a star to the right ear. And if you were a salty enough old sea-dog to make the perilous passage ten times, you were entitled to two red dots on your forehead!

A Pig tattooed on the top of one foot, and a Rooster tattooed on the top of the other foot - so that if the sailor did fall into the water they would quickly make it to land because it was thought that pigs and roosters couldn't swim!

A Shark tattoo was to prevent a sailor from being eaten if they fell overboard by the sharks that often trailed after sailing ships, especially whaling ships, looking for scraps. No sailor wanted to be dinner scraps for a shark!

Rock of Ages, and other religious imagery was often tattooed on the back to ensure that the First Mate might not flog you too badly.

Port and Starboard ship lights - Port (left) and Starboard (right) - were tattooed on either side of the body. It was also thought that such tattoos would help a sailor stay on the right course.

Nautical Star tattoos were to guide a sailor home.

Compass tattoos were also meant to guide a sailor home.

Propellers were tattooed on the buttocks to propel a sailor through life. Usually a tattoo favored by sailors who were stokers, and who shovelled coal deep in the belly of a ship to fuel the boilers that powered steam ships.

Rope, tattooed around a wrist denoted that the sailor was a deckhand.

Oil Here, around the belly button means a ship's engineer - or 'snipe'.

A tattoo of Crossed Anchors was meant to denote a Boatswains Mate.

Pin-up Girls, Hula Girls and Mermaids were all tattoos to remind sailors what awaited them in Port.

Mermaid tattoos were also thought to be lucky if you fell overboard.

See also: Bluebirds, Dolphins, Jolly Roger, Jesus, Polynesian Tattooing, Pirates, Praying Hands, Heart, Homeward Bound, Scripts and Scrolls, Skull and Cross Bones

you are always on my mind...

Um erro e vem logo o insulto...
Não era preciso chamarem-me nomes: - guionista; actor :(

"Causa-me um certo espanto, ou não, que guionistas e actores que se dão ao luxo de gozar com a ignorância da população portuguesa escrevam "anti-matéria". Fica bem patente o seu nível intelectual."

Os Contemporâneos

O Acelerador de Partículas - Anti-Matéria

A bela comidinha da Puta...

A Cubata...