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P.D. Si la ven, comenten.
P.D.2 Noten la magnitud de la advertencia: está en letras rojas mayúsculas y enormes.
P.D.3 La escena del video en el Iphone se merece su propio premio GOLDEN RASPBERRY especial

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Recuerdo haber visto, no hace mucho, en el Museo Tamayo,
un inquietante video. Había, en alguna sala, una pantalla
y, en pantalla, apenas tres elementos: una blanca galería de
arte, un lobo, un venado. Trasladados a ese espacio, el lobo y el
venado deambulaban aturdidos, uno alrededor del otro. Antes
que atacar o defenderse, parecían querer vislumbrar sus roles.
¿Quién era la víctima? ¿Cuál el verdugo? Una coreografía semejante
ocurre en Mentes en blanco (Unknown, 2006), la aplaudida
opera prima de Simon Brand que será estrenada próximamente
en México. La anécdota es casi la misma: cinco hombres despiertan,
perplejos, en una abandonada planta de productos químicos.
No recuerdan, ninguno, absolutamente nada: no sus
nombres ni sus pasados ni los motivos por los que se encuentran,
todos, en el mismo sitio. Un detalle y luego otro terminan
por revelarles que son parte de un secuestro en proceso: algunos
de ellos son criminales; otros, rehenes. ¿Quiénes son las víctimas?
¿Cuáles los verdugos?RAFAEL LEMUS
Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his ass to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell.
This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventri-liquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called The Better Ole that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, "Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?" "Nah I had to go relieve myself."
After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in-curving hooks and start eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth.
Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him "It's you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat AND shit". After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpoles tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell.
So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous - except for the EYES you dig. Thats one thing the asshole COULDN'T do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldnt give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes WENT OUT, and there was no more feeling in them than a crabs eyes on the end of a stalk.




Werner Herzog: And what haunts me, is that in all the faces of all the bears that Treadwell ever filmed, I discover no kinship, no understanding, no mercy. I see only the overwhelming indifference of nature. To me, there is no such thing as a secret world of the bears. And this blank stare speaks only of a half-bored interest in food. But for Timothy Treadwell, this bear was a friend, a savior.
Idi Amin: Is there anything that you have done that is good, Nicholas? You came to Africa to play the white man. But we aren't a game. We're real. This room is real. Your death will be the first real thing that has happened to you.
Fauno: Al principio de los tiempos viviían en armonia los bosques, los hombres y las criaturas mágicas...
Sylvia Plath: There's a stake in your fat black heart. And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
Melinda: I moved there for him. He was gorgeous. He was talented, he was sexy, he was a doctor, he was charming...
Walter Sparrow: I once read that the only philosophical question that matters, is whether or not to commit suicide... I guess that makes me a philosopher.
Barbossa: I trust you to know your place in front of Captain Sao Feng.
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