EM CONTINUAÇÃO (IV)


Ann Huey, Naked at the Last Supper, 2006



Dr. House Last Supper, 2008



Guy Peellaert, Elvis Presley is a King, 1970-1975



Howard Schatz, The Last Supper, 2005



Folsom Street Fair, 2007

(2011)

SORTE A MINHA NÃO ME CHAMAR SEAN O' LISBON...


Marithé et François Girbaud, 2005

... que, aqui, iam logo um ou dois (ou três) labels para o galheiro...


Renée Cox, Yo mama’s last supper, 1996-2001



Annie Leibowitz, The Sopranos, 1999



Last Supper, autor não referido

(imagens daqui - clicar para ampliar)

(2009)

EM CONTINUAÇÃO (III)






















Robert Crumb, The Last Supplement, 1971



Gabriel Oviedo - SentidoG, La Cena, 2009



Bears Against AIDS, 2006



Cynthia Fraula-Hahn, Frida Kahlo’s Last Supper, 2005



Chad Coombs, Fast Supper, 2007

(2011)

EM NOME DA "MAIS VELHA ALIANÇA", DEPOIS DE

 SÃO NUNINHO, É FAZER CLAQUE POR SÃO TONI

Em directo do National Prayer Breakfast, em Washington, um guia de leitura do discurso de São Toni

Onde Tony Blair, olhando em plano picado sobre Jerusalém, consegue fazer a remix de meia dúzia das mais célebres ficções históricas, sem se rir:

"I spend much of my time in the Holy Land and in the Holy City. The other evening I climbed to the top of Notre Dame in Jerusalem. You look left and see the Garden of Gethsemane. You look right and see where the Last Supper was held. Straight ahead lies Golgotha. In the distance is where King David was crowned and still further where Abraham was laid to rest. And of course in the centre of Jerusalem is the Al Aqsa Mosque, where according to the Qur'an, the Prophet was transported to commune with the prophets of the past".

Ou "tirem-me o Dawkins da frente que um gajo já nem de autocarro pode andar em Londres descansado":

"Religious faith is assailed by an increasingly aggressive secularism, which derides faith as contrary to reason and defines faith by conflict. Thus do the extreme believers and the aggressive non-believers come together in unholy alliance".

Santa Cherie, a outra metade da Divina Sizígia

Para o que um pai ateu está guardado ou há profes que nunca é demais manter debaixo de olho:

"I remember my first spiritual awakening. I was ten years old. That day my father - at the young age of 40 - had suffered a serious stroke. His life hung in the balance. My mother, to keep some sense of normality in the crisis, sent me to school. My teacher knelt and prayed with me. Now my father was a militant atheist. Before we prayed, I thought I should confess this. 'I'm afraid my father doesn't believe in God'. I said. 'That doesn't matter' my teacher replied 'God believes in him. He loves him without demanding or needing love in return'".

...por outro lado, há "civil servants" que valem muito mais que o seu peso em platina:

"I recall giving an address to the country at a time of crisis. I wanted to end my words with 'God bless the British people'. This caused complete consternation. Emergency meetings were convened. The system was aghast. Finally, as I sat trying to defend my words, a senior civil servant said, with utter distain: 'Really, Prime Minister, this is not America you know'".

São Toni preenche o impresso de candidatura à beatificação mas sonhando, lá no fundo, com a canonização:

"I believe restoring religious faith to its rightful place, as the guide to our world and its future, is itself of the essence. The 21st Century will be poorer in spirit, meaner in ambition, less disciplined in conscience, if it is not under the guardianship of faith in God".

Um caso típico de "fala por ti" (porém, na circunstância, verdade, verdadinha):

"'Fear of God' means really obedience to God; humility before God; acceptance through God that there is something bigger, better and more important than you".

Tradução do inglês técnico - "naquele dia da cimeira dos Açores, eu tinha comido qualquer coisa que me caíu mal, foi isso":

"When I was Prime Minister I had cause often to reflect on leadership. Courage in leadership is not simply about having the nerve to take difficult decisions or even in doing the right thing since oftentimes God alone knows what the right thing is. (...) And it is in that 'not knowing' that the courage lies".

(2009)

CATÓLICOS E EVANGÉLICOS DE ACORDO:
É SÓ UMA QUESTÃO DE SEMÂNTICA
(que eles até são "acolhedores" e "tolerantes" para com
esses desgraçados desviantes "à margem da sociedade")



Last Supper - Elisabeth Ohlson Wallin, 2007
(clicar para ampliar)

"E a posição da igreja sobre o casamento homossexual não é por intolerância. Todos merecem o respeito de todos. Jesus Cristo teve sempre uma atitude acolhedora para com todos os que estavam na fronteira e à margem da sociedade", recordou [o padre Manuel Morujão, porta-voz da Conferência Episcopal Portuguesa]. "Trata-se de dar o seu a seu dono". (aqui)

Uma posição [a do pastor Jorge Humberto, presidente da Aliança Evangélica Portuguesa, contra o casamento de homossexuais] que afirma não ser ser de discriminação, até porque "a discriminação é contra o Evangelho", mas de recusar dar o mesmo nome a coisas diferentes. (aqui)

(2009)


Voto na urna: nulø, com a frase "ESTA GENTE É UM NOJO"

"Soft Crook" (daqui)

 

"It was an exercise in vulnerability and trust. The music and structure were composed in real time, while the tape rolled on the very last day of tracking. My bandmates and I combined three different chord progressions and keys, each originating from different demos we had individually brought in. It was an experiment, one of the many examples of true collaboration that Every Acre is built upon. At its narrative core, the lyrics expose my struggle with depression through an unfiltered lens—calling it what it is, shaking hands with it, unapologetically honoring the power of its grip. It’s a mysterious and unpredictable companion that can make walking this world feel like slogging through unforgiving fields of mud. It’s exhausting. During this specific stretch of time, only my most primitive senses seemed accessible; the stillness of observation became the earnest way forward: train whistles told me it was time for supper; daybreak ushered a procession of morning light colors—blue, violet, pink, gold; the smell of burnt rubber and snarling engines signaled a Saturday night. Navigating the nuances of pandemic isolation while under a debilitating depression fog was the most alone I have ever felt. To embody grief honestly, to embrace its clumsy and unhinged corners—to survive—required efforts and elixirs of self-preservation. The chorus became an anthem, of sorts; a mantra for letting go of guilt in needing these things—whether medication or TV shows or other vices—to offer myself some grace"