Now isn’t this a nice set of names
Now isn’t this a nice set of names
At the moment my big concern is the poetry in the soul and heroism and sacrifice of Edward Snowden to try to get us to save ourselves from the security state that has replaced Jefferson, a plain reading of the Bill of Rights, and the Civil War ammendments as the basis for legitimacy in this country. We have become so fearful that we want all the bombs to explode somewhere else. And so we will acquiesce.
Someone made it very clear that the general architecture of security programs and the legal opinions that are their basis – should be declassified. Then particular investigations can be kept secret.
As for the data collected, it has to be kept out of the hands of people who could misuse it – local sherrifs for whom the patterns of calls would make the people involved perfectly clear to them, and future presidents and attorneys general etc. And oversight must be stronger
with a publicly observable and appealable FISA court.
Is this conceivably possible? Or are we actually already in the hands of a structure beyond our control — and the catastrophes that inevitably follow.
Still as I say I think Snowden is beautiful like a poem of what human character can be.
When people in Nazi Germany said they were just following orders we said that they had an inborn moral duty to refuse their orders.
The same applies to Snowden – may God give him peace and a life.
Minor exchange on Gaelic
But in The Years of Growth, Peter Costello notes that in the 1901 census, John Joyce recorded that both James and Stanislaus spoke and wrote Irish. Costello adds ‘which they did not learn at school but in the Gaelic League.’
Wasn’t it Dinneen who formally introduced the letter h as the 18th letter in the Irish alphabet and wasn’t this significant for the structure of the 18 chapters of Ulysses?
There is a joke in Ireland about the tourist who asks directions from an old farmer he encounters on a country road. The farmer thinks for a while then says – ‘if I was going there I wouldn’t start from here’. I was reminded of this story while reading of your intention to learn Irish:
Male: Dia dhuit.
Female: Á, an dtuigeann tú Gaelainn?
The word Gaelainn was new to me – but you learn something everyday. Unfortunately, it breaks one of the laws of Irish regarding the distribution of vowels in a word – where vowels are separated by a consonant(s) a slender vowel (i or e) must be followed by a slender vowel and a broad vowel ( a, o or u) followed by a broad vowel. This rule is useful for identifying a word that you suspect may be an Irish word in FW – I can find no example in O Hehir where this doesn’t hold.
1:50 PM (1 hour ago)
Yes, Joyce was much more interested in European languages. Irish to him was insular – one of the nets he had to escape.
I’d imagine that John Joyce was exaggerating when he claimed his sons could speak Irish. Flann O’Brien, whose first language was Irish, makes fun of the eccentric Irish in Ulyssses
3:03 PM (6 minutes ago)
No more COVER CATEGORIES (like “Other combatants”) If the govt doesn’t know, say DON’T KNOW
and FIX IT.
“Truly scary” seems to be the cover phrase of the day by commentators. So they don’t have to say treasonous or awful.
LES PAUVRES by Plume Latraverse, 1978 – – text and translatiion by Dominique Paré
Plume Latraverse, 1978
Les pauvres ont pas d’argent
The poor… have no money
Les pauvres sont malades tout l’ temps
The poor are sick all the time
Les pauvres savent pas s’organiser
The poor don’t know how to organize themselves
Sont toujours cases
They’re always broke
Les pauvres vont pas voir de shows
The poor don’t go see shows
Les pauvres sont ben qu’ trop nonos
The poor are way too dumb dumb
En plus, les pauvres, y ont pas d’argent
On top of that, the poor don’t have money
À mettre là-d’dans
To put towards that
Les pauvres sont su’l’Bien-Être
The poor are on welfare
Les pauvres r’gardent par la f’nêtre
The poor look out the window
Les pauvres, y ont pas d’eau chaude
The poor ain’t got hot water
Checkent les pompiers qui rôdent
Check the firemen on patrol
Les pauvres savent pas quoi faire
The poor don’t know what to do
Pour s’ sortir d’ la misère
To exit their hardship
Y voudraient ben qu’un jour
They’d well like one day
Qu’un jour, enfin, ce soit leur tour
Someday, at last, that it be their turn
Les pauvres gens ont du vieux linge sale
The poor people have dirty old cloths
Les pauvres, ça s’habille ben mal
The poor are poorly dressed
Les pauvres se font toujours avoir
The poor always get taken
Sont donc pas d’affaires !
They are so unbusiness like
Les pauvres s’achètent jamais rien
The poor never buy anything
Les pauvres ont toujours un chien
The poor always have a dog
Les pauvres se font prendre à voler
The poor get caught stealing
Y s’ font arrêter
They get arrested
Les pauvres, c’est d’ la vermine
The poor, is vermin
Le trouble et la famine
Trouble and hunger
Les pauvres, ça couche dehors
The poor, they* sleep out of doors
Les pauvres, ça l’a pas d’ char
The poor, they don’t have a car*
Ça boé de la robine pis ça r’garde les vitrines
They guzzle rotgut and look through store windows
Pis quand ça va trop mal
An’ when things go way bad
Ça s’tape sa photo dans l’journal…
They stick their photo in the paper
Les pauvres, ça mendie tout l’temps
The poor, they lie all the time
Les pauvres, c’est ben achalant
The poor, they are bothersome
Si leur vie est si malaisée
If their life is such a malaise
Qui fassent pas d’ bébé ! ! !
Then they should restrain from making babies!!!
Les pauvres ont des grosses familles
The poor have big families
Les pauvres s’ promènent en béquilles
The poor get around on crutches
Y sont tous pauvres de père en fils
They’re poor from father to son
C’t une manière de vice…
It’s’a manner of vice…
Les pauvres sortent dans la rue
(Is this ever a long song! D.P.)
The poor go out in the street
C’est pour tomber su’ l’ cul
It’s to fall on their arse
Y r’çoivent des briques s’a tête
They take bricks on the head
Pour eux, le temps s’arrête
For them, time stops
Les pauvres ça mange le pain
The poor eat they eat the bread
Qu’les autres jettent dans l’chemin
That others throw out on the road
Les pauvres, c’ comme les oiseaux
The poor are are like the birds
C’est fait pour vivre dans les pays chauds
They’re made to live in the hot countries
Icitte, l’hiver, les pauvres gèlent
‘ere, in winter, the poor freeze
Sont maigres comme des manches de pelles
They’re skinny as shovel handles
Leur maison est pas isolée
Their houses are not insulated
Pis l’ gaz est coupé
An’ the gas has been cut off
Les pauvres prennent jamais d’vacances
The poor never take holidays
Les pauvres, y ont pas ben d’la chance
The poor don’t have much luck
Les pauvres, y restent toujours chez eux
The poor always stay at home
C’est pas des sorteux
They are not “go outers”
Les pauvres aiment la chicane
The poor love quarelling
Y vivent dans des cabanes
They live in shacks
Les pauvres vont pas à l’école
The poor don’t go to school
Les pauvres, c’ pas des grosses bolles
The poor aren’t brainiacs
Ça mange des s’melles de bottes
They eat boot heels ( tough meat)
Avec du beurre de pinottes
With peanut butter
Y sentent la pauvreté
They smell/feel poverty
C’en est une vraie calamité
It is a true calamity
… mais y ont tous la t.v. couleur
… but they all have colour T.V.
‘* Ça C’est, and ç’ is not exactly they. The article reduces the poor to a quantity as in you have a lot of poor here. Plume uses the word more and more as the song progresses and the mood changes from empathy to cynicism.