Monday, August 3, 2015
M nu fute ca Z
Exista o (noua) moda: cea a generatiilor. Eu sunt M, tu esti Z, unul citeste de pe hartie, altul citeste de pe tableta, L este influentat de G si G de V, iar X nu a aflat inca de influenta lui Y.
Niciodata nu am inteles nebunia de a ne baga in niste casute pe baza felului in care ne manifestam. Parca prea suna a lagar sau biserica. Important este SA gandesti, fie ca esti X, Y, Z.
Monday, April 16, 2012
3 saptamani si jumatate
Buenos Aires si retur. Tango si bere. Empanadas. Case goale si strazi pline. Soare. Caldura. Milonga. Pereti varuiti si mese imbracate in musama albastra. El ocho! Como se baila el tango?
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Friday, September 9, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Si Papa gandeste
The Pope's Tweets
Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I like to put on my cassock and spin around really fast and pretend I’m a tepee.
During a papal audience, I put folks at ease by asking, “Are you gay?” Then I say, “Kidding!” Then I go, “No, seriously, are you gay?”
It’s hard to tell all the cardinals apart, so sometimes I put different dinosaur stickers on their backs.
This is so embarrassing, but whenever I see Orthodox Jews I always think they’re waiters.
If people ask, “Why does God allow war and evil?,” I ask, “Why do the high-school students on ‘Glee’ look forty?”
When I stand on my balcony and wave to the faithful and millions more via satellite, I think, Kate Middleton must hate me!
If someone questions papal infallibility, I reply, “I know one thing for sure: you shouldn’t be wearing horizontal stripes.”
When I ponder why I was elected Pope over so many others, I wonder if it’s just a popularity contest. Then I think, Gosh, I hope so.
Proof of God’s existence: St. Patrick’s is right next to Saks.
Certain Christians think that they have to attend church only on Christmas and Easter, and I have a word for those people: lucky.
Whenever people doubt that angels are real, I ask them, “Excuse me, but have you seen the Jonas Brothers in concert?”
I hate to say it, but nuns are God’s punch lines.
Michele Bachmann is not Satan. Satan doesn’t have split ends.
Someday I’d like to put on slacks, a cardigan, a little straw hat, and sunglasses, and go see “The Book of Mormon.”
I worry about tweeting a sexy photo and seeing the headline: “THE POPE’S ANKLES!”
I tell other religious leaders their version of God is as valid as mine, but then I twirl and ask, “But who’s He takin’ to prom, huh?”
I met the Dalai Lama and he was so nice, but all I could think was, Sandals? In January? Really?
Every day I offer up a special prayer for the entire Kardashian family, but the next morning they’re always still alive.
I loved that best-seller about the boy who momentarily died and went to Heaven, but all I wanted to ask was, “Did He say anything about me?”
I counsel couples who are about to marry, “If it feels good, stop.”
Nancy Grace: perfect name for a gay Pope?
Read more http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2011/07/25/110725sh_shouts_rudnick#ixzz1TrcE29QN
Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I like to put on my cassock and spin around really fast and pretend I’m a tepee.
During a papal audience, I put folks at ease by asking, “Are you gay?” Then I say, “Kidding!” Then I go, “No, seriously, are you gay?”
It’s hard to tell all the cardinals apart, so sometimes I put different dinosaur stickers on their backs.
This is so embarrassing, but whenever I see Orthodox Jews I always think they’re waiters.
If people ask, “Why does God allow war and evil?,” I ask, “Why do the high-school students on ‘Glee’ look forty?”
When I stand on my balcony and wave to the faithful and millions more via satellite, I think, Kate Middleton must hate me!
If someone questions papal infallibility, I reply, “I know one thing for sure: you shouldn’t be wearing horizontal stripes.”
When I ponder why I was elected Pope over so many others, I wonder if it’s just a popularity contest. Then I think, Gosh, I hope so.
Proof of God’s existence: St. Patrick’s is right next to Saks.
Certain Christians think that they have to attend church only on Christmas and Easter, and I have a word for those people: lucky.
Whenever people doubt that angels are real, I ask them, “Excuse me, but have you seen the Jonas Brothers in concert?”
I hate to say it, but nuns are God’s punch lines.
Michele Bachmann is not Satan. Satan doesn’t have split ends.
Someday I’d like to put on slacks, a cardigan, a little straw hat, and sunglasses, and go see “The Book of Mormon.”
I worry about tweeting a sexy photo and seeing the headline: “THE POPE’S ANKLES!”
I tell other religious leaders their version of God is as valid as mine, but then I twirl and ask, “But who’s He takin’ to prom, huh?”
I met the Dalai Lama and he was so nice, but all I could think was, Sandals? In January? Really?
Every day I offer up a special prayer for the entire Kardashian family, but the next morning they’re always still alive.
I loved that best-seller about the boy who momentarily died and went to Heaven, but all I wanted to ask was, “Did He say anything about me?”
I counsel couples who are about to marry, “If it feels good, stop.”
Nancy Grace: perfect name for a gay Pope?
Read more http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2011/07/25/110725sh_shouts_rudnick#ixzz1TrcE29QN
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Atentie la falsuri
Puiu Oncescu: Eu ma vazut doua tiganci cersetoare care isi aratau cartea de identitate de Croatia: Donnez moi un sous! Soyez tranquils! Nous ne sont pas des roumaines.
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