domingo, 25 de janeiro de 2009

"Hey Jude" - The Beatles

Rolling Stones - "As tears go by" Original

As Tears Go By
Rolling Stones


It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch as tears go by

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doing things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch as tears go by

The Rolling Stones -"Lady Jane"

"Tu Sais Je Vais T´aimer"- Nana Caymmi e Marcio Faraco

Maria Bethânia - "Poema dos Olhos da Amada"

Poema Dos Olhos Da Amada

Composição: Vinicius de Moraes / Paulo Soledade

Oh, minha amada
Que os olhos teus

São cais noturnos
Cheios de adeus
São docas mansas
Trilhando luzes
Que brilham longe
Longe nos breus

Oh, minha amada
Que olhos os teus

Quanto mistério
Nos olhos teus
Quantos saveiros
Quantos navios
Quantos naufrágios
Nos olhos teus

Oh, minha amada
Que olhos os teus

Se Deus houvera
Fizera-os Deus
Pois não os fizera
Quem não soubera
Que há muitas eras
Nos olhos teus

Ah, minha amada
De olhos ateus

Cria a esperança
Nos olhos meus
De verem um dia
O olhar mendigo
Da poesia
Nos olhos teus

"Quem te viu, quem te vê" - Chico Buarque

Quem Te Viu, Quem Te Vê

Composição: Chico Buarque

Você era a mais bonita das cabrochas dessa ala
Você era a favorita onde eu era mestre-sala
Hoje a gente nem se fala mas a festa continua
Suas noites são de gala, nosso samba ainda é na rua

Hoje o samba saiu, lá lalaiá, procurando você
Quem te viu, quem te vê
Quem não a conhece não pode mais ver pra crer
Quem jamais esquece não pode reconhecer

Quando o samba começava você era a mais brilhante
E se a gente se cansava você só seguia a diante
Hoje a gente anda distante do calor do seu gingado
Você só dá chá dançante onde eu não sou convidado

O meu samba assim marcava na cadência os seus passos
O meu sonho se embalava no carinho dos seus braços
Hoje de teimoso eu passo bem em frente ao seu portão
Pra lembrar que sobra espaço no barraco e no cordão

Todo ano eu lhe fazia uma cabrocha de alta classe
De dourado eu lhe vestia pra que o povo admirasse
Eu não sei bem com certeza porque foi que um belo dia
Quem brincava de princesa acostumou na fantasia

Hoje eu vou sambar na pista, você vai de galeria
Quero que você me assista na mais fina companhia
Se você sentir saudade por favor não de na vista
Bate palma com vontade, faz de conta que é turista

"As rosas não falam" - Cartola - Mas esses olhos...

'As rosas não falam', mas estes olhos...


Ana Paula Arósio
Sophia Loren
Marilyn Monroe
Greta Garbo
Ava Gardner
Rita Hayworth
Katherine Hepburn
Natalie Portman
Angelina Jolie
Marilyn Monroe
Greta Garbo
Monalisa
Leticia Sabatella
Isabela Fiorentino
Liv Tyler
Angelina Jolie
Elizabeth Taylor

Essa sequência merece ser vista

Bar é arte


Peter Strobos

Whisky Glass

Oil on canvas

Após a terceira dose - bar é poesia




A festa era certa




(luiz alfredo motta fontana)



No meio do brinde

o desconforto

a festa era certa

o copo correto

cristal límpido

a bebida

a de sempre

o que destoava

era a certeza da falta

Seria a tua?

Bar é scotch


Old Pulteney 12 Year Old


An elegant malt from Wick in the far north of Scotland, this has a lightly "maritime" character and goes well with fish and seafood. The distinctive bottle features a traditional Wick herring drifter.
40 per cent ABV
Price: £24.50 - www.waitrosewine.co.uk

Comercial antigo - Havaianas

Charge do dia



Oldack Esteves - Estado de Minas - Belo Horizonte, MG

Ford Ka Zetec 1.2 - The Times, uk - link (aqui)

Unlike most motoring journalists, I do not attend ritzy, champagne-drenched, Michelin-starred, club-class car launches at exotic hotels in sun-kissed, faraway places. I’m not being holier than thou here. I’d love to eat a swan at Mazda’s expense and spend my life licking the goose fat from the hand that feeds me, but I simply don’t have the time.

This means I never get the chance to meet the people who design the cars I drive or the people who are charged with selling them. In one important way, this is a good thing. When I review a car, I am unable to visualise the man who sweated into the night to make it possible. So I can be as rude as I like because I don’t have to worry about upsetting him.

However, there is a downside. Because I don’t meet the engineers or sit through the two-hour-long technical press conferences, I am less well informed than my colleagues. And less well fed, for that matter.

And so, because I approached the new Ford Ka in a state of blissful ignorance, I was expecting a very great deal. I assumed it would be a funky, small and cheap alternative to the new Ford Fiesta, a car that does everything very well whether you’re on the road, at the shopping centre or taking part in a beach assault with the Royal Marines.

Almost immediately, however, I began to dislike the Ka very much. First of all, the styling’s not quite right. The door — and I apologise to the faceless man who made it — doesn’t seem to sit very happily with the lines of the profile. And the wheelarches look as though they were going to be flared but someone dropped the original clay model from a fork-lift truck and they got squashed.

Inside, there are problems too, including ridiculously hard seats that someone — whom I’ve never met — at Ford thinks are a good idea. Worst of all, though, is the driving position. The steering wheel, which adjusts for height but not reach, is too far away and, even on its highest setting, too low down.

And the clutch pedal is far too close to the centre console. A small foot rest has been provided inside the aforementioned console but the only way you can actually get your foot in there properly is if you saw it off.

Then I began the test drive and things got worse. Because the old Ka looked like a teapot, you didn’t expect it to be very fast. And it’s the same story with the Toyota iQ. That looks like an urban runaround, but the new Ka does not. It looks like a normal car; a Fiesta that’s shrunk slightly in the wash. Which is why I was expecting it to be able to get up a hill. Which in fifth it often could not. Sometimes I had a problem in fourth.

Even on level ground things are far from rosy because at anything above 50 the whole car really does start to feel loose and disconnected, a problem that was amplified by a graunching front nearside brake disc. Often I found myself doing 40, at which speed following drivers became impatient and started to overtake in silly places.

Then it went dark and as a result I discovered the new Ka’s biggest problem. It’s a whopper. A proper full-sized elephant in the wardrobe. A genuine, bona fide reason all on its own for buying something else. The headlights are absolutely useless. For seeing where you are going, a Hallowe’en pumpkin would be better.

I did a test. I drove at the speed at which I could safely stop in the distance visible in the light from those miserable candles in jam jars. And it was 18mph. Any faster and I was having to rely on crossed fingers that there was nothing out there in the gloom.

The only solution was to drive on full beam, which was a) little better and b) just bright enough for oncoming motorists to retaliate, making me even more blind than if I’d stayed on dipped.






Of course, not having been at the press launch, I didn’t understand any of this. So I tiptoed along, with my heart beating like broken plumbing, wondering how on earth Ford could possibly have got it all so wrong. Vauxhall? Yes. Kia? For sure. But Ford? No way. Ford makes good cars these days. Some of them border on greatness. So finding that it’s got one this wrong is like going out for dinner at a Marco Pierre White restaurant and being served a plate of sick.

Here’s the thing, though. Subsequent investigation revealed that Ford hasn’t got the Ka wrong at all because despite the Ford badge, despite the Ford styling and despite the Ford fixtures and fittings, this car, actually, is a Fiat 500. It has the same basic structure and the same engine. It’s even built in the same factory, in Poland.

The fact that it’s come out of the joint venture so wrong demonstrates two things. First, that the Fiat 500 must be a fairly bad car as well, but neither I nor anyone else has noticed because it’s so lovely to look at and so delightful to own. And, second, that we’re all doomed.

Obviously, Ford would have wanted to develop its own small car. Asking its engineers to reclothe a Fiat rather than asking them to design their own baby from the ground up is like asking Stella McCartney to sew some new buttons on an Ozwald Boateng suit. No one becomes an engineer in a car company so they can spend their life sanding the word “Fiat” off components and writing “Ford” on them instead.

The only reason a company would do this is to save money. It gets a new car for a fraction of the cost of designing one itself. The problem is, the new car we are asked to buy simply isn’t as good as it could have been. Or good-looking enough to mask the faults.

Worse, because every car company must now save money — great, big, fat lumps of it — almost all automotive development is going to stop. We’re already seeing this with new propulsion ideas. Most people accept that in the fullness of time, cars will have to be powered with hydrogen, but developing the fuel cells necessary to make the technology work is fantastically complicated, and this, in an accountant’s mind, means ruinously expensive.

As a result, car makers are simply launching much simpler, much cheaper and almost completely useless conventional battery-powered cars instead. Or idiotic hybrids that make owners feel smug and organic but move the human race about 3ft in completely the wrong direction.

The upshot is that when the oil does start to run out, we as a species will be completely unprepared.

And that’s what’s given me an idea. At present most governments in the world seem to agree that the only way out of the financial hole is to print money and throw this at various state projects. Unfortunately, because we in Britain are governed by fools and madmen, the projects they have in mind are street football outreach co-co-ordinators and ethnic watchdogs who will ensure the dole queues accurately reflect the nation’s ethnic diversity.

You can see this is idiotic. We all can. So why not give the money instead to British engineering firms, which would use it, under close supervision to make sure they didn’t employ any health-and-safety people or ethnicity czars, to get the hydrogen fuel cell working on a practical everyday level?

Maybe we could team up with Iceland, partly because — heaven knows — we owe the Icelanders a favour and partly because they have enough geothermal power to make hydrogen cheaply. I can see no flaws with my idea at all. It pleases the global-warmingists because it spells an end for carbon-based fossil fuels; it pleases me because I get a whole new range of extremely powerful cars to play with; and, best of all, it puts Britain back where it belongs — on the prow of HMS Progress.

If we don’t do this, we will emerge from the financial crisis only to discover that because of a lack of oil all the lights have gone out. And this is going to be a big problem if you have a Ka. Because you simply won’t be able to see where you’re going.

The Clarksometer

ENGINE 1242cc, four cylinders
POWER 68bhp @ 5500rpm
TORQUE 76 lb ft @ 3000rpm
TRANSMISSION Five-speed manual
FUEL 55.4mpg (combined)
CO2 119g/km
ACCELERATION 0-60mph: 13.1sec
TOP SPEED 99mph
PRICE £9,295
ROAD TAX BAND B (£35 a year)
RELEASE DATE On sale now
VERDICT Fine for Fiat; frightful for Ford

Why I blame the left for Britain's financial ruin - The Guardian, uk - link (aqui)

Nick Cohen


Who's at fault for the catastrophic financial crisis? Here, Observer columnist Nick Cohen, in an extract from his new book, blames a liberal political and cultural elite for indulging a lawless financial market and tolerating obscene avarice and greed

Two years after the Great Crash of 1929, the American journalist Frederick Lewis Allen looked back on the Jazz Age of the 20s as if remembering a dream. The daring flappers, abandoning their corsets and lifting their skirts "far beyond any modest limitation" and the swaggering investors, who "expected the Big Bull Market to go on and on", ought to have been fresh in his readers' minds. But Lewis knew that the bank failures and mass redundancies of the Great Depression had made the recent past utterly foreign. The optimism brought by prosperity was now as far away as a distant star. Wondering what to call his book, Allen hit on a title which was also a reminder, Only Yesterday

After a deluge, nothing seems as remote as the day before it came. The 30s and the 80s have more to say to us now than the Britain of 18 months ago. For this generation to think about what it was like before the Great Crash of 2008 will take the same mental wrench as the 30s generation needed to see back before the Great Crash of 1929. Only yesterday, level-headed young couples took mortgages of four or five times their joint incomes to buy hutch-like apartments in streets estate agents described as "up-and-coming" and their friends described as "scary at night". Only yesterday, City dealers in nightclubs threw handfuls of notes in the air for giggling girls to catch as waitresses marching to the theme tune from Rocky brought £500 bottles of vodka and methuselahs of champagne to their tables. Only yesterday, Her Majesty's Government encouraged speculators from every part of the globe to settle in London by so under-regulating finance capital that NatWest bankers and media moguls involved in scandals as notorious as the Enron affair of 2001 and the collapse of Conrad Black's empire in 2003 could not be brought before British courts. American prosecutors took the alleged fraudsters to the US for trial, and confessed that Britain's lenient treatment of serious crimes baffled them. They did not understand that only yesterday politicians and civil servants had boasted that the City's economy was booming because of their "light-touch regulation" of speculators whose number included potential swindlers. As a few of us noticed at the time, the politicians and civil servants never went on to argue that the inner-city economy might boom if the authorities applied a similarly light touch to the policing of the slums whose inhabitants included potential drug barons.

After the crash, Americans trying to find their bearings could at least hold onto the thought that George W Bush's right-wing government presided over the bubble. As was to be expected, it did not intervene when sharks more interested in pocketing commissions than the principles of reputable lending sold millions of Americans mortgages they could not hope to repay. The Bush administration, like Herbert Hoover's Republican administration in 1929, believed that the market knew best and did not worry when financiers offered derivatives of such obscurity no one understood their risks. The conservatives' neglect made ideological sense. All of the great crashes occurred under politicians who accepted laissez-faire, such as Hoover, or politicians the moneymen corrupted, such as the Georgian oligarchs of 1720 who took the bribes of the South Sea Company.

Until yesterday, that is, when Britain broke the mould. When the bubble reached its peak in the summer of 2007, Texan oilmen and former investment bankers did not govern this country. Nor were our leaders enriching themselves with bribes from the City. The British dreamed their dream under a relatively honest, social democratic government, many of whose members had been fiercely sceptical of finance capital.

By prejudice and well-grounded conviction, the left had always been wary of "funny-money men" and "spivs". In 1975, while still at Edinburgh University, Gordon Brown edited The Red Paper on Scotland, a collection of essays that dreamed of radical transformation. He endorsed the vision of the early socialists who wanted to abolish "the split personality caused by people's unequal control over their social development ...by substituting communal co-operation for the divisive forces of competition". A better world could come only if the public accepted "the necessity for social control of the institutional investors who wield enormous financial power both in fostering privilege in our social security system and in controlling the economy".

Three decades on, Gordon Brown and his Labour colleagues allowed the "divisive forces of corruption" and the "institutional investors" to engage in an orgy of speculation. For the first time in financial history, one of the great market manias that punctuate the history of capitalism was presided over by a centre-left rather than a centre-right administration. Like the most gullible investors in the Wall Street of the 1920s, social democrats thought "the Big Bull Market would go on and on", and did not see the crash coming. Think back to yesterday, and you will remember that they were not alone.

The financiers could no more imagine the coming disaster than the politicians. They applauded the hospitality of the Labour government, along with the tax breaks it offered foreign dealers and private-equity buyers, and went on a speculative bender. Men "go mad in herds", declared the Victorian journalist Charles Mackay as he looked at the stock-market crashes of the 18th and 19th centuries. He might have been writing of the 21st. Bankers, drunk on cheap money, packaged and traded in supposedly high-yielding, mortgage-backed securities, unaware or unconcerned about the possibility that poor "homeowners" might default and leave them with worthless assets. Why should anyone be anxious? The bankers said they had spread the credit risk on the securities they sold to investors by slicing and dicing mortgages so that good-quality loans were bundled in with riskier debts. Even if the diced borrowers had lied about their income or been bamboozled into debt by commission-hungry brokers, house prices were rising around the world, and politicians and central bankers were saying they had abolished the booms and busts of the business cycle.

Instead of seeing the potential for catastrophic failure in the financial system they were supposedly managing, the British rich engaged in the most conspicuous consumption since the Gilded Age of the late 19th century. The Candy brothers became commercial celebrities for meeting the exacting requirements of the global plutocracy. In 2007 they announced that they would soon be offering properties in a development near Hyde Park, with prices ranging from £20m for ordinary apartments to £100m for a penthouse that was "the most expensive flat in the world". The brothers provided luxuries humanity had never known it needed before - a purified air system, a tunnel from the car park to a nearby Michelin-starred restaurant, a floor-to-ceiling fridge and a "panic room" (which, I admit, was prescient).

Creative entrepreneurs produced work to match the times. In 2007 Damien Hirst displayed the world's most expensive piece of contemporary art, a diamond-encrusted platinum cast of a human skull. The memento mori had been a staple of Western art since the Middle Ages, so Hirst won no prizes for novelty. All that concerned onlookers was Hirst's asking price of £50m. His work created a sensation because of its saleroom rather than its aesthetic value. The following year, on 15 September 2008, he proved that the triumph of the art sale over the artwork was complete. He auctioned at Sotheby's pieces he cheerfully admitted his employees had mass-produced in his studios. The buyers did not care, and gave him £100m. Even the critics did not pretend to be interested in what message, if any, he had for his public, but reported the sale like business journalists covering a soaring stock. As the buyers made their bids, Lehman Brothers collapsed.

Until yesterday, £50m for a kitsch skull had not appeared beyond the reach of the super-rich. The Office for National Statistics reported that annual bonuses in the City had risen by 30 per cent to £14.1bn in August 2007. The overall level of British bonuses, which included payouts to CEOs, senior managers, public servants and upmarket car and property dealers as well as City financiers, reached £24bn - a figure that comfortably exceeded the entire British transport budget.

The astonished children of Britain's upper-middle class started to talk about the vertiginous gap between the "haves and the have yachts". It was not only that they could no longer keep up with the Joneses - or the Abramoviches or Mittals, as their more successful neighbours were more likely to be called - they could no longer keep up with their parents.

Unless they were working in the City, they could not think of living in the type of homes their parents had brought them up in, or sending their children to the type of schools their parents sent them to. As one complained: "A generation ago it didn't make much difference what one's chums did, whether they went into the army or the City or publishing or whatever; but now it's a make-or-break decision."

Couples from the old bourgeoisie worried about how much they needed to earn to become like their parents - an ambition which would have appalled them when they were teenagers but was now looking more desirable by the day. What was the cost of a house in a plush area, a manageable mortgage, regular foreign holidays and places in smart schools for their children? The breathtaking annual income of at least £250,000, and preferably £500,000, the Sunday Times told them in early 2007. If they wanted to be truly rich and afford the central London townhouse with Brit Art bric-a-brac on the walls, holiday homes in exotic resorts, access to a private jet and accounts at the chi-chi stores, they would need to make at least £2.5m - preferably £10m. Rachel Johnson, who reported the findings, wasn't exactly a poor little match girl. She was the sister of Boris Johnson, who became the first Tory mayor of London in 2008, but she concluded: "When I look around my normal, as in non-City, contemporaries they are all working their socks off, hamster-wheeling, both the husband and the wife (only one in 10 women of working age can now afford the luxury of staying home unwaged to raise her children). They are raiding their parents' nest eggs to keep their heads above water, remortgaging their houses to pay the school fees and, if they go abroad at all, they head off to eco-turismo communities in Sicily where several families share a swimming pool (if there is one) and all eat pasta together. As the super-rich are getting richer all the time, they are driving up the prices of the things that we middle classes used to be able to afford on one income, but now can't manage with two."

In a wicked world full of suffering, the complaints of the shabby genteel were not pressing concerns for busy people with limited supplies of compassion. Nevertheless, I thought them worth listening to because I have found as a journalist that spectators on the edges provide the best descriptions. They have the access to a privileged milieu, and can see what outsiders cannot; but unlike the truly privileged, who socialise only with fellow insiders, they are not lulled by routine into thinking that the freakish is normal. In the case of the bubble world of 2007, the dazzled and envious commentaries of those on its margins also performed the essential public service of blowing away consoling illusions.

In August 2007 Britain passed a grim landmark. Consumer debts in the form of mortgages, loans and credit card bills totalled £1.35 trillion and overtook the entire gross domestic product of the country, which stood at £1.33 trillion. To put it another way, the British owed more than the value of the output of every office, factory, farm, quarry, mine and fishery in the land - and that was before statisticians included the immense debts of the public sector and business, which took the sum of Britain's borrowings to three times annual economic output.

We were a bankrupt nation.

Don't fret, said economists, most personal debt is secured against homes whose prices are heading heavenwards. It is not folly to borrow to secure a piece of the action. Nor were existing "homeowners" adding to their burdens if they went back into the debt market by remortgaging to pay for holidays or cars or their children's stay at university. They were "releasing equity" in their property, as the jargon of the day had it: receiving a share of profits that were rightfully theirs.

You can understand why heads were turned. By the peak of the bubble, the price of the average home was six times the average wage. Britain had never seen the like before. If they already had a halfway reasonable job, or were university students who looked to the bank as if they would have one soon, the British were flooded with offers of loans, credit cards and store cards. The managers of Northern Rock, whose roots lay in the self-help values of the building society movement of the Victorian north-east, abandoned prudential principles and hosed their customers with money.

Those who did not have the £250,000 income they needed to be truly wealthy in 2007 had no need to feel hard done by. They could still take a mortgage of up to five, six, seven, eight times their income, add in credit card and bank loans and live as if they were wealthy in executive homes with Porsche Cayennes in their drives.

Lending at this level was fantastically reckless behaviour when the few building societies which had not taken advantage of Margaret Thatcher's offer to turn themselves into banks stipulated that three times salary was the safe upper limit. Like other lenders, Northern Rock also gave mortgages on 125 per cent of the value of a property. The banks' generosity had the advantage of allowing borrowers to pay off credit card bills and have money left over to kit out their homes. It had the disadvantage of immediately placing debtors in negative equity.

Few cared. Houses had provided a phenomenal rate of return for a phenomenally long time. The Halifax bank estimated that between 1996 and 2006 the average house price rose by 10.6% per annum (from £62,453 to £179,425). Investing in homes was more lucrative than investing in the stock market, which grew at 4.6 per cent per annum. It was not only the rich who benefited; many ordinary families transformed their lives and status by playing the property market and cashing in before the crash came.

Looking back at the ruins, I suppose I underestimated the happiness the boom brought to many. In theory, I know that distress brings no good and poverty inspires no nobility. In practice, I find misery interesting and contentment dull. Like most writers, I instinctively believe Tolstoy's assertion that while "all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way", and do not want to remind myself that happiness comes in many forms while desolation in its final stages is grindingly uniform.

Therefore, and in fairness, I ought to acknowledge that the period leading up to the crash was not all bad. The British were richer than they had ever been. Between 2003 and 2007, national income per head grew faster in Britain than in any other developed country. The formerly privileged complained of downward mobility, but the debt bubble, like every other bubble, created upward mobility and allowed City boys from humble homes to leap the fences of old England. I also accept that if money could not buy the British happiness, it at least allowed them to be miserable in greater comfort. We lived longer and enjoyed greater access to education and healthcare. We were free to read what we wanted, sleep with whom we wanted, think what we wanted and live where we wanted and how we wanted. Our Labour leaders had reason to be proud. They could walk into any town, see new schools and surgeries, and think "we built those". They did not dam the flood of wealth in London, but used it to revitalise Britain. The boom brought the best of modern urban architecture to once forlorn provincial cities. Manchester was grim when I grew up there in the 70s. Birmingham had had the life beaten out of it by the collapse of manufacturing industry when I took my first job there in the 80s. The Labour years transformed both for the better.

Nor do I want to accuse Labour of "selling out". However shamelessly Tony Blair and Peter Mandelson welcomed the super-rich into Downing Street and accepted invitations to their Mediterranean villas in return, however cravenly Gordon Brown capitulated to demands from billionaires to provide them with privileges, the paradox of the 1997 Labour government was that it was at once a left- and a right-wing administration. It wanted a huge public works programme. It aimed to redistribute enormous amounts of wealth. To achieve both these desirable goals, it made a bargain with the markets. All right, the political left said, we will accept extremes of wealth we once denounced as obscene. With the City accounting for a fifth of the British economy, we will embrace your speculators and not drive them overseas with tough regulation. If the authorities overseeing the Wall Street markets or the Frankfurt bourse become too inquisitive, capital will always be able to find a sanctuary from scrutiny here. Nor will we restrict the operations of financial services even though they are entrapping our supporters in levels of debt that the puritan in us finds frightening. We will concede all this if in return you will give us the tax revenues that will allow us to build the new schools and hospitals, and increase the incomes of our struggling constituents. For all its virtuous intentions, the political left was living off the proceeds of loose financial morals. Prostituting itself, to be blunt.

The brightest and the best graduates went to work for City firms. By 2007 politicians of all colours regarded them as their intellectual superiors, modern alchemists who could conjure gold out of lines of flickering figures on a screen. Ken Livingstone, the allegedly left-wing mayor of London, genuflected before the cardinals of the money market with as much reverence as any Tory. If he had had his way, London would have become a Shanghai-on-Thames, its skyline punctured by gleaming towers for the bankers and dealers he assumed would always be landing at Heathrow.

In his March 2007 budget, Gordon Brown described a happy land of "rising employment and rising investment; continuing low inflation, and low interest and mortgage rates". The "longest period of economic stability and sustained growth in our country's history" was marching on, bringing "prosperity and fairness for Britain's families ... We will never return to the old boom and bust!"

In the same month, the International Monetary Fund issued a prophetic warning. By encouraging the UK economy to become dependent on international financial markets, it said, Brown ran the risk of a global financial contagion infecting a country that was already drowning in debt and in no fit state to cope with hard times.

The government took no notice.

So accepting of profligacy and confident of future growth did Gordon Brown become, he saved nothing during the boom years to help Britain through a recession. When the crisis came, his country was naked before the storm.

And so in an unprecedented manner, and with not wholly bad intentions, the left in power went along with a lawless market, and only after it went down did it show the flair and boldness of true social democrats by taking over much of the banking system. It left it too late because while the bubble lasted it did not want to think what would happen if the City fell apart. Failure was unimaginable because, in truth, no one had the faintest idea how else a country in which agriculture formed a tiny part of the economy and manufacturing industry had withered could make a living. By 2007 the only sectors of the economy that were booming were retail and leisure, funded by consumer debt, financial services, dedicated to getting consumers further into debt, housing, bought with yet more debt, and state spending, based on levels of government debt which made borrowers from Northern Rock seem like paragons of responsibility. If they brought down the debt economy, what else could they put in its place?

By the end, Labour politicians were boxed in. Even if they had realised the danger Britain was in - and there is no evidence that they did - the price of changing course would have struck them as unacceptably high. They couldn't challenge the status quo, until the status quo changed and challenged them.

Politicians and pundits are already providing many reasons for Britain's crash, and there is merit in blaming the Bush administration, Gordon Brown's catastrophic complacency and global financial forces beyond any government's control. Yet too few commentators could say why the British left's recession looked like being worse than recessions in comparable developed countries. The best answer is also the simplest: Britain crashed because Britain did not have a Plan B.

The liberal intelligentsia that dominated Britain's cultural life as completely as Labour politicians dominated its government might have reminded the leaders of the need to stick to leftish principles. But liberal Britain's dereliction of duty surpassed that of its political leaders. The roots of its recklessness are to be found in another unprecedented feature of the 2008 crash. Previous stock market crises occurred in times of peace. The South Sea Bubble began four years after the end of England's long war against Louis XIV's France in 1715. The railway and the canal manias flourished in the Pax Britannica after Waterloo. The destruction of Wall Street shares in 1929 came a decade after the end of the First World War, while the Japanese bubble peaked once the Cold War was over.

Peace breeds booms. Politicians grow lazy and no longer feel the need to stop speculation before it imperils the national interest. Their citizens, meanwhile, have nothing to distract them from getting and spending. The crash of 2008 broke the pattern. Britain and America were at war in Afghanistan and Iraq, and no reasonable person could doubt that the intelligentsia was on the enemy's side. For if the chaos in the markets represented the end of the liberal economic dreams of the era of globalisation, a dark shift in world politics had dashed high political hopes long before.

The first years of the 21st century were a second "low, dishonest decade": a time when embattled feminists from the Muslim world were more likely to be belittled by writers from the New York Review of Books than the editor of the Daily Mail; when you were more likely to find anti-Semitism by looking to the left rather than the right; and when the general secretary of Amnesty International was more likely to denigrate human rights as white, middle-class indulgences than the general secretary of the Communist Party of China.

Few progressive movements worthy of the name could survive in such a poisonous environment, and few did.

Although liberal Britain liked nothing better than condemning left-wing politicians for being cowards, it was no braver than its leaders. Labour in power failed to deal with the thundering market because it could not bring itself to face the economic consequences of a necessary confrontation. Liberal Britain stayed silent as tyranny swept by because it too wanted the quiet life. Normally, left-wing eras end because the left loses itself in ideological excess and careers off into the margins of politics. The left of the early 21st century was an exception. It failed not because it was left-wing but because in crucial respects it was not left-wing enough. It forgot the lessons of the Great Depression and failed to regulate runaway markets. It forgot the best of its achievements of the 20th century and failed to defend them from the assault of the 21st.

As economies crashed and governments made colossal interventions to save them, it might seem reasonable to predict a revival of the better side of the left-wing tradition. I hope to see it come not least because social democrats have the best answers to today's financial and environmental crises. Many obstacles remain in the way of a return to reputable politics. Liberal opinion went wilder in Britain than in any other European country. Although some liberals will "recover their senses slowly, and one by one", as Charles Mackay predicted, others will be stuck in their ideological prisons for the rest of their lives. Meanwhile, although Labour responded well to the crash, it cannot escape responsibility for failing to see the crisis coming and may well pay the political price for its failure.

I cannot think of a more revealing measure of that failure than the transformation of the English aristocracy from pantomime villains and chinless wonders into viable leaders of the nation. At the end of the longest period of left-wing government in British history, the Etonians were back for the first time since the fall of the Empire. A battered public seemed willing to embrace its old ruling class with something approaching relief.

• Waiting for the Etonians is published by Fourth Estate on 23 Feb at £12.99. To order a copy for £11.99 inc UK p&p go to Observer Bookshop

• Nick Cohen is an Observer columnist. His last book, What's Left?, was shortlisted for the Orwell Prize. Waiting for the Etonians: Reports from the Sickbed of Liberal England is out in February.

The interview: Elisabeth Moss - The Guardian, uk - link (aqui)


Audiences and critics loved her as the enigmatic 1960s secretary Peggy in Mad Men - the most stylish series to come out of America last year. As the show returns to BBC4, the actress tells Phil Hogan about growing up as the president's daughter in The West Wing, what makes Peggy tick, and why US TV drama is on a winning streak.

Elisabeth Moss 2009

Elisabeth Moss photographed at Prohibition, Manhattan. 16th January 2009. Photograph: Andrew Testa/Andrew Testa

It's close to cocktail hour when Elisabeth Moss comes blowing in on a freezing blast of New York, a tiny figure wrapped up in one of those big, quilted coats that looks like a sleeping bag with arms. "Coldest day of the year," she says, cheerfully, unwrapping herself (across town, I still imagine them rescuing passengers from the US Airlines plane that landed in the river) and marvelling with laughter at my war story of having gone out this afternoon without a hat as we head up in the lift to the hotel's "reading" room, with its fluting lounge music and view of the twinkling lights on Madison Avenue.

She apologises for being late, the result of having just moved in with her boyfriend (comedian Fred Armisen, a cast member of Saturday Night Live) uptown, which was confusing for her publicist, who arranged for a car to be sent to her old place downtown and had to divert it, which was then confusing for the driver. But doesn't she have to be on stage at eight? Oh, there's plenty of time, she says, rightly sensing that I'm more worried about my interview time ticking away than keeping her audience waiting.

Moss is best known for her portrayal of Peggy, the ingenuous young secretary in Mad Men, the brilliant TV drama set in a 1960s New York advertising agency, and is now playing another ingenuous young secretary, Karen, in a revival of David Mamet's Speed-the-Plow, a satire of 80s Hollywood chicanery. It seems a superficial similarity but aren't both women trying to make themselves heard in the great male conversation? Yes, says Moss, though in different ways. "Peggy is prim and quiet, whereas Karen is outspoken, brutally truthful, says what she feels - can't help but tell the truth."

Moss hasn't done theatre since she first moved to New York as a 19-year-old, and this - a three-hander, with longtime Mamet collaborator William H Macy and Raúl Esparza ("He's a genius") playing a pair of bottom-feeding movie executives - is her Broadway debut. "It's fantastic," she says, but also "an emotional, physical and mental marathon. Eight shows a week is very difficult. I did Mad Men for four months until the end of August, then started rehearsals here in early September. But I get to work with the most amazing actors - and do Mamet, which is unusual for a woman. There aren't that many female parts, so I feel lucky that I got one."

Moss was raised in Los Angeles, in what she calls an "artistic household". Her father is British and manages jazz musicians and her mother is from Chicago and plays blues harmonica (with the likes of BB King). Her younger brother is in the movie business, but "on the other side of the camera". She went to a small private school which was "very focused, very academic - but there was no extra-curriculum". She graduated early at 15.

Then what - college? Stage training? "No, I just kept working, kept acting. I was a dancer for years. I've done everything. Big parts in indie films, small parts in big films, TV movies, one or two commercials. I've been acting for 20 years."

She's 26 now. At 15, she was the burns victim in Girl, Interrupted, a film set in a mental institution in the 60s and starring Winona Ryder and Angelina Jolie. Then at 17 she got what turned out to be her big break, in The West Wing, as Zoey Bartlet, the president's daughter. She was on the show for seven years. Was her political outlook formed during those years? "Well, it's a very liberal show, but it was more that - it was a very smart show. I was probably formed more by the intelligence of it than the politics. The writing was so smart and spot-on. When you have writing like that, you almost don't have to do anything, so I felt I was influenced more creatively."

I ask if she is looking forward to the Obama presidency. "I was in New York when he won and I've never seen the city like that. It felt almost like an episode of The West Wing - this idealism you could see in everyone. The excitement and positivity was incredible."

Did the frenetic pace of The West Wing help when it came to doing Mamet? "Absolutely. Mamet is a very different writer, of course, but the intelligence and pace are very similar."

It's some contrast to Mad Men, I say, with its unhurried storylines and dawdling shots of people having a long think. "The pace and the style of it was so completely different from anything I'd ever done. It's teasing, as opposed to being explicit like Mamet or Sorkin [creator of The West Wing]. But I think all of us [in the show] agree that we were attracted by that pilot script. The show was on a network that no one really knew. People knew who Matthew Weiner was because of The Sopranos [on which he was a writer and producer], but he'd never created his own show. There were no stars, and advertising in the 60s didn't sound like a winner - but the writing was so good."

I wonder if she felt a cultural shift with Mad Men - moving from a huge show to one that was only shown on cable? "You'd think there would have been, except that cable is big right now. There's been this incredible resurgence of cable programming - shows like Dexter and Damages, and HBO, obviously. Many years ago, there would have been a difference but now it's about the same. Plus, for me, it's a different thing anyway - The West Wing was a recurring thing, whereas Mad Men is regular."

She auditioned twice for the part of Peggy. "It just felt like a really good fit. I remember calling my manager after meeting Matt [Weiner] and saying I could work with that man. There was an immediate connection artistically. I think I did the part he wrote, and he saw that, and I knew it."

Mad Men, back soon for a second series on BBC4, oozes class, with critics and fans falling over themselves to praise its visual sophistication (the opening credit sequence of a silhouetted man slowly falling through the canyons of Manhattan is worth the entrance fee alone) and authentic handling of time and place. The LA Times said Mad Men had found "a strange and lovely space between nostalgia and political correctness and filled it with interesting people, all of them armed with great power of seduction". Entertainment Weekly identifies an America "free of self-doubt, guilt and counter-cultural confusion. It's the ripe fantasy before it turns rotten."

But it's the way the characters keep you guessing that keeps you watching. You assume from the start that the agency's creative chief, Don Draper (Jon Hamm), is the complicated one, but then you see the parallels emerging with Peggy, the frumpish new girl from out in the sticks whose talents start to shine. Moss is compelling as Peggy. She's the one who sees a horizon beyond this modern "clever" Manhattan set, whose lives - artificially illuminated by liquor and leisure and consumer fads - contain an inherent struggle for contentment of the sort seen in the vogueish, rediscovered fiction of Richard Yates (Revolutionary Road) and Sloan Wilson, whose novel The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit is knowingly referenced in the new series. Nervy but watchful, Peggy sits amid the vulgarity of office life like a Buddha. You can almost hear her brains ticking. You just have to root for her. Was her development clear from the outset?

"Even I was guilty of thinking that maybe it was going to be a storyline where she claws her way to the top and sleeps with Don, but it doesn't go that way at all. What ends up happening is so much richer and so much more interesting. The thing about Don and Peggy that is obviously similar is they both have a secret they can't talk about. They're both very private people. They both just want to do their jobs."

To an extent, the depths of Don's existential angst have been fathomed for us (the hidden shame in his past that makes a daily misery of his handsomeness and his nice suits and successful career and beautiful wife), but Peggy seems harder to read - innocent but ambitious, self-contained but with unpredictable bursts of cruelty. She always seems capable of surprise. "It really is a great part. As an actor, you're always trying to play subtext or not say what you mean. So being given a character that does only that is really interesting."

Looking at practically everyone in the show - the super-groomed Draper, the reptilian junior exec Pete, the rest of the goofy ad team, the pneumatically stacked office man-eater Joan - it's tempting to marvel at the care that went into the casting, but seeing Moss here now (dark, slim, stylish, attractive; frankly, not really any of the things that Peggy is), that assumption starts to look a bit misguided. Of course, her character's dumpy looks and terrible hair and unworldly dress sense weren't helped by her getting fatter and fatter (or, as it turned out, pregnant - unknown to everyone, including herself) during the first series. "We went through this very meticulous process of making Peggy realistically gain weight. I had, like, four stages of padding and then two stages of prosthetic make-up. Thankfully, I wasn't asked to do it myself, which I would have done, but it would have been harder."

To put weight on?

She laughs. "To take it off again."

Did she mind playing the least glamorous girl in Manhattan?

"I enjoyed the second season more because we got to make everything a bit smaller and tighter and shorter. Not drastically - Peggy is still Peggy, but she definitely gets to wear nicer things."

Given that Moss wasn't born until 1982, I wonder how well she knew the era - this pre-revolutionary, pre-women's lib 60s. Was she shocked by how benighted and unswinging it was?

"I think so. I had a surface understanding. But this was on the tail-end of the 50s. You really are on the cusp of change - this carry-over from that earlier mentality. There's a little bit of the beatnik thing that's touched upon. The second season is different."

It is. A huge Xerox machine arrives in the office. A new accent on youth is signalled with the appearance of young creatives sporting cable knits rather than suits. Peggy represents this coming of the proper 60s too, of course, settling into her new post as junior copywriter, armoured by foreknowledge, it almost seems, against the spite of her male colleagues, laughing their foolish heads off. They are the ones whom history will sweep aside.

With its heavy freight of period misogyny, it's hard not to take against the alpha males, even though, as Moss says, Weiner is simply telling it how it was. "It doesn't really take men or women's sides."

Perhaps not, but the eye of the writer is a modern one and the temptation to even up the battle with some strong women's roles was clearly important. Is there anything of herself in Peggy? "With all of the characters in that show, each of the actors brings a huge part of themselves to it. That's the fun of it, figuring out which parts of yourself you can bring and which are different. Peggy and I have a lot of similarities. She's also a very positive person. She believes in the good of people. She's not conniving. She tries to do the right thing."

Career-wise, it's not bad going, I say, to follow up The West Wing with another huge hit. What's it like to be an overnight sensation after 20 years? "Well, things have changed. And I do actually get recognised a lot. It always surprises me. I'll stand outside in the street and people will be, 'Peggy! Peggy!' But it's been a slow burn. I like that people really love the show and associate me with it. I don't seek it out - being a celebrity - but if it happens I'm glad it's for something that I'm proud of."

Does she have other ambitions - a big movie maybe?

"To me, the writing is important. It's helped me get into some really good shows. I wouldn't change that."

But what if someone came along and wanted to give you millions to play Wonder Woman?

"Well, I wouldn't say I wouldn't do a huge movie if it was a great script. You have to do things for the right reasons. The material is the important thing." Anyway, she points out, things have changed. It's not as if TV actors still seek validation from doing movies. "You look at American TV now and you've got Glenn Close, Holly Hunter, Sally Field - incredible female actors who have won Oscars and they're doing television shows. Film used to be more 'respected'; now it's not like that."

She prefers, too, the camaraderie of TV - and latterly theatre - where intense work and close proximity for long seasons make for lasting friendships. She has also developed a taste for awards ceremonies. Mad Men has won a shelf of prizes including six Emmys and three Golden Globes (two for the show, one for Jon Hamm); Moss is nominated this year for a Screen Actors Guild award for outstanding female actor. "I've been fortunate in that the last few awards parties we've been to we've won. I hear it's not so much fun when you don't. It's a great chance to hang out together and catch up."

Does she drink? In fact, does she smoke

No!

So who in the cast smokes? She won't say. I only ask, of course, because Mad Men is notorious for its 60-an-episode habit. She laughs. "Isn't that funny? Everyone who saw it was like, 'They're SMOKING! They're SMOKING!' No one noticed they were cheating on their wives."

Theatre calls. I wish her luck. I'm not sure if American thespians say "break a leg". In this weather, it seems to be asking for trouble.

• The second series of Mad Men begins on BBC4 on 10 February, 10pm

Ad men on Mad Men: What the pros think

Sir John Hegarty, worldwide creative director of BBH

"It's a fantastic series and I can certainly remember when every director had a drinks cabinet in his office and smoking was everywhere. What's clever is that they've woven real advertising from the era into the plots. In the first series they discuss Doyle Dane Bernbach's famous Volkswagen Beetle ad called Lemon. Bernbach laid the foundations of modern creative advertising. The industry was all about 'irresponsible optimism' before he emerged as a prophet, saying if you don't base your advertising on some truth then it will fail - just make the truth interesting."

Robin Wight, president of Engine and WCRS

"Mad Men captures the last hooray of the dinosaurs about to be challenged by the new generation who were to invent modern advertising in the 1960s. In fact, the Mad Men were even madder than on the show. Alcohol flowed freely: I was offered a huge martini at 3pm in my first job interview in 1965. The boardroom table of my first agency was used as a ping-pong table, and the receptionist, I discovered years later, doubled as a hooker. But it wasn't this alone that bought this world to an end; the adverts it produced weren't very good. The new agencies used wit and imagination rather than bullying hard sell."

Mark Lund, chief executive of DLKW and chairman of the Advertising Association

"Mad Men is a hymn to the power of confidence, which is still key to creating a good advertising campaign today. The characters have an innate belief that they can remake a company's fortunes or a brand's image and are prepared to make that bold jump into the unknown. Like all good social drama it compresses the incidents of 10 years into a week. But did they drink, smoke and fornicate a lot back then? Yes! Is there less of that now? Almost certainly. You can say that's a good or a bad thing, but it looks like fun doesn't it?"

Nicola Mendelsohn, chair and partner of Karmarama and president of Women in Advertising and Communications London

"I'm a huge fan. The styling is drop-dead gorgeous. It whisks you straight back to the early 1960s. Yes, there was racism and sexism in the business, but that was because it existed throughout society, and advertising reflects the world around it. If you walked into an agency today you would find a very different scenario. There'd be more women, many in the top jobs. We'd still be doing essentially the same work, solving marketing problems, but we wouldn't be swigging whisky and smoking fags while we're at it."

Lord Tim Bell, chair of Chime Communications

"It is a glamorous, hyperbolised version of what agencies were like at the time. It's exaggerated because that's what TV does and that's what we want it to do. Reality can be dull. Has advertising changed? Yes, it has become much more serious and less fun. People do not have the same sense of drama. But isn't that always the way? Any new industry is more exciting when it first starts up - then it becomes just like any other."
Interviews by Imogen Carter and Lisa O'Kelly

La tempête s'éloigne, les secours s'organisent - Libération, fr - link (aqui0



25 janv. 8h42 (mise à jour à 10h10)

L'alerte rouge est désormais levée dans le Sud-Ouest. Au lendemain de cette violente tempête qui a fait au moins quatre morts, les équipes d'intervention tentent de rétablir l'électricité dans 1,1 million de foyers.

Photo prise samedi au Cap Ferret après le passage de la tempête.

Photo prise samedi au Cap Ferret après le passage de la tempête. (REUTERS)

Le dispositif d'alerte rouge est désormais levé dans les neuf départements du sud qui ont été frappés hier par la tempête.

Mais ce matin, 14 départements (9 dans le sud-ouestmais aussi l'Aisne, la Charente, la Charente-Maritime et la Dordogne) restent en vigilance orange en raison de risques d'inondation ou de crues. (Lire le communiqué de Météo France)

Selon le dernier communiqué de Météo France, la dépression se situe actuellement à l'est de la Corse et se décale vers l'Italie.

Le vent souffle toujours

Les vents de secteur nord-ouest soufflent toujours violemment sur le Languedoc-Roussillon après avoir atteint un niveau maximal de 192 km/h mais Météo France a noté que "la baisse du vent a débuté il y a une heure ou deux". On s'attend encore à de fortes rafales de 110 à 120 km/h du secteur nord-ouest, mais "qui vont s'atténuer dans la nuit de samedi à dimanche" selon Météo France.

Un début de retour à la normale est constaté sur le réseau routier. La majorité des interdictions de circulation des poids lourds, des véhicules de transports de matières dangereuses et des véhicules de transports en commun a été levée dans les régions du Poitou-Charentes, du Limousin, de l'Aquitaine et du Midi-Pyrénées.

Dans l'Aude, où toute circulation avait été interdite pendant une partie de la journée hier, la préfecture a exceptionnellement autorisé aujourd'hui la circulation des véhicules de transport de marchandises (en principe interdits le dimanche).

Rétablir les lignes électriques prendra du temps

Premier défi des équipes de secours: Dans les Landes, les principaux axes routiers ont été dégagés mais le réseau secondaire connaît encore quelques problèmes: "Il faut que nous dégagions rapidement les fossés car de nouvelles pluies sont annoncées et il ne faudrait pas que ça déborde", a expliqué le préfet.

Autre chantier: rétablir les lignes électriques. Près d'1,1 million de foyers sont toujours privés d'électricité ce matin. Les opérations de secours et de rétablissement de lignes électriques ont repris au lever du jour en Gironde et dans les Landes, où un total de 390.000 clients sont toujours privés d'électricté.

"Des villages entiers sont toujours privés d'électricité" dans le département, notamment depuis la chute d'une ligne à haute tension, a-t-on ajouté, et il ne faut pas s'attendre à un retour à la normale "avant plusieurs jours".

Dans les Landes, très fortement touchées par la tempête samedi, "la priorité est d'assurer l'alimentation électrique des châteaux d'eau et des maisons de retraite", a indiqué à l'AFP le préfet Etienne Guyot.

Outre les pompiers, la sécurité civile et les équipes techniques d'ERDF, des personnels de l'Office national des forêts (ONF) et du Conseil général sont également mobilisés, selon M. Guyot.

Les secours de toute la région Aquitaine ont par ailleurs effectué de nombreuses sorties au cours de la nuit pour des intoxications au monoxyde de carbone et des brûlures, en raison d'une mauvaise utilisation de groupes électrogènes ou de chauffages d'appoint.

Un nouveau coup dur pour la filière bois

Réveil difficile pour les sylviculteurs. Dix ans après la tempête de 1999 -où quelque "240.000 ha de forêts avaient été sérieusement endommagés", il s'agit "d'un nouveau coup dur pour une filière déjà en crise", a indiqué à l'AFP Eric Dumontet, secrétaire général adjoint du syndicat.

"Selon les premières estimations partielles, "il semble qu'on ait autour de 20% de dégâts sur la zone du Médoc (Gironde), on serait sur Le Teich (Gironde) et autour du bassin d'Arcachon à 60% et à plus de 60% dans les Landes", a-t-il indiqué.

C'est une catastrophe pour les sylviculteurs et l'ensemble de la filière déjà crise", a-t-il poursuivi. "Là, le bois est au sol. Le marché qui déjà ne se portait pas bien, va être engorgé", a-t-il ajouté, en soulignant que la filière finissait "de se remettre" de la tempête de 1999.

La filière bois en Aquitaine représente un chiffre d'affaire global de 2,6 milliards d'euro avec 34.000 emplois directs et près de 40.000 sylviculteurs (qui ont des surfaces supérieures à 4 ha), selon des chiffres communiqués par M. Dumontet.

L'Aquitaine compte 1,7 million d'hectares de forêts dont 1 million d'ha de forêts cultivées de pins maritimes.

(Source AFP)

L'affondo di Murdoch parte dal Molleggiato - La Stampa, it - link (aqui)





25/1/2009 (7:19) - RETROSCENA

Celentano, a settembre andò in onda un suo film su Sky

Il magnate australiano corteggia Celentano. Presto l’accordo?
PAOLO FESTUCCIA
ROMA
Il «gioco» si fa serio. Da un lato la crisi pubblicitaria, dall’altro i cali degli ascolti. Nel mezzo lo «scontro» tra la pay tv, le televisioni generaliste e una quota pubblicitaria che in Italia, nei momenti più favorevoli, potrà raggiungere anche i dieci miliardi di euro. Di fronte a questo quadro, nella palazzina di Sky in via Salaria a Roma, si preparano alla sfida per il 2009, ma soprattutto, alle battaglie per il futuro. E stavolta, sembra sceso in campo a dettare la linea proprio Rupert Murdoch: a lui quell’innalzamento dell’Iva varato dal governo sul finir dello scorso novembre non è andato proprio giù. Altro, allora, che lettera di pace inviata a Silvio Berlusconi - come alcune fonti riportarono durante i giorni di burrasca - per abbassare i toni. Murdoch ha capito che la posta in ballo è enorme ed è pronto a giocarsi tutte le sue carte. Per il magnate australiano, l’editore globale, lo «squalo» - colui che in meno di un anno ha acquisito il «Wall Street Journal» riportandolo in grande spolvero - la sfida italiana è una piccola goccia nel mare del business televisivo.

Ma per lui è una battaglia che vale la pena di essere combattuta. La sfida si fa a colpi di acquisti, come nel calcio-mercato: del resto, rappresenta uno dei cardini dell’offerta televisiva di Sky. Murdoch sa che per battere la concorrenza e arrestare eventuali emorragie di abbonati dopo il contestato innalzamento dell’Iva (dal 10 al 20%) - solo a fine marzo saranno comunicati i dati degli abbonati - è necessario stare sul mercato, diversificare l’offerta, proporre contenuti ancora più attraenti ai propri clienti. Da qui, la «decisione» di accaparrarsi il meglio tra star, dive e format, anche della cosiddetta tv generalista, sino a ieri «prateria» sconfinata solo per Rai e Mediaset. Da qui, il colpo di Fiorello ma anche l’acquisto dei diritti per il «Sei nazioni» (costati 25 milioni di euro per quattro anni) di Rugby. E in via Salaria scommettono che non finirà qui. Dopo l’approdo dello showman siciliano, ma anche quello di Lorella Cuccarini (condurrà un programma sul ballo) si lavora ad altri grandi appuntamenti. D’altra parte, non è un mistero che già a settembre dello scorso anno su «Sky Cinema» andò in onda il film di Adriano Celentano (restaurato proprio da Sky) «Yuppi du» e che proprio il grande artista, a Venezia, spiegò che con «Sky avrebbe fatto sicuramente altre cose».

Se son rose fioriranno ma certamente le opportunità ci sono. Sky fa sul serio e non intende perdere nemmeno uno dei 4,7 milioni di abbonati italiani che in cinque anni gli hanno consentito di raggiungere un fatturato di 2,4 miliardi di euro. Dunque, via a nuovi programmi e, soprattutto, rivoluzione e miglioramento dei palinsesti. Del resto, a Murdoch - a differenza di Rai e Mediaset - del calo pubblicitario poco importa. Per lui, il vero «core business» è dato dal pacchetto abbonati, che fa lievitare gli utili e crescere le quotazione in borsa di News corps nel mondo. Ma un fatto è indubbio: se Sky cresce e porta via ascolti, la fetta pubblicitaria per gli altri due grandi operatori italiani - la Rai pubblica e Mediaset privata - si riduce sensibilmente. Per i centri media, quelli che propongono pubblicità ai grandi clienti conta, solamente il «Grp», termine inglese che sta per «Gross rating points»: l’indice che fornisce la misura della pressione esercitata sul consumatore da una certa azione pubblicitaria. Per fare soldi, non conta lo share ma solo l’audience. Dunque, la partita si gioca su questo terreno. E se l’audience totale scende perché ogni giorno milioni di telespettatori si trasferiscono sulla pay tv lasciando la televisione in chiaro, anche i ricavi pubblicitari sono destinati a crollare. Proprio per questa ragione c’è chi immagina un’alleanza, in futuro, tra Rai e Mediaset contro lo «straniero» Sky. Con la Rai più servizio pubblico e Mediaset più commerciale. Non è un caso se da mesi si indugia sul nuovo cda di viale Mazzini.

Tempeste e raffiche di vento: Francia e Spagna in ginocchio - La Stampa, it - link (aqui)





25/1/2009 (9:17) - EMERGENZA MALTEMPO


Punte anche di 180 chilometri orari,
A Barcellona crolla il tetto di un centro
sportivo: quattro bimbi perdono la vita
BARCELLONA
È di almeno 15 morti il bilancio delle vittime dell’ondata di maltempo che ha investito negli ultimi due giorni Spagna e Francia, dove il vento ha raggiunto punte di 180 chilometri orari. L’incidente più grave è avvenuto nei pressi di Barcellona, dove quattro bambini, di età compresa fra i 9 e i 12 anni, sono morti nel crollo di una parte del tetto di un palazzetto dello sport, mentre altri nove sono rimasti feriti.

Nel palazzetto di Sant Boi de Llobregat, costruito 25 anni fa, erano presenti almeno una trentina di bambini e due istruttori al momento dell’incidente. Sempre in Spagna, altre sette persone hanno perso la vita in diversi incidenti avvenuti in Catalogna, ad Alicante e in Galizia. In Francia, due persone sono rimaste uccise dal crollo di un albero sulle loro autovetture; una terza persona è morta colpita da detriti, mentre una donna che necessitava di assistenza respiratoria è deceduta nella sua abitazione a causa dell’interruzione della corrente elettrica.

Sono circa 1,3 milione le abitazioni rimaste ancora senza elettricità nel sud-ovest della Francia. L’interruzione di corrente elettrica ha interessato anche decine di migliaia di case nelle regioni spagnole di Paesi Baschi, Aragona, Galizia e Catalogna. Le forti raffiche di vento hanno causato ritardi e cancellazione di voli negli aeroporti di Bilbao e di Saint-Sebastian nei Paesi Baschi, di Pamplona in Navarra, di Santander in Cantabria, e di Ibiza nell’arcipelago delle Baleari. In difficoltà anche la circolazione ferroviaria, in particolare quella dei treni ad alta velocità che collegano Madrid e Barcellona.

In Francia, il traffico stradale ha cominciato a tornare alla normalità la scorsa notte, dopo che le autorità hanno vietato la circolazione ai mezzi pesanti e ai veicoli che trasportano materie pericolose. Rimane critica la situazione del sistema di fornitura elettrica. I servizi meteorologici francesi hanno riferito di una tempesta «di portata inusuale», con raffiche di vento che hanno raggiunto punte anche di 184 km/h. Il presidente francese Nicolas Sarkozy si recherà oggi in visita nella regione colpita, mentre il ministro dell’Interno Michele Alliot-Marie ha annunciato l’invio di altri 715 agenti.

Gran Bretagna, svolta anti-crisi: settimana lavorativa di tre giorni - La Stampa, it - link (aqui)




25/1/2009 (11:54)


La ricetta di Londra: ridurre l'orario
per salvare le imprese e l'occupazione
LONDRA
La Gran Bretagna fa ormai i conti con la recessione e il governo cerca di correre ai ripari. Torna ad affacciarsi la prospettiva della settimana lavorativa di tre giorni. Secondo l’Independent, che cita fonti governative, Londra starebbe considerando la possibilità ridurre l’orario di lavoro per salvare le imprese.

Sono già decine di migliaia le aziende che hanno manifestato l’intenzione di ridurre la settimana lavorativa. Molte, soprattutto nel comparto automobilistico, sono pronte a introdurre la settimana di tre giorni. Il governo sarebbe orientato a introdurre degli incentivi per i lavoratori anche se fonti ministeriali negano che ci sia un piano «imminente» in questo senso. L’obiettivo è comunque quello di evitare il boom della disoccupazione che già tra settembre e dicembre è balzata ai massimi dal 1997, al 6,1%.

Proprio nei giorni scorsi la mitica casa automobilistica Bentley, che annovera la Regina Elisabetta tra i più prestigiosi clienti e le cui vetture si vendono a listino attorno alle 250 mila sterline (264 mila euro), ha annunciato la sospensione della produzione per sette settimane a causa della caduta della domanda. La settimana corta era già stata introdotta nel Regno Unito negli anni ’70. Nel ’73 lo sciopero dei minatori delle miniere di carbone aveva costretto il governo a imporre una settimana di tre giorni di emergenza. L’orario ridotto era rimasto in vigore per tre-quattro mesi.

Lula, una lettera di scuse all'Italia ma non cambia la scelta su Battisti - la Repubblica, it - link (aqui)


Nel testo del messaggio inviato ieri a Napolitano la "piena fiducia" nella giustizia del nostro Paese
Ora la parola passa il Tribunale Supremo, che si riunisce il 2 febbraio

dal nostro inviato OMERO CIAI


Lula, una lettera di scuse all'Italia ma non cambia la scelta su Battisti

Il presidente Lula da Silva in una riunione di governo

BRASILIA - Una lettera breve, appena una pagina, nella quale il presidente brasiliano sostiene che la decisione di concedere l'asilo politico a Battisti è fondata su basi giuridiche "interne ed internazionali" ma dove, nello stesso tempo, si esprime testualmente "la piena considerazione del potere giudiziario italiano, nello Stato democratico vigente in questo paese e la piena fiducia nel carattere democratico, umanista e legittimo dell'ordinamento giuridico italiano".

A più di un osservatore la risposta di Lula a Napolitano è sembrata "una lettera di scuse", anche se il ritardo (sei giorni) e la difesa della scelta del ministro della Giustizia lasciano, nella sostanza, le cose come stavano.

Adesso il conflitto Italia-Brasile sull'estradizione di Cesare Battisti si sposta sul piano giudiziario e sulla prossima riunione del Tribunale Federale Supremo, prevista per il 2 febbraio. Ieri sera, nel corso di un incontro col Ministro degli Affari esteri Franco Frattini - che ha preso visione della risposta del Capo dello Stato brasiliano -, Napolitano ha apprezzato l'intendimento del Governo italiano di ricorrere a ogni strumento giuridico previsto dall'ordinamento brasiliano e da quello internazionale per sostenere le ragioni poste a base della richiesta di estradizione di Cesare Battisti, condannato all'ergastolo per più omicidi commessi negli anni dell'attacco terroristico alla democrazia italiana.

Due le prime novità: l'Italia, attraverso l'avvocato brasiliano indicato dall'ambasciata, ha chiesto di poter esporre le proprie ragioni presso il Tribunale Supremo, mentre la difesa di Battisti ha presentato una nuova richiesta di scarcerazione.

Intanto la stampa brasiliana riprende un duro commento dell'Economist nel quale si dice che le ragioni in base alle quali è stato concesso l'asilo politico a Battisti "non sono convincenti". L'Economist inoltre giudica "anacronistica" la tradizione alla quale si è rifatto il ministro della Giustizia citando, tra l'altro il caso dell'ex dittatore paraguayano Stroessner. "Ora che in America Latina la democrazia è una norma" questa tradizione brasiliana di concedere l'asilo politico, "a destra e a sinistra", è fuori dal tempo.

(24 gennaio 2009)

Carla Bruni sul sofà di Fazio sogno proibito della sinistra chic - la Repubblica, it - link (aqui)


Stasera la first lady francese nel salotto del conduttore Rai
L'Eliseo: "Sarkozy la lascia libera nelle interviste, non ha mai sbagliato"

di FRANCESCO MERLO


Carla Bruni sul sofà di Fazio
sogno proibito della sinistra chic" width="230">
BONOLIS l'avrebbe costretta ad una scenetta piccante da commedia all'italiana e Vespa l'avrebbe ridotta al ruolo di rivale di Alba Parietti. Carla Bruni ha scelto invece Fazio perché anche le "divine" hanno le loro debolezze è perché in Italia è il solo modo per non finire appunto sulle poltroncine trash di "Porta a Porta" o sulla scalinata infiorata di Sanremo. E dunque stasera arriva da Fazio, che è il cuscino trapuntato della televisione italiana di sinistra, una certa idea vincente dell'Italia.

E non solo e non tanto perché la Bruni è bella e canta come vuole l'identità italiana, e sempre si porta dietro la mamma, come fanno tutte le vere italiane sin dai tempi di "Io mammete e tu". Ma soprattutto perché è l'Italia-femmina che conquista la Francia con la sua inquietudine, più della Bellucci con il suo broncio, più di Monna Lisa con il suo sorriso.

E si sa che ogni italiana che conquista la Francia libera in Italia un problema insoluto. E infatti Carla Bruni, da quando è first lady occupa qui da noi un posto imprendibile, un territorio mentale, uno di quei luoghi irraggiungibili dove si custodiscono i valori negati, il Santo Graal, il pomo dorato della poetessa Saffo o l'essere appunto first lady giovane e bella; insomma, il sogno irrealizzabile al Quirinale di una gerarchia e di uno status che siano fondati sul portamento, sull'intonazione della voce, sull'impalpabilità.

La Bruni va da Fazio anche perché è quello il sofà delle muse, perché non c'è star del pop, del rock, della letteratura e della politica che non vada da Fazio, magari per citare i libri che non leggono. Carla Bruni ha rivelato che il suo romanzo preferito è la Recherche, ed è un dettaglio che ai francesi suona francese scolastico, francese naturale, mentre agli italiani suona italiano provinciale, italiano messo in posa, perché citare Proust è qui da noi come la mossa nell'avanspettacolo. Proust è l'autore di cui discutevano al caffé Rosati i letterati romani presi in giro da Flaiano e ritratti da Maccari: "Non s'ebbe tempo di leggerlo".

Si sa infine che Carla Bruni è considerata dai francesi "la coscienza di sinistra" di Sarkozy, ed è sicuro che il presidente sinora ha saputo usarla più che bene in politica estera. E non per coprirsi a sinistra, visto che ha già arruolato al governo alcuni autorevoli esponenti della Gauche, ma per spianare terreni accidentati con la leggerezza e con il fascino, per mettere in campo l'ordigno segreto: la dolcezza, lo scacco della natura.

Chi infatti non deporrebbe le armi davanti a Carla Bruni? Persino la colpevole simpatia per gli ex terroristi diventa in lei un vezzo grazioso del quale dovrebbero preoccuparsi soprattutto loro, gli ex spietati killer della rivoluzione. La benevolenza imbronciata della regina dello charme borghese definitivamente consacra, infatti, la loro trasformazione: da orsi feroci che volevano distruggere il mondo a orsetti di peluche nei salotti della seduzione.

Ha detto il portavoce dell'Eliseo: "Il presidente la lascia completamente libera. Anche nelle interviste si muove come vuole e dove vuole. Noi non controlliamo nulla. E sinora non ha sbagliato mai". E basterà ricordare come si è spuntato il sarcasmo britannico quando a Buckingham Palace arrivò lei con le sue scarpe basse, un perfetto inglese aristocratico, l'inchino e le piccole libertà carbonare. In una complessa e difficile politica estera anche un breve tocco delle dita, l'amabilità, l'allegria naturale e intraprendente possono diventare uno sciacquabocca, un controveleno, la boccata di ossigeno contro il soffocamento della Storia.

Pensate a Carla Bruni in quel summit di bellezze orientali indetto a Istanbul, per aiutare i civili di Gaza, da Emine, la moglie del premier turco Erdogan. Nella splendida foto di gruppo colpiva soprattutto la presenza della Bruni, nervosa, ambigua e un po' maledetta, come lo sono le donne che fanno impazzire gli uomini nell'intero Occidente. Non c'è infatti nulla di più occidentale della sua bellezza distratta e spregiudicata, sensibile ai turbamenti del desiderio come lo sono tutte le donne seducenti. Accanto ad Asma Assad della Siria, Rania di Giordania, Mihriban Aliyev dell'Azerbaijan, Lalla Selma del Marocco e Seyha Mozah del Qatar, riusciva - la Bruni - ad apparire in raffinata controtendenza, ed era la sola che del chador faceva un foulard.

In questo senso, al di là del pittoresco patetico, diventa significativa la reazione stizzita di Alba Parietti all'intervista di stasera. La Parietti a suo modo percepisce la novità. Se infatti Carla Bruni è la musa di sinistra, ebbene questa è la sinistra della distinzione, non più quella conformista e ordinaria anche nelle forme: non più "de sinistra" come scrive il Foglio di Ferrara. Insomma qui la distinzione si fa valore di una sinistra che ha bisogno di eleganza e di complessità.
Proprio per questo, alla fine, Carla Bruni gioca d'azzardo questa sera. Potrebbe diventare un personaggio faziesco, un lecca lecca. Fazio, con i suoi ammiccamenti ruffiani, rischia di farne un soggetto da Grand Hotel della sinistra. Di quelli, come dicevamo prima, che finiscono per citare i libri che non leggono.

(25 gennaio 2009)

Intervento del ministro degli Esteri israeliano e presidente del partito Kadima - Corriere Della Sera, it - link (aqui)

Livni: «Obama, un'opportunità per noi»

«Vuole essere coinvolto e risolvere il conflitto, Israele scelga la via della pace o la rottura sarà inevitabile»

Tzipi Livni (Afp)
Tzipi Livni (Afp)
TEL AVIV - Secondo il ministro degli Esteri israeliano e presidente del partito Kadima, Tzipi Livni, la politica del nuovo presidente americano Barack Obama può essere «un'opportunità per Israele», ma solo se Tel Aviv sceglierà la via della pace. Obama «vuole essere coinvolto e risolvere il conflitto - ha detto durante un convegno a porte chiuse il ministro, citato dall'edizione online del quotidiano Yedioth Ahronoth -. Le sue pressioni saranno rivolte a chi rifiuta questo processo, e Israele deve scegliere se sta con chi vuole fare avanzare il processo di pace o con chi lo rifiuta: in quest'ultimo caso ci sarà un'inevitabile spaccatura con gli Stati Uniti».


25 gennaio 2009

Ver cine desde un sillón rosa - El País, es - link (aqui)

El cine del Forum des Images de París- DANIEL MORDZINSKI

El Forum des Images de París revoluciona la relación del espectador con las salas

ANTONIO JIMÉNEZ BARCA - París - 25/01/2009

Llama la atención tanto rosa en una filmoteca: neones rosa, sillones rosa, paredes pintadas en rosa, una barra de bar rosa... Uno piensa que en cualquier momento va a aparecer la Pantera Rosa de los dibujos animados de la infancia. La directora general de la institución, Laurence Herszberg, sonríe y lo admite: "Quisimos meter color, convertirlo todo en algo alegre, acogedor, que anime a la gente a entrar a ver cine".

Ése es el objetivo del recientemente renovado Forum des Images de París, enclavado en el Les Halles: arrancar a la gente de su casa (o de las tiendas del centro comercial contiguo) y atraerla a estas salas para que hablen de cine, descubran el cine o, simplemente, vean películas. Después de tres años de obras, e inaugurado el pasado mes de diciembre, esta filmoteca municipal renovada presenta nuevas maneras de entender la relación sala-espectador.

A la directora de la institución no se le escapa que el mundo audiovisual está en perpetua revolución y que el cine cada vez se reduce más a comprar un DVD y conectarlo en la pantalla plana del salón de casa, con o sin amigos.

En el Forum des Images hay salas como las de toda la vida, con capacidad para 450 personas, que se utilizan para proyectar buenas películas en silencio. Pero también hay una habitación enorme llena de pantallas individuales enfrentadas a unos sillones muy cómodos (y de colores chillones). Por cinco euros, un espectador puede ver la película que echen en la sala grande (por lo general muy buena: ahora se desarrolla un ciclo sobre Nueva York).

Cuando termine, y está incluido en el precio, el espectador puede acercarse a la sala grande con pantallas individuales y cómodos sofás. Allí, de una manera muy fácil, puede elegir cualquiera de las 5.500 películas relacionadas con París que están archivadas en la filmoteca y que constituyen la memoria de esta ciudad. Basta con un movimiento del mando incorporado a la pantalla. Tan fácil como manejarse con Google. Después se pone uno los cascos y ve la película como en casa. Tal vez el secreto sea ése: ver el cine como en casa, pero sin estar en casa, sin las limitaciones y engorros de tu casa: interrupciones, teléfonos, niños, visitas...

Hay más posibilidades: cerca de esta sala enorme hay otra un poco más pequeña, insonorizada, con capacidad para siete butacones. Al fondo de esta salita, una pantalla plana por la que más de algún cinéfilo mataría con tal de poder colgarla en la pared de su dormitorio. Todo se alquila por 14 euros, durante cuatro horas. Ideal para siete amigotes. Es lo más parecido que existe en esta ciudad a ver una película en tu casa con un grupo de amigos..., pero (otra vez) sin estar en casa.

Una modalidad original es la que incluye, por nueve euros, una comida y la proyección de un cortometraje. Es una oferta destinada a los oficinistas, trabajadores y empleados de jornada partida que habitan el centro de París y que cuentan con un rato después de comer. "Tratamos de tener una enorme diversidad de público, no sólo el público experto, sino de todo tipo", explica Laurence Herszberg.

Es cierto. No se desdeña al cinéfilo: una vez al mes, un cineasta reputado (este mes es Claude Chabrol) habla de su vida y de su obra. Tampoco se olvida a los padres con niños a cuestas: actualmente se desarrolla un ciclo de cine infantil, especialmente elaborado para espectadores desde los 18 meses a los cuatro años. Para ellos se eligen cuidadosamente películas adaptadas, cintas más cortas de lo normal, viejas filmaciones en blanco y negro animadas por cantantes o músicos. "Intentamos enseñarles a amar el cine, a que aprendan a ver películas, a la oscuridad, a la que se acostumbran gradualmente. Y es asombroso lo callados que están los pequeños, lo que les gusta...", explica la directora.

Y un domingo al mes, el incomparable Bertrand Tavernier desarrolla un ciclo particular que sólo tiene que ver con él mismo. Durante una tarde, en una sala enorme y por lo general repleta de público, el cineasta francés habla y comenta viejas películas que trae de la inacabable videoteca de su casa. La directora cierra los ojos al recordarlo: "Convierte esas tardes en algo irrepetible. No sólo por su cultura cinematográfica, sino por la manera que tiene de contar las cosas. No da conferencias: cuenta una historia, es eso lo que le convierte en alguien fascinante".

Vestíbulo futurista para pasar la tarde

Y si a pesar de todo a uno no le gustan las películas, da igual. Puede entrar en el Forum des Images, quedarse en ese vestíbulo futurista de la Pantera Rosa, conectar su ordenador a uno de los enchufes gratuitos que se encuentran a mano y sentarse en un sillón morado a pasar la tarde, aprovechándose del wi-fi que flota en el entorno.

La directora Herszberg lo sabe y lo aprueba: "Se trata de que la gente entre y se quede. Para entrar no hay que pagar, sólo al acceder a las salas. Hemos intentado crear un espacio en el que todos se sientan cómodos. Ya irá luego a la sala, o al día siguiente; o se pondrá a hablar con otro que sí ha ido. Queremos que la gente hable aquí de cine. Porque el cine depende de la imagen. Pero también de la palabra".