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IN SEARCH OF THE AMERICAN DREAM

Karina Moreno Rojas

Currently there are 12 million Mexican immigrants in the United States, of which 43 percent have immigration papers, in search of a better way of life, the great American dream and decent work opportunities and better pay, according to recent data from the National Institute of Statistics, Geography and Informatics (INEGI).
This is caused by multiple factors, but among the most important is the lack of jobs in the country and is, as stated INEGI, the national average unemployment hit 3.61 percent of the Economically Active Population (PEA) for April This year, hit much emphasis on women, who have an unemployment rate of 19 percent more than men.
We are facing a real national problem because, as quoted in his note Antonio Zúñiga "Unemployment grew in April: 3.61% PEA" in La Jornada 21 May this year, 23 of every 100 households in Mexico are held by women, and unfortunately, "the unemployment rate among women rose from 3.99 percent in April last year to 4.14 in the same month in 2008, while that of men decreased from 3.35 to 3.28 percent over the same period. "
addition to this, the Center for Private Sector Economic Studies (CEESP) clearly described the lag in job creation and said it will not be able to accommodate 1.1 million people each year are integrated into the labor market. The note
"Backwardness evident in job creation: CEESP" dated March 31, 2008 in La Jornada , states that companies have serious trouble staying afloat because non-wage costs, also called deductions or contributions as required by law, are little more than 50 percent. As a result, these companies seek to decrease costs by hiring temporary this is insufficient, prevailing at the informal work and the migration of Mexicans.
"Mexico is a young country where everyday 3 000 youth entering the labor market. Most surprisingly, in recent years because of the 90 thousand jobs created less than a day, so that two of every three applicants were left with the desire or amounted to informal work, Armando Bartra raises in his article " The rights of migrants and the right not to migrate. "
He added that as stated in the International Labor Organization "growing unemployment is the greatest human drama of the planet, and depression of the start of the century lost their jobs some 24 million people. But this is nothing: in the next decade the market will add 500 million new job seekers, mainly in the peripheral countries-while, while we go, will create 100 million jobs. "
Although the Mexican government, as well as American, put on a silver platter to foreign capital, cheap labor, lax environmental and labor laws, deregulation, fiscal and public safety facilities is not enough to create more and better jobs. Without more, these countries become true citizens suppliers exported in large quantities every year, to wait calmly remittances that are sent and which largely maintain the Latin American economies.

*** Who is a migrant? ***

is curious that the verb to migrate is not regarded as such, but its meanings to emigrate and immigrate. "Migrante is the present participle of the verb to migrate. And as such, provides the very act of migrating, the present action and rough, moving from one territory to another, "says Matteo Dean in his article" Being a migrant " ( La Jornada, April 1 2008). For its part, Elaine Levine in the book Migration and Latinos in the United States says which is "the movement from one place to another in search of better living conditions, is an activity that has made the human [...] since its inception."
Both definitions are not much different from one another. However, being an immigrant represents much more than a short definition. For one thing covering the recognition of a human being who is moved, by necessity, from one territory to another, carrying its nationality, place of origin, but difficult to maintain after a reasonable time, as it adopted ways of being and thinking , ways of relating and visions. Dean Matteo
recognized as central feature of immigrant rebellion to mention that they are beings on the run, fleeing various problems and break rules to get where they want, "[...] the rebellion finds its reason in the will, express or less of the migrant to disobey the rules, many do not written, condemning it to life that is leaving, is that a life of poverty and lack of opportunity, or a life at war, or condemned to the monotony of a society without whys and perspectives. But at the same time, leaving a kind of surrender is facing a reality against which failed. "
argues further that even if you do not think those are migrants who leave their home only temporarily to make money or those others who leave never to return and settle, they do not meet the definition of migration, understood as active in constant motion, which migrates never leaves the place of origin even in thoughts, nor feel part of the new site. Also, always returns to the starting point to visit either physically or through consuming information regarding the place of the departed.

*** A Common Good: ***
remittances
Remittances product of labor of Mexican migrants in the United States, covering a total of 24 billion dollars annually, which represents the second payment Currency after oil and tourism before (Cano Arturo, "Towards a geography of another Mexico" in La Jornada).
These remittances are an expense to those who rule and greatly diminished its value to enter our country. Send money to the families they cost about 20 or 30 percent of dollar value of the command, all depends on how abusive it is the shipping company and exchange of cash.
But in a country where since 2001 more than ever closed a large number of maquiladoras and 300 thousand jobs were lost due to U.S. recession and cheaper labor in Central America and China, and where were created annually (at least before 2000) 400 thousand jobs and entered the labor market 1 million 100 thousand young people ... in a country, the hope of development and progress are nil, therefore, migration is of paramount importance for the livelihoods of thousands of families.
Given the impotence of 300 000 young people every day seeking employment and where only one of every three applicants get it, it is not surprising that about 500 thousand children try to cross into the USA daily. Each
Mexicans leave the country next command, if at all possible, a reasonable amount of money for the family that he was on the side of pozole and Garnacha. According to figures from the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB) in 2002 remittances amounted to 9 000 300 million dollars.
is, as stated in the text Bartra published by La Jornada in 2003, "three times the value of agricultural exports, 50 percent more than it brings tourism and almost as much as oil or entering foreign direct investment. "
He added: "Of the 23 billion dollars, according to the IDB, are Latin America and the Caribbean in remittances to Mexico will account for about 40 percent, far away is Brazil with 2 000 600 million and the Salvador with a thousand 972 million. " Similarly, stresses the need for remittances by the Mexican population depending directly one million 300 thousand families, nearly 7 million people, or what is, seven per cent of the country's inhabitants, therefore, half a million total households are dependent on remittance income.
Because of this, one gets the idea that remittances are sufficient justification to continue raising Mexicans who arrived in middle age and ability to work, go to another country to offer his strength and knowledge. Because, in the words of Bartra, "well used, they say, remittances could generate development removal in the regions, reducing the urgency pilgrim people. "
But how much the statements is true? Not much really, to understand what is stated in "The rights of migrants and the right not to migrate." Although boosted shipments programs to use in investments with the greatest impact, such as three by one and my community in the state of Guanajuato during the Fox administration, the truth is that only channel collective remittances, which is part of the money, Most goes to the family subsistence.
Because that is, remittances represent a real economic gain national long-term guarantee family existence, asset growth and a significant improvement in the quality of individual lives, not by major sectors.
As mentioned by the author (Bartra) "Mexico-United States, the world's busiest border, allow the large influx of remittances to the country for considerable periods of time but defining. That is, the money sent by the villagers is not always or in the same way.
During the first months or even years, received the highest percentage of revenue, but as time passed, it diminishes or stagnates in the same amount as always when the migrant actually could send more. By then the plans have changed. And not think of a temporary stay to raise money and return to the homeland, are dreaming of the American dream, she imagines a life of luxury and perfection, looking for ways to stay on the site and get legal papers and the public to have the same rights all.
"The money remittance flow is unsustainable in its current volumes, and can not sustain the economy, neither the local nor the regional or national. In addition, remittances are not net income, then, in return for entering, leaving the country trained adult workers and labor, in which Mexican society invested, so that shipments can be viewed as the replacement of this spending " says Bartra in the text.
And later explained why. Although economic theory for any entry is a utility because the migrants are surplus and well what they offer, in a more rational and logical real relocates the migrant as a human being and citizen, which was the result of expenditure by government, they will never be paid while working for another country.
As more profit of the bars and star of our eagle devouring a snake. The U.S. government benefits from cheap labor, which does not suggest more spending compared to the economic aspects that are reserved for taxes and pensions, and has had the benefit intimidation and low wages for immigrant status.

Reception Card In Spanish

Reflection

text The nascent Afghan passion on TV

By Karina Moreno Rojas

I really liked this text is brief and without express openly critical views of the journalist, but through of contradictions that reflect figures shortage of basic services, illiteracy and the continuing damage and danger of war against the entertainment group or individual, as the gender, Afghan television outstanding, mainly to the melodramas and soap operas, for which they say learning aspects of reality. It is interesting as starting
the author, in recounting the experience of Sediqui lived for seven years, which is now recognized as Afghan television celebrity.
In my view, the story reveals the innocence and perhaps ignorance of the Afghans, who see the problems they see in the telenovelas "teach things about life" when it is known that most stories are cheap to reflect a supposed reality where good guys always win and love conquers evil.
On the other hand, recognizes the television as a medium of communication that tells the truth because "throughout the world in-law engaged in the search case, this is something with no value or sustainable aspect.
Finally, it is interesting how people see on the TV screen all that know and never will be, as haute cuisine food may not taste as found in expensive restaurants which will not come, or programs where they engage to tell stories in which there is no military problem, the only conflicts are inconclusive affair.

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Reflection

text Jimmy's World

By Karina Moreno Rojas

Jimmy's World, written by reporter Janet Cooke, is a powerful text which chronicles the life of a child only eight years old heroin addict for three. Shows the contradiction between the act of a child as an adult and the dreams and illusions of a small innocent example is when Jimmy raises drug dealer want to be when I grow up (at eleven) to buy a shepherd dog, a bicycle and a basketball ball.
Similarly, Jimmy's only interest in school is to learn math, just to be careful in its future business in selling drugs and all that you can sell to people.
The story is a snapshot of life as hurtful and damaging to live in ghettos, barrios and African Americans, which is a form of normal existence for those involved, although not necessarily know they are wrong.
Jimmy's world is full of drugs, easy money, prostitution and theft. It is truly amazing to read the dreams of a child related to the stockpiles of drugs, the story of his mother who was raped and held him as a result of such violation, which to forget the troubles of his life after pregnancy is addicted to heroin, keeping his vice $ 60 daily with shoplifting and prostitution.
However, what surprised me most was the description of Jimmy craving for the drug, their desperation to turn on and off his sword Star Wars, how it is injected heroin and when he forgets it all and enjoy this as if on a roller coaster (the child makes reference to the journalist about the feeling of getting high).
The research that the author makes is clear and important to contextualize the experience of Jimmy, extending such research on the drug called Golden Cresco, data offered by the Institute of Drug Abuse Howard University on the increase in drug use and statements of a physician from the same institution and a social worker.
is a short story worth knowing that not only explains the situation of living in black neighborhoods in America, but also reflects different experiences in the same story that raises awareness and amaze those who read.

Famous People Narcissistic Personality Disorder

note (New Journalism)

El Universal passion
The nascent Afghan television by Barry Bearak
• THE NEW YORK TIMES

El Universal Monday August 6, 2007

seven years ago, in a different time, in a different Afghanistan, Daoud Sediqi, a medical student, was returning from the campus on his bicycle when he was detained by Taliban religious police. Fear gripped the young man, he knew he had violated at least two laws. KABUL
.- Seven years ago, in a different time, in a different Afghanistan, Daoud Sediqi, medical student, was returning from the campus on his bicycle when he was detained by Taliban religious police. Fear gripped the young man, he knew he had violated at least two laws.
first offense, it was also obvious was the length of his hair. Although the Taliban insisted that men should not trim his beard, opposed the "sloppiness" and the student had the shaggy locks. His other transgression was more serious. If his captors sift through their possessions, they would find a CD with an X-rated film
"Fortunately, they did not realize, my only punishment was to shave my beard, my hair long," recalled Sediqi, now, at age 26, is one of the most famous of the country, not for being a guerrilla or a mullah, but for being a television celebrity, host of Afghan Star, Afghanistan's version of American Idol.
Since the fall of the Taliban regime in late 2001, Afghanistan has developed in fits and starts. Among the things have not changed and that affect people, is the continuing war, inept leaders, corrupt police and the difficult living conditions. According to the latest government survey, only 43% of homes have windows and roofs destroyed, 31% have safe drinking water and adequate toilets 7%.
But television has received a phenomenal boost in a country where Afghans seeking some escape, and the rest of the world: soap operas that pit the good with the bad, the chefs who prepare food that most people never eat in kitchens they could never have, since they could not pay, the talk-show hosts, extracting Secrets of a nerve, which can not be saved the trouble themselves.
The most recent national survey, which dates back to 2005 shows that 19% of Afghan households have a television, a considerable figure, not only by the fact that having a television during the Taliban regime was a crime, but because only 14 % of the population has access to electricity. In a study this year on the five most urbanized provinces of Afghanistan, two thirds of respondents said they watched TV every day or almost every day.
"Maybe Afghanistan is not so different from other places," said Muhammad Qaseem Akhgar, a major social analyst and newspaper editor. "People watch television because there is nothing else to do."
Reading is a most unlikely option: only 28% of the population is literate. "What else can you have fun," said Akhgar.
Each night, residents of Kabul turn on the TV in prime time clocks, and respond, in other circumstances, the call to prayer. "As you can see, the TV tells the truth, because all over the world are engaged in-law to seek litigation," said Muhammad Farid, an Afghan sitting in a restaurant near the mosque Pul-i-Khishti Mosque, his attention fixed a Indian soap opera dubbed in Dari.
Women, whose public appearances are limited by custom, often see their favorite shows at home instead. In contrast, men are free to turn to television in a communal ritual. In restaurants, customers sit on carpeted platforms, attentive to the television set near the ceiling. Overwhelm deeply metaphysical questions: Prerna find happiness with Mr. Bajaj, who, after all not the father of her child?
"These are problems that teach you things about life," said Sayed Agha, who by day sells fresh vegetables from a cart, and at night usually see melodramas.
do see is not for discussion. At 7:30, Prerna, an Indian soap opera known by the name of its female protagonist.

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Reading (controversial story)

Bolivarian Circle MARCH 17
May 29, 2003
HANDLING INFORMATION DURING THE IRAQ INVASION

Saving Private Lynch
Roberto Bardini (from Mexico, especially for ARGENPRESS.info)
Cameramen U.S. army in Iraq have nothing to envy to the film director Steven Spielberg, who in 1998 won an Oscar for his film Saving Private Ryan. And it seems that Hollywood writers have encountered serious competitors, psychological operations specialists from the Pentagon. Both sides exaggerate or distort reality to create fiction that reach the hearts of viewers hungry for heroes. Or in this case, heroines ... against their will.
gunpowder and printing keep an intimate relationship, wrote Oswald Spengler in The Decline of the West, voluminous work published in 1922. In those years the film industry was not developed nor was television. The following story, which also could be called 'War, Lies and video'-gives reason to German historian. And once again confirms the old phrase archicitada U.S. Senator Hiram Warren Johnson in 1917: 'When the war began, the first casualty is truth. " Commands

attack Scene One: March 23. Private Jessica Lynch, 19, originally from Palestine (West Viginier) assigned to the Supply Section of the U.S. military-truck traveling in the Iraqi desert. She is one of the 35 000 women in uniform sent to the Arab country.
Scene Two: The military vehicle, which are 15 soldiers of the 507th Brigade Support falls into an ambush by Iraqi militants. Despite the injury, Jessica refuses firing his rifle until the last round, not to fall prisoner alive. Enrage Arabs and stabbed her. However, the beautiful warrior still alive.
Scene Three: March 30. Jessica remains lying in the Iraqi hospital Nassariya, full of fractures, and bandages. This shot in multiple parts. Furthermore, it has broken an arm, both legs, feet and ankles. It is one of the top ten U.S. soldiers captured by Iraqi forces in the early days of the ground invasion. It takes a week without eating. Doctors and nurses attend reluctantly. The guard about 40 'fedayeen'. One of them, come in, he insults and beats him in the face slapping.
Scene Four: A civilian named Mohammed, 32, is in the hospital visiting his wife, a nurse. Is moved by the suffering of the young prisoner who came to save the Iraqi people from Saddam Hussein's dictatorship. Listen to a doctor talks to amputate a leg. Can not bear what he sees and hears.
Scene Five: First April. Mohamed runs six miles on foot, heading for the top U.S. military. Comes with their hands up, to show that there is an enemy. 'I have information about woman soldier in hospital, "he says. A blueprint to guide fellow Jessica.
Scene Six: Night. Nassariya nearby hospital. 'Go, go, go! ", Shouting orders to a young lieutenant. 'Go, go, go! ", Screams a tough sergeant. A combined force of Marines, 'Rangers' and 'Navy Seal' (Sea-Air-Land: land, air and sea), armed with night vision equipment and coordinated by the CIA, attacks. Explosions and gunfire. Confusion of 'fedayeen', doctors and nurses. Jessica Lynch is rescued and taken by stretcher to a Blackhawk helicopter. No deaths or injuries in the bomber command. (THE END).

An American heroine The 'script' was developed with information prior agencies AP, AFP and Reuters published in several newspapers in Latin America. CNN showed virtually everywhere a video recording of the rescue operation, filmed by a cameraman for the army, poor light and grainy. "This is a story that will probably end up in film ', said presenter excited CNN.
Before his rise to fame, Jessica Lynch had been assigned to the base of Fort Bliss (Texas), where he served two years of service and was renewed for another four. He never imagined that one day he would play part in a war.
'America is a nation that does not leave its heroes behind, "said James Wilkinson, spokesman for the U.S. military's Central Command in Qatar, to discuss the rescue 'behind enemy lines. " However, he gave too many details about the operation or say whether they had special units to deal with armed Iraqi soldiers free to Jessica Lynch.
"Some brave souls put their lives at risk," he added in a tone epic Gen. Vincent Brooks, who described how the operation was carried out at midnight and demanded the participation of dozens of elite soldiers.
Gregory Lynch, Jessica's older brother and also a soldier, said: "They have done a wonderful job. Knew was alive and that she would be rescued. Although I did not think it would be so soon. " President George W.
Bush shared the enthusiasm of the military in need of a story that raised its moral. According to presidential spokesman, Ari Fleischer, Bush celebrated the success of rescue when Donald Rumsfeld, Secretary of Defense forwarded the news. "The president is tremendously proud of the work of rescuers who risked their lives to free a captive soldier," said Fleischer.
American television crews flew quickly to Palestine, the hometown of Jessica miserable in West Virginia, with a 15 percent unemployment, one of the highest figures in the country. The girl, as recounted their family, aspired to study for a kindergarten teacher and signed a contract with the military just to pay for their studies. She did not aspire to go to brigadier general: just wanted to save for a college degree.
When the Pentagon announced the rescue, she was transformed overnight into an entire American heroin, with all the attributes of a consumer society: buttons that read "America loves Jessica", car stickers, T-shirts, mugs, country songs and a movie on NBC television. The other hero
almost anonymous, Mohammed, meanwhile, was moved with his wife and a six year old son to a military facility in Umm Qasr, as a 'guest of honor' of the United States.

War, Lies and Videotape
The touching story of action began to deflate seven weeks later, in a surprising sort of play in five acts.
Act One: Dr. Greg Argyros, who heads the medical team that Jessica Lynch at Walter Reed military hospital in the United States, NBC declared that it is very likely that the soldier never remember their adventure in Iraq. 'He has no recollection of events from the time when his convoy was attacked until she woke up 'in an Iraqi hospital, says the doctor. Argyros said that this is not a case of amnesia, which he defined as' the missing something that you knew. " Lynch explained that the soldiers simply do not remember the March 23 ambush in which he was captured.
Act II: The BBC television in London, an interview with Iraqi doctors who treated Jessica at the hospital in Nassariya.
Doctors say she had no bullet wounds, who was abused and did everything possible to heal their fractures. In addition, they say that they contacted U.S. forces to inform them that the militants had left the hospital on 28 March and wanted to let you know that giving back to the girl. Forty-eight hours before his dramatic rescue, an Iraqi ambulance went to the enemy lines to deliver to the patient, but had to turn back and escape as fast as the invading soldiers were shot and nearly kill his own comrade weapons. Dr. Anmar Uday
tells the BBC: "We were surprised. There were no soldiers (Iraqi) in the hospital. It was like a Hollywood movie. (The Invaders) shouted 'go, go, go', with blanks fired and explosions were heard. They set up a show: there were no casualties on either side. " According to Uday, seemed "an action movie such as Sylvester Stallone. "
Act III: The BBC also interviewed doctors who treated Jessica Americans and U.S. territory. Confirmed that she had no bullet wounds or signs of torture, but fractures and injuries caused by the rollover of the truck he was traveling.
The BBC says the U.S. official who turned the world on the capture, resistance and rescue of Jessica was a manipulation of reality. 'The story is one of the most amazing pieces of news management ever conceived ", says British television.
Act Four: Mohammed, the only witness who says having observed the mistreatment Jessica is being a lawyer. Granted asylum in the United States and works as a lobbyist or 'operator' in a business enterprise owned by a former legislative representative. Systematically refuses to be interviewed by the press.
Fifth act: 'I do not know what happened, I remember nothing,' says Jessica told reporters. Her angelic face smiling shyly looks away, looks down. (The curtain falls)
redaccion@argenpress.infoinfo @ argenpress.infoCOPYRIGHT ARGENPRESS.INFO © 2003webmaster@argenpress.info

Taken ARGENPRESS.info
Roberto Bardini, Saving Private Lynch , http://www.angelfire.com/nb/17m/medios/alrescates.html , Wednesday August 20, 2008, 2:55 a.m.





Saving Private Lynch
Last 02/04/2007 6:18
modified Pasquale SerranoVersión Pentagon official: The military convoy is attacked Lynch soldier in an ambush by the Iraqi army. After fierce resistance of Private Jessica Lynch was wounded and captured after emptying his boots against the enemy. Iraqis lead to a hospital where he is heavily guarded by the army of Saddam. Despite this, an accomplished American elite commando rescue Operation Lightning in a brilliant escape the vigilance of the Iraqi soldiers.
real facts after investigation by the Department of Defense: Army Unit 507 of which belonged Lych soldier takes a wrong road that leads to the mouth of the wolf, the center of Nasiriya, because they misread the map and a problem of communication with vehicles from other units. Shots start ringing, the unit is dispersed in utter chaos dominated by haste and fear. Some vehicles are out of gas and others are stuck in the sand. Private Lynch was injured when his vehicle dump without using weapons. Is transferred and carefully attended to in a civil hospital where no military presence whatsoever. Logically, the U.S. military can salvage without any difficulty or resistance from hospital staff. Apply
this example to information on the existence of weapons of mass destruction, the terrorist threat of Saddam Hussein, the intentions of liberating the Iraqi people and the future of democracy and U.S. reconstruction plans for Iraq. Pascual SERRANO
, Saving Private Lynch, http://www.pascualserrano.net/7-JULIO-03/12-07-03soldadolych.htm , Wednesday August 20, 2008, 3:09 a.m.
The falluto rescue the soldier LynchTed Cordova Claure Thursday, June 26 2003The rescue of Iraq, of Private Lynch has nothing to do with "The rescue of Private Ryan," an epic film based on a story by the famous American historian, Stephen Ambrose - who died recently, "it was a great film, directed by award-winning Steven Spielbrg and the award-winning actor Tom Hanks also. The "rescue" of Lynch was a fiasco of Pentagon propaganda.
In seeking support for a war that nobody understood or accepted, the Bush administration launched a war heroism alleged action of trying to hold the interest and patriotism of Americans, but little by little it is showing that it was all a fake shoddy history, allegedly Hollywood style.
The Bush's justification, as discussed worldwide today, when found not found the famous weapons of mass destruction that so insistently announced by President Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair, that the Iraqi dictator and available ... and could use at any time.
But the "rescue" of Private Lynch in Iraq is becoming the worst assembly Pentagon propaganda on the Iraq war, an episode full of falsehoods and lies that the Bush dynasty imposed on the American and world opinion to save to history and to justify a military adventure is not known when or how, or where it will end ...
March 23, when the Anglo-American invasion from Kuwait and began virtually from the four corners of the world map, a convoy of U.S. military support of the wrong route and was ambushed near the town of Nassariya, the U.S. command had chosen to ignore in their anxiety to advance quickly towards Baghdad.
During the ambush, several American convoy vehicles were destroyed and there was a brief battle.
Five soldiers were killed and about seven were wounded or fell prey to the Iraqis, including two female soldiers and one of them, it said in a first version was fighting, firing his M-16 rifle to empty the clip, meaning that fighting until he was captured and taken to a hospital in Nassariya.
The soldier was rescued by a panel, after the U.S. military were dateados by the clinicians of the hospital that Private Lynch was being rescued from a certain room because doctors feared he could be abused by militants Baathists (the party Saddam Hussein) who stood guard there.
The truth is that a unit of special forces commandos went to rescue her, in a spectacular night operations, kicking doors, rifles in hand and shouting "go, go. go! ", to the astonished doctors and nurses who had already crossed over and arranged everything for the delivery of the wounded soldier.
All this was filmed with special cameras to capture images at night, according to a report by the BBC in London, who criticized the 'staging' of the episode.
A Canadian journalist who investigated the case, wrote in the Toronto Star that Private Lynch had no bullet wounds, but a broken spine and another in the leg, and a knife cut in any case, prevented him from handling M-16 rifle.
The journalist continued the case until the Walter Reed hospital in Washington, where Lynch is isolated, with a military guard at the door. Only allowed access to his father, who told reporters said he could not speak anything. At first he said the soldier had lost his memory. There was not even reply to the offer of the CBS television network, which has exchange for an interview offered to fund a book and a movie. That is, the direct path to stardom and the economic boom. Lynch, who lived in an impoverished area of \u200b\u200bthe state of West Virginia, had enlisted in the army for the purpose of obtaining a scholarship to study for master. But nothing. Private Lynch remains under Pentagon control. And it's one of the mysteries of the propaganda war in Iraq. And just when I'm finishing writing this article, see the news that he was architect of public relations for the Pentagon, Victoria Clarke, in strict confidence by Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has resigned.
Is it an indirect victim of the rescue of Private Lynch? Here comes the next chapter. TED

Cordova Claure, The falluto rescue of Private Lynch , http://www.analitica.com/va/internacionales/opinion/2810102.asp , Wednesday August 20, 2008, 3:18 a.m.

Trouble With My Avital Starter

JULY CORTÁZAR

Continuity of Parks
had begun reading the novel a few days before. The urgent business left, opened it again when returning by train to the farm, is slowly leaving interest in the plot, by drawing the characters. That evening, after writing a letter to his attorney and discuss with the butler a matter of sharecropping, returned to the book in the quiet of his study which looked into the park of oak trees. Sprawled in his favorite chair, his back to the door that had bothered him as an irritating intrusion possible, let your left hand again and again caress the velvet green and began to read the last chapters. His memory retained effortlessly the names and pictures of the characters, the fictional illusion him almost immediately. Enjoyed the almost perverse pleasure of going line by line ripping his surroundings, and feel the time your head resting comfortably in the high-backed velvet, that cigarettes were at hand, that beyond the windows danced the evening air under the oaks. Word by word, absorbed by the sordid dilemma of the hero, letting go the images were arranged and took on color and movement, he witnessed the last meeting in the mountain cabin. The woman arrived first, apprehensive; now the lover came, his face cut by the backlash of a branch. Admirably licked her blood with her kisses, but he rebuffed her caresses, he had not come to repeat the ceremonies of a secret passion, protected by a world of dry leaves and furtive paths. The dagger warmed to his chest, and underneath liberty pounded squat. Panting dialogue raced down the pages like a rivulet of snakes, and felt that everything was decided from eternity. To those caresses entangling lover's body as if to keep him and dissuade him, sketched abominably the figure of another body that was necessary to destroy. Nothing had been forgotten: alibis, unforeseen hazards, possible mistakes. Since that time each instant had its use carefully allocated. Merciless review twice interrupted only for a hand caressing his cheek. Anochecer.Sin beginning to look now, rigidly fixed to the task which awaited them, they separated at the cabin door. She was to follow the path that led north. From the opposite way he became a moment to watch her run with her hair down. He ran in turn, crouching in the trees and hedges, to distinguish in the fog of dusk the mall leading to the house. Dogs should not bark and no bark. The steward would not be at that hour, and was not. He went up the three porch steps and entered. From the blood in his ears galloping came the woman's words, first a blue room, then a gallery, a carpeted stairway. At the top, two doors. No one in the first room, no one in the second. The door of the room, and then the sword in hand, the light from the windows, the high back of a green velvet chair, the man's head on the couch reading a novel.

Night mouth up
and go out at certain times to hunt enemies called him the flower war.

Halfway along the hotel hallway thought it must be late and hurried out into the street and remove the motorcycle from the corner where the doorman next door allowed to keep. In jewelry the corner saw it was ten to nine; arrive in plenty of time I visited. The sun filtered through the tall buildings of downtown, and he, as for himself, to be thinking, no name-mounted machine savoring the ride. The bike purred between her legs, and a fresh wind will whip the pants. He let the ministries (pink, white) and the number of stores with bright windows of Central Street. Now entered the most enjoyable part of the journey, the real ride: a long street lined with trees, with little traffic and spacious villas whose gardens rambled up the sidewalk, barely demarcated by low hedges. Maybe a little distracted, but the right running the street, he swept away by the smoothness, the slight tension that day just begun. This involuntary relaxation prevented him from preventing the accident. When he saw the woman standing on the corner had rushed to the road despite the green light, it was too late for easy solutions. He braked with his foot and hand, veering to the left, he heard the cry of women, and with the collision his vision. It was like going to sleep at once. He
abruptly. Four or five young men were digging out from under the bike. He felt the taste of salt and blood, hurt his knee and when he shouted, he could not bear the pressure in the right arm. Voices that seemed to belong to the faces hanging over him, encouraged him with jokes and assurances. His only solace was to hear confirmation that it had been in his right to cross the corner. Asked the woman, trying to control the nausea that earned him the throat. As he took her back to a nearby pharmacy, he learned that the cause of the accident had scrapes on the legs. "Nah, you just grabbed, but the blow broke the machine on its side ..."; Opinions, memories, slowly, éntrenlo back, and someone is going well and overall giving the drink a drink that will relieve the gloom a small neighborhood pharmacy.
The police ambulance arrived five minutes and put him in a soft couch where he could lie out flat. Completely lucid, but knowing he was under the influence of a terrible shock, he gave his information to police who accompanied him. The arm barely hurt, from a cut over his eyebrow blood dripping all over my face. Once or twice he licked his lips to drink. It felt good, it was an accident, bad luck, a few weeks still and nothing else. The guard said the motorcycle did not appear badly damaged. "Natural" he said. "As I landed on top ..." They both laughed and shook his hand guard to get to the hospital and wished him good luck. Now the nausea was coming back little by little, while took him on a gurney to a fund flag, passing under trees full of birds, closed his eyes and wished he were asleep or chloroformed. But they kept while in a room smelling hospital, filling out a form, by undressing and dressing him in a gray shirt and hard. They moved his arm carefully, without getting hurt. The nurses joked all the time, and had it not been for the contractions of the stomach would have felt fine, almost happy.
He was taken to the radio room, and twenty minutes later, with the still wet lying on his chest like a black tombstone, went to the operating room. Someone white, tall and thin approached him and began to look at the x-ray. Woman's hands were arranging his head, he felt he moved from one stretcher to another. The white man approached him again, smiling, with something that shone in his right hand. He patted his cheek and motioned to someone standing behind.
Like a dream I was curious because it was full of smells and odors he never dreamed. First a marshy smell, because the left side of the road began the marshes, the gurgling of which no one ever returned. But the smell ceased, and instead there came a fragrance compound and dark as the night moved to escape the Aztecs. And everything was so natural, I had to flee from the Aztecs who had a manhunt, and his only chance was to hide in the thick of the jungle, taking care not to lose the narrow road that only they, the Motecas, knew.
thing that tortured him was the smell, as if even the absolute acceptance sleep resisted that something was not normal, which until then had not participated in the game. "It smells of war, he thought, going instinctively crossed the stone knife in his belt of woven wool. An unexpected sound made him crouch and stand still, trembling. It was not uncommon to be afraid, dreams plenty of fear. He waited, hidden by the branches of a bush and the starless night. Far away, probably across of the lake should be burning fires of the bivouac, a reddish glare that part of heaven. The sound was not repeated. It had been like a broken limb. Maybe an animal like him escaping the smell of war. He straightened slowly, sniffing. There was no sound, but the fear was still there as the smell, that cloying incense of the Florida war. Had to follow, to the heart of the forest bogs. Groping every moment stooping to touch the earth of the road, took a few steps. Wanted to run, but the gurgling throbbed at his side. On the path in darkness, he took the course. Then he caught a whiff of smell that most feared, and leaped forward desperately.
"She's going to fall off the bed," said the patient's bed side. Do not jump much, great friend. He opened his eyes and it was afternoon, the sun already low in the windows of the long room. While trying to smile at his neighbor, almost physically pulled away from the ultimate vision of the nightmare. The arm, plastering, hanging from a device with weights and pulleys. He felt thirsty, as if he had been running for miles, but would not give him much water, just enough to moisten lips and make a crop. The fever was gaining slowly and were able to sleep again, but enjoying the pleasure of keeping awake, eyes, listening to the dialogue of the other patients, occasionally responding to a question. Saw the arrival of a little white pushcart beside his bed, a blond nurse alcohol rubbed the front of the thigh, and thrust a thick needle connected to a tube which ran up a bottle full of liquid opal. A young doctor came with a metal and leather apparatus that followed the good arm to check something. Night fell, and the fever was dragging softly to a state where things were a relief as opera glasses, were real and sweet, yet slightly disgusting, like watching a boring movie and thinking that, but on the street worse, and stay.
A cup of wonderful smelling golden broth of leeks, celery and parsley. A slice of bread, more precious than a banquet, it was slowly crumbling. The arm did not hurt anything and only in the eyebrow, where he had been sutured, sometimes a twinge sizzling hot and fast. When the windows across the way turned to smudges of dark blue, did not think it would be hard to sleep. A bit awkward, backward, but passed his tongue over dry lips and felt the taste of hot broth, and sighed with happiness, abandoned.
First was a confusion, a draw to itself all the sensations for a moment dull or confused. He realized that he was running in darkness, but cross the sky above treetops was less black than the rest. "The trail," he thought. "I left the carriageway." His feet sank into a bed of leaves and mud, and could not take a step without which the branches of shrubs did not flogged the torso and legs. Breath, knowing despite the darkness and silence, bent down to listen. Maybe the trail was near, with the first light of day I would see her again. Nothing now could help you find it. The hand that without knowing him, clutching the handle of the dagger, went up like a scorpion of the marshes to his neck, which hung a protective amulet. Barely moving his lips muttered the prayer of the corn that brings the moons, and the appeal to Very High, to the distributor of the goods Motecas. But I felt the ankles while you were sinking into the mud, and waiting in the darkness of the unknown chaparral is unbearable. Florida war had begun with the moon and had been three days and three nights. If he could hide in the depths of the jungle off the trail beyond the marsh country, perhaps the warriors would not follow his trail. He thought the number of prisoners who have done so. But the number did not count, but the sacred time. The hunt would continue until the priests gave the sign back. Everything had its number and its purpose, and he was within the sacred time, on the other side of the hunters.
heard the cries and leaped up, sword in hand. As if the sky were aflame on the horizon, he saw torches moving among the branches, very close. The smell of war was unbearable, and when the first enemy flew at neck almost felt pleasure in sinking the stone blade in the chest. Lights around him and the happy cries. He managed to cut the air once or twice, then a rope caught him from behind. "It's the fever," said the next bed. The same thing happened to me when I operated on the duodenum. Drink water and you will see that he sleeps well. Next
night where the darkness again warm the room seemed delicious. A violet lamp was watching at the top of the back wall as an eye protector. You could hear coughing, breathing hard, sometimes softly dialogue. Everything was pleasant and safe without harassment, without ... But he would not keep thinking about the nightmare. There were so many things to amuse. He began to look at the cast on his arm, pulleys so comfortably held it in the air. He had left a bottle of mineral water in the night table. He drank from the bottle, with relish. Now distinguish the forms of the room, the thirty beds, cabinets with glass doors. He guessed that his fever, his face felt cool. The eyebrow barely hurt, like a memory. He was leaving the hotel again, taking the bike. Who would have thought that it would end like this? He tried to fix the time of the accident, and he was angry to notice that there was a void, an emptiness that not manage to fill. Between the shock and the moment he had lifted from the ground, fainting or whatever would not let him see anything. At the same time he felt that this void, this nothingness, had lasted an eternity. No, not even time, rather as if in that void, he had gone through something or travel vast distances. The shock, the brutal against the pavement. Anyway, leaving the black hole had been almost a relief when the men rose from the ground. With the pain of a broken arm, the blood of the eyebrow departure, the bruised knee, with all that, a relief to come back tomorrow and feel supported and attended. That was weird. He'd ask the doctor at the office. Now back to win the dream, slowly pull it down. The pillow was so soft, her throat and feverish the fresh mineral water. Maybe I could truly relax without the damn nightmares. Violet light the lamp at the top was fading slowly.
As he was sleeping on his back, not surprised by the position in which he came to, but instead the smell of damp, oozing rock, blocked his throat and forced him to understand. Needless to open our eyes and look in all directions; complete darkness enveloped him. Tried to get up and felt the ropes on her wrists and ankles. He was staked to the ground, floor slabs in a cold and wet. The cold made his bare back, legs. His chin looked awkward contact with his amulet, and knew that it had started. Now he was lost, no prayer could save the final. Distantly, as filtering through the rock of the dungeon, he heard the drums of the party. He had been brought to teocalli, was in the dungeons of the temple waiting for their turn.
heard scream, a hoarse cry was bouncing off the walls. Another yell, ending in a whimper. He was crying in the darkness, screaming because he was alive, his whole body was defended by the cry of what was coming, the inevitable end. He thought of his friends filling the other dungeons, and which stood as the steps of sacrifice. Shouted another choked, I could hardly open his mouth, his jaws while stiff like rubber would open slowly, with an endless effort. The creaking of the bolt hit him like a whip. , Writhing, fought to rid himself of the ropes that were sinking into his flesh. His right arm, the strongest, pulling until the pain became intolerable and had to give. He saw the double door open and the smell of the torches reached him before the light. Just girded with the loincloth of the ceremony, the acolytes of the Catholic priests looking at him with contempt. The lights were reflected in the sweaty torsos and black hair with feathers. Gave the ropes, and instead the grappling hands warm, hard as bronze, he felt himself lifted, still face up, pulled by four acolytes who carried him down the hallway. The torchbearers went ahead and lit corridor vaguely wet walls and a ceiling so low that the acolytes had to duck his head. Now they were taking, it had, was the end. Face up, one meter of living rock which at times lit up with a glimmer of torchlight. When instead of the roof the stars came out and the stairs rose before him on fire with cries and dances, would be the end. The passage never ends, but it would end suddenly smell the open sky full of stars but not yet, they along endlessly in the dark red, hauling him roughly, and he would not, but how to stop it if they had started the amulet, his true heart, the center of his life.
sprang up at night from the hospital, the high ceiling sweet, soft shadow around him. Thought he should have shouted, but his neighbors were sleeping quietly. On the night table, the water bottle had some bubble, translucent image against Blue-shaded windows. Gasped looking for relief from the lungs, the neglect of those images still glued to her eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes he saw shape instantly, and he sat up terrified but at the same time enjoy the knowledge that now he was awake, that the night, that soon going to rise, with good deep sleep that you have at this time no pictures, nothing ... She could keep her eyes open, the drowsiness was stronger than him. He made one last effort, with his good hand sketched a gesture toward the bottle of water did not take it, his fingers closed in a vacuum black again, and the passage went on endlessly, rock after rock, with sudden flares of red, and he groaned backs off because the roof was about to end, it rose, his mouth opening like a shadow, and the acolytes straightened up and a waning moon fell on the face where the eyes wanted her, desperately searching for closing and opening to the other side, to rediscover the protective ceiling of the room. And every time they opened, it was night and the moon as they climbed the stairs, now head hanging down, and at the top were the bonfires, red columns of perfumed smoke, and suddenly he saw the red stone bright blood dripping and the swing of the feet of the victim, they dragged to throw him rolling down the stairs of the north. With one last hope squeezed his eyes shut, moaning to wake up. For a second he thought he would make it, because I was again motionless on the bed, except rolling upside down. But he smelled death and when he opened his eyes he saw the bloodied figure of the priest coming toward him with the stone knife in his hand. Reached the eyelids close again, but now he knew he would not wake up, he was awake, that was wonderful dream the other, absurd as all dreams, a dream that was going through the strange streets of an amazing city with green and red lights burning without fire or smoke, with enormous metal insect that whirred his legs. In the infinite he of that dream had also been raised off the ground, also someone had approached him with a knife, he lay on his back, him on his back with his eyes closed from the fires.

(Julio Cortázar, Endgame, Ed Sudamericana, Buenos Aires 1993)

Install Slate On Drywall

Reading (controversial story)

Jimmy's World
Janet Cooke, Washington Post Staff Writer , September 28, 1980 .

Jimmy is 8 years old and a third-generation heroin addict, a precocious little boy with sandy hair, velvety brown eyes and needle marks freckling the baby-smooth skin of his thin brown arms.He nestles in a large, beige reclining chair in the living room of his comfortably furnished home in Southeast Washington. There is an almost cherubic expression on his small, round face as he talks about life -- clothes, money, the Baltimore Orioles and heroin. He has been an addict since the age of 5. His hands are clasped behind his head, fancy running shoes adorn his feet, and a striped Izod T-shirt hangs over his thin frame. "Bad, ain't it," he boasts to a reporter visiting recently. "I got me six of these."Jimmy's is a world of hard drugs, fast money and the good life he believes both can bring. Every day, junkies casually buy herion from Ron, his mother's live-in-lover, in the dining room of Jimmy's home. They "cook" it in the kitchen and "fire up" in the bedrooms. And every day, Ron or someone else fires up Jimmy, plunging a needle into his bony arm, sending the fourth grader into a hypnotic nod.Jimmy prefers this atmosphere to school, where only one subject seems relevant to fulfilling his dreams. "I want to have me a bad car and dress good and also have me a good place to live," he says. "So, I pretty much pay attention to math because I know I got to keep up when I finally get me something to sell."Jimmy wants to sell drugs, maybe even on the District's meanest street, Condon Terrace SE, and some day deal heroin, he says, "just like my man Ron."Ron, 27, and recently up from the South, was the one who first turned Jimmy on."He'd be buggin' me all the time about what the shots were and what people was doin' and one day he said, 'When can I get off?'" Ron says, leaning against a wall in a narcotic haze, his eyes half closed, yet piercing. "I said, 'Well, s . . ., you can have some now.' I let him snort a little and, damn, the little dude really did get off."Six months later, Jimmy was hooked. "I felt like I was part of what was goin' down," he says. "I can't really tell you how it feel. You never done any? Sort of like them rides at King's Dominion . . . like if you was to go on all of them in one day."It be real different from herb (marijuana). That's baby s---. Don't nobody here hardly ever smoke no herb. You can't hardly get none right now anyway."Jimmy's mother Andrea accepts her son's habit as a fact of life, although she will not inject the child herself and does not like to see others do it."I don't really like to see him fire up," she says. "But, you know, I think he would have got into it one day, anyway. Everybody does. When you live in the ghetto, it's all a matter of survival. If he wants to get away from it when he's older, then that's his thing. But right now, things are better for us than they've ever been. . . . Drugs and black folk been together for a very long time."Heroin has become a part of life in many of Washington's neighborhoods, affecting thousands of teen-agers and adults who feel cut off from the world around them, and filtering down to untold numbers of children like Jimmy who are bored with school and battered by life.On street corners and playgrounds across the city, youngsters often no older than 10 relate with uncanny accuracy the names of important dealers in their neighborhoods, and the going rate for their wares. For the uninitiated they can recite the color, taste, and smell of things such as heroin, cocaine, and marijuana, and rattle off the colors in a rainbow made of pills.The heroin problem in the District has grown to what some call epidemic proportions, with the daily influx of so-called "Golden Crescent" heroin from Iran, Pakistan, and Afghanistan, making the city fourth among six listed by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency as major points of entry for heroin in the United States. The "Golden Crescent" heroin is stronger and cheaper than the Southeast Asian and Mexican varieties previously available on the street, and its easy accessiblity has added to what has long been a serious problem in the nation's capital.David G. Canaday, special agent in charge of the DEA's office here, says the agency "can't do anything about it [Golden Crescent heroin] because we have virtually no diplomatic ties in that part of the world." While judiciously avoiding the use of the term epidemic, Canaday does say that the city's heroin problem is "sizable."Medical experts, such as Dr. Alyce Gullatte, director of the Howard University Drug Abuse Institute, say that heroin is destroying the city. And D.C.'s medical examiner, James Luke, has recorded a substantial increase in the number of deaths from heroin overdose, from seven in 1978 to 43 so far this year.Death has not yet been a visitor to the house where Jimmy lives.The kitchen and upstairs bedrooms are a human collage. People of all shapes and sizes drift into the dwelling and its various rooms, some jittery, uptight and anxious for a fix, others calm and serene after they finally "get off."A fat woman wearing a white uniform and blond wig with a needle jabbed in it like a hatpin, totters down the staircase announcing that she is "feeling fine." A teen-age couple drift through the front door, the girl proudly pulling a syringe of the type used by diabetics from the hip pocket of her Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. "Got me a new one," she says to no one in particular as she and her boyfriend wander off into the kitchen to cook their snack and shoot each other up.These are normal occurrences in Jimmy's world. Unlike most children his age, he doesn't usually go to school, preferring instead to hang with older boys between the ages of 11 and 16 who spend their day getting high on herb or PCP and doing a little dealing to collect spare change.When Jimmy does find his way into the classroom, it is to learn more about his favorite subject -- math."You got to know how to do some figuring if you want to go into business," he says pragmatically. Using his mathematical skills in any other line of work is a completely foreign notion."They don't BE no jobs," Jimmy says. "You got to have some money to do anything, got to make some cash. Got to be selling something people always want to buy. Ron say people always want to buy some horse. My mama say it, too. She be using it and her mama be using it. It's always gonna be somebody who can use it. . . ."The rest of them dudes on the street is sharp. You got to know how many of them are out there, how much they charge for all the different s---, who gonna buy from them and where their spots be . . . they bad, you know, cause they in business for themselves. Ain't nobody really telling them how they got to act."In a city overflowing with what many consider positive role models for a black child with almost any ambition -- doctors, lawyers, politicians, bank presidents -- Jimmy wants most to be a good dope dealer. He says that when he is older, "maybe about 11," he would like to "go over to Condon Terrace (notorious for its open selling of drugs and violent way of life) or somewhere else and sell." With the money he says he would buy a German Shepherd dog and a bicycle, maybe a basketball, and save the rest "so I could buy some real s--- and sell it."His mother doesn't view Jimmy's ambitions with alarm, perhaps because drugs are as much a part of Andrea's world as they are of her son's.She never knew her father. Like her son, Andrea spent her childhood with her mother and the man with whom she lived for 15 years. She recalls that her mother's boyfriend routinely forced her and her younger sister to have sex with him, and Jimmy is the product of one of those rapes.Depressed and discouraged after his birth ("I didn't even name him, you know?My sister liked the name Jimmy and I said 'OK, call him that, who gives a fu--? I guess we got to call him something, don't we?'") she quickly accepted the offer of heroin from a woman who used to shoot up with her mother."It was like nothing I ever knew about before; you be in another world, you know? No more baby, no more mama . . . I could quit thinking about it. After I got off, I didn't have to be thinking about nothing."Threee years later, the family moved after police discovered the shooting gallery in their home, and many of Andrea's sources of heroin dried up. She turned to prostitution and shoplifting to support a $60-a-day habit. Soon after, she met Ron, who had just arrived in Washington and was selling a variety of pills, angel dust and some heroin. She saw him as a way to get off the street and readily agreed when he asked her to move in with him."I was tired of sleeping with all those different dudes and boosting (shoplifting) at Woodies. And I didn't think it would be bad for Jimmy to have some kind of man around," she says.Indeed, social workers in the Southeast Washington community say that so many young black children become involved with drugs because there is no male authority figure present in the home."A lot of these parents (of children involved with drugs) are the unwed mothers of the '60s, and they are bringing up their children by trial and error," says Linda Gilbert, a social worker at Southeast Neighborhood House."The family structure is not there so they [the children] establish a relationship with their peers. If the peers are into drugs, it won't be very long before the kids are, too. . . . They don't view drugs as illegal, and if they are making money, too, then it's going to be OK in the eyes of an economically deprived community."Addicts who have been feeding their habits for 35 years or more are not uncommon in Jimmy's world, and although medical experts say that there is an extremely high risk of his death from an overdose, it is not inconceivable that he will live to reach adulthood."He might already be close to getting a lethal dose," Dr. Dorynne Czechowisz of the National Institute on Drug Abuse says."Much of this depends on the amount he's getting and the frequency with which he's getting it. But I would hate to say that his early death is inevitable. If he were to get treatment, it probably isn't too late to help him. And assuming he doesn't OD before then, he could certainly grow into an addicted adult."At the end of the evening of strange questions about his life, Jimmy slowly changes into a different child. The calm and self-assured little man recedes. cThe jittery and ill-behaved boy takes over as he begins going into withdrawal. tHe is twisting uncomfortably in his chair one minute, irritatingly raising and lowering a vinyl window blind the next."Be cool," Ron admonishes him, walking out of the room.Jimmy picks up a green "Star Wars" force beam toy and begins flicking the light on and off.Ron comes back into the living room, syringe in hand, and calls the little boy over to his chair: "Let me see your arm."He grabs Jimmy's left arm just above the elbow, his massive hand tightly encircling the child's small limb. Theneedle slides into the boy's soft skin like a straw pushed into the center of a freshly baked cake. Liquid ebbs out of the syringe, replaced by bright red blood. The blood is then reinjected into the child.Jimmy has closed his eyes during the whole procedure, but now he opens them, looking quickly around the room. He climbs into a rocking chair and sits, his head dipping and snapping upright again, in what addicts call "the nod.""Pretty soon, man," Ron says, "you got to learn how to do this for yourself"

Spanish Reception Card

Chronicle Column

Genitalexamination Male

reading

INK TO FLIGHT

What is the 2nd of October?
By Karina Moreno Rojas

⊙ October 2 is not forgotten! ⊙
For students of yesterday and today. ⊙
Punishing the guilty, monitoring the criminal proceedings.

The years do not go in vain, the ravages appeared in the leadership of Committee 68. 40 years have passed since the slaughter and the memory still lives on, even people out to protest the lack of accountability and punishment to the guilty, even housewives are reluctant to accept the indifference and neglect of the public and especially authorities, intellectuals still claim and raise their voice accompanied by the new generations of students, while not remember the moment on October 2 in the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, have read his books, heard of teachers, uncles, grandparents, and so on.
After all this time, the march resumed but what really was in memory of those who died during the rally in 1968? Or was just the pretext of dissidents of Atenco, farmers, teachers Puebla, parents of students involved in the case of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), to cry out against price hikes in gasoline and food, and even the pretext of hooded and masked to loot businesses, lead to violence and denigrate the movement?
not even in the protests was no agreement, the so-called "historical" (the surviving students and leaders of the movement in 1968) began to shout for Cuba and against the United States asked for the clarification and punishment the culprits. As new students, who may well be his grandchildren, and shouted that Calderón Echeverría were the same, and that just to justify their protests against the current president, repeated "assholes" and with that encompassed all, who knows how many, maybe until we touched.
To this must be added to teachers protesting Puebla Elba Esther Gordillo teacher and the Alliance for Quality Education to advocate for both ordinary peasants in favor of Mexican rural life, the parents of Lucia Morett towards his daughter and parents of other young people involved and the inhabitants of San Salvador Atenco to demand freedom of Ignacio del Valle and 12 other members of the FPDT (Peoples' Front in Defense of the Land). Why
disintegrate into so many requests and complaints? Why not join a single voice for truth, for what happened on October 2 without deviating in other proclamations? In case you do not remember, the former Special Prosecutor for Social and Political Movements of the Past (Femospp) all I got was the trial against former President Luis Echeverria, unable to take him to prison.
In a brief account, the alleged mastermind of the massacre of 68, Luis Echeverria Alvarez, was charged criminally en el 2006, sin lograr comparecer ante un juez de primera instancia debido a que sus abogados Juan Velásquez y Heraclio Bonilla lograron ampararlo y, demostraron su delicada salud para exentarlo de presentarse siquiera al estudio de personalidad.
Aunado a lo anterior, tres magistrados colegiados no han resuelto la problemática respecto al amparo, no le han dado revisión en más de un año por lo que el juicio está congelado y por tanto, no hay culpables, al menos no de los peces gordos.
Actualmente el juicio está detenido y no existe fiscalía alguna que ejerza presión y continúe en la lucha a favor de los caídos hace 40 años. Algunos personajes como la ministra Olga Sánchez Cordero suggest the formation of a truth commission, which he has been held in other Latin American countries like Argentina and Chile and in Europe such as France, with the intention of uncovering the truth and the events as they happened, but this is only a suggestion, not something that exists in our country at the moment.
So what is or is not worth going out and even screaming, October 2 is not forgotten?

Can I Catch Hand Foot And Mouth Twice

ETHICS: SHELTER OF FREEDOMS AND DUTIES

By Karina Moreno Rojas

Ethics is a set of rules that provide rights and obligations established in all areas professionals, of course, journalism would be no exception, the discussion is the true reflection of those rules and their application (within it compulsory) and ability to adapt to the international aspect.
The establishment of codes of journalistic ethics is nothing new, dating from 1950 as outlined in the text of Alberto Ruiz entitled The legal challenge of international communication . Their importance has been given to the extent of the practice, abuse of journalists, media, government, public institutions and of course the same society for professionals journalism.
Therefore, according to the text quoted above, the Organization of the United Nations in 1974 established the relevance not only to national codes, but international safeguarding the rights and duties of the journalist.
This way we will seek to four main areas: protecting freedom and responsibilities of journalists while the rest of the population is protected from the professional group known as the fourth power, establish ethics in the inner workings of journalism (among owners and reporters); identify journalism as a profession in public service and not the self-interest, and establish the relationship of the profession to society.
"professional ethical principles are the product of the need of the professional group to devise a set of rules that define and control their rights (freedom) and duties (responsibilities), their occupational behavior within the group, the professional ideal and its relationship to society within which it operates " [a] . Therefore
has tried to create national codes attached to their own political culture and even the media themselves have made their codes of ethics that determine the behavior of their employees, but does not include administrative and technological areas.
worth mentioning that in most countries there are certain restrictions on the freedom of journalists to practice their profession based on concepts such as public order, moral principles accepted, national security and democratic institutions and, in some countries in national security.
I would like to speak especially of a subject that is handled in the text, refers to professional ethical principles common to most codes of various countries, interested me deeply in objectivity, fairness and impartiality.
The term justice is no mention of the methods to be used by journalists all times to do their work (including obtaining information), which must be correct and legal. But it is well known that at least investigative journalism [2] this is not possible, since the ultimate aim is to find something hidden information or for certain reasons does not want to disclose (usually characterized to be dangerous) and the public interest because it affects a society or a particular group of it.
Examples of this, great journalistic feats of this kind are precisely cases like Watergate, deep stories books for many years as Cold Blood or some most recently as Head of Turkish or undesirable journalist Günter Wallraff both also The adventure of Miguel Littin Clandestine in Chile by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and latest Demons of Eden of Lydia Cacho, or perhaps Today death touches you, Bones in the Desert, Family Presidential or With the death in his pocket , among others.
In the case of the term fairness as defined in the text and the journalist's duty to "present all possible angles of an issue, report on it in a balanced and unbiased [3] " without However, the same definition is managed for objectivity, then what differentiates one from another?, I want to clarify that the text is not handled as synonyms, but as different principles.
And coming in, the term objectivity, taking into account the above in the text is defined in the same way that fairness is a controversial issue and little studied and reflected in journalism, more so in ethical policies.
currently manages the theory of journalism as lacking objectivity, as society and even the reality (which is the center for the study of journalism) are not rigid objects possible to be observed and explained without the intervention of the mediator (journalist), ie there is inevitably a process of interpretation where subjectivity is involved, it depends on the subject, their ideology, preparation, knowledge, perspective, context, inter alia, the prospect taking the event. Therefore
journalism speaks of truth, which refers to not distort the information, not add, remove, or put more than one party to another with intent to injure someone or something, always present the facts as closely as possible the event.
Dr. Lourdes Romero, a professor at the Faculty of Political and Social Sciences (FCPyS) explains in his book Reality built in journalism: objectivity does not exist in the fact, but in the reconstruction of the work product of the journalist. The investigation leading to contextualize the fact and the realization of their findings in the report produced from the subjectivity of the journalist [...] The meaning of objectivity has been renewed today, now involves professional attitude towards the truth, subjective well-intentioned " [4] .
In conclusion, both the definition which implies objectivity should be reflected upon and studied in terms of true journalism, understanding the embodiments, the importance of the subject and and the medium also influences through its editorial, the obstacles faced by all journalists, and the difficulties of the profession and its partial or no recognition as a profession (even confusing trade) and the lack of theory establishing journalistic research methodology (selection of fact, context and research and writing) at all times it is determined by the work of the subject.
I think it's important for the implementation of codes of ethics at the national level (international fortiori the difficulty) are really understands what it is journalistic work and determine what issues and hinder the only way that will be possible to create rules seeking to control the attitudes of professionals will otherwise be the difference in terms and in much less price-no other reasons says the author in his text The legal challenge of international communication, in the impossibility of creating an international code, and that does not value the importance and necessary intervention of the subject in fact.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:
ROMERO Lourdes, constructed reality in journalism: theoretical reflections , Mexico, Edit: Porrua, UNAM, FCPyS, 2006, p. 197. Alberto RUIZ
, Journalism: ethical principles and practice codes " in The legal challenge of international communication , Mexico, Edit, New Image, 1979, p. 125-150.

[1] Alberto RUIZ, Journalism: ethical principles and practice codes " in The legal challenge of international communication , p. 5.
[2] It is characterized by extensive research, something new that is to keep hidden and that is of public interest because it affects some shape society.
[3] P. 10.
[4] ROMERO Lourdes, constructed reality in journalism: theoretical reflections , p. 26

Funny Invitations To A Party

Control Read Control

JOURNALISM, high-risk professions

By Karina Moreno Rojas

Journalists have been and are exposed to various dangers inherent in their profession. As a firefighter fears for his life every time he rescues another journalist also fears for his ever played its role to play in the search for the note (as), or the allegations and "uncovered" that makes officials, charges and illegal work in the police sources, political and general information within the past can now view specific topics such as drug trafficking, kidnapping, violence against children and women, violence in general, etc.. The text
Count injury 1998: an approach to the state of freedom of expression and information in Mexico, Trinidad investigation by Veronica Martinez, Angelica Pineda, Omar Raúl Martínez supported by human rights organizations and such journalist, presents in percentages the number of "mistakes" committed against journalists and media communication, highlighting, including "public or muffled attacks [...] and events that may mean inhibition and pressure" [1] .
Specifically, the mishaps to which journalists and media are under the mercy and bread each day, week four incidents occurring in 1998, according to the authors - are "physical aggression, demands, threats or intimidation attack, arrest, citation to appear, blackout, dismissal, harassment, murder, kidnapping, confiscation of material, blackout notice " [2] , et al.
The worrying thing is the existence of a total of 202 incidents against journalists and media in 1998, but those "dangers" they continue. I've been doing monitoring of incidents against journalists on Tuesday, April 1, 2008 to date, finding a total of 39 texts ranging from news briefs to opinion articles.
To illustrate this, I mention the data found in a note La Jornada on 26 April 2008, which is mentioned in an account of damage that occurred during the presidency journalists Calderon. In this it is important to pay attention to the "new" forms of aggression against journalists are not mentioned in the text of 1998, such as disappearances.
"In Latin America, Mexico is the most dangerous country for journalists. During the federal-PAN-24 last eight years journalists and media workers have been killed, eight missing and dozens have been threatened and attacked by situations connected with the exercise of its business, crimes which remain unpunished, they said [...] the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Unesco), Article 19, International Media Support, Reporters Without Borders, World Association of Community Radio and six groupings that gave a press conference to make public the preliminary findings of their work. " (Emir Olivares Alonso, "Mexico the most dangerous country for journalists AL" in La Jornada, Politics, Saturday April 26, 2008, Year: 24, No. 8509, p. 15)
In such studies, the organizations cited above concluded that the main obstacles to providing security to the integrity of the journalists are "organized crime, corruption, lack of political will and the State's failure to address crimes" [3] . Similarly it was stated that Mexico is the number one country in Latin America in number of disappearances and abductions.
Finally, the organizations said that while journalists continue to fight to get the exclusive and do not join, the attacks against him will continue, in the words of Emir Olivares, a reporter for La Jornada "if reporters continue to put competitive Mexican about "winning note" and fail to unity and solidarity among themselves and with national organizations that defend their rights, crimes and impunity continue to be imposed " [4] .
Moreover, the note on Tuesday, 6 May 2008 La Jornada, Victor Baliinas explained that during the international commemoration of the Freedom of the Press reported that according to the National Commission on Human Rights' from 2000 to 2007, 37 journalists have been killed, and the Attorney Special Attention to Crimes Committed Against Journalists reported that the PGR February 2006 to the same month of 2008, there were 219 crimes committed against journalists, including murder, extortion and threats' " [5] .
was stated that as the holder of the Unit for the Protection and Defense of Human Rights Department of the Interior, Carlos Aguilar, "These crimes encourage its repetition and encourage self-censorship by journalists and communicators, a situation that violates the right to freedom of expression and undermines the foundations of the rule of law [...] and added that the state respect freedom release includes both the negative obligation not to restrict or impede such a positive obligation to facilitate access to information that is held by the various authorities and public institutions " [6] .
And in another note from the reporter for La Jornada , but this dated Tuesday August 19, 2008, was published a day before The Mission International on Attacks against Journalists and Media released its report entitled Freedom of the press in Mexico, the shadow of impunity and violence, which listed the major states with violence: Federal District, Oaxaca, Guerrero , Michoacán and Sonora.
also recognized that only 30 percent of threats, murders and assaults are reported, that percentage, 87 percent come to court and only one percent is determined, truly alarming figures.
Finally, in the month of September the 27th, La Jornada Emir presented a note which stated that Olivares Mexico "'journalism has become a high-risk profession'," according to José Luis Soberanes Fernández, head of the National Human Rights Commission, which reported it had begun research for "149 cases related to violations of guarantees journalists in the country, a figure that (in less than two years) represents 54 percent of total cases that the agency opened in all the Vicente Fox (275) through similar situations " [7] .
is disturbing to know that situations that threaten and violate freedom of expression and information in Mexico continues, and more worrying is knowing that not only maintained, but are increasing compared to the decrease of work and punishment of authorities responsible for the safety and security of journalists and media, the question is how long will stop? And how long will demand respect for journalists, security and non-exclusive? ...

REFERENCE SOURCES: Veronica Trinidad
MARTÍNEZ et al. damage Count 1998: an approach to the state of freedom of expression and information in Mexico, Mexican Academy of Human Rights, Fundación Manuel Buendía, and Union CENCOS National Writers Press, Mexico, June 1999, p. 1-9.
Emir Olivares Alonso, "Mexico the most dangerous country for journalists AL" in La Jornada, Politics, Saturday April 26, 2008, Year: 24, No. 8509, p. 15. BALLINA
Victor "sued the state to stop the impunity in crimes against Mexican journalists" in La Jornada, Politics, Tue May 6, 2008, Year: 24, No. 8518, p. 21. BALLINA
Victor "With Calderon, more repression and attacks on journalists during the administration of Fox" in La Jornada, Politics, Tuesday August 19, 2008, Year: 24, No. 8625, p. 19.
Emir Olivares Alonso, "Increasing attacks on journalists" in La Jornada, Politics, Saturday September 27, 2008, http://www.jornada.unam.mx/2008/09/27/index.php ? section = policy & article = 019n2pol , 7:50 pm

[1] Verónica Martínez Trinidad et al. damage Count 1998: an approach to the state of freedom of expression and information in Mexico , p. 1.
[2] Ibid., P. 2.
[3] Emir Olivares Alonso, "Mexico The AL's most dangerous country for journalists "in La Jornada, Politics, Saturday April 26, 2008, Year: 24, No. 8509, p. 15.
[4] Ibid.
[5] BALLINA Victor "sued the state to stop the impunity in crimes against Mexican journalists" in La Jornada, Politics, Tue May 6, 2008, Year: 24, No. 8518, p. 21.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Emir Olivares Alonso, "Increasing attacks on journalists" in La Jornada, Politics, Saturday September 27, 2008, http://www.jornada.unam.mx/2008/09/27/index.php?section=politica&article=019n2pol , 7:50 p.m.