Une musique par jour ou presque, principalement des morceaux que je veux garder dans un coin pour le jour où alzheimer m'aura atteinte !
Pour le reste c'est du bordel !
...and you open the door and you step inside
we're inside our hearts.
now imagine your pain is a white ball of healing light.
that's right, feel your pain,
the pain itself, it's a white ball of healing light.
i don't think so.
this is your life...
good to the last drop,
doesn't get any better than this...
this is your life,
and it's ending one minute at a time...
this isn't a seminar
and this isn't a weekend retreat.
where you are now you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like.
only after disaster can we be resurrected...
it's only after you have lost everything that you
are free to do anything.
nothing is static,
everything is appalling,
everything is falling apart.
this is your life (repeat)
it doesn't get any better than this.
this is your life (repeat)
and it's ending one minute at a time...
you are not a beautiful and unique snowflake*...
you are the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
we are all a part of the same compost heap, we are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
you are not your bank account,
you are not the clothes you wear.
you are not the contents of your wallet...
you are not your bowel cancer.
you are not your grande latte.
you are not the car you drive...
you are not your fucking khakis.
you have to give up,
you have to give up.
you have to realize that someday you will die,
until you know that you are useless.
i say let me never be complete.
i say may i never be content.
i say deliver me from swedish furniture!
i say deliver me from clever art.
i say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth.
i say you have to give up.
i say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may. this is your life (repeat)
it doesn't get any better than this.
this is your life (repeat)
and it's ending one minute at a time.
you have to give up.
you have to give up.
(in the background you can hear tyler durden shouting i want you to hit me as hard as you can!)
welcome to fight club,
if this is your first night,
you have to fight.
En 1929, American Tobacco décide de s’attaquer à un tabou : faire fumer
les femmes, afin de multiplier ses ventes par deux. Ils embauchent
Bernays. Ce dernier consulte le psychanalyste Abraham Arden Brill qui
lui explique que la cigarette est un symbole phallique du pouvoir des
hommes. Associée à un acte de contestation de ce pouvoir, la cigarette
deviendrait pour les femmes un pénis de substitution, symbole de leur
émancipation. Lors d’une parade dans les rues de New York, Bernays
prévient la presse qu’une bande de suffragettes va faire un coup
d’éclat. Sous l’œil des caméras, les affranchies recrutées par Bernays
allument alors des cigarettes et fument à la face de l’Amérique. Elles
ont allumé des « flambeaux de la liberté ». Le slogan marche
instantanément. Hollywood leur emboîte le pas et les plus grandes
actrices enchaînent clope sur clope sur grand écran. Des millions de
spectatrices vont suivre leur exemple.
La vérité, c'est que si le Christ avait ri sur la croix, ou craché sur les Romains, s'il ne s'était pas simplement contenté de souffrir, il est certain que le gamin aurait aimé l'église beaucoup plus.