Um clássico

Tom Lehrer, "National Brotherhood Week".

Oh, the white folks hate the black folks,

And the black folks hate the white folks.

To hate all but the right folks

Is an old established rule.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,

Lena Horne and Sheriff Clarke are dancing cheek to cheek.

It's fun to eulogize

The people you despise,

As long as you don't let 'em in your school.

Oh, the poor folks hate the rich folks,

And the rich folks hate the poor folks.

All of my folks hate all of your folks,

It's American as apple pie.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,

New Yorkers love the Puerto Ricans 'cause it's very chic.

Step up and shake the hand

Of someone you can't stand.

You can tolerate him if you try.

Oh, the Protestants hate the Catholics,

And the Catholics hate the Protestants,

And the Hindus hate the Muslims,

And everybody hates the Jews.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,

It's National Everyone-smile-at-one-another-hood Week.

Be nice to people who

Are inferior to you.

It's only for a week, so have no fear.

Be grateful that it doesn't last all year! 

A campanha eleitoral também é "only for a week, so have no fear. Be grateful that it doesn't last all year! "

Música de ontem para hoje

Paul Krugman lembrou há dias, no seu blogue, esta canção do meu tempo, de Simon & Garfunkel, "The sound of silence". Acho bem apropriada. Quando é que as pessoas vão fazer ouvir aquilo que hoje ainda é o seu silêncio, mas cada vez mais a começar a ser o som do silêncio?

"Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone

'Neath the halo of a street lamp

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you"

But my words, like silent raindrops fell

And echoed

In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls

And tenement halls"

And whispered in the sounds of silence"