Lançamento de "Nossa Senhora do Açúcar". Quarenta contos. amazon.com.br/dp/B0H7JH6JG9

Por @sergio_langer Publicado en el diario Clarín en Abril del 2000.

Il Duomo di Milano (el Dom) Fà e disfà l'è tut un lavurà.

Já não sei o que é real mais

Cacete… eu não tava botando fé, mas parece que o Trump realmente interferiu nas eleições

Gino Bartali was a legendary Italian cycling champion who secretly used his fame and long-distance training rides during WWII to help save hundreds of Jews from Nazi persecution. He pedaled thousands of kilometers on long training rides between Florence, Assisi, Genoa and Rome, hiding counterfeit identity documents, photographs, and papers inside the hollow metal frame and handlebars of his bicycle. When stopped by checkpoints, guards often wanted his autograph or recognized him; if anyone threatened to inspect his bike, he warned them it was precisely calibrated for speed and touching it would ruin adjustment. He also hid a Jewish family (Goldenbergs) in his own apartment/cellar in Florence. Bartali kept his heroic actions a secret for decades, telling his son Andrea that "good deeds are done, not talked about, and some medals are internal". His story only came to light after his death in 2000. In 2013, Holocaust memorial center Yad Vashem posthumously recognized him as Righteous Among the Nations... In 1943, WWII was devastating Europe and Italy was under strict military control. Ordinary citizens faced constant fear and any sign of opposition meant immediate execution. During this dangerous time, a famous athlete decided to use his status and physical strength for something much bigger than winning trophies. Gino Bartali was already a household name across Europe. He had won prestigious Tour de France in 1938 and was celebrated as one of greatest road cyclists of his generation. Because of his international fame, Italian authorities and foreign soldiers recognized him wherever he went. When he rode his bicycle through military checkpoints, guards rarely questioned his presence. Instead of searching him, they often smiled, greeted him warmly, and asked for his autograph. They assumed he was simply traveling between towns to maintain his physical conditioning for future races. In reality, Bartali was leading a secret double life. He had been recruited by Archbishop of Florence and a covert resistance network to help save Jewish families who were hiding from arrest and deportation. Secret network manufactured counterfeit identity documents, birth certificates, and visas to help these families escape the country or live under false identities. Bartali offered to act as primary courier for these life-saving papers. He rolled up delicate documents into tight cylinders and hid them inside hollow metal tubes of his bicycle frame and seat post. To ensure that soldiers would not inspect his bike, Bartali cleverly managed his interactions at every checkpoint. Whenever guards approached, he spoke to them politely and redirected their attention. He would often tell them, "Please be very careful with my bicycle, because the components are calibrated perfectly for my training session." The guards, respecting his status as a champion athlete, would step back and avoid touching the bicycle frame altogether. Bartali rode hundreds of miles every single day, traveling across northern and central Italy. He cycled long distances between Florence, Lucca, Assisi, and Rome, delivering forged photos and papers to hidden monasteries, convents and safe houses. If a guard had decided to dismantle his bike frame, Bartali would have been arrested and executed on the spot for treason. Yet, day after day, he continued his long rides through hostile territory, risking his life for people he had never met. He survived the war and continued his successful cycling career, winning Tour de France again in 1948. However, he refused to talk about his wartime activities to journalists, friends, or even his close family members. When his son once asked him about the rumors surrounding his wartime actions, Bartali explained his philosophy by saying: "If you are good at sports, they attach medals to your shirt and then they shine in some museum. What is earned by doing good deeds is attached to the soul and shines somewhere else." #archaeohistories

Agora todo esquerdista virou a Dona Máxima vtnccc kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Máfia bengalesa. É o fim da picada.

Cooked her ass

Também tínhamos a luca que valia mil dinheiros, como nossos vizinhos platinos... descobri no Paulo Mendes Campos.

A esquerda não entendeu que ela perdeu o apoio da classe média, que é 70% do eleitorado. Vai ter que mudar o discurso e as políticas para poder reconquistar o campo perdido ou se contentar em virar oposição eternamente.

Sabem por que o brasileiro gosta do Vorcaro? Não é por causa do dinheiro, do poder, das moças. É porque ele respondia a todo mundo. Respondia e-mail, zap, sms, dm. Um lorde - o oposto desta elite vagabunda que sempre dá "ghosting" a qualquer pobre-diabo que só quer trabalhar.

Pouco importa quem ganhará a eleição presidencial em Outubro, o sistema patrimonialista sempre vencerá e destruirá quem não entender o seu mecanismo macabro:

Saiu na Folha @folha Mais tiras com MAPA aqui: manualdominotauro.blogspot.c…

This classic video show a LEGO TECHNIC functional Model of a Bridge Girder machine SLJ 90032 Wowjoint [📹 Wolf Zipp]

Por Quino (1932-2020) Tomado del grupo de FB "Ilustración e Historieta".

El progresismo pierde una elección. El analista político que no pega una, inmediatamente después:

Actor John C. McGinley proudly raised his son Max, who was born with Down syndrome in 1997, firing his agent who advised him to hide the diagnosis and instead making Max a visible, cherished part of his life and a catalyst for disability advocacy... A reporter once asked him if he ever wished his son were “normal.” His answer was simple: Max was normal. The problem wasn't his son's condition—it was society's narrow definition of what "normal" is supposed to look like. In 1997, actor John C. McGinley welcomed his son Max into the world. Shortly after Max was born with Down syndrome, John sat down with his talent agent to discuss his career. The agent offered a piece of advice meant to protect John’s Hollywood career. He suggested keeping the situation completely private, warning that studios might hesitate to hire him if he spoke out. John looked at him and said, "You're fired." Instead of hiding his family away, John chose complete openness. He took Max everywhere with him. They walked red carpets together, appeared on talk shows, visited movie sets, and attended public events side by side. At a time when individuals with developmental disabilities were often kept out of public view, John made sure his son was visible. He introduced Max to the world with total pride, deep love, and no apologies. What started as a father loving his child turned into decades of passionate advocacy. John became a leading voice for Down syndrome awareness. He used his public platform to advocate for inclusion, fighting for equal opportunities so people with disabilities could work, contribute, and live meaningful independent lives. During one public interview, a reporter asked John if he ever wished his son were normal. John did not hesitate. He replied that Max was normal, and that the question itself was what was flawed. His response challenged the idea that human value depends on fitting into standard social expectations. Years have passed since then, and Max has grown into an adult who works, participates in his community, and demonstrates what is possible when given a fair chance. John often reflects on how his son shaped his perspective, stating that Max never held him back for a single moment. Through Max, he learned valuable lessons about patience, love, acceptance, and commitment. When Max was born, the world suggested he should be tucked away out of sight. John spent decades making sure people saw him, heard him, and recognized his worth as a person. Some parents protect their children by shielding them from the world. Others protect them by teaching the world to make room for them. True inclusion begins when we stop seeing differences as limitations. Max didn’t need to change to belong. The world needed to change to include Max. Looking back on every red carpet, film set, and quiet moment at home, John knows one thing for certain: Max was never a challenge to be overcome, but a gift to be cherished. True love doesn't ask a child to fit the mold of the world; it reshapes the world so the child can shine exactly as they are. #drthehistories

Let’s take a minute to appreciate ‘cappuccino’ in Welsh.