Translated from Spanish to English by Toni Merchant
Which is which
Which is the how?
Who knows how to behave?
How natural fish are!
They never seem out of place.
They are like hosts in the sea
And they dress correctly
Without sporting an extra scale,
Honored by the water.
I, everyday, put not only my feet in the plate
But my elbows, my kidneys
The lire, my soul, the rifle.
I do not know what to do with my hands
And I have seriously thought,
just to go without them
But where can I put my ring?
What a terrible uncertainty!
And on top of it, I do not know anybody
I do not remember their last names.
I think I remember you
Aren´t you a contraband dealer?
And you ma’m, aren´t you the lover
Of this alcoholic poet
Who rambled without a purpose
On the neighborhood roofs?
He flied because he had wings
And you still have your feet on the ground
I would have loved to offer you
As an Indian widow, to a big pile of fire
Could we burn you right now?
It would be really exciting!
Another time, on an embassy
I fell in love with a black woman
She did not want to take her clothes off
And I asked her strongly:
Are you crazy, wild statue
How can you dare to wear clothes?
They forcefully made me banish
Of this and other reunions,
If by mistake I wandered close
They would close windows and doors.
Then I joined the gypsies,
The magicians,
The seamen without a ship,
The fishermen without fish,
But everybody had rules,
Unimaginable protocols,
And my lamentable education
Brought me bad consequences.
This is why I do not come and do not go
I do not wear clothes, but I am not naked either
I threw my silverware to the well,
My spoons and knives.
I just smile by myself,
I do not ask indiscreet questions
And when someone comes to look for me
And with great honor, to the banquets
I send my clothes, my shoes,
My shirt, with my hat,
But despite of this, they are not happy:
My suit was there without a tie, they say.
This way, just to probe myself
I decided to have a honest life
One with the most active laziness,
I purified my intentions,
I went out to eat with myself,
And that way, I become mute.
Sometimes, I took myself out for a dance
But without great enthusiasm,
And then, I go to bed alone, with no hope
Just not to go to the wrong room.
Goodbye, because I just came
Good morning, I am in a hurry.
Whenever you want to see me you know:
Look for me where you know I am not
And if you have extra time to spare, and something to say
You can talk to my portrait.
Sobre mi mala educación - Pablo Neruda
Cuál es cuál,
cuál es el cómo?_
Quién sabe cómo conducirse?
Qué naturales son los peces!
Nunca parecen inoportunos.
Están en el mar invitados_
y se visten correctamente_
sin una escama de menos,_
condecorados por el agua.__
Yo todos los días pongo_
no sólo los pies en el plato,_
sino los codos,
los riñones,_
la lira, el alma, la escopeta.__
No sé qué hacer con las manos_
y he pensado venir sin ellas,_
pero dónde pongo el anillo?_
Qué pavorosa incertidumbre!__
Y luego no conozco a nadie._
No recuerdo sus apellidos.__
—Me parece conocer a usted._
—No es usted un contrabandista?_
—Y usted señora no es la amante_
del alcohólico poeta_
que se paseaba sin cesar,_
sin rumbo fijo por las cornisas?_
—Voló porque tenía alas._
—Y usted continúa terrestre._
—Me gustaría haberla entregado_
como india viuda a un gran brasero,_
no podríamos quemarla ahora?_
Resultaría palpitante!__
Otra vez en una Embajada_
me enamoré de una morena,_
no quiso desnudarse allí,_
y yo se lo increpé con dureza:_
estás loca, estatua silvestre,_
cómo puedes andar vestida?__
Me desterraron duramente_
de ésa y de otras reuniones,_
si por error me aproximaba_
cerraban ventanas y puertas.__
Anduve entonces con gitanos_
y con prestidigitadores,_
con marineros sin buque,_
con pescadores sin pescado,_
pero todos tenían reglas,_
inconcebibles protocolos_
y mi educación lamentable_
me trajo malas consecuencias.__
Por eso no voy y no vengo,_
no me visto ni ando desnudo,_
eché al pozo los tenedores,_
las cucharas y los cuchillos._
Sólo me sonrío a mí solo,_
no hago preguntas indiscretas_
y cuando vienen a buscarme,_
con gran honor, a los banquetes,_
mando mi ropa, mis zapatos,_
mi camisa con mi sombrero,_
pero aún así no se contentan:_
iba sin corbata mi traje.__
Así para salir de dudas_
me decidí a una vida honrada_
de la más activa pereza,_
purifiqué mis intenciones,_
salí a comer conmigo solo_
y así me fui quedando mudo._
A veces me saque a bailar,_
pero sin gran entusiasmo,_
y me acuesto solo, sin ganas,_
por no equivocarme de cuarto.__
Adiós porque vengo llegando._
Buenos días, me voy de prisa.__
Cuando quieran verme ya saben:_
búsquenme donde no estoy_
y si les sobra tiempo y boca_
pueden hablar con mi retrato.
Word in Caló
Chilango Word in Spanish(Español) Word in English Inglés
¡Ya chole! ¡Ya basta! ¡Estoy harto! I am fed up!
Chango (a) Tipo (a) Guy (or girl), literally monkey.
Chafa De mala calidad, vulgar, corriente Low quality thing.
Chamba Trabajo, curro, laburo Work, job.
Chutar (te chutas) Actividad, ocurrencial, Chutar comes from Shooting, and it is an activity, or something that someone does.
Tacuche Traje Suit
¡Chale! Expresión de enfado Expression of disenchantment or being fed up!
Charola Credencial de la policía judicial. ID from the secret police. This is generally made of metal, that is why it is called “charola” which means “tray”.
Choncho Grande, Gordo Big, or fat (or both)
Chinche Insecto de las camas Bed flies
Chueco o chocolate Ilegal, no permitido, mal hecho. Twisted, illegal, badly made.
Fayuca Contrabando Contraband
Fusca Pistola Pistol, gun
Cachiporra Macana Battton
Te pasa Te gusta You like it
Guarura Guardaespaldas Body Guard
Chela Cerveza Beer
Enchufo Conectar, conquistar, hacer el amor con.. To connect, to conquer, to make friends with, to make love with, depends on context.
Chava Chica, Tía, Muchacha Girl
Chambendo (Chambear) Trabajando, trabajar Working
Chafirete Conductor, chofer Chauffer, driver
Chupe Bebidas Drinks
Pachanga Fiestas Party
Bacha colilla del cigarro de mariguana. Colita of a mariguana cigarette. “Matar la bacha” (to kill the bacha) means to finish smoking the cigarette.
Choya Cabeza Head
Chochos Dulces pequeños o drogas. Small candy. Also “Chochos” is the name given to small drugs (pills) that look like candy.
Chemo (cemento) Pegamento con aroma muy fuerte que usan los muchachos de barrios pobres para drogarse. Very strong glue that poor kids use (inhale) to get drugged.
Churro Cigarro de mariguana Mariguna cigarett.
Garnachas Comida callejera (tortillas de maíz fritas, tacos, frituras, etc.) Food sold at street stands in Mexico City. (fried corn tortillas with beans, tacos, and other fried foods).
Pachucos Jefe de pandilla, o pandillero (nombre generado en Los Angeles para pandilleros de origen mexicano durante los años veintes del siglo pasado).
Cholos Pandillero Gang member
Chundos Desarreglados, desgarbados Slobs
Chichinflas Lamebotas, cobardes Cowards
Chómpiras Ladrones Thieves.
Rifar Ser famoso, ser popular. Be famos, popular.
Tibiri-tabara Lugares para bailar música tropical Places to dance tropical music
Transar Hacer trampa To cheat
Chin chin si me la recuerdan Si me mientan la madre, se las miento yo. Mentar la madre es un insulto fuerte en México. “mentar la madre” is a very bad insult in Mexico. Chin, chin, is a way of responding to it.
Carcacha Carro Viejo Old car
Retacha Regresarse To go back
Carcacha y se les retacha Es una expresión que indica que cualquier insulto, se regresa al que lo hizo.
This is a song that I have promised to many people (about 2). Pure Mexico City slang (caló or caliche). This song was written by Jaime López, and interpreted by Café Tacuba. Translation to Spanish available below, to English, is coming up.
Chilanga Banda Author: Jaime López
Interpreted by Café Tacuba
Translation to Spanish (Toni Merchant)
Ya chole chango chilango (Ya basta tipo del DF)
que chafa chamba te chutas (que mal trabajo el que tienes)
no checa andar de tacuche (no te queda andar de traje)
y chale con la charola! ( y que feo traer credencial de policía)
Tan choncho como una chinche (tan gordo como una pulga)
mas chueco que la fayuca (mas ilegal que el contrabando)
con fusca y con cachiporra (con pistola y con garrote)
te pasa andar de guarura. (te gusta trabajar de guardaespaldas)
Mejor yo me echo una chela (mejor me tomo una cerveza)
y chance enchufo una chava (y tal vez me acuesto con una muchacha)
chambeando de chafirete (trabajando de conductor o chofer)
me sobra chupe y pachanga. (me sobran la bebida y las fiestas)
Si choco saco chipote (si me estrello y golpeo a otro coche)
la chota no es muy molacha (la policía no molesta tanto)
chiveando a los que machucan (extorsionando a los que atropellan)
se va a morder su talacha. (se van a disfrutar lo que robaron)
De noche caigo al congal (en la noche voy al cabaret)
no manches dice la changa (no seas exagerado, dijo una mujer)
al choro del teporocho (a la plática del borracho)
en chifla pasa la pacha. (apresúrate a pagar)
PACHUCOS CHOLOS Y CHUNDOS, (Mafiosos, pandilleros y vagos)
CHICHINFLAS Y MALAFACHAS (lamebotas y delincuentes)
ACA LOS CHOMPIRAS RIFAN (acá los ladrones mandan)
Y BAILAN TIBIRITABARA. ( y bailan música tropical)
Mejor yo me echo una chela (mejor me tomo una cerveza)
y chance enchufo una chava (y tal vez me acuesto con una muchacha)
chambeando de chafirete (trabajando de conductor o chofer)
me sobra chupe y pachanga. (me sobran la bebida y las fiestas)
Mi ñero mata la vacha (mi amigo acaba el cigarro de mariguana)
y canta la cucaracha (y canta la cucaracha)
su choya vive de chochos (su cabeza vive con pastillas)
de chemo, churro y garnachas. (con inhalantes, cigarro de mariguana y frituras de la calle en el DF)
PACHUCOS CHOLOS Y CHUNDOS, (Mafiosos, pandilleros y vagos)
CHICHINFLAS Y MALAFACHAS (lamebotas y delincuentes)
ACA LOS CHOMPIRAS RIFAN (acá los ladrones mandan)
Y BAILAN TIBIRITABARA. ( y bailan música tropical)
Transando de arriba abajo (estafando en todas partes)
ahi va la chilanga banda (así son los de la Ciudad de México)
chinchin si me la recuerdan (me las van a pagar si me mientan la madre)
carcacha y se les retacha (y todo lo que deseen para mí, se les revierta)
Pessoa, Pessoa.....
I cannot think of other thing but Fernando Pessoa right now. Pessoa means: Person in Portuguese, and the Portuguese poet Fernando Antonio Nogueira Pessoa created about 70 different persons out of him. His creations wrote in different publications, and even criticized and admired each other. He invented their lives, so even literary critics would comment on them. They even had each other mourn the death of some of his heteronyms!
The most amazing thing is that some of these heteronyms were not discovered until 50 years after Pessoa passed away in 1935!
Ricardo Reis, Alvaro dos Campos, and Bernardo Soares (all three heteronyms of Pessoa) admired Alberto Caeiro (another heteronym). While Caeiro published criticism to Pessoa´s writings in some magazines of the time. Pessoa is so interesting, that even Nobel Prize José Saramago (not, he is not an heteronym of Pessoa, he is his own person, and still alive) wrote a novel about the death of Ricardo Reis (which he argues happened one year later than Pessoa himself!).
What a Pessoa!
Jonathan Griffin, who extensively translated Pessoa to English, said, with Fernando Pessoa sayings "noted this way", that:
Caeiro is what Pessoa longed "all the simplicity, all the grandeur the ancients had", all their "possession of things" and it is was Pessoa longed to be and could not. Reis is the nearest that Pessoa could come to being Caeiro. A disciple of Caeiro, Reis works paganism into an ethical doctrine, part epicurean, part stoic, yet conscious, and kept clear of, a human environment conditioned by Christianity Through Campos, Pessoa saved himself from settling down into Reis. He starts as an extrovert, ends as an introvert; starts determined "to feel all every way there is", and ends up obsessed, asking if he is real. As poet in his own name, Fernando Pessoa matured fully almost as soon as his heteronym poets appeared. Caeiro is ideal; Reis the good second best; Campos doing Pessoa's travelling for him: but no escape from coming home to the real exploring.
The following is extracted from an article on Technology and Culture for the Trenches, about the personalities of the heteronyms that Pessoa created.
Alberto Caeiro: Both Alvaro dos Campos and Ricardo Reis considered Caeiro a master writer. They both confessed that Caeiro's thoughts influenced their work. Alberto was a shepperd who lived outside Lisbon, agnostic who avoided the city and crowds, who lived barefoot in contact with nature and peace. Caeiro was what Pessoa longed to be and could not, he was "the Master."
Ricardo Reis was a poet of Sad Epicureanism, master of highly wrought, metaphysical and neoclassical odes. He was born in Porto and educated by Jesuits. He was a doctor by profession and monarchist by conviction. Reis sought exile in Brazil after the proclamation of the first Portuguese Republic in 1919. Antonio Tabucchi, one of the writer's foremost critics and translators, believes Reis to have died peacefully in exile at the end of 1935. Novelist Jose Saramago, however, speculated that Reis died in Lisbon one year later under mysterious circumstances, unwittingly entangled in the revolts which spilled over from the Spanish Civil war in Lisbon. Reis was the nearest that Pessoa could come to being Caeiro.
Alvaro dos Campos was born in the city of Taviras and was a naval engineer in Glasgow who travelled widely before settling in Lisbon and founding the avant-garde magazine Orfeu. His writings proclaimed the advent of a perfect and mathematical humanity. Impressed by the force and ambition of Campos' works, Mario de Sa Carneiro, ventured that Campos' poetry would outlast his own. Campos did Pessoa's travelling for him.
Bernardo Soares was a book-keeper who lived a humble life in Lisbon which book was only discovered in 1982. Soares was perhaps a close image of the darkest side of Pessoa.
You can follow this link and explore more about this fascinating poet, and more on his multiple personalities.
http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2003/9/11/15138/9002
I found this poem by "Alvaro de Campos" one of the multiple personalities of one of my favorite poets: Fernando Pessoa. I love Pessoa, because he was able to create at least four different people out of his pen. Four different poets that wrote in different styles: Alberto Caeiro, Alvaro de Campos, Ricardo Reis and of course, Fernando Pessoa. All coming out of the same head, the same pen, the same sensibility. Sometimes I feel the same, because I seem to be interested in everything under the sun, and I am very hesitant about becoming "specialist" in something. This poem about tiredness is a good example of what extreme specialization can do to your well being. Maybe split-personalities is the solution to that dilemma.
Toni
I Am TiredAlvaro de CamposI am tired, that is clear,
Because, at certain stage, people have to be tired.
Of what I am tired, I don't know:
It would not serve me at all to know
Since the tiredness stays just the same.
The wound hurts as it hurts
And not in function of the cause that produced it.
Yes, I am tired,
And ever so slightly smiling
At the tiredness being only this -
In the body a wish for sleep,
In the soul a desire for not thinking
And, to crown all, a luminous transparency
Of the retrospective understanding ...
And the one luxury of not now having hopes?
I am intelligent: that's all.
I have seen much and understood much of what I
have seen.
And there is a certain pleasure even in tiredness
this brings us,
That in the end the head does still serve for
something.
(24.06.1935)
If you want to read more poems by Pessoa or his multiple personalities, you can look into this page: The easiest way to arrive to San Felipe from San Diego is taking I-8 East all the way to El Centro, CA, then take Highway 111 down to Calexico for a few miles. In Calexico you cross the border to Mexicali and then take Highway 5 down to San Felipe. You can also go to Ensenada and cross the Península towards the Gulf of California, but we decided to go through Mexicali instead this time.
Calexico-Mexicali is the hottest inhabitated place on Earth. Temperature there was 116º F when we arrived aroun 5 o´clock in the afternoon. It is supposed to be dry dessert heat, but thanks to irrigation from the All American Canal and the Río Colorado in Mexicali, there are crops everywhere. You can see orange trees, plantations of wheat, peaches, palm trees for ornamentation, etc. This is a huge oasis in the middle of the desert. It is of course no longer dry heat, but humed heat, which adds to the scorching temperature in summers. My friend Susana from UABC Mexicali told me that it is only for three months of this kind of heat, and then the temperature in Mexicali is really nice the rest of the year.
Quickly we went through Mexicali, not without admiring its colorful houses, and wide and modern boulevards. It is truly a nice city, better looking and way more planned than Tijuana. Mexicali is also the capital of Baja, that is probably one of the reasons there is an impressive public infrastructure. Even the huge shopping plazas seem to make sense there, since you do not want to adventure to walk on the streets for very long. Still, there are people working and walking on the streets, and they do not even wear shorts as in fresher San Diego. People are nice and polite in Mexicali, stoically resisting the heat.
After Mexicali, down south the road turns into two lanes, one to go and one to come back. It does not take longer to hit the desert, but surprisingly, temperatures go down, rather than up on the way to San Felipe, thanks to Ocean breezes coming from the Gulf of California (or Mar de Cortéz). These breezes also are the culprits of interesting "remolinos" or sand storms along the flat parts of the road. There are several signs warning about the "zona de tolvaneras". For about 15 km in a stretch of a narrow highway that crosses a very flat dessert, the tolvaneras start. It is weirder than snow, and also, the wind can move your vehicle to the other side of the road, and you do not even see because of the dust.
After the tolvaneras, we thanked the beautiful mountains that stop the sand from hitting into everything. We could not help to notice several vehicles without a windshield! We were mystified as how the drivers could cross the sand storms without protection. The mountains are spectacular, with many colors going from terra-cotta, yellow, to green and gray. After that, there is a big contrast of flat desert terrain with the edge of a huge montain range. The highway goes along the edge of both the mountains and the desert.
After about one and a half hours, you see torquoise water on your left side going south. It is the indication of some of the "lagos" (or branches of ocean water filtering through the desert). Then signs for San Felipe appear and you see a lot of billboards in English, selling beach property to Americans (all the signs are in English, none in Spanish). Apparently the town has been booming with retirees from the US that want to buy beach property. At some point it sounded like a nice idea, but later we discover that as nice as San Felipe is, it is not our kind of town. It is too quiet and only disturbed by hordes of Spring Breakers every year (that is not our kind of fun!).
After you hit the square arches and the welcoming Chetumal boulevard in San Felipe, the Ocean is there in front of you after a few hours of very hot desert.
There were no many tourists, they told us. "In Spring Break we are very busy, a waitress told us, but now it is low season, because of the heat. People do not want to come because it is really hot." I started to imagine all the spring breakers and I could not help to have the image of the girls "going wild" videos on this beautiful beach.
San Felipe was less hot than Mexicali, but it still was about 98 to 100 degrees F (about 37 to 39 Celsius).
We enjoyed the stay, the Ocean sunrises, and the sunsets bathing the dunes and the sharp mountains surrounding San Felipe. People were generally nice, although their lives depend on tourism for most of the time, so they want to sell you all sorts of things on the streets. It is fine, that way we got some extra conversations with locals. But not much happening. San Felipe is so beautiful, that it has a lot of potential, it even has some water coming from the Colorado River. But the road is narrow through the desert, and it seems that the infrastructure is growing on the private side, not on the public side. So, for now it will remain a destination for retirees and spring breakers from the US (what a combination for such a beautiful place!).
We had lots of fun, sunburns in the sole of our feet due to the sand, and a very nice vibe from the town. We eat fish and shrimp tacos, and "queso fundido" with shrimp. The last day, we rented a "sombrita" on the beach, because of our eagerness for sun the first day we were laying on the sand without shade, and we got burns. The second day, for 5 dollars we rented a tent on the beach for a while.
In the way back to Mexicali, we experienced more "tolvaneras" but this time we knew. Also, the temperature outside in Mexicali was surprisingly 122º F (50º C). We ended up inside a Mega shopping mall on the West of the city enjoying a nice walk under the artificial air (we did not venture out until after 6 o´clock). It was "fresher" with barely 110 degrees F. Much more bearable, we thought.
Mexicalenses started to invade the streets, walking, selling iced raspados, and smiling under the scorching heat of the desert evening.
We ended our day dining in a Chinese restaurant. Chinese food is very famous in Mexicali, due to the presence of a sizable Chinese community that was established when the Chinese Exclusion Act took effect in the US. Chinese people living in Mexicali seem very bicultural, and it also seems that there is a new stream of migration, since we saw fresh faces, with fresh accents, and combined Chinesemex people. The food was excellent too, and we headed back to the crossing point into Calexico.
Toni
This is Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil, two of the most important Brazilian singers and composers of all times. I personally discovered Caetano through a very good friend of mine from Brazil, Graziella Luque. Thanks to her, I had become one of Caetano's fans and admirers. Caetano had been crucial in shaping culture and politics of Brazil, through his music. He is one of the founders of a movement named "Tropicalismo", which many people say has helped to constitute a new Brazilian persona. I had the fortune to see him in his concert for Noites do Norte back in 2002 in Los Angeles. Noites do Norte is a whole album with songs about slavery in Brazil, and its cultural and social impact from Brazil. This song is called O Extrangeiro (Foreigner), and it is really beautiful. I will provide the Spanish and English translations as soon as I have them. Enjoy.
Antonieta
O Estrangeiro (Caetano Veloso)
O pintor Paul Gauguin amou a luz da Baía de Guanabara
O compositor Cole Porter adorou as luzes na noite dela
A Baía de Guanabara
O antropólogo Claude Lévi-Strauss detestou a Baía de Guanabara
Pareceu-lhe uma boca banguela
E eu, menos a conhecera, mais a amara?
Sou cego de tanto vê-la, de tanto tê-la estrela
O que é uma coisa bela?
O amor é cego
Ray Charles é cego
Stevie Wonder é cego
E o albino Hermeto não enxerga mesmo muito bem
Uma baleia, uma telenovela, um alaúde, um trem?
Uma arara?
Mas era ao mesmo tempo bela e banguela a Guanabara
Em que se passara passa passará um raro pesadelo
Que aqui começo a contruir sempre buscando o belo e o Amaro
Eu não sonhei:
A praia de Botafogo era uma esteira rolante de areia branca e óleo diesel
Sob meus tênis
E o Pão de Açúcar menos óbvio possível
À minha frente
Um Pão de Açúcar com umas arestas insuspeitadas
À áspera luz laranja contra a quase não luz, quase não púrpura
Do branco das areias e das espumas
Que era tudo quanto havia então de aurora
Estão às minhas costas um velho com cabelos nas narinas
E uma menina ainda adolescente e muito linda
Não olho pra trás mas sei de tudo
Cego às avessas, como nos sonhos, vejo o que desejo
Mas eu não desejo ver o terno negro do velho
Nem os dentes quase-não-púrpura da menina
(Pense Seurat e pense impressionista
Essa coisa da luz nos brancos dente e onda
Mas não pense surrealista que é outra onda)
E ouço as vozes
Os dois me dizem
Num duplo som
Como que sampleados num Sinclavier:
"É chegada a hora da reeducação de alguém
Do Pai, do Filho, do Espírito Santo, amém
O certo é louco tomar eletrochoque
O certo é saber que o certo é certo
O macho adulto branco sempre no comando
E o resto ao resto, o sexo é o corte, o sexo
Reconhecer o valor necessário do ato hipócrita
Riscar os índios, nada esperar dos pretos"
E eu, menos estrangeiro no lugar que no momento
Sigo mais sozinho caminhando contra o vento
E entendo o centro do que estão dizendo
Aquele cara e aquela:
É um desmascaro
Singelo grito:
"O rei está nu"
Mas eu desperto porque tudo cala frente ao fato de que o rei é mais bonito nú
E eu vou e amo o azul, o púrpura e o amarelo
E entre o meu ir e o do sol, um aro, um elo.
The Greeks are going mad here!
Enjoy
Toni
Football Commentator (Michael) Good afternoon, and welcome to a packed Olympic stadium, Muenchen [caption "INTERNATIONALE PHILOSOPHIE - Rueckspiel" {International Philospohy - Return match}] for the second leg of this exciting final. [German philosophers jog out of the dressing room.] And here come the Germans now, led by their skipper, "Nobby" Hegel. They must surely start favourites this afternoon; they've certainly attracted the most attention from the press with their team problems. And let's now see their line-up. [Caption "DEUTSCHLAND" {Germany} "1 LEIBNITZ 2 I. KANT 3 HEGEL 4 SCHOPENHAUER 5 SCHELLING 6 BECKENBAUER 7 JASPERS 8 SCHLEGEL 9 WITTGENSTEIN 10 NIETZSCHE 11 HEIDEGGER"] [High shot of Germans jogging onto pitch.] The Germans playing 4-2-4, Leibnitz in goal, back four Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and Schelling, front-runners Schlegel, Wittgenstein, Nietzsche and Heidegger, and the mid-field duo of Beckenbauer and Jaspers. Beckenbauer obviously a bit of a surprise there. [Greek philosophers, all in togas, jog from the dressing room.] And here come the Greeks, led out by their veteran centre-half, Heraclitus. [Caption "GRIECHENLAND" {Greece} "1 PLATO 2 EPIKTET 3 ARISTOTELES 4 SOPHOKLES 5 EMPEDOKLES VON ACRAGA 6 PLOTIN 7 EPIKUR 8 HERAKLIT 9 DEMOKRIT 10 SOKRATES 11 ARCHIMEDES"] [High shot of Greeks jogging onto pitch, kicking balls about etc.] Let's look at their team. As you'd expect, it's a much more defensive line-up. Plato's in goal, Socrates a front- runner there, and Aristotle as sweeper, Aristotle very much the man in form. One surprise is the inclusion of Archimedes. [referee, holding a large sandglass, walks down the centre line, flanked by two linesmen with haloes.] Well here comes the referee, Kung Fu Tsu Confucius, and his two linesmen, St Augustine and St Thomas Aquinas. [Referee spots the ball and the captains shake hands.] And as the two skippers come together to shake hands, we're ready for the start of this very exciting final. The referee Mr Confucius checks his sand and... [referee blows his whistle] they're off! [The Germans immediately turn away from the ball, hands on chins in deep contemplation.] Nietzsche and Hegel there. Karl Jaspers number seven on the outside, Wittgenstein there with him. There's Beckenbauer. Schelling's in there, Heidegger covering. Schopenhauer. [Pan to the other end, the Greeks also thinking deeply, occasionally gesticulating.] And now it's the Greeks, Epicurus, Plotinus number six. Aristotle. Empedocles of Acragus and Democratus with him. There's Archimedes. Socrates, there he is, Socrates. Socrates there, going through. [The camera follows Socrates past the ball, still on the centre spot.] There's the ball! There's the ball. And Nietzsche there. Nietzsche, number ten in this German side.
Football Commentator Well there may be no score, but there's certainly no lack of excitement here. As you can see, Nietzsche has just been booked for arguing with the referee. He accused Confucius of having no free will, and Confucius he say, "Name go in book". And this is Nietzsche's third booking in four games. [We see a bearded figure in a track-suit is warming up on the touch-line.] And who's that? It's Karl Marx, Karl Marx is warming up. It looks as though there's going to be a substitution in the German side. [Marx removes the track-suit, under which he is wearing a suit.] Obviously the manager Martin Luther has decided on all- out attack, as indeed he must with only two minutes of the match to go. And the big question is, who is he going to replace, who's going to come off. It could be Jaspers, Hegel or Schopenhauer, but it's Wittgenstein! Wittgenstein, who saw his aunty only last week, and here's Marx. [Marx begins some energetic knees-up running about.] Let's see it he can put some life into this German attack. [The referee blows his whistle; Marx stops and begins contemplating like the rest.] Evidently not. What a shame. Well now, with just over a minute left, a replay on Tuesday looks absolutely vital. There's Archimedes, and I think he's had an idea. Archimedes (John) Eureka! [He runs towards the ball and kicks it.] Football Commentator Archimedes out to Socrates, Socrates back to Archimedes, Archimedes out to Heraclitus, he beats Hegel [who, like all the Germans, is still thinking]. Heraclitus a little flick, here he comes on the far post, Socrates is there, Socrates heads it in! Socrates has scored! The Greeks are going mad, the Greeks are going mad. Socrates scores, got a beautiful cross from Archimedes. The Germans are disputing it. Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination, and Marx is claiming it was offside. But Confucius has answered them with the final whistle! It's all over! Germany, having trounced England's famous midfield trio of Bentham, Locke and Hobbes in the semi-final, have been beaten by the odd goal, and let's see it again. [Replay viewed from behind the goal.] There it is, Socrates, Socrates heads in and Leibnitz doesn't have a chance. And just look at those delighted Greeks. [The Greeks jog delightedly, holding a cup aloft.] There they are, "Chopper" Sophocles, Empedocles of Acragus, what a game he had. And Epicurus is there, and Socrates the captain who scored what was probably the most important goal of his career. [Aerial view of stadium; segue into Gilliam animation]
Outcome (from wikipedia)
Nietzsche receives a yellow card after claiming that "Confucius has no free will"; "Name go in book" says Confucius. Socrates scored the only goal of the match in the 89th minute, a diving header from a cross from Archimedes (who gets the idea of using the football first after shouting out "Eureka!"). The Germans dispute the call; "Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination, and Marx is claiming it was offside." When viewing the replay it is clear that goal was offside and Marx was correct in his dissent.
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