Today, capsized by grief and sorrow that has brought me the news that in certain schools of philosophy master them governess of the illustrious subjects philosophy of language and theory of knowledge or tame the tongue or show possession of knowledge any, have been cherished by the remembrance of those distinguished teachers of yesteryear who themselves were cognizant of the responsibility that entailed the exercise of their profession: the transmission of knowledge and the cultivation of the venerable minds of those shining young amateurs who were few available did the deceased and the BUP and COU.
A professor of, say, geology would have preferred to burn at the stake inquisitorial of pedagogical reform gogos heroes before oligophrenic commune with theories on the economics of language and admit the existence of "stones" . And we all know that the word stone is negligible because it is imprecise, and replaceable always more refined and subtle voices and singing, china, gravel, stone, meteorite, rocks, gravel, jaw, gravel, or boulder droll. It is not the same as a thing reaches you head to the extent you another, nor is it the same to be established as a foundation stone of a church so as a first comical, or as the first pebble (the latter would have changed history Western). In the same way, is not the same thing to climb mountains, illiterate and self-pompous nerd who traced hills, climbing hills, perched hills, climbing buttes, crowning hillocks, mounds elevate, raise mountains, hillsides bid or face more bumps-occupations Bachelors precious and proper and sound much more epic.
Someone might think, wrongly, that this instruction on the relevance of the precise use of language that we enjoy the 77 is the reason why none of us was surprised at that kind of nuclear physics, that teacher remained silent for 20 minutes in front of your audience while searching indefatigably the exact adjective, the invocation accurate, Melica word that best described plots and those mysterious and uniquely fundamental particles known quarks. The real reason no one laughed in my class when, after minutes of throat-clearing, puckering of frowns, walks nervous and spitting the professor raised his finger in admonition eurekastica and said: "I have it! quarks are .... SMALL "is that this story never happened in my class, but kind of my former boss. La Delicias was responsible for reminding me the other day, rhapsody all of it, stating that neither garlic is repeated so often and change as my nonsense, and my forgetfulness episodial had led me to tell the same story for the umpteenth time with the same story, but with characters changing. And the question I raise now from this unnecessary blog is: Does it some matter who stars in a story when the story is in itself revealing and uplifting beyond its dramatis personae? Can anyone say that I lied to appropriating an experience of my head without first ensure that my boss is another treacherous usurper?
I humbly believe that everyone has a cousin who has a neighbor whose brother knows a Mr. Smith to that one day something happened. When news of what happened to the protagonist of this dark lord input is transmitted by word of mouth, we note with selflessness that although the best, the narrative event in question has remained pristine, the number of persons acting without any significance in the history displayed in the preamble has increased immeasurably. The old Mr. Smith, the protagonist of a story, has become a master dark and blurred, known as "the grandfather's brother's neighbor who took care of the sister of the girlfriend of a friend of the bartender in that bar that is usually the brother of the guy who is half Tolain "to anyone, and I mean nobody, knows. That is, has lost any possibility of identity. Why not make up for the existence of a cousin, called my cousin, who star in all the stories and whose identity has not moved in the chain of transmission of the message? Mr. Perez will care so little My Cousin theft as the theft of that other cenaoscuras grandfather is a cousin of the waiter .... etc with whom he should feel nothing in the end identificado.Y out any of my cousins, or any of yours, I care a damn blessed him to go out there telling them. In my particular case the deal I have with my cousins \u200b\u200bis so scarce as I have with Mr. Smith ... and I think this privileged moment I contemplated that precisely this should explain the etymology of the word first: things that have happened My Cousin.
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