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Lições de Gulliver em Brobediguenague

Os trechos a seguir são uma crítica de Jonathan Swift, apresentada no livro "As Aventuras de Gulliver"(1725), sobre a Hipocrisia na Sociedade Humana. O Cenário é a parte em que Gulliver está acomodado em Brobediguenage.

Gulliver foi acolhido por um Fazendeiro Gigante que o levou ao Castelo Real para entreter o Rei de Brobediguenague, e lá, conversou com ele sobre o modo de vida na terra de Gulliver.

A conversa (assim como o livro) são pautados na ironia, no humor, no sarcasmo e no escárnio, principalmente da classe política da época. Meses antes de chegar a Brobediguenague, Gulliver havia "aportado" em Lilipute, onde as pessoas eram irritadas e tinham tamanhos minúsculos.

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SWIFT, Jonathan. Viagens de Gulliver. Trad. Fernando Nuno.

"Gulliver conversando com o Rei de Brobediguenague", As Viagens de Gulliver. George Routledge e filhos, ca. 1900

"Às sextas-feiras, o rei vinha almoçar conosco, aproveitando para fazer perguntas sobre a minha terra."

"Falei das nossas guerras no mar e em terra, do comércio entre as nações, dos títulos de nobreza e do luxo dos ricos. O rei comentou sobre a pequenez da grandez humana, já que podia ser arremedada por insetos insignificantes como as pessoas de quem eu estava falando, e admirou-se de que criaturas tão desprezíveis e minúsculas como nós se metessem a fazer guerras e outras barbaridades. A princípio me senti ofendido, mas logo percebi como ele tinha razão. Eu já estava tão acostumado à grandeza que via naquele país que, se voltasse a encontrar um grupo de damas e lordes ingleses, ou de outras pessoas que se acham importantes, todos engalanados e cheios de pompa, certamente zombaria deles como eles próprios costumam zombar dos outros." (SWIFT, pp. 36-7)

"O rei gostava de me fazer perguntas sobre o modo de vida e o governo de meu país. Comecei falando sobre a integridade dos governantes da Europa e das Américas, de como eram honestos os parlamentares e de como lutavam sempre com despreendimento e altruísmo pelos interesses do povo. Falei também sobre nossos juízes, verdadeiros sábios intérpretes da lei, e sobre os especialistas que administravam a economia e as finanças de nosso país com uma competência tão grande e tão rara. Dessa forma, durante cinco audiências, pude provar a Sua Majestade como, apesar de sermos pequenos no tamanho, não ficávamos nada a dever a pessoas tão grandes como as de Brobediguenague."

"Em nosso sexto encontro para tratar desses assuntos, tendo ouvido com atenção meus orgulhosos discursos, o rei começou a apresentar questões como estas:"

"O que fazemos para impedir a corrupção e o suborno? Os deputados conhecem realmente as leis que aprovam? As pessoas comuns não se arruinam quando têm de lidar com a justiça ao pagar advogados e custas judiciais? Quanto tempo demora o julgamento de uma causa, ou seja, uma pessoa injustiçada tem de continuar a ser prejudicada por muito tempo?"

"E assim prosseguia, numa quantidade interminável de perguntas."

"O rei quis saber também se nossos administradores realmente nunca se enganavam em suas contas, causando prejuízos e miséria ao povo; quando isso acontecia, eles continuavam a receber seus altos salários? E sobre as religiões: se todas pregavam o amor, por que tinham tanto ódio umas pelas outras?"

"Para responder melhor, contei a história de nossos povos durante os últimos séculos, dando muitos exemplos das soluções que nossos líderes, em sua imensa sabedoria, criaram para os conflitos, evitando guerras. Por fim, elogiei tudo o que podia encontrar de positivo em nossa civilização. Depois de minha exposição, ele concluiu:"

"- Meu pequeno Grildrigue [anãozinho], você apresentou um belo relato de seu povo: ficou provado que a ignorância e a preguiça são qualidades comuns em qualquer bom administrador e que as leis são mais bem compreendidas justamente por aqueles que pretendem desrespeitá-las. Noto que as intenções são boas, mas que na hora de colocá-las em prática a situação muda. Por tudo o que você contou, vi que as pessoas não costumam ser promovidas devido ao seu valor ou dedicação, mas por outros fatores que nada têm a ver com isso."

"Devo dizer, neste ponto, que não concordo com as opiniões daquele rei, que, pelo visto, só tem tamanho. E estou certo de que todos os leitores estarão de acordo comigo, vendo claramente como ele foi injusto com nossa sociedade. A melhor prova de minha honestidade é que, neste preciso momento, eu estou aqui, relatando fielmente as coisas mais desfavoráveis que ele disse a nosso respeito. No entanto, quanto mais coisas eu dizia para nos defender, mais ele me confundia: ou seja, mais ele encontrava motivos para rir ou para aprofundar o mal juízo sobre nós."

"Naturalmente, podemos relevar tais opiniões, pois trata-se de um rei que vive totalmente fora do mundo e não conhece os nossos costumes. A distância sempre produz preconceitos, e isso - os preconceitos - é uma coisa que nós, pessoas que conhecemos o mundo, não temos, absolutamente."

"No entanto, para que o rei não continuasse a fazer má ideia de mim e para cair nas boas graças dele, falei sobre a pólvora e o seu poder de destruição, tão oportuno nas guerras - apesar de ser tão usada também nos tempos de paz. Eu conhecia todos os ingredientes e o modo de fabricá-la e me ofereci humildemente para produzí-la para Sua Majestade, com o fim de ajudá-lo a defender o reino."

"Ele ficou horrorizado com a proposta. Depois de perguntar como tínhamos a coragem de usar uma substância tão terrível em armas de fogo e canhões contra os nossos próprios semelhantes, disse que estava muito admirado de que um 'inseto tão impotente e insignificante como eu' (foram essas suas palavras) podia ter ideias tão desumanas com tanta naturalidade. Por fim, concluiu que preferia perder metade de seu reino a possuir o segredo da pólvora e me proibiu de voltar a falar no assunto."

"No entanto, mais espantado ainda fiquei eu ao ver um governante que parecia tão sábio desprezar dessa forma uma ajuda preciosa para dominar completamente as outras pessoas - tudo por causa de um escrúpulo tão desnecessário e incocebível na nossa sociedade."

"Sei muito bem que agora os leitores devem estar com uma impressão bem ruim desse rei, mas minha intenção não é diminuir ninguém. Pelo contrário; faço questão de dizer que, se ele pensa isso, só pode ser por ignorância, pois não sabe como nossa civilização é avançada, uma vez que não a conhece. Para que vejam a que ponto chega essa ignorância, devo contar que ele também disse que uma pessoa que fosse capaz de cultivar duas espigas de trigo onde normalmente só nascia uma tinha mais valor do que toda a classe de políticos!"

"Só mais uma coisa: sabem que naquele país é proibido escrever comentários sobre as leis? Eles acham que só a lei, que é sempre bem formulada, é suficiente e deve ser cumprida sem mais delongas; não é possível um advogado defender uma causa em que não acredite, nem por dinheiro; e um juiz não pode julgar uma vez de um modo e, na vez seguinte, dar uma sentença contrária à do julgamento anterior." (SWIFT, pp. 40-3)

Essas são as palavras de Gulliver, em pleno século XVIII. MUito lúcido inclusive para a atualidade.

©Jonathan Swift, 1725.

Francamente...

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A gente tenta fazer uma pergunta e leva um flag desses.
Francamente...

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©2020. Matheus Addor

Vargas

Ele matou seu vice para fazer do seu golpe uma conspiração.

Foi presidente interim, constitucional e ditador.

Era considerado pai dos pobres e mãe dos ricos.

Seu partido era de esquerda, mas ele era de direita.

Defendeu os trabalhadores à ferro e fogo.

Cavou o chão em busca de líquidos fósseis.

Seu arqui-inimigo foi baleado (não morto) durante o crime da Rua Toneleros (RJ)

O homem que ele escolheu para ser ministro da justiça morreu pouco depois de assumir a presidência (31 anos após sua morte).

É parente de um adepto da coca, e deu nome a um aeroporto de Minas Gerais.

Baleou-se a si mesmo no coração, neste dia, há 66 anos. (Faleceu um anos depois de Josef Stalin, da União Soviética.)

Eu não escrevi seu nome, mas você já sabe quem é.

24 de agosto de 2020: 66 anos da morte de Getúlio Vargas.

Fan Fiction: Weintraub file

Eu comecei a escrever essa crônica no ano passado e fui acrescentando detalhes com o tempo, até chegar a uma conclusão. Por favor, note que os nomes de alguns personagens (inclusive o protagonista) são de pessoas reais (Abraham Weintraub é o ministro da Educação, Arthur Weintraub é irmão dele e Ricardo Vélez é ex-ministro da Educação). O termo "fan fiction" já implica que a história é uma "ficção de apreciadores".

Inspirado na sitcom "Good Witch".

Telephone call

Things were getting weird. Things were getting tough. Nothing was making sense. But Arthur Weintraub, an insurance manager, kept looking up. He filled a glass with sarsaparilla, got his phone contact book and dialed someone called Maximillian Sommerzeit, a physician from the Royal Health Institute.

“Hello, Max! This is Arthur, Abraham's sibling. I work at the Central Insurance. My mental health is getting worse and worse... I heard you studied the Royal Arts of Healing... Could you help me? It's serious!”

“Hello, Arthur. I don't think I remember you... When did we meet?”

“Last year... You went to the Central to make an insurance plan. You even brought your wife, Joanne! She looked so glad to be married to you. How is she, though?”

“Joanne is fine...  We had a child two months ago. It's a boy. We called him Americus, in honor to my beloved grandfather, Sir Americus Yorkshire, the Great. What's your mental health problem anyway?”

“Glad you asked, Max! Sometimes, I feel depressed... My head hurts and the stress is taking over my body... What do you recommend to me?”

“Mr. Weintraub…”

“You can call me by my name, please.”

“Abraham...”

“It’s Arthur! Abraham is my sibling.”

“Arthur, I am currently working at the Royal Health Institute. It's near the Suave Oyster Cafe. If you want, I could book you an appointment! Would you like?”

“Yes, please!”

“Great. What day of the week is better for you?”

“Friday...”

“Which time?”

 “Five o'clock...”

“I can book for you at five thirty. Is it OK?”

“Yes.”

“Your appointment is booked for Friday, 5:30 pm.”

“Perfect, Max! Thank you for your cooperation.”

“No, Arthur! I thank you for calling me.”

When Arthur Weintraub hung the telephone, he thought. He didn’t want to be neither rich, famous, nor even the best. He just wanted to be happy... Although he liked his job as an insurance manager, he really needed some rest. Arthur finished his glass of sarsaparilla, took a warm shower and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Daniel, his father, who suffered from a rare mental disease, was in the living room watching the breaking news. Arthur called him out, and, a few moments later, he heard the television shut down sound and slipper steps coming from the living room to the kitchen. Arthur wasn’t a good cook, but he knew some cooking tricks. For that night, he had made pork ribs with barbecue sauce, Daniel’s favorite. As garnish, there were fries and tomato salad.

“It smells great!” Daniel said. “Where’s Abraham, though? He told me he was going to join us…”

“Abraham won’t be able to join us… He’s in a meeting with a foreigner.”

“Business, I guess.” Daniel wondered. “Well, let’s eat!”

Daniel and Arthur Weintraub ate the food displayed on the table and went to bed afterwards. Arthur thought on his life so far while lying on the cushions. All the objectives and missions accomplished made him feel special in a weird manner. His thoughts brought him to his former fiancée, whom left him weeks before marriage. Her name was Theresa Almond. He didn’t know why Miss Almond would leave him, but he had some clues. One of them involved Charles Sanders, an airplane pilot. Miss Almond and Mr. Sanders flew to the Caribbean islands to live there and forget their old lives.

Arthur turned over and felt a teardrop running through his face. He never forgot Theresa Almond. Arthur fell asleep.

The day after, Arthur Weintraub woke up and got dressed. He ate his breakfast and rushed to his work, at the Insurance Central. The secretary greeted him with good morning, just as his office colleagues. It was Friday, the day of his appointment with doctor Sommerzeit.

When Arthur sat at his desk, his phone rang. It was an unknown calling. The insurance manager answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Arthur, is it you?” The caller said. Arthur almost didn’t recognize the voice at first.

“Abraham? How are you, brother?”

“Well, things are not as they were expected…”

“What happened? Was the meeting with the foreigner alright?”

Abraham voice looked nervous.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want to talk to you…”

“What is it?”

“The foreigner I met yesterday is actually a drug dealer… He is from Colombia and his name is Ricardo Vélez…”

“Isn’t Ricardo Vélez an actor?”

“No! That’s another Ricardo Vélez! Please, brother, I need help…”

“Listen, Abraham, I can’t speak right now. I have a meeting scheduled, I call you later.”

Arthur hung the phone off and thought in what trouble his sibling Abraham would have been into. Arthur was younger than Abraham, but it was Abraham who managed to be in danger most of the times. Many times, the dangers were harmless, but this time Arthur was really worried. What could this drug dealer Ricardo Vélez do to his older sibling? There was no way to know.

After the meeting, Arthur searched on his web browser the identity of Ricardo Vélez. He found news reporting that Vélez was wanted in Colombia for corruption, money laundry, drug dealing and being in possession of guns. Vélez was hidden in Argentina.

The clock on his computer showed the time. Quarter to five. Arthur got up from his desk and went to his appointment with doctor Sommerzeit.

Maximillian Sommerzeit looked exactly the same as the first time Arthur Weintraub saw him. He was short. He didn’t have much hair, but the hair he had was gray. He was wearing a physician white coat, with just his last name written in it.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Weintraub!”, greeted Maximillian Sommerzeit. “What’s the matter, then?”

“Sometimes, I feel depressed. My head hurts and I feel weak. What do you recommend me?”

“What you actually need is some rest, but I will give this medicine. It’s a plant based drug, made with a root that grows in the middle of Mexico, called Ayahuasca. Take this once a day, before you go to sleep. Be aware it’s a very powerful drug.”

“Sure. I will do everything to get better,” said Arthur. “Thank you Mr. Sommerzeit!”

When the night fell, Arthur Weintraub took two drops from the medicine and lay down. It wasn’t difficult for him to fall asleep, any like the other days. In a few minutes, Arthur was sleeping in a deep rest, which no one could ever wake him up.

Then, the dream came. It wasn’t just a dream, it was a nightmare. Arthur was soaked in sweat beneath the sheets.

In his dream, Arthur Weintraub was in a cage surrounded by dark shadows. They were whispering inaudible sounds, but Arthur was terrified. Suddenly, the cage hatch unlocked and he was pulled out. Arthur was now riding a bicycle in very hot ground. The front wheels of the vehicle were melting. His bicycle fell down in a sewer and all he could feel was cold and fear. He managed to get out of the sewer and saw the sun collide with his body.

Arthur woke up. He was drenched in his own sweat. Would it be some kind of side effect of the Ayahuasca pills he took earlier? He didn’t know. Should he call doc Sommerzeit, telling all the hallucinations he just had? Arthur glanced at the table clock. 3 am. It was better not to bother the physician.

But Arthur couldn’t sleep again. He dried himself with a tissue and changed clothes. He was going for a walk.

Outside his home, he decided to go in a straight line, without minding the path. If he got lost, he would turn around and back up to his residence.

There was a small forest in the dead end of his street, that he had never had the guts to explore it. Now he had. Under the effect of Ayahuasca pills, Arthur Weintraub walked forward to the woods.

It was still very dark and Arthur couldn’t see very well. The insurance manager saw a weird pile of dirt and leafs near an oak tree. There were also a shovel and puddles of a red liquid on the ground. Arthur smelled the liquid and confirmed it was blood. He took the shovel and dug the pile of dirt.

What Arthur found shocked him. It looked just like the picture from the mugshot of Ricardo Vélez, in Colombia detention house. There were wounds and scabs in Veléz’s face, but Arthur still recognized him. He touched his pockets, looking for his phone, but he realized he had forgotten it in his house. He had nothing with him.

Suddenly, Arthur Weintraub heard a “beebeebee” sound. The sun rays warmed his room as they passed through the blinds. Arthur was drenched in sweat. He took a shower and went downstairs for breakfast.

The insurance manager turned on the television. The anchorman in the news segment looked sad. With a heavy tone, he told his audience:

“A man around his forty years old was found dead in the woods. His identity confirms as a drug dealer who was hidden in Argentina. His name is Ricardo Vélez.”

Daniel Weintraub, Arthur’s father, turned the TV off.

“I want bacon.”, he cried.

While cooking the sliced bacon, that Daniel loved, Arthur dialed to his brother Abraham.

“Hey, Abraham, your foreigner friend is dead.”

“I know. And you are the killer. Congratulations, brother! You did it!”

Arthur looked confused.

“I just don’t get it…”

“You’ll get, trust me!”

Abraham Weintraub hung up the phone.

Arthur left his home with his suitcase and entered his car. While leaving the neighborhood, the people looked at him with disgust.

A police car chased his car with sirens on.

“Stop the car right now, Weintraub! We caught you! You’re under arrest.”

Arthur did what he was supposed to do. The police officer handcuffed him and put him in the police car.

How could Arthur Weintraub kill a man if he was sleeping? That story was very strange, but Arthur preferred not to talk very much. Things were finally getting tied up. The answers were coming, he felt.

A news reporter said to the camera as Arthur entered the police station:

“The murderer of Ricardo Vélez was found and he is going to jail, but with his punishment shortened, once Ricardo Vélez was a very bad criminal.”

What a relief.

Arthur did kill Ricardo Vélez with his bare hands. Everything was clear. In the night he took the Ayahuasca pills, someone got into his house. It was Ricardo Vélez. He wanted the money Abraham (Arthur’s brother) promised him if he was ever reported to the police. The only person with money in the family was Arthur, because Abraham was addicted to gambling and Daniel was mentally insane. Arthur got his handgun from the drawer and shot at cold blood Ricardo Vélez to death.

Arthur went to the garage to get a trash bag and a shovel and went to the woods to dispose the body, safe that no one would find out. The insurance manager, a few hours later, after a nightmare that left him soaked, went for a walk in the mysterious woods and found the body he disposed, revealing his own crime.

After Arthur’s confession of the crime, he was convicted to life sentence and fulfilled his dream of being arrested.

As for Daniel Weintraub, he was sent to a mental asylum and died a couple years later of pancreatic cancer. No one knew were Abraham Weintraub went. He just vanished. Some people say Arthur’s brother took the place of Ricardo Vélez, selling drugs and living in incognito in Argentinean grounds.

THE END