O grau de moralismo bacôco nas perguntas de Tyra Banks aos seus convidados no programa que passou na SIC Gaija no passado domingo rondava-se o cúmulo do ridículo. Tyra Banks é uma espécie de nova Oprah da TV Gaija e os seus programas são um bocadinho mais rasteiros dos que os da que emula e mais próximos, em algumas situações, do Jerry Springer (explorando a androgenia dos convidados ou a sua maneira de vestir, por exemplo).

Anyway, no programa a que assisti, meia-dúzia de minutos, apareceram duas senhoras a queixarem-se que os namorados eram “viciados” em “pornografia”.

Num dos relatos, anotei mentalmente o facto de ele ter um colecção de filmes pornográficos (como quem colecciona filmes de kung fu ou de vampiros) e, no outro, o facto de ele ter uma assinatura num site que lhe permite ver online e ao vivo striptease e de ter um a colecção de revistas “porn” já desde antes do casamento.

É relativo. Primeiro porque estamos a falar de uma sociedade que se vê na obrigação de aceitar o striptease e a sua presença no quotidiano parece normal. Depois porque nunca percebi, ao longo do programa, o conceito de “porn” (será a revista Playboy “porn”?). Por fim, porque coleccionar o “Ranger do Texas” é mais perigoso do que coleccionar os filmes da Jenna Jameson, digo eu mas também nunca vi nenhum filme da ex-heroína do estilo pornográfico.

Mas para Tyra Banks, que parecia mais velha, mais conservadora e mais black mother do que a própria Oprah para os seus cachorrinhos, a própria ideia da existência de um site onde mulheres se despiam era impensável (mesmo no país onde há mais bares de striptease por metro quadrado).

E um das coisas que mais me irritou foi perceber naquele moralismo uma construção que contradiz outros dados da personalidade da apresentadora, mais aberta, com menos necessidade de ser aquilo que os espectadores querem que ela seja.

O que me irritou mesmo foi o falso moralismo de perguntar sobre as revistas. Repito, eu não sei qual o conceito de “porn” ali aplicado, mas haverá assim tanta diferença em fazer striptease e fazer isto, isto e isto? É o biquini que faz a diferença? Não acho mal que a Tyra Banks tenha conseguido subir na carreira graças aos ensaios da Sports Ilustrated Swimsuit e da GQ, pelo contrário, contudo, face a tanto moralismo, não sei se entre as revistas do consumidor-pornográfico não se encontrava uma daquelas com a Tyra na capa.

E a Igreja como reagiu?
A Igreja lamenta que… a televisão La Sexta tenha decidido brincar com a situação e tenha mesmo pedido que a virgem explicasse “o seu programa de governo”.

Por vezes fico varado com os especialistas portugueses. Ainda recentemente contei aqui, os resultados a que chegou a ONG Christian Aid sobre a evasão fiscal, dizia a organização que esta prática será responsável pela morte de 5,6 milhões de crianças com menos de cinco anos entre 2000 e 2015 apenas nos países em desenvolvimento. Agora, ao reler um artigo de Manuel Leite Monteiro - titulado também O verdadeiro custo da evasão fiscal - fico a saber que perseguir a fuga aos impostos tem consequências negativas para toda a população. Embora sendo uma irregularidade que se deve combater, a evasão fiscal, escreve, tem um impacto sobre todos os contribuintes porque a detecção da evasão e a sua penalização agravará os preços. Solução: é preciso ter cuidado quando se combate a evasão fiscal (!?!?).

Artigo completo de Manuel Leite Monteiro em baixo.

*link
A vice-presidente do Governo, María Teresa Fernández de la Vega, afirmó que teve de posar com um empresário nigeriano e as suas três esposas, mas que foi uma situação ‘creada de forma natural y protocolaria’ que pode suceder neste tipo de encontros e reiterou que essa imagem é a ‘manifestación de un drama que hay que combatir’. ‘Ni desde el punto de vista legal, ni cultural, ni de las convicciones personales, puedo compartir ni justificar este tipo de situación’, sentenció. De la Vega indicó que el episodio de la fotografía puede tener una vertiente positiva si sirve para ‘llamar la atención sobre algo que hay que erradicar’ y que ‘desgraciadamente está muy extendido’, al tiempo que mantuvo su ‘rechazo total’ a la poligamia desde el punto de vista personal.

I didn’t write yesterday because I had a wonderful experience. I got up early, drank some carrot juice, did my exercises, got dressed in my suit and tie and went to Fifth Avenue. I walked around, did a little window shopping. I got in a long discussion with a clerk about whether a Patek Philipe or a Rolex is the best investment. Went to Tiffany’s picked out a thirty-five thousand dollar diamond and had them set it in a ring. I told them that I had left my wallet in my suite at the Carlyle and would call them later with the deposit. Hah. That was a funny one. They were shaking my hand all the way to the door.

I had walked out of Tiffany’s and was thinking about lunch, and found myself in front of the Museum of Modern Art. A woman walked by me wearing a long black coat and black boots. And for some reason I followed her in and she checked her coat and I could see what she was wearing: some faded jeans, a sort of tight sweater and a little scarf around her neck.

She looked over at me and I smiled. She sort of smiled back and then she went into the museum.

I figured it was worth the investment and I followed her in. I thought: isn’t this exciting? It’s like being in a movie! Everywhere she went, I went. I would stare at a painting really intently and then glance at her out of the side of my eye.

If she saw me looking, I would look away.

Then one time, while I was looking away she must have walked into another room, because I lost her. I tried not to seem too anxious about it, but it was a terrible loss.

All of a sudden there was a tap on my shoulder. I thought it was a guard telling me to stop following the woman around. But it wasn’t a guard. It was her! My heart started to pound, my mouth became dry.

She said: “Where is Picasso’s Guernica? Do you know?” And I said, “It’s not here?” And she said “No.” And I said “I think it’s gone.” She said, “Oh, that’s right! I forgot!” And she smiled at me and looked into my eyes. And I looked into her eyes.

Then she said, “You’re so knowledgeable about art. Do you come to the museum often?” And I said, “Only when I’m in New York. I’m staying at the Carlyle, so it’s convenient.” And she smiled some more. I said “Do you come to the museum often?” And she said, “Once in awhile, when I’m down.” And I asked her what she was down about, and she said “Nothing.” I looked at my watch and said it was lunch time would she have lunch with me, and she said she’d love to. So we went to the lunch room in the museum.

It was very pleasant. We talked about the Carlyle, about her job (she’s a designer at an ad agency), about exercise, about my job at CBS News and my friendship with Dan Rather.

The whole time we were talking, I realized I could look at her all I wanted. She was pretty in an over thirty way. Her eyes seemed a little tired, but bright still. She had a little hair on her upper lip but that was compensated by the large size of her breasts.

Her hair had some kind of bleach or lightener in it and she was wearing a pin that looked like a salamander all covered with diamonds. Her fingertips were perfectly manicured.

Along with lunch, she had a white wine and after lunch she smoked a cigarette. I could tell by the way she sucked on the cigarette that she was very horny. Why else would she be in the museum in the first place?

We laughed small laughs and when the check came I pretended to have forgotten my wallet. She seemed a little flustered, but paid the check anyway.

When we left, I asked her if she’d ever seen the Carlyle. She said no, and we took a walk up Madison Ave to see it.

Outside the building, I insisted on paying her back for the meal. I said my wallet was right up in my room, let’s go up.

When we got there, we just walked in, went to the elevator and told the elevator man we wanted to go to the 11th floor. He took us right up there and I found a room with a maid fixing it up.

I told the maid she didn’t have to vacuum and we walked in and closed the door.

I broke the seal and opened the little refrigerator and gave her a beer. She took off her jacket and sat down on the couch.

She said, “You must do this all the time.”

I said “This is the first time.”

I walked over to her and pulled her up to me. Our faces were very close and I could see the tiny hairs on her lip, her lipstick stain, the mascara on her eyelashes. She looked at me expectantly.

I looked into her eyes and told her to go into the bedroom. I said I had to call my office and I would be right in.

She went into the bedroom. I watched her as she started to undress. She seemed uncertain. I smiled at her and she kept going. I closed the door.

I called the front desk and told them to send up the repairman because my television set wasn’t working. I told them I had to go out for an hour and wanted it fixed by the time I got back.

I left.

I went home and made a really hot bath. I thought about the woman and the TV repairman coming in. I got out a can of shave cream and covered my whole body with cream.

Then I jumped into the hot tub of water and fell asleep.

Life is good if you’re willing to work at it.

© Copyright Eric Bogosian 1993

Postado originalmente a 2004/05/18