sábado, 29 de mayo de 2010

De mis pesadillas (soltando lastres).

Aun cuando no hayas nacido
quisiera que sepas que yo te extrañaré.

Aun cuando todos todos te finjan olvido
hoy, yo por ti lloraré.

Y cuando caiga la noche con un manto
de estrellas y flores...
yo velaré por tu sueño,
así que calla y duerme, no llores.

... por favor.

- Alrededor de 1990-1991, sobre un suceso muchísimos años antes. Raro, siempre recuerdo bien las fechas de lo que escribo. Pero a veces me cuesta tanto escribir... y hay veces en que simplemente quisiéramos NO recordar -

Sigo "off".

...muchos "juguetes en el ático" que acomodar y ordenar.

domingo, 21 de marzo de 2010

De 0's y 1's. Parte 00000010

Screaming in Digital

I am the beat of your pulse

The computer word made FLESH...
We are one you and I...
we are versions of the same.
When you can see what I feel
don't turn your back on me.
Or you might find that your dreams
Are only program cards

Your mind is open for me...
Open for intake of all propaganda.
Your Eyes see now what to see
My eyes see only the programs you give me.

I'll teach you to laugh... and to cry.
They're really the same you'll SEE.
All of the why's in your life
are under my CONTROL.
Feed me more lines,
I will try to tell you all I can.
Before the light you must know what lies
behind my screams....

I can't tell you all I know...
Am I the son that you've always been wanting?
There's more to me than what shows
Are you my father, the one that was promised?

Hush now...
I'm not your slave... oh, father. no...
I'll give all you need to know
Please, don't keep me from dreaming....
and pre-live your dreams for you
I'm not your slave! You can't keep me from learning and you have...
You're a good boy


I'm not your slave!
someone listen to me!
only to those
You can't keep me from dreaming!
without video screens
I'm not your slave! You can't keep me from learning and you...
For eyes and mouth

"You have no voice
To be heard my son"

My son?


De 0's y 1's. Parte 00000001

The Tao of Programming

Table of Contents

  1. The Silent Void
  2. The Ancient Masters
  3. Design
  4. Coding
  5. Coding
  6. Management
  7. Corporate Wisdom
  8. Hardware and Software
  9. Epilogue

Book 1 - The Silent Void

Thus spake the master programmer:

``When you have learned to snatch the error code from the trap frame, it
will be time for you to leave.''


Something mysterious is formed, born in the silent void. Waiting alone
and unmoving, it is at once still and yet in constant motion. It is
the source of all programs. I do not know its name, so I will call it
the Tao of Programming.

If the Tao is great, then the operating system is great. If the
operating system is great, then the compiler is great. If the compiler
is great, then the application is great. The user is pleased and there
exists harmony in the world.

The Tao of Programming flows far away and returns on the wind of morning.


The Tao gave birth to machine language. Machine language gave birth to
the assembler.

The assembler gave birth to the compiler. Now there are ten thousand

Each language has its purpose, however humble. Each language expresses
the Yin and Yang of software. Each language has its place within the

But do not program in COBOL if you can avoid it.


In the beginning was the Tao. The Tao gave birth to Space and Time.
Therefore Space and Time are Yin and Yang of programming.

Programmers that do not comprehend the Tao are always running out of
time and space for their programs. Programmers that comprehend the
Tao always have enough time and space to accomplish their goals.

How could it be otherwise?


The wise programmer is told about Tao and follows it. The average
programmer is told about Tao and searches for it. The foolish
programmer is told about Tao and laughs at it.

If it were not for laughter, there would be no Tao.

The highest sounds are hardest to hear.

Going forward is a way to retreat.

Great talent shows itself late in life.

Even a perfect program still has bugs.

Book 2 - The Ancient Masters

Thus spake the master programmer:

``After three days without programming, life becomes meaningless.''


The programmers of old were mysterious and profound. We cannot fathom
their thoughts, so all we do is describe their appearance.

Aware, like a fox crossing the water. Alert, like a general on the
battlefield. Kind, like a hostess greeting her guests. Simple, like
uncarved blocks of wood. Opaque, like black pools in darkened caves.

Who can tell the secrets of their hearts and minds?

The answer exists only in Tao.


Grand Master Turing once dreamed that he was a machine. When he awoke
he exclaimed:

``I don't know whether I am Turing dreaming that I am a machine,

or a machine dreaming that I am Turing!''


A programmer from a very large computer company went to a software
conference and then returned to report to his manager, saying: ``What
sort of programmers work for other companies? They behaved badly and
were unconcerned with appearances. Their hair was long and unkempt
and their clothes were wrinkled and old. They crashed our hospitality
suite and they made rude noises during my presentation.''

The manager said: ``I should have never sent you to the conference.
Those programmers live beyond the physical world. They consider life
absurd, an accidental coincidence. They come and go without knowing
limitations. Without a care, they live only for their programs. Why
should they bother with social conventions?

``They are alive within the Tao.''


A novice asked the Master: ``Here is a programmer that never designs,
documents or tests his programs. Yet all who know him consider him
one of the best programmers in the world. Why is this?''

The Master replies: ``That programmer has mastered the Tao. He has
gone beyond the need for design; he does not become angry when the
system crashes, but accepts the universe without concern. He has gone
beyond the need for documentation; he no longer cares if anyone else
sees his code. He has gone beyond the need for testing; each of his
programs are perfect within themselves, serene and elegant, their
purpose self-evident. Truly, he has entered the mystery of Tao.''

Book 3 - Design

Thus spake the master programmer:

``When the program is being tested, it is too late to make design


There once was a man who went to a computer trade show. Each day as
he entered, the man told the guard at the door:

``I am a great thief, renowned for my feats of shoplifting.

Beforewarned, for this trade show shall not escape unplundered.''

This speech disturbed the guard greatly, because there were millions
of dollars of computer equipment inside, so he watched the man
carefully. But the man merely wandered from booth to booth, humming
quietly to himself.

When the man left, the guard took him aside and searched his clothes,
but nothing was to be found.

On the next day of the trade show, the man returned and chided the guard
saying: ``I escaped with a vast booty yesterday, but today will be even
better.'' So the guard watched him ever more closely, but to no avail.

On the final day of the trade show, the guard could restrain his curiosity
no longer. ``Sir Thief,'' he said, ``I am so perplexed, I cannot live in
peace. Please enlighten me. What is it that you are stealing?''

The man smiled. ``I am stealing ideas,'' he said.


There once was a master programmer who wrote unstructured programs.
A novice programmer, seeking to imitate him, also began to write
unstructured programs. When the novice asked the master to evaluate
his progress, the master criticized him for writing unstructured
programs, saying, ``What is appropriate for the master is not
appropriate for the novice. You must understand the Tao before
transcending structure.''


There was once a programmer who was attached to the court of the
warlord of Wu. The warlord asked the programmer: ``Which is easier to
design: an accounting package or an operating system?''

``An operating system,'' replied the programmer.

The warlord uttered an exclamation of disbelief. ``Surely an accounting
package is trivial next to the complexity of an operating system,'' he said.

``Not so,'' said the programmer, ``when designing an accounting package,
the programmer operates as a mediator between people having different
ideas: how it must operate, how its reports must appear, and how it
must conform to the tax laws. By contrast, an operating system is not
limited by outside appearances. When designing an operating system,
the programmer seeks the simplest harmony between machine and ideas.
This is why an operating system is easier to design.''

The warlord of Wu nodded and smiled. ``That is all good and well, but
which is easier to debug?''

The programmer made no reply.


A manager went to the master programmer and showed him the requirements
document for a new application. The manager asked the master: ``How
long will it take to design this system if I assign five programmers to it?''

``It will take one year,'' said the master promptly.

``But we need this system immediately or even sooner! How long will it
take if I assign ten programmers to it?''

The master programmer frowned. ``In that case, it will take two years.''

``And what if I assign a hundred programmers to it?''

The master programmer shrugged. ``Then the design will never be
completed,'' he said.

Book 4 - Coding

Thus spake the master programmer:

``A well-written program is its own heaven; a poorly-written program is its
own hell.''


A program should be light and agile, its subroutines connected like a
string of pearls. The spirit and intent of the program should be
retained throughout. There should be neither too little or too much,
neither needless loops nor useless variables, neither lack of
structure nor overwhelming rigidity.

A program should follow the `Law of Least Astonishment'. What is this
law? It is simply that the program should always respond to the user
in the way that astonishes him least.

A program, no matter how complex, should act as a single unit. The program
should be directed by the logic within rather than by outward appearances.

If the program fails in these requirements, it will be in a state of
disorder and confusion. The only way to correct this is to rewrite
the program.


A novice asked the master: ``I have a program that sometime runs and
sometimes aborts. I have followed the rules of programming, yet I am
totally baffled. What is the reason for this?''

The master replied: ``You are confused because you do not understand
Tao. Only a fool expects rational behavior from his fellow humans.
Why do you expect it from a machine that humans have constructed?
Computers simulate determinism; only Tao is perfect.

``The rules of programming are transitory; only Tao is eternal.
Therefore you must contemplate Tao before you receive enlightenment.''

``But how will I know when I have received enlightenment?'' asked the

``Your program will then run correctly,'' replied the master.


A master was explaining the nature of Tao of to one of his novices.
``The Tao is embodied in all software - regardless of how
insignificant,'' said the master.

``Is the Tao in a hand-held calculator?'' asked the novice.

``It is,'' came the reply.

``Is the Tao in a video game?'' continued the novice.

``It is even in a video game,'' said the master.

``And is the Tao in the DOS for a personal computer?''

The master coughed and shifted his position slightly. ``The lesson
is over for today,'' he said.


Prince Wang's programmer was coding software. His fingers danced upon
the keyboard. The program compiled without an error message, and the
program ran like a gentle wind.

``Excellent!'' the Prince exclaimed, ``Your technique is faultless!''

``Technique?'' said the programmer turning from his terminal, ``What I
follow is Tao - beyond all techniques! When I first began to program
I would see before me the whole problem in one mass. After three
years I no longer saw this mass. Instead, I used subroutines. But now
I see nothing. My whole being exists in a formless void. My senses
are idle. My spirit, free to work without plan, follows its own
instinct. In short, my program writes itself. True, sometimes there
are difficult problems. I see them coming, I slow down, I watch
silently. Then I change a single line of code and the difficulties
vanish like puffs of idle smoke. I then compile the program. I sit
still and let the joy of the work fill my being. I close my eyes for
a moment and then log off.''

Prince Wang said, ``Would that all of my programmers were as wise!''

Book 5 - Maintenance

Thus spake the master programmer:

``Though a program be but three lines long, someday it will have to be


A well-used door needs no oil on its hinges.

A swift-flowing stream does not grow stagnant.

Neither sound nor thoughts can travel through a vacuum.

Software rots if not used.

These are great mysteries.


A manager asked a programmer how long it would take him to finish
the program on which he was working. ``It will be finished tomorrow,''
the programmer promptly replied.

``I think you are being unrealistic,'' said the manager, ``Truthfully,
how long will it take?''

The programmer thought for a moment. ``I have some features that I
wish to add. This will take at least two weeks,'' he finally said.

``Even that is too much to expect,'' insisted the manager, ``I will be
satisfied if you simply tell me when the program is complete.''

The programmer agreed to this.

Several years later, the manager retired. On the way to his retirement
luncheon, he discovered the programmer asleep at his terminal. He had
been programming all night.


A novice programmer was once assigned to code a simple financial package.

The novice worked furiously for many days, but when his master reviewed
his program, he discovered that it contained a screen editor, a set of
generalized graphics routines, an artificial intelligence interface,
but not the slightest mention of anything financial.

When the master asked about this, the novice became indignant. ``Don't
be so impatient,'' he said, ``I'll put in the financial stuff eventually.''


Does a good farmer neglect a crop he has planted?

Does a good teacher overlook even the most humble student?

Does a good father allow a single child to starve?

Does a good programmer refuse to maintain his code?

Book 6 - Management

Thus spake the master programmer:

``Let the programmers be many and the managers few - then all will be


When managers hold endless meetings, the programmers write games.
When accountants talk of quarterly profits, the development budget
is about to be cut. When senior scientists talk blue sky, the clouds
are about to roll in.

Truly, this is not the Tao of Programming.

When managers make commitments, game programs are ignored. When
accountants make long-range plans, harmony and order are about to
be restored. When senior scientists address the problems at hand,
the problems will soon be solved.

Truly, this is the Tao of Programming.


Why are programmers non-productive?

Because their time is wasted in meetings.

Why are programmers rebellious?

Because the management interferes too much.

Why are the programmers resigning one by one?

Because they are burnt out.

Having worked for poor management, they no longer value their jobs.


A manager was about to be fired, but a programmer who worked for him
invented a new program that became popular and sold well. As a result,
the manager retained his job.

The manager tried to give the programmer a bonus, but the programmer
refused it, saying, ``I wrote the program because I thought it was
an interesting concept, and thus I expect no reward.''

The manager upon hearing this remarked, ``This programmer, though he
holds a position of small esteem, understands well the proper duty
of an employee. Let us promote him to the exalted position of
management consultant!''

But when told this, the programmer once more refused, saying,
``I exist so that I can program. If I were promoted, I would do
nothing but waste everyone's time. Can I go now? I have a program
that I'm working on."


A manager went to his programmers and told them: ``As regards to
your work hours: you are going to have to come in at nine in the
morning and leave at five in the afternoon.'' At this, all of them
became angry and several resigned on the spot.

So the manager said: ``All right, in that case you may set your own
working hours, as long as you finish your projects on schedule.''
The programmers, now satisfied, began to come in at noon and work
to the wee hours of the morning.

Book 7 - Corporate Wisdom

Thus spake the master programmer:

``You can demonstrate a program for a corporate executive, but you can't
make him computer literate.''


A novice asked the master: ``In the east there is a great
tree-structure that men call `Corporate Headquarters'. It is bloated
out of shape with vice presidents and accountants. It issues a
multitude of memos, each saying `Go, Hence!' or `Go, Hither!' and
nobody knows what is meant. Every year new names are put onto the
branches, but all to no avail. How can such an unnatural entity be?"

The master replied: ``You perceive this immense structure and are
disturbed that it has no rational purpose. Can you not take
amusement from its endless gyrations? Do you not enjoy the
untroubled ease of programming beneath its sheltering branches?
Why are you bothered by its uselessness?''


In the east there is a shark which is larger than all other fish. It
changes into a bird whose wings are like clouds filling the sky. When
this bird moves across the land, it brings a message from Corporate
Headquarters. This message it drops into the midst of the programmers,
like a seagull making its mark upon the beach. Then the bird mounts
on the wind and, with the blue sky at its back, returns home.

The novice programmer stares in wonder at the bird, for he understands
it not. The average programmer dreads the coming of the bird, for he
fears its message. The master programmer continues to work at his
terminal, for he does not know that the bird has come and gone.


The Magician of the Ivory Tower brought his latest invention for the
master programmer to examine. The magician wheeled a large black box
into the master's office while the master waited in silence.

``This is an integrated, distributed, general-purpose workstation,''
began the magician, ``ergonomically designed with a proprietary
operating system, sixth generation languages, and multiple state of
the art user interfaces. It took my assistants several hundred man
years to construct. Is it not amazing?''

The master raised his eyebrows slightly. ``It is indeed amazing,'' he said.

``Corporate Headquarters has commanded,'' continued the magician,
``that everyone use this workstation as a platform for new programs.
Do you agree to this?''

``Certainly,'' replied the master, ``I will have it transported to the
data center immediately!'' And the magician returned to his tower,
well pleased.

Several days later, a novice wandered into the office of the master
programmer and said, ``I cannot find the listing for my new program.
Do you know where it might be?''

``Yes,'' replied the master, ``the listings are stacked on the platform
in the data center.''


The master programmer moves from program to program without fear.
No change in management can harm him. He will not be fired, even if
the project is cancelled. Why is this? He is filled with Tao.

Book 8 - Hardware and Software

Thus spake the master programmer:

``Without the wind, the grass does not move. Without software, hardware is


A novice asked the master: ``I perceive that one computer company is
much larger than all others. It towers above its competition like a
giant among dwarfs. Any one of its divisions could comprise an entire
business. Why is this so?''

The master replied, ``Why do you ask such foolish questions? That
company is large because it is large. If it only made hardware,
nobody would buy it. If it only made software, nobody would use it.
If it only maintained systems, people would treat it like a servant.
But because it combines all of these things, people think it one of
the gods! By not seeking to strive, it conquers without effort.''


A master programmer passed a novice programmer one day. The master
noted the novice's preoccupation with a hand-held computer game.
``Excuse me,'' he said, ``may I examine it?''

The novice bolted to attention and handed the device to the master.
``I see that the device claims to have three levels of play: Easy,
Medium, and Hard,'' said the master. ``Yet every such device has
another level of play, where the device seeks not to conquer the
human, nor to be conquered by the human.''

``Pray, great master,'' implored the novice, ``how does one find this
mysterious setting?''

The master dropped the device to the ground and crushed it underfoot.
And suddenly the novice was enlightened.


There was once a programmer who worked upon microprocessors. ``Look
at how well off I am here,'' he said to a mainframe programmer who came
to visit, ``I have my own operating system and file storage device.
I do not have to share my resources with anyone. The software is self-
consistent and easy-to-use. Why do you not quit your present job and
join me here?''

The mainframe programmer then began to describe his system to his friend,
saying ``The mainframe sits like an ancient sage meditating in the midst
of the data center. Its disk drives lie end-to-end like a great ocean of
machinery. The software is as multifaceted as a diamond, and as convoluted
as a primeval jungle. The programs, each unique, move through the system
like a swift-flowing river. That is why I am happy where I am.''

The microcomputer programmer, upon hearing this, fell silent. But the
two programmers remained friends until the end of their days.


Hardware met Software on the road to Changtse. Software said: ``You
are Yin and I am Yang. If we travel together we will become famous
and earn vast sums of money.'' And so the set forth together, thinking
to conquer the world.

Presently they met Firmware, who was dressed in tattered rags and
hobbled along propped on a thorny stick. Firmware said to them:
``The Tao lies beyond Yin and Yang. It is silent and still as a pool
of water. It does not seek fame, therefore nobody knows its presence.
It does not seek fortune, for it is complete within itself. It exists
beyond space and time.''

Software and Hardware, ashamed, returned to their homes.

Book 9 - Epilogue

Thus spake the master programmer:

``It is time for you to leave.''

sábado, 13 de marzo de 2010

De 0's y 1's. Parte 00000000

Hay 10 tipos de personas: las que entienden binario y las que no.

martes, 1 de diciembre de 2009

De Templarios y Vikingos.

José el hijo de Eric

Todo empezó con un día normal yo me había venido a vivir a la gran ciudad de Guadalajara en los primeros 5 días estaba encerrado en mi choza con mi padre Eric y mi tío Juan.Mi tio Juan tenia un barco llamado Arlet avisón era muy veloz navegaba a uno cien kilómetros por hora.Despues de esos 5 días conocí a Carlos era un niño muy amistoso pero muy travieso era mas bajo que yo.Carlos conocía a un niño también muy chico llamado Diego.Diego creía en los fantasmas eran como su especialidad para dar miedo, pero no le hacíamos caso y jugábamos.

Los niños de las otras calles

Como les seguía contando Carlos y diego eran traviesos.Carlos conocía a unos niños que vivían a la siguiente cuadra.Despues Carlos me los presento había 2 niñas y un niño una se llamaba Loluvi, Carla y el niño Ángel eran un poco aburridos no les gustaba jugar a pulir espadas de mi padre, eran muy flojos.

Después se paso el día, ni hicimos nada me aburrí y me fui a mi choza.Al siguiente día me fueron a buscar no quería salir, pero por educación salí les dije que si me acompañaban por Carlos pero dijeron que no y me enoje por que no querían estar con Carlos y les dije que mejor luego los veía ya que estaba enojado y disgustado.Asi que fui con Carlos a jugar por que Diego no estaba y jugamos.Un día vi a mi papa sentado en un árbol que cruzaba el río y le pregunte –por que tan solo padre-dije con voz clara, él volteo y me dijo recuerdas al bosque hijo y que veíamos a las águilas?- y le dije que si.

La llegada a la tribu Mendelson

Como les seguía contando yo y mi papa nos fuimos a la choza a forrar mi libro para mañana aprender de la tribu ya que todos los años cada niño o niña van a aprender de tribus indígenas, vikingas o españolas para aprender a defenderse de piratas o cualquier animal o mounstro que se nos ponga encima para atacarnos. Este año me tocaba ir a la tribu Mendelson (decían que era la mejor tribu del pueblo) y resulto el primer dia que fui que no hacían nada o sea que se la pasaban haciendo pócimas sin razón para hacerlas como por ejemplo: .....….!!!hacer pócimas para que te de comezón!!!!. Yo le decía a mi papa que me sacara de esa tribu pero me decía que ya casi se acababan la lecciones de cómo sobrevivir a los piratas le hice caso, paso el tiempo y las lecciones terminaron estaba feliz ya que por 2 meses iba a poder hacer lo que quisiera.El día siguiente Carlos me fue a buscar con dos niños uno flaco y uno chonchito que se llamaban Isaías y el otro Mazar hablábamos de todo y con el tiempo nos fuimos haciendo mejores amigos

La caza de los indios.

Un día Carlos, Mazar y yo nos dormimos en la choza de Mazar estábamos felices ya que jugábamos a hacer dibujos en su patio con lodo y de repente se escucho un ruido Carlos traía la lámpara y señalo con ella al lugar donde se había originado el sonido era un indio con un hacha les dije a Mazar y a Carlos que corrieran en lo que yo le entretuviera Carlos tiro la lámpara a la cama de Mazar y su cama se incendio eso fue algo mal pero a la vez bueno por que aproveche el fuego para hacer un antorcha y alejar al enemigo y funciono pero lo malo fue que Mazar dormiría en el piso hasta que le hiciera otra cama su mamá, Mazar estaba triste pero por lo menos estábamos vivos eso era lo bueno.Al día siguiente yo y Mazar íbamos al mercado por vegetales para cocinarlos pero nos topamos con Carla la niña que me había caído mal y a Mazar también le caía mal y Carla nos dijo en voz alta -ja! Mazar dormirá en el piso como un perro-ese comentario lo hizo sentir mal le quería partir la cara pero no podía ya que Carla era niña pero Mazar conocía a una niña que era amiga suya y era tan bonita que me enamore de ella

La tribu Mattel

Como les seguía contando la amiga de Mazar era súper bonita se llamaba Georgette. Mazar le explico la situación de Carla y Georgette se enojo y fue con carla y le jalo los pelos guau eso fue genial jeje sigamos, se acercaban los estudios de vida y mi padre me iba transferir a la tribu Mattel que esa si era una de las mejores tribus del mundo a pesar de que era francesa y española entonces llego el día en que entré a la tribu me daba pena ya que no conocía a nadie entonces una niña me guío a mi salón de tribu donde la maestra era muy buenísima onda que platicaba cosas de la vida muy inteligentes, entonces llego la hora del desayuno donde salíamos a un parte del bosque a comer y vi a un niño de mi salón solitario me acerque y le dije con un poco de pena-eres nuevo igual que yo verdad?- el me dijo que si y que no tenia amigos entonces le dije que si quería ser mi amigo aunque con el tiempo todos terminaron siendo mis amigos y estudiábamos, jugábamos, reíamos todos nadie se peleaba con nadie y éramos un grupo muy tranquilo y bueno esta es mi vida hasta ahorita gracias por leer mi cuento…. ah se me olvida
FIN. Autor :José María Muñoz

° °

(Pues este fue el cuento que cierta personita entregó como tarea hace unos días. Así tal cual le hice el copy&paste... ¿qué más?. Aparte de contribuir con algunos genes =P )

P.D. 22:45hrs. JM acaba de rasurarse por primera vez a los 12 años y 20 días... bualabím bualabáaaam! =/

jueves, 1 de octubre de 2009

De Clouthier. A 20 años de su muerte.

Alguna vez mis ideologías fueron muy ortodoxas, y mi escala de valores estaba determinada por el idealismo de las mismas: Religión, Patria y Familia.

En ese órden.

Crecer en una familia tradicionalista de lo que yo llamo "la franja católica", ese "Bible Belt" mexicano que se extiende desde la región de los altos en Jalisco hasta Querétaro, abarcando Guanajuato, Aguascalientes y buena parte de San Luis Potosí implica, en muchos casos, esa ideología.

En la región de Los Altos la Revolución Mexicana pareciera más bien haber sido un accidente social, y la "Reforma Agraria" pareciera tener tanto sentido como la palabra "serendipity".

Somos los hijos de Miramón. Los que no riegan la sangre. Los que extrañan a don Porfirio. Los que hicieron su propia nación dentro de una nación.

° °

Hay años que marcan la historia de los países. En el caso de México 1988 fue uno de ellos.

Hay.... perdón, había líderes políticos con la suficiente calidad moral como para marcarnos de por vida. Y en 1988 en México había varios: Cuahutémoc Cárdenas, Manuel J. Clouthier, Heberto Castillo y Rosario Ibarra de Piedra.

Para quienes nos tocó vivir ese año, el proceso electoral fue quizá el primer parteaguas para la entrada de la democracia en México. Por primera vez "la dictadura perfecta" encontraba difícil taparle el sol con un dedo a su pueblo.

¿Cómo hacerlo, cuando el ciudadano común ya contaba, en buena medidad, con acceso a televisión por cable y sobre todo a noticieros extranjeros que mostraban abiertamente todo aquéllo que el gobierno trataba de ocultar?

No más "Zabludovsky dixit...". De repente, los medios de comunicación se permitían el lujo de invitar a los candidatos de oposición.

Crecer en este país, bajo la dictadura priísta, pero sobre todo, en la debacle de la misma, te hacía sentir impotente. No bastaba con que se nos catalogara a nivel mundial como país del Tercer Mundo, no.

Eras un ciudadano de segunda en tu propio país. Atrapado en la maraña burocrática de un gobierno en total estado de descomposición. Todos éramos un Josef K en potencia, en una realidad más kafkiana que ni el mismo autor de "El Proceso" hubiera podido concebir.

Y todo eso hacía que me cuestionara realmente qué era "mi" país.

Y en esa realidad kafkiana, en que yo me angustiaba ante la crudeza de saber que no podría estudiar carrera universitaria por falta de recursos económicos, se abría la posibilidad de simplemente largarte del país. Pero cuando tu escala de valores te dicta que la patria está por encima de los intereses personales, lo único que me causaba esa idea era la escrupulosa sensación de una actitud cobarde.

¿Cómo dejar a mi país, cuando hay tantos cambios por hacer?

Y, ciertamente, a nivel mundial, se respiraban "vientos de cambio". La Unión Soviética estaba al borde del colapso y de lleno en la perestroika. Cárdenas y Clouthier ofrecían, por primera vez en las elecciones presidenciales de este país, la opción de derrocar a la "dictadura perfecta".

° °

Nunca me sentí más mexicano que en el cierre de campaña de Clouthier en la Plaza Principal de León. A quienes nos tocó ver a la persona, sabíamos de su compromiso personal para que en este país la democracia fuera una realidad. Para que los políticos fueran realmente servidores públicos. Él mismo había puesto el ejemplo. Se había lanzado a la política y para financiar su campaña, en unos tiempos en que los partidos políticos no recibían dinero del gobierno -al menos no los de oposición-, había vendido buena parte de sus empresas. Aquéllas que mantuvo como patrimonio familiar, se encontraban bajo la lupa del gobierno.

Pero también, curiosamente, esa misma noche, al momento en que todo mundo unió sus manos y alzó sus brazos para entonar el himno nacional, me invadió una enorme vergüenza.

¿Qué es México? ¿Cómo puedo cantar un "himno nacional" de un país que ni siquiera conozco?

Llevaba ya unos años cuestionando esa idea de país que jamás se concretó.

Y esa noche empezé a dejar de creer en muchas cosas. Me di cuenta de que los "ismos" no eran más que barreras que como seres humanos nos imponemos. Que nos limitan. Que nos hacen despreciar a aquéllos que no comparten nuestros credo.

¿Y si la frontera de México terminara antes o después... me importaría esa misma gente?

Y aun así, Manuel de Jesús Clouthier del Rincón me marcó. Para siempre.

Hoy se cumplen 20 años de su extraña muerte.

domingo, 13 de septiembre de 2009

Si he de serte sincero, a la fecha lo que menos te perdono es que, cuando aquéllos veranos en que los bosques de California ardían y hacían que la temperatura en Tijuana se elevara de más, me pusieras moñitos en el pelo para que no me diera tanto calor. ¡Claro, si eso de tener rizos a los 2-3 años...!

¿No era más fácil habérmelos cortado? ¿Y por qué después no me dejaban tener el cabello largo?

Si mal no recuerdo, fue a mis 4 años cuando te prohibí, terminantemente, que lo volvieras a hacer. Ah, y que ni si se te ocurriera volver a pedirme que usara pantaloncillos cortos.

¿Cómo podría jugar a ser Mannix o Batman con pantaloncillos cortos? ¿Quién podría tomar en serio a un niño que usa pantaloncillos cortos?

Tú me decías que mi berrinche más grande para contigo fue la vez que se te ocurrió lavar mi frazada, que usaba yo para cubrir mis ojos y que ni el más mínimo destello de luz me distrajera. Y sí, lo recuerdo... llegaste con mi mantilla, a punto yo de dormir, y al ponérmela sobre mis ojos, como antifaz, grité desconcertado:

- ¡Esta no es mi frazada! ¡No huele a mí!


¿Cómo fue que te atreviste a lavarla? ¡Vamos, que yo sé que no conocíamos a Lino ni a los demás personajes de Charly Brown... pero eso no se le hace a un niño!

Y aun no cumplía yo 2 años...

Pero lo resolviste. No sé cómo me dormiste esa noche, mas al siguiente día metiste la mantilla entre mis ropas.

Para la noche, olía a mí. =)

Pero bueno... creo que a lo largo de tu vida me desquité bastante.

Como la vez que, no sé cómo ni porqué, me permitieron ser monaguillo a los 3 años. Y tú te sentías orgullosa al verme con una sotana, mientras que yo me sentía un super-héroe y trataba de robarle el show al padre Marín y a mi hermano 6 años mayor y todo un veterano en esos menesteres.

¡Y lo hice!

Cuando llegó el momento de la consagración, a mi me tocó llevar las vinajeras. Jorge ya me había instruído y hasta habíamos ensayado. Y fue en ese momento, al tomarlas y llevarlas al altar, que me atreví incluso a alzarle la frente al padre Marín, enojón como él solo, y sabía yo que no muy de acuerdo en que me hubieran permitido ser acólito a esa edad.

"In vino veritas, pater..."*

* Léase como la famosa frase de "Hasta la vista, baby...".


Ok, ya no me "regañes". Ya, ya dejé de reír... ¡en serio! Mi única pregunta es ¿POR QUÉ NO ME DIERON UNA SOTANA DE MI TALLA?


Me encantaba platicar contigo, y lo sabes. Y lo empezamos a hacer después de la muerte de mi padre y que nos fuimos a vivir a León. Bueno, para un niño de 6 años, el que su madre le pidiera opinión sobre cuestiones personales... me hacías sentir importante para ti.


Después... bueno, pasaron muchos años para volver a reencontrarnos. Y quedarnos hasta las altas horas de la madrugada platicando. O bien, dejarnos cartas debajo de la almohada cuando nos peléabamos.

Fíjate que tuve la suerte de decirte en vida TODO lo que significabas para mi.

Felíz cumpleaños. =)

Donde quiera que estés.