I loved so many things, but they don't love me.

I loved so many things, such as money, beauty, and success, but they clearly don't love me. Then why should I continue loving them? It is time to stop loving these things. It is time to only love people that love me.

Correct/Advice: give as an act of love, receive as an act of being wise

In a peer group, such as members of a lab or students of a class, it is easy to directly point out others‘ mistakes. The corrections usually aim for specific things with clearly right or wrong answers. There is not much emotion involved in corrections in such peer group scenarios. People are not likely to take the corrections personally.

But, when it comes to correct someone or give advice, especially someone close to you, correction becomes a delicate art. In a house, corrections and advice are to be given in an act of caring for them in the hope that they may realize their mistakes and follow your advice without getting hurt; corrections and good advice are to be received and followed in an act of seeking to be wise and grow in understanding.

Before giving advice, we have to check whether advice is needed. Sometimes, we do not need to give advice, instead, we should just show love. When a wife complains about problems she has or people she meets, she often is just looking for comfort rather than advice. However, the husband tends to give advice when he hears a problem. The husband's "too quick to give advice" often causes the wife feel hurt, thus the husband's advice is not appreciated. To avoid that, the husband should first give understanding and comfort, then check whether advice is needed before finally give the advice; while the wife should state clearly whether she is looking for comfort or advice before the complains.

If we see our beloved ones making mistakes, we should correct them but only in a humble way. We should be careful about the words we use for the correction. Only those for building up should be spoken. Even when our beloved ones disagree with us and do not appreciate our corrections, we should control our temper and not to quarrel with them. When being corrected or corrections being rejected, women are more sensitive and get hurt feelings which could easily lead to arguments. So women should be extra careful in giving correction/advice as well as receiving correction/advice.

Likewise, we should not be quick to reject any advice, and always willing to listen to and follow good advice which will make us wise. This means that we sometimes have to swallow our pride and receive the corrections humbly. It is better to live with the temporal humiliation than regrets.

Let us give correction/advice as an act of love. Let us receive correction/advice as an act of being wise.

贴个我认同的《金陵十三钗》的影评

纽约时报发的《金陵十三钗》的影评，英文中间我加了写简短的翻译。能看原文还是看原文，否则就随便看看我拙劣的翻译吧。

A Shady American in the Nanjing Massacre

虚幻的美国人在南京大屠杀

By MIKE HALE

Published: December 20, 2011

Eventually, it seems, every senseless waste of life gets its own gauzy tear-jerker. That’s about the only way to justify “The Flowers of War,” in which the veteran Chinese director Zhang Yimou revisits the Nanjing massacre of 1937 by making something resembling a backstage musical, with breaks for the occasional ghastly murder or rape.

这电影被张艺谋拍的像个偶尔穿插着惊悚的谋杀和强奸的后台音乐剧。

There’s nothing that says the atrocity blockbuster has to be a disaster in its own right; films like “Gone With the Wind” and “Gallipoli” have their good points. But long before its two and a half hours are up, “The Flowers of War” is sunk by the disproportion between the events being portrayed and Mr. Zhang’s distanced, strangely frivolous treatment of them — in essence, his refusal to take a point of view on one of the most gruesome chapters in Chinese history.

《金陵十三钗》的沦陷本质上是因为张艺谋不愿对这段黑暗的中国历史明确自己的观点。

“Flowers” has received bountiful publicity for being expensive, state-approved and Oscar-submitted, buzz that got louder last week when the film’s British star, Christian Bale, was forcibly prevented from visiting a Chinese activist lawyer being held under house arrest.

电影宣传造势很大。。。

But fears that Mr. Zhang would take a one-dimensional, patriotic approach to the Japanese invasion and occupation of Nanjing (formerly Nanking), while not entirely unfounded, are misplaced. Other recent Chinese films have displayed more sentimental nationalism,jingoism and demonization of the Japanese enemy.

但是担心张艺谋会采用单纯的爱国方式对待日本侵略和南京陷落（影片虽有体现）是不必要啦。其他近期的电影对情感化的国家主义、沙文主义和对日本军队的妖魔化表现强烈的多。

His real approach to the events of 1937 is to use them as a backdrop for the kind of deluxe, Hollywood-inspired melodrama that has made him an art-house favorite. In the process he fails to deliver on most of the elements — grandeur, historical sweep, genuine pathos — that would have made the film worthwhile.

张艺谋描述1937南京大屠杀的真正方式是把南京大屠杀作为一种华丽的，好莱坞闹剧式的背景。这个过程中，张艺谋没有传达出宏大、历史的扫描、真实的悲伤这些使得电影值得一看的元素。

Given the right story, as in “Raise the Red Lantern” or “House of the Flying Daggers,” Mr. Zhang’s almost clinical attention to pretty surfaces and soap-opera mechanics can have entertaining results. In “Flowers,” though, you can feel him at war with his material, never settling on a tone or a compelling or even coherent narrative. (The screenplay is by Liu Heng and Geling Yan, based on a novel by Ms. Yan.)

如果有合适的故事，比如在《大红灯笼高高挂》或者《十面埋伏》中，张艺谋的几乎病态的追究漂亮画面和肥皂剧技巧可以取得娱乐的效果。然而在《金陵十三钗》中，你可以感觉到张艺谋本身和他的素材在打仗，从未定下基调或者一个吸引人甚至连贯的叙述。

Mr. Zhang’s distance from the larger story of the massacre is embodied in his decision to set most of the film within the compound of a fictional European church. The result is an artificial, back-lot atmosphere; the opening scenes, set in the streets, take place in an actual fog of war, with smoke (and at one point the dust from a large mound of flour) isolating the characters from the real world of Nanjing.

张艺谋和南京大屠杀这个大故事的距离具体体现在他决定把大部分的电影拍摄在一个虚构的欧洲教堂。结果产生了很虚假的背景；开场设在战烟弥漫的街道，这些烟雾把这些人物角色和真正的南京隔离了。

Mr. Bale plays John Miller, a disreputable American vagabond who happens to be a mortician; as the film begins he is making his way through the fighting toward the church, where he is to be paid to conduct a burial. Also on the move are two groups of a dozen or so young women, the flowers of the title. They are, as a matter of production design if not credible history, visually coded: convent students in severe blue jackets and prostitutes in seductive, rainbow-hued silken dresses.

贝勒扮演的约翰是个美国流浪汉兼入殓师，影片开始时他正在战火下去教堂埋人的路上。同时在路上的两组年轻女人：影片标题中的十三钗。她们，作为电影设计若不是真实的历史，被视觉化了：穿蓝布衫的修道院学生和穿妖媚的五颜六色丝质旗袍的妓女。

All of these parties take refuge in the church, with Miller, who dons the robes of a dead priest, bridging the Manichaean divide between the suspicious students upstairs and the contemptuous, defensive prostitutes hiding in the basement. (They quickly transform their cellar into a seraglio; you can practically smell the perfume.) It’s a contrived, hothouse state of affairs, summed up in a scene Mr. Zhang likes so much that he repeats it: the laughing prostitutes sashaying across the churchyard in slow motion, oblivious to the impending tragedy.

这些人都在教堂避难。贝勒穿了已死的牧师的袍子，充当了楼上满腹怀疑的学生和地下室里充满蔑视和戒备的妓女之间的桥梁。这种做作集中体现在一个张艺谋爱得以至于一再重复使用的场景里：妓女笑着慢慢穿过教堂院子，无视即将发生的悲剧。

There will be tragedy, of course, though when it comes it takes a weirdly oblique form. One group eventually performs what appears to be an ultimate sacrifice, full of sexual and social overtones, but this happens off-camera, if it happens at all. The coyness can be explained, perhaps, in terms of the film’s structure — the story is narrated by one of the students, and what we see may correspond to her selective, romanticized memories — but it cannot really be excused.

当然是有悲剧的，但是悲剧来的时候用了一种奇怪间接的方式。妓女最终做出了看起来是终极牺牲，充满性和社会暗示，但这些没有演出来，如果它实际发生了的话。这种含蓄或许是因为影片的故事是一个学生的描述，我们看到的和她选择性的浪漫化的回忆相呼应，但这真的不能做为理由。

On-screen, meanwhile, the camera ventures into the outside world in occasional scenes that seem timed to goose the action and remind us that we’re watching a war movie. In one of Mr. Zhang’s few outright concessions to the notion of Chinese supremacism, a lone officer (Tong Dawai) draws a contingent of Japanese soldiers away from the church in an act of hyperbolic heroism. Later, in a surrender to gross sentimentality, two prostitutes leave the church on the sort of insane mercy mission that happens only in movies, with particularly disturbing consequences. Aside from that sequence Mr. Zhang is restrained in his depictions of Japanese brutality, which mostly take the form of threats and intimidation.

同时荧幕上，偶尔会有外面的场景，看起来是推进情节并提醒我们：我们在看的是一场战争电影。在张艺谋少数妥协了而正面表达中国至上主义的场景中，佟大为扮演的军官用一种夸张的英雄主义行为引开了教堂附近的日军。之后张艺谋干脆投降到一场过度情绪化的情节，两个妓女离开教堂去干只有在电影中才会发生的类似疯子式的同情心行为，并带来了令人很反感恐慌的结局。除去上面的情节，张艺谋把自己对日本人残酷性的描述基本限制为威胁和恐吓。

Mr. Bale, turning in a respectable if oddly chipper performance under the circumstances, has the unfortunate task of playing a character who doesn’t really add up. Miller’s conversion from opportunist to savior may be another stock element of this sort of movie, but the scene meant to showcase his transformation is rushed and ineffective. Having made an American the central figure in his film, Mr. Zhang reduces him to wrangling flocks of nubile women, like Cary Grant in a much more violent “Father Goose.”

贝勒不幸饰演这样一个无法自圆其说的角色。。。贝勒从投机主义到救世主的转变可能是这类电影另一个赚取票房的元素，但是表现他转变的场景很急促而无效。通过让一个美国人作为他电影的主要人物，张艺谋把自己降低到了一群扯皮性感的女人中。

“The Flowers of War” suffers greatly in comparison to several far superior, less hyped movies about the Nanjing massacre, including the harrowing drama “City of Life and Death,” directed by Lu Chuan, and the documentary “Nanking,” by Bill Guttentag and Dan Sturman. Those filmmakers came armed with points of view. Mr. Zhang, retreating into the mists of old movies, has declined to take the field.

与其它一些更好但并不如此铺张的描述南京大屠杀的电影，如陆川的《南京！南京》，以及纪录片《南京》一对比，《金陵十三钗》败的更惨。这些电影都展现了导演自己对此事件的观点，而张艺谋却退回到陈旧电影的迷雾中，谢绝表明立场。

小孩子，小大人

最近在网上看到一些妈妈们讨论教育小孩子多么不容易。看着感觉真的是不容易，疼爱又不能惯着，又要培养独立性格，等等一堆的事。而且我感觉现在的小孩子大都有点难伺候，都有点任性。
网上有个妈妈说自己女儿8岁，就老是要买某个牌子的衣服，说同学都穿这个牌子的衣服；要求装饰房间，说其他小朋友的房间都很漂亮；出去吃饭竟然还说她妈妈英语有口音，让她觉得丢脸。。。
反过来，也有的小孩子真是成熟的让我佩服。上周末去了一对韩国夫妇家里玩，他们家有四个小孩，最大和最小的是女孩，中间两个男孩。大女儿叫Grace，今年 11岁，之前我也见过。这次在一起吃饭聊天，我发现Grace真的是很成熟，或许是家里老大的原因，一点都没有小孩子气，跟她聊天就和跟同龄人聊天一样。 她的两个弟弟，一个七八岁的样子，另一个四岁，挺淘气的但很有规矩，大人一管就听。让我惊叹的是，Grace也会管教她的这两个弟弟，而且他们真的服她 管。Grace很有姐姐的威严，虽然大了就几岁。Grace给我的感觉是一点都不像那种叛逆的tennager，说话的时候很有礼貌，自己的观点表达的很 清楚，帮忙照顾弟弟妹妹，也不追求穿着，很朴素。我真的蛮佩服的，想想十一岁时的自己，为了一点小事都和姐妹们吵的不可开交呢。
看到网上很多同学都结婚了，有的已经生子的，相信教育小孩子的事也不远了吧。可是如何才能教育好还真是门学问。像我这样成熟程度和11岁的Grace差不多的（甚至还不如），还是先自己成长好吧，自己成长好了才有资格教育别人吧。

What you need to be a good researcher

This American Life 450: So Crazy It Just Might Work
Act One: Mr.  Holland's Opus

Through the above story, I see the characteristics of being a scientist: creativity, rigorousness and perseverance. I have a long way to go.

同情心的局限性

纽约时报专栏作家 David Brooks最近的一篇文章 The Limit of Empathy 对我的触动挺大的。David Brooks 文章写的很好，推荐大家读全文。下面是我摘要的一些文章中的观点：

• Empathy makes you more aware of other people’s suffering, but it’s not clear it actually motivates you to take moral action or prevents you from taking immoral action. （同情心使你更清楚的意识到别人的遭遇，然而它却不一定能够激发你作出道德的行为或阻止你作出不道德的行为。）
• Empathy orients you toward moral action, but it doesn’t seem to help much when that action comes at a personal cost. （同情心指引你往道德行为的方向，然而在这些行为的代价是你所有的东西时，它貌似不能够帮你太多。）Empathy a “fragile flower,” easily crushed by self-concern.  （同情心是很容易被自我关注/自私自利而摧毁的脆弱花朵。）
• Empathy often leads people astray. It influences people to care more about cute victims than ugly victims. It leads to nepotism. It subverts justice; juries give lighter sentences to defendants that show sadness. It leads us to react to shocking incidents, like a hurricane, but not longstanding conditions, like global hunger or preventable diseases.（同情心通常使人们误入歧途。它影响人们更关注美貌的受害者而非丑陋的受害者。它导致裙带关系。它颠覆正义－法官给表现出悲伤的被告更轻的处罚。它是我们对突发灾难（像飓风）作出反应，却是我们无视长期存在的问题如全球性饥饿和可预防性疾病。）
• These days empathy has become a shortcut. It has become a way to experience delicious moral emotions without confronting the weaknesses in our nature that prevent us from actually acting upon them. It has become a way to experience the illusion of moral progress without having to do the nasty work of making moral judgments. (现在同情心更成为了一种捷径。它成为体验美妙道德情感而不与人性弱点冲突阻止我们的实际行动的方法。它成为我们体验道德进步的幻觉而不用去做道德准则让我们去做的讨厌工作。)
• People who actually perform pro-social action don’t only feel for those who are suffering, they feel compelled to act by a sense of duty. Their lives are structured by sacred codes. （真正能够做出有助于社会的行为的人们，他们不仅仅能够体会到别人的遭遇，他们又一种责任感促使他们作出行动。他们的生活是被神圣法则所指导的。）They would feel a sense of shame or guilt if they didn’t live up to the code. （若不能够将这些法则付诸实践，他们会有一种愧疚感和负罪感。）

之前我自己觉得自己好像还蛮有同情心的，看到别人不幸的遭遇都会报以同情，看到动物被屠杀也会很同情，颇有些同情心过剩的样子，自以为自己有同情心，是个有道德的人。
可 是说实话，我很少帮助那些社会上需要帮助的人，比如说贫困地区的儿童，受伤的动物，等等。很多时候，帮助别人意味着牺牲自己的一些东西，而我内心里是很自 私的，所以同情心很少很少会转化成为行动。偶尔做出的帮助别人的行为却是因为自己当时心情很好，或是对突发事件（比如地震）产成的同情（也有可能是受大环 境的影响。。。）。
更深一步看，我在时时利用这种同情心。我利用它把自己伪装成为有道德的人，避免着做出牺牲自我的事情，它给我一种自以为是的道德高尚的幻觉，蒙蔽我看到自己丑陋的人性。
而 如何才能改变这些呢，如何才能成为不光有同情心更将其付诸实际行动的人呢？我想上面文章作者说的神圣法则确实是一种方法。虽然当下的我们因为太关注自我， 太以自我为中心，而根本寻找不到这样的法则，可是我的确认识这样的朋友，他们大都是有信仰的人，是以上帝/神的准则要求自己的，达不到这些准则的要求，他 们会有负罪感会忏悔，下一次会努力去做的更好。

"2 on 5"-The story of 1992 North Jackson Chiefs vs. Fort Payne Wildcats basketball game

The 1992 North Jackson Chiefs vs. Fort Payne Wildcats high school basketball game was one of the few times a team with only two remaining players beat a team that still had five in the 117-year history of organized basketball.

However, the real lives of the winners in this game were heartbreaking with players being shot, going to jail, ending up fighting with each other.

It is breathtakingly exciting and profoundly sad.

The source: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1149384/index.htm

December 08, 2008 2 On 5 One night in 1992, in a small town in Alabama, the North Jackson Chiefs won a game against seemingly insurmountable odds. Then came the crashes and the gunshots and one man's fateful choice THOMAS LAKE

IF YOU could unbreak the bones and erase the scars, recall the bullets and sever the chains, recap the bottles and catch all the smoke, if you could swim 16 years up the river of time and find a town called Stevenson, you just might see something glorious.

Stevenson lies between two ridges in north Alabama, by the Tennessee River, a dark blue vein on the earth. There, on Valentine's Day 1992, the North Jackson Chiefs hosted the Fort Payne Wildcats in high school basketball. It was not a playoff game, not even a conference game, and neither team was especially good. But in the 117-year history of organized basketball, it was one of the few times a team with only two remaining players beat a team that still had five.

If this were a movie, the story would end at the final buzzer. The winners would always be winners, fists in the air and black jerseys glistening, and the losers would always hang their heads. This is not a movie. Morning came and they all woke up.

These officials can be blamed for this. They let this thing get out of hand completely.

That's the voice of George Guess, apothecary and Chiefs radio announcer, with 2:53 left in the fourth quarter. He's perched on a stage at the end of the court, next to a colossal painting of an American Indian with a headdress of blood-red feathers.

Until a few days before the game, North Jackson had 10 players. Then the leading scorer quit because the coach wouldn't let him play every minute. Now, as the game winds down, the Chiefs' best all-around player, point guard Chris Stewart, has fouled out. Eight Chiefs standing. Already the referees have called about 70 fouls.

The Chiefs lead 58--55. Their best remaining player has the ball, facing the basket.

Robert Collier pulls up from fifteeeeen—

Robert is the largest Chief, 6'1", 245 pounds, the only true post player on a roster full of guards. He has been playing with four fouls since the first half. He lives in the projects. He can't afford a varsity jacket or a class ring. He owns one pair of pants, which his mother washes every night and dries on the heater because she has no clothes dryer. On warm days he wears his mother's shorts to school and hopes no one can tell.

Tonight Robert's mother is in the bleachers, as always, and his father is on Death Row.

—no good. Murphy Thompson with the rebound. We've got a whistle and a foul.... Did they call it on Murphy Thompson? If so, he's gone.

Seven Chiefs standing. Their school is on the north side of Stevenson, a rusty old town of 2,000 where goats graze in meadows above the vacant redbrick buildings of Main Street and a farmer hands out free yellow squash from the bed of his pickup truck.

Fort Payne is about six times larger than Stevenson and 40 miles to the south. It has mansions on the eastern ridge and enough cotton mills to justify the self-proclaimed title Official Sock Capital of the World.

Fort Payne scores, cutting North Jackson's lead to one. Both teams turn the ball over. The Chiefs get it back on the baseline with about two minutes left.

Collier will trigger the ball inside.

His father has been on Death Row since 1978. They used to be Big Robert and Little Robert, and they rode in Big Robert's Chevy Chevelle convertible to go fishing and to football games. Then Big Robert lost his job and the money dwindled, and he was too proud to ask for help. He drove the Chevelle to Georgia and put his .32 revolver in a grocery bag and walked into a flower shop and pulled the gun and got the cash and sped off. Two deputy sheriffs caught up to him and pulled him over, but he wrestled a gun away from one of them and shot both men. One died. Big Robert drove home and gave his wife $70 from the flower shop. The police caught him the next day. Little Robert was two months from his fifth birthday.

We've got a turnover against North Jackson. Collier moved along the baseline. And you can't do that [after] a turnover, which is what it was. You can do it after a score.

Little Robert became the man of the house. When his mother got tired on the 205-mile drive to the prison in Georgia, he dropped chips of ice down her back to keep her awake. By 13 or 14 he was taking turns behind the wheel. He always said he would grow up and get rich so he could bust his daddy out of jail.

The Wildcats turn the ball over with about 90 seconds left. Chiefs by one. Now they turn it over.

So here comes Fort Payne with an opportunity to take their first lead of the game. And they do!

Fort Payne leads 59--58 with about 1:15 to go. Another whistle, like fingernails on a blackboard.

And we've got a foul called. They're gonna call it on Chad Cobb.

Somehow this is Chad's first foul. He is Robert Collier's distant cousin, a grinning coil of muscle and fist, the quickest Chief and probably the shortest. He is only 5'8", but his vertical leap is so good that the coach sometimes puts him at center court for the opening tip.

Chad rides his Yamaha along the ridges above town, daring the hillbillies to chase him, and he drag-races in the streets, leaving long black rubber trails. Robert sometimes rides on the back, big man on a little bike, one arm around Chad's midsection at 100 mph, popping wheelies, jumping hills, leaning together on sharp curves, running from their enemies. Chad has Robert's trust. They never crash and never get caught.

Fort Payne makes both free throws to lead by three. Aftear a Chiefs turnover a Wildcat is fouled but misses the front end of a one-and-one. The Chiefs rebound with 45 seconds left.

Still got a chance. Sixty-one to 58.... Out to Chad Cobb. Needs to crank up for three!

Chad was a small-boned kid who took his share of whippings growing up. Lately he has been doing the whipping, especially on the white boys who hurl rocks and the n-word in his general direction.

He puts it up from three—

Chad is a streetballer: fast and reckless, prone to turnovers and wild shots, feet sometimes kicking to the side on his jumper.

—it's no good.

Two years after the game, a car will run Chad's motorcycle off the road, sending him hurtling into a fence post. His right leg will bend upward till the foot is past his shoulder, leaving the kneecap hanging by the skin and blood vessels, but he will walk again nine months later and then climb back on his bike and twist the throttle and go.

Fort Payne with 28 seconds. And the ball stolen away by Travis Smith! He puts it up. It's good! One-point game.

Clinging to the lead, Fort Payne milks the clock to five seconds. Another foul, another Chief gone. Six left now. Fort Payne makes the first free throw, increasing the lead to two.

They've pretty well sealed the fate of the North Jackson Chiefs.

Fate goes by many names. Sixteen years later, on Aug. 24, 2008, Little Robert Collier will tell a stranger that God still has a plan for him. But he won't blame God, or anyone else, for the way his life has turned out.

"We make our own choices," he'll say.

Thirty-two minutes of basketball, 74 fouls. That's over two fouls per minute of playing time. I think you'd have to check a long way to find very many games that would even come close to such.

George Guess is right, although a 75th foul is called as time expires. That's one foul every 25.6 seconds. The NBA record for total fouls in regulation since the 24-second clock was installed, 84, was set by the Indiana Pacers and the Kansas City Kings in 1977. That game lasted 48 minutes: one foul every 34.3 seconds.

Fort Payne is on the foul line, up by two with five seconds left. The team has made only 10 of its 30 free throws. A man yells from the bleachers, long and low, to distract the shooter.

I don't know whether there's anybody made a film of this game or not, but this will certainly be one for study by the officials' association.

A film of this game. Near the end of the following decade, the people of Stevenson will still be searching. At dusk one summer day Chad's father will sit at home, thinking about it. "I'd give anything to get that tape," he'll say. "If I had the money, I'd put out a reward."

Frank Cobb lugs his camcorder to most of his son's games. But tonight, late in a mediocre season, he decides the Chiefs are a waste of tape. Later he will look back on the mistakes in his life and conclude this was the biggest.

Nevertheless, Frank and others will swear they saw camcorders in the bleachers that night, at least one and as many as three, over on the Fort Payne side. They'll conclude that whoever made those tapes must have set them on fire.

The shot is missed. Chiefs with the rebound.

Five seconds. Four. Three. Chiefs still down by two.

Travis Smith down, he pulls it up—

Travis will think back on this game 16 years later, and it will give him chills. He grew up with Robert and Chad in Stevenson, playing backyard ball on the iron-rich clay. One day in agricultural-science class when the teacher wasn't looking, he and Chad conspired to climb through the suspended ceiling and liberate Little Debbies from the snack room.

—we've got a whistle.... Wai-ait a minute. It's not over yet.... No time shows on the clock.... Travis Smith goes to the line.... And he will get three because he was shooting from three-point range when he was fouled.

Travis bounces the Wilson Jet-Pro on the hardwood. Every day at the end of practice he shoots free throws and doesn't stop until he's made 10 in a row.

He hits the first. It's a one-point game.

Travis wants to play for the Detroit Pistons, like Isiah Thomas and Joe Dumars.

Next one is up. It's good!

Instead he will pour concrete and drive a truck. He will have six children by three women.

Travis Smith. All the pressure on his shoulders. Does he make it? No. We've got overtime.

Travis fouls out 59 seconds into overtime. Five Chiefs standing.

One night five years later, on Jan. 26, 1997, he will quarrel with one of his former teammates. Travis will borrow a pistol and find the man in a drugstore parking lot and raise the gun and pull the trigger.

Robert Collier gets the ball. Robert may have to be the guard. He takes it down the floor.

Sixteen years later Robert's name will still come up in conversation at Friday's, a restaurant in Stevenson, especially at the table known as the Liars' Table, where retired men gather to tell tall tales over biscuits and gravy. The memory of this game will be one of the few things that can stop them from talking football. David Smith, the boys' old ag-science teacher, will stop by occasionally.

"You hope," Smith will say, referring to Robert and the magical game, "that will be a turning point in his life. You hope and pray." He'll think about Robert for a moment. "I don't know where Robert's at right now," he'll say.

It's a two-point game in favor of Fort Payne, 64--62. Comes in to Stafford Henry, off to Chad Cobb.

After high school Chad will attend motorcycle mechanics' school in Florida, working part time to pay his way, just scraping by. One night he will go to the gas station to put a gallon in the tank. The price will be 92 cents, and he'll scrounge up exactly 92 cents. He'll go inside and try to pay and the clerk will tell him he can't pay with that much small change, and Chad will see other customers staring. Finally he'll slap the pennies on the counter.

"Here it is," he'll say. "I paid for it. I'm leaving." He will drive away with tears in his eyes.

A moment later he'll stop for a homeless man with no legs. He'll let the man cross the road, wheeling his wheelchair with one hand, pulling a cart with the other. The man will look Chad in the eye and smile.

From then on, whenever he feels a twinge of self-pity, Chad will remember that smile.

We've got a whistle and a foul.

Stafford is gone with 1:41 left. Four Chiefs standing.

Two seconds later, another whistle.

And Thomas Hutchins is gone now. Hutchins is out of the game with 1:39 to go.

Thomas is best friends with Travis and Chad. They play secret games of Rook in the back of Mr. Smith's ag-science class. One day nine years later, on Feb. 26, 2001, Thomas will drive through a stop sign and hit a man playing basketball in the street. The man will fly toward the power lines and land in a field, cracking his vertebrae and puncturing a lung.

Three Chiefs standing: Robert, Chad and Chris Shelby, who comes from deep on the bench and fouls very hard.

And coach Jay Sanders has elected to use his only remaining timeout.

Sanders knows what it's like to be poor. His first bed was a dresser drawer, and he played in the snow wearing socks wrapped in bread bags. He lent Robert a tie to wear on game days and never asked him to give it back. He spent all season trying to persuade Robert to use the pump fake. "The kids'll go flying," he told Robert, "and you're wide open."

No one could remember Robert using it in a game.

This is an ugly thing, folks, for a high school basketball game, and it's all a result, in my opinion, of the officiating.... I don't know the names of any official that's working this game and don't really care to know. But I certainly think that games of this nature should certainly be evaluated by whoever is in charge of the officials' association.

The referees' names will be forgotten. One will be rumored to live down the road in the town of Hollywood, but when reached by telephone he will swear he was not in Stevenson that night.

Both teams are given to slap-happy defense, and the storm of whistles may simply be the refs' best attempt to stop the boys from knocking each other around. They will ultimately call 84 personal fouls; Guess counts 40 on North Jackson, 44 on Fort Payne. The Wildcats had more players to begin with and so will have more at the end.

And we've got a foul called now on Fort Payne.... Chad Cobb goes to the line.

The game will end and the years will pass and sometimes Chad will still hear this crowd roaring.

Chad Cobb misses the free throw, and Fort Payne claims the rebound. They're playing five against three. They'll just back it out and wind [down] the clock.... 67 to 62. All over but the crying.

Nothing in the manual could prepare a coach for this. In retrospect it will be easy to say what Fort Payne coach Phillip Collie should have done with 1:38 to play. Poured it on. Pressed his two-man advantage. Widened the lead until it was insurmountable. But Collie does what seems to make sense at the time. He bleeds the clock. Sixteen years later, in an e-mail to a reporter, he will write, "I want to ask that if in your story there is blame concerning the North Jackson game, that you put it all on me." Fine. But he is a better coach than his players think. He came to Fort Payne to be near his only relatives and his in-laws after his wife, Dixie, died in childbirth, leaving him with a newborn and a toddler to raise alone. The North Jackson game will drive him to work even harder. After the next season he will leave Fort Payne for Buckhorn High in New Market, Ala., and two years later he will win a Class 5A state title.

Another whistle, another foul on Chris Shelby (his fourth), another missed free throw by Fort Payne.

Chiefs get the rebound. Chad Cobb, just take it on in. Pull up from three, he is fouled and will go to the line with 54 seconds to go. So now Chad Cobb will have the pressure on his back. And Chad Cobb drops it in.

Chad will finish mechanics' school and become service manager at a motorcycle and ATV shop across the Tennessee line. His marriage will fall apart and his wife will leave for Texas, but he'll go to court and win primary custody of his daughter, Shanele, and his son, Chad Jr. He'll coach Chad Jr. in football and teach him to fix motorcycles and tell him he can be anything he wants, even a doctor.

Chad hits. So it's 67 to 64.

Chad will decide he should be in the Guinness Book of World Records for this game. He'll want to make a movie about it. He'll say it's something not even Michael Jordan ever did. He'll remind his children about it, especially at their sporting events when he thinks they might give up. He will put them in a room with the audio recording of this game and close the door so they can't walk out.

"Oh, Daddy," they'll say. "Again?"

Chad's third free throw is no good. Rebound, Fort Payne... 39 seconds to go. Somebody's gotta foul.... HE WALKED WITH THE BALL! And the Chiefs get it.

A month or two after the game Guess will hand Sanders a cassette tape of his broadcast. Fourteen years later, when he is 66, George Foster Guess Jr. will die of a heart attack. They will lay his bones in the clay on the side of a hill, next to his ancestors, between the river and Russell Cave. On his headstone they'll carve a five-word epitaph: THE VOICE OF THE CHIEFS.

Two years after that Sanders will have the tape transferred to compact disc. He will gather the old Chiefs at Western Sizzlin' and give them copies. Robert will not be there.

Thirty-two seconds left. Still got a chance. Three against five.... Robert Collier in to Chad Cobb, gotta take it down the floor. Chad's gotta do his stuff tonight. Pulls up for three—

After high school Chad and Travis will run together, ride together, raise hell together. They will always be linked by this game. Travis's steal, basket and two free throws sent the game into overtime and set the stage for Chad's singular achievement. They will vow to protect each other.

—AND HE HITS IT AND WE'RE TIED AT 67!

One night five years later, on Jan. 26, 1997, they will quarrel about whether or not Travis has been two-timing Chad's female cousin and whether or not Chad told on him. Chad will still be on crutches from the motorcycle crash. "Chad, you can't fight me," Travis will say.

"I've got other ways of handling you," Chad will say.

Travis will borrow a pistol and find Chad in the drugstore parking lot. He'll raise the gun and pull the trigger.

We've got a foul called on Chris Shelby.... Shelby's out of the game.

Two Chiefs standing.

He's gotta miss this. The Chiefs need the rebound.

Travis will say he was only shooting at the ground. He'll swear the bullets bounced.

We don't have any timeouts. It's Robert Collier and Chad Cobb against five.

One bullet will pierce Chad's left thigh and another will smash his fibula. He'll look up and see Travis aiming the gun with his eyes closed.

He missed the free throw and—

With 17 seconds left Fort Payne gets the rebound and scores. Another whistle.

—there's a charging foul called against Fort Payne! No goal. And it'll be Chief basketball!

After the gunfire Chad will drive himself to the hospital, thinking hard about permanent vengeance. From time to time after that he will drive around with his black Tec-9 semiautomatic and he will look at Travis from a distance and wonder if he can line up a shot.

Travis will plead guilty to second-degree assault and serve five months in prison. On Feb. 26, 2001, as he plays basketball in the street, he will see a man barreling toward him on a motorcycle. It won't be Chad. It will be their former teammate Thomas Hutchins, one of Travis's best friends. Thomas will be showing off for a girl and coming too fast to stop. He'll plow into Travis, knocking him out of his shoes, cracking two vertebrae and puncturing a lung.

Seventeen seconds to go. They're gonna surround Cobb. And Chad's gotta break free.

As Fort Payne makes a substitution, Sanders calls Robert and Chad to the sideline. He tries to sound very calm. He tells Robert to throw the ball in. He tells Chad to walk along the baseline toward Robert, lulling the defenders, then do a jab step and run back toward the corner and catch Robert's bounce pass and go.

Sanders figures Cobb will run so fast that he'll overshoot the basket. He tells Robert to run hard for the left block.

So we've got three or four people around Chad Cobb. So the ball comes in to Cobb. He runs it down the right sideline. He may take it all the way in. He will. He'll put it up—

Robert is fast for a big man. He reaches the left block. Five on two, and nobody boxes him out.

—No good. Robert Collier on the follow—

Robert grabs the rebound and at last he pump-fakes. The kids go flying, and he is wide open.

After high school, Robert will bounce from one coast to the other, doing demolition work here, pouring iron there. He will come home, get married and coach his stepson in football. His wife will die in 2007 from complications of diabetes and hypertension. Robert will be in rehab at the time, for his addiction to alcohol and cocaine.

—IT'S GOOD! ROBERT COLLIER MADE THE SHOT!

Years will go by and Robert will think of this game only when someone else brings it up. Even then it will feel hazy, dreamlike, as if maybe it never happened.

Robert won't set his father free from prison. He will follow him in. In 2005 police will say Robert stole a man's wallet and inhaler and beat him. He will plead guilty to second-degree robbery and be put on probation. In June 2008 he will break a man's jaw and steal his cellphone and cigarettes. He will be charged with third-degree assault and third-degree theft, and his probation will be revoked. Big Robert Collier will win an appeal to change his death sentence to life without parole. Little Robert will be scheduled for release in 2023.

Five seconds. [Fort Payne's] Mosteller down. He missed!

Two old hoops will hang above the jail yard, but basketballs will be scarce. Robert will fashion one from white socks and string.

The Chiefs get the ball and—

Chad will have his chance to join Robert in prison. He will not take it. He will look at the smashing of Travis by their old friend's motorcycle and see a certain cosmic symmetry. He will consider his children and his personal myth, forged in this three-minute overtime, and he will put down his gun.

On July 13, 2008, he will see Travis in the street. He'll pull over and get out and walk toward him and they will both smile and throw their arms around each other.

—the Chiefs are gonna WIIIIINNN! AND THE CHIEFS HAVE WON, 69 TO 67!

At the sound of the buzzer the fans engulf Robert and Chad at midcourt, nearly suffocating them, until they hear Chad screaming from the bottom of the pile, "I can't breathe!" In the visiting locker room a few boys weep, and Coach Collie says he wishes they could all float away in a submarine.

And Chad Cobb and Robert Collier the heroes of the night, in a historical game.

After the game, Robert thinks he and Chad will go on TV, talk on talk shows, sign autographs. He will sign one, for a woman in a doctor's office in Birmingham. That will be all.

A few years later Sanders will mail Robert's and Chad's black polyester jerseys to the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass. They will not be displayed. In the summer of 2008 someone from the Hall will mail them back.

That same summer, on the same wooden floor at North Jackson, the latest crop of Chiefs will come in for a practice. Someone will ask them about the two-on-five game. They will say they have never heard of it.

What a game, and what a night it was—

Time is a dark blue river, and it rolls one way. Outside in the cold it rolls on.

Spectacular story of "The Super" from The American Life

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/323/the-super

Act one tells a spectacular mystery story with plot twists, unforeseen danger, bizarre coincidences, unlikely heroes, even more unlikely bad guys. I love it!
Moreover, I love the background music "Por Una Cabeza" (一步之差).
At the first beginning of Act One, I thought the super is just like the car salesman in the movie "True Lies" starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, telling spectacular lies to impress people.

So, I think it is perfect when the background music - "Por Una Cabeza" - is played just like at the end of "True Lies" to mock the super as a liar.
But, later, I find that there are substantial truth behind the super's stories. I am marveled how the music and the name of the movie "True Lies" are perfect for this story.

Transcript of Act One

Act One. The Super Always Rings Twice.

Ira Glass

This act is like one of those mystery novels that they sell at the airport with plot twists, unforeseen danger, bizarre coincidences, unlikely heroes, even more unlikely bad guys. And at its heart, of course, a super, a super named Bob. And like any airport novel, the story begins with a crime. Here's Jack.

Jack Hitt

During New York City's great crime wave of the 1980s, getting an apartment was simple. All you had to do was commit a crime.

Kevin

We had heard from a friend of a friend that if we went down and gave key money-- that is to say one month's rent; it was the going fee-- to this superintendent-- that is to say Bob-- that we would be able to get an apartment.

Jack Hitt

This is my friend Kevin. He and I got our apartments in the same building on 99th Street in the early '80s by bribing the same superintendent, a guy named Bob. These were old, beat-up flats with screaming radiators and warped floors and exposed pipes. A city engineer once inspected the building and declared that it was six stories of dust held up by 100 years of paint.
These were our first New York apartments. We were there to start our lives. New York was all romance, and everything was out-sized and outrageous, the buildings in Midtown, our ambition, the night life, and as we quickly discovered, our super, Bob. All sorts of things about him were truly spectacular, like, for example, the way he repaired our apartments. Here's Chris, another tenant in the building.

Chris

After we got burglarized, Bob put in safety gates for the fire escape, which he welded so that nobody could get in. But you couldn't get out in a fire, either. There was no way to open them. He told us that they were installing sliding revolving doors. He never explained what those were, but I do remember thinking to myself, how can he say they're sliding revolving doors? But he said it was such a totally straight face.

Jack Hitt

Bob's work habits were a thing of wonder. I remember one time Bob showed up with his assistant, a generally talented guy named Smitty. My sink was backed up, and Bob started pouring this heavy black liquid from a gallon jug into the standing water. Smitty started backing up, and with experience as my guide, I started backing up, too. One cup, Smitty yelled, just one cup. Shut up, Bob explained.
And he emptied the entire jug into the water. There were nasty rumblings, hot chemical reactions were happening somewhere in the walls. I was very scared. And suddenly, the doors below the sink where I kept my cleaning stuff, they blew open with an explosion. And this unspeakable, oily sludge poured out across the kitchen floor. Bob was so much more than just a bad handyman.

Chris

Very early on, I began to perceive Bob's talents as a fabulist. It was really painful to go down and pay the rent every month, because you had to give it to him, which meant you had to stand there and listen to 10, 15, 20 minutes of completely insane stories. A big running theme was Bob's importance in the world in general, and particularly in Brazil.

Anne

I definitely remember his cattle ranch stories.

Jack Hitt

This is Anne, another tenant during those early days, and now married to Chris.

Chris

He had seven cattle ranches, four cattle ranches he owned in Brazil, and the seven vineyards he had in Italy. Or it might have been seven cattle ranches in Brazil and four vineyards in Italy.

Anne

If you actually took him-- after he left the room and you thought about what he said, you'd think, why is he living here? Because he was like basically a king, and the village people would just welcome him.

Chris

He claimed that there was a clause in the constitution of Brazil that gave him immunity from any prosecution whatsoever. And that, in fact, he could, as he put it, go and kill the president of the Brazilian state and he would still be immune from prosecution.

Jack Hitt

Of course, Bob, being Bob, had an explanation for how he went from being a South American cattle baron to a New York City super.

Chris

He had had two heart attacks. And his doctor had-- this is an actual story.

Jack Hitt

I remember this one.

Chris

His doctor had prescribed that he gain a lot of weight and move to America. So probably the first time in medical history that enormous weight gain was prescribed for a heart condition.

Jack Hitt

In his own way, Bob united the building. All of us, the elderly black businessman, the Puerto Rican grandmother, the handsome Bombay immigrant, me, the Southerner in exile, we all had our favorite Bob stories. We all did our own impersonations of Bob. It was impossible not to try to out-Bob whoever was talking with an even more outlandish Bob story of your own. We collected and traded Bob stories, comparing versions, analyzing his technique.

Chris

He was remarkably unfazed by any show of skepticism about these stories. There was a story about how he had once hung a bag of acid from the roof of the building to chase away the various homeless men who would, in those days, often come and congregate by the corner of this building. Bob had supposedly hung a bag of acid from the top and it would drip down steadily on them.
Now, I have no idea how you hang a bag of acid, how you get the acid in the bag and put that up there. That's no small feat in itself. But of course, the best part is Bob is telling us this story at the very same time that you could lean out of the office where he's talking and see the three or four homeless guys sitting on the corner.

Jack Hitt

Sitting right there.

Chris

Apparently completely unscarred or bothered by dripping acid.

Jack Hitt

The other story that I always found really captured just all of Bob's essence for me was when-- every kitchen in this building has these funny, circular, fluorescent bulbs, very specialized light bulbs. They're also in the hallways out on the first floor. And mine, after 10 years of noble service, finally burnt out. And I looked at it and I thought, huh, where do you buy one of those? So I trotted on down to Bob's office one morning. And I said, Bob, the light bulb in my kitchen is burned out. And I'm just wondering, do I buy that and replace it? And if so, where do you buy them? Or do you all just replace that for me?
And of course, he went into this total Bob tear. He's like, yes, that's right. You, let me tell you something, mister. Don't try to steal one of the light bulbs in the hallway. I know what you're thinking. But I've booby trapped them. And if you climb up there and you try to take the light bulb, it will blow up and shoot the glass in your eyes. And you will be blind for all time. And I said, I remember saying, so I take that to mean that I have to buy the bulb myself.

The very opposite of Bob was Allan, the landlord. If Bob was larger than life, Allan was smack in the middle, the average percentile. He had a family. He lived in White Plains. I had met his wife. Doing business with Allan was a completely routine experience. If it was a toilet to be fixed, he'd make sure the crew got there on time and got it done. Even in our biggest blowouts, he was always reasonable, civil even.
One time, things got a little testy when Allan started neglecting the old Puerto Rican folks in the building. I'd become friendly with one grandmother who showed me her tub full of green, stagnant bathwater. Allan and I had some tense words. And I and some others even held meetings to start a rent strike. But in the end, Allan gracefully withdrew, and we all went back to normal business. Back to Bob, the inscrutable, endless mystery that was Bob.
Fast forward to 1989. I had been in my apartment eight years, I had a steady job, and I was walking to work one morning. Somewhere along the way, I saw The Daily News blaring the latest tabloid crime story. Headline, "Terror Landlord." I look closer and realized it was Allan. My Allan, the landlord. The nice guy whose kids I knew.
The story was incredible. He had been arrested for murder, for hiring hit men to kill his brother-in-law, Arthur Katz, in 1980. And as the story got out, it quickly became clear that Bob was the one who had ratted Allan out. Allan was found guilty and sentenced to 25 years to life in prison, where he remains today.
More time passed. I got a new apartment in the West Village. Then I got married, had children, and later moved to another state, where Allan and Bob became memories, proof that I had lived in New York back when crack was king and the murder rates topped 2,000 a year. In the late '90s, almost a decade after I'd last seen Bob or Allan, I was working on an investigative piece about money laundering. And a source at the Treasury Department had suggested I call this really smart prosecutor in New York named John Moscow.
So I rang him up and started just yakking the way you do. I asked him if he'd handled financial crime a lot. And he was quick to say that he'd worked homicide in New York, back in the '80s, during the crime wave, when crack was king and the murder rates topped 2,000 a year. Yeah, I said, I lived there, too. I told him I was actually involved in one of those tabloid stories, mine involving a landlord who'd hired contract killers to murder his brother-in-law and then gets ratted out by the super.
There was a peculiar pause on the phone. Then Moscow said, Allan Stern, West 99th Street? I'm the guy who put him behind bars. Right away, of course, we started talking about Bob. I told him the light bulb story. Moscow had a good laugh. And then I went on, in the way we residents of 99th Street can do, and finally got to the one about Bob claiming that he had a special exemption from the Brazilian constitution and could murder anyone in Brazil. Again, there was that odd Moscow pause. And then he said, yeah, the thing is that one's kind of true.

John Moscow

I asked him, when you were in the military, where were you assigned? I was in the military police.

Jack Hitt

Here's John Moscow, describing Bob's testimony on the witness stand.

John Moscow

And what was your job? My job was to locate, interrogate, and execute politically unreliable persons.

Jack Hitt

Get out of here.

John Moscow

Bob had been in the death squad in Brazil. And he was asked, did you kill any people while you were there? Yes. Was it more than one? Yes. Was it more than five? I don't know. What do you mean you don't know? Well, if you shoot somebody at long range and they go down, you don't know if they're dead or wounded.
There's comes a point when you realize that beneath all of the fanciful stories, there usually is a substantial amount of truth. He said he came North for his health, and perhaps to protect his heart. But he was thinking about high-impact lead poisoning. He was in his 20s when he was in the death squad. And he realized, at one point, that a substantial number of people in his squad were dead of violent causes, which would be consistent either with their being suicidal in the risks they took or with somebody having a list of the names and where they were located, someone whose relatives had been mishandled. So he decided that leaving was good for his health.

Jack Hitt

All those crazy Bob stories we swapped for years, who'd have thought that the truth about Bob would be just as crazy? According to Moscow, not only had Bob been in a death squad, but he had been a key figure in the murder of Allan's brother-in-law. Bob was crucial in securing the talents of the two hit men, named Sammy Feet and Crazy Joe. And according to the court documents, Bob was in the boiler room with some of his crew when news of the hit came down. They celebrated with Martini & Rossi. And things really got going when a portable radio just happened to belt out that Queen song. You know the one.
[MUSIC - "ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST" BY QUEEN]

The hit was just one of numerous crimes-- brilliant crimes, really-- that Bob and Allan pulled off from that little office. It turns out that when it comes to crime, Bob was incredibly competent. He and Allan set up dummy construction companies. They defrauded the state with counterfeit charges. To force out one tenant, they rewired the electrical outlets to high voltage lines to fry all the apartment appliances.
My favorite was their natural gas scam. They put fake cones out on the street and actually jackhammered through the asphalt to a working gas line. They bypassed the meters and in time, eliminated more than $800,000 of Allan's gas bills.
On top of all of this, Bob helped the prosecution snare Allan. Bob tapped Allan's phones. Bob wore a wire. And in court transcripts, Allan calmly weighs the relative merits of buying off some people versus having them killed. And this is what really comes across when you talk to Moscow, just how wrong all of us were at sizing up Bob and Allan.

John Moscow

We had 2,200 homicides in New York as opposed to fewer than 500, which is what we're on for this year. You had a lot of people talking about killing people. There was a certain rationality and cold-bloodedness about this murder that was just plain different. Bob testified under oath at trial. I watched him when he was being cross-examined.
And I don't think I'll ever forget. Defense counsel asked him, did you torture men or women? And he said, my specialty was men. And the way he said it, my blood felt about 10 degrees colder. And there was just absolute-- the courtroom, everyone was persuaded that he meant it.

Jack Hitt

So how did Bob, former Brazilian death squad officer, rat out Allan?

John Moscow

Bob, I think, called tips to report the murder.

Jack Hitt

Tips?

John Moscow

Right.

Jack Hitt

You mean the 1-800 number? Or one of the local crime reporting--

John Moscow

The 1-877-TIPS, or whatever? Yeah. So he calls that. And then he goes and makes an appointment and meets with the Major Case Squad.

Jack Hitt

What drove him to turn Allan in?

John Moscow

Allan and his family had discussed selling the building and moving to Florida. And in the course of that, Allan had discussed having the president and the vice president of the Tenants Association murdered. And Bob figured that Allan was going to have these two guys whacked and blame Bob.

Jack Hitt

What year was this?

John Moscow

This was 1988.

Jack Hitt

Now, I only bring that up because at one point, there was a rent strike that was going to be put together in my building. And I was the tenant leader of that. I mean, was that the rent problem that Allan was upset about?

John Moscow

Unless there was another rent strike.

Jack Hitt

Wow. So Allan might have actually tried to get me whacked.

John Moscow

Ultimately, Bob went into the police station and admitted his own role in a murder, and thought he was going to prison, because his perception at the time was that Allan would cause these murders to take place. And so he protected himself by ratting Allan out first.

Jack Hitt

So Bob turning state's evidence basically saved my life, or the life of the tenant organizers.

John Moscow

That was Bob's thought.

Jack Hitt

Listening to Moscow explain all this to me was like passing out on a plane and coming to, only to find out the plane had crashed and I had survived. It was just all unbelievable on some existential level. Yes, murders happened, but not to me. That guy who advised me during my little rent strike, his head was found in a garbage can. But he'd been a real rabble-rouser and had lots of enemies. It seemed ridiculous to believe I could have ended up like that tenant organizer. But I could have, if not for Bob.
I found Bob. I reached him on the phone, and we had a nice chat. He remembers me as the tall, blond guy on the first floor. He wanted to talk to me for this story, but his lawyer told him not today, or ever. And then Bob suggested that I not bother to call back. I wanted to ask him about the cattle ranches and being written into the constitution and give those stories a fresh listen, knowing what I know now.
And of course, I wanted to know whether I was the one who was going to get whacked. I wasn't the only tenant organizer in the building at the time. But I'll never get that answer now. All I have is another Bob story, full of details I can't confirm, but so delicious that I can't wait to go back to my old pals and tell it to them.

Chris

Holy [BLEEP]. You've taken it to a whole new level, sir. Holy [BLEEP].

Anne

That is scary.

Chris

Whoa. That is so-- but it does make you sort of go back and rethink the whole pattern of exchanges you had with him. I never said to myself, there's some reality to who this guy says he is.

Kevin

It doesn't surprise me, in a way.

Jack Hitt

Again, here's Kevin.

Kevin

I mean, it's talking about the banality of evil. He strikes me as one of these Eichmann-type characters who would, in certain contexts, do completely awful, disgusting things, and then, if removed from them, if put in some more peaceful banal surrounding, would settle back and just be a windy superintendent of a building.
It was kind of interesting, though. After this was all over, after he had testified and Allan was put away-- of course, Allan's daughters, I believed, then owned the buildings. So of course, Bob lost his free apartment and his super's position. And it was almost like he kind of deflated. Like, nobody had to talk to him anymore.
So he would walk around-- it was almost pathetic-- he'd walk down the block and say hi and people would just kind of go by, nod to him and go by. And then, a short time after this, he just wasn't around anymore. He was gone. And I have no idea where he went to. Where is he, anyway? Did you find out any of that?

Jack Hitt

He's an elevator inspector in New York City.

Kevin

Good God. We're all in trouble now.

Jack Hitt

I found Allan also, at his website, allanstern.net. He's been appealing his conviction for over 15 years. He makes the case that he's innocent. His argument is that the entire story of Sammy Feet and Crazy Joe and the explanation of the brother-in-law's murder and all the rest of it is hearsay, a grandiose fiction. In other words, Allan is saying he can top us all, that he's the victim of the most outlandish Bob story ever told.

Ira Glass

Jack Hitt. He now lives in New Haven in a house, where he is his own super. Coming up, a super gets a crush. That's in a minute, from Chicago Public Radio and Public Radio International, when our program continues.

Emiliano Salinas: A civil response to violence (艾米拉诺•萨利纳斯：文明地对暴力说不)

Emiliano Salinas: A civil response to violence

Script:

My Name is Emiliano Salinas, and I'm going to talk about the role we member of society play in the violent atmosphere this country is living in right now. 

 

I was born in 1976. I grew up in a traditional Mexican family. As a child, I had a pretty normal life: I would go to school, play with my friends and cousins. But then my father became President of Mexico and my life changed.

 

What I'm about to say, at least some of what I'm about to say, will cause controversy. Firstly, because I'm the one who's going to say it. And secondly, because what I'm going to say is true, and it will make a lot of people nervous because it's something we don't want to hear. But it's imperative that we listen because it's undeniable and definitive. It will also make members of criminal organizations nervous for the same reasons. I'm going to talk about the role we members of society play in this phenomenon, and about four different response levels we citizens have against violence.

 

I know many will find it difficult to separate the fact that I'm Carlos Salinas de Gortari's son from the fact that I'm a citizen concerned about the country's current situation. Don't worry. It's not necessary for understanding the importance of what I'm going to say.

 

I think we have a problem in Mexico. We have a big problem. I think there's consensus on this. No one argues--we all agree there's a problem. What we don't agree on is what the problem actually is. Is it the Zetas? The drug traffickers? The government? Corruption? Poverty? Or is it something else? I think none of these is the problem. I don't mean they don't deserve attention. But we won't be able to take care of any of those things if we don't solve the real problem we have in Mexico first. The real problem we have is most of us Mexicans, we believe we are victims of our circumstances. We are a country of victims. Historically, we've always acted as victims of something or somebody. We were victims of the Spaniards. Then we were victims of the French. Then we were victims of Don Porfirion. Then we were victims of PRI. Even of Salinas. And of El Peje. And now of the Zetas and the traffickers and the criminals and the kidnappers... Hold on! Wait a minute! What if none of these things is the problem? The problem is not the things we feel victims of. The problem is that we play the role of victims. We need to open our eyes and see that we are not victims. If only we stopped feeling like victims, if we stopped acting as victims, our country would change so much! I'm going to talk about how to go from a society that acts as a victim of circumstances to a responsible, involved society that takes the future of its country in its own hands. 

 

I'm going to talk about four different levels of civil response against violence,  from weakest to strongest. 

 

The first level, the weakest level of civil response against violence, is denial and apathy. Today, much of Mexican society is in denial of the situation we're going through. We want to go on with our daily life even though we are not living under normal circumstances. Daily life in our country is, to say the least, under extraordinary, exceptional circumstances. It's like someone who has a serous illness, and pretends it's flu and it will just go away. We want to pretend that Mexico has the flu. But it doesn't. Mexico has cancer. And if we don't do something about it, the cancer will end up killing it. We need to move more Mexican society from denial and apathy to the next level of citizen response, which is, effectively, recognition.

 

And that recognition will sow fear--recognizing the seriousness of the situation. But, fear is better than apathy because fear makes us do something. Many people in Mexico are afraid today. We're very afraid. And we're acting out of that fear. And let me tell you what the problem is with acting out of fear--and this is the second level of civil response: fear. Let's think about Mexican streets: they're unsafe because of violence, so people stay at home. Does that make streets more or less safe? Less safe! So streets become more desolate and unsafe, so we stay home more, which makes streets even more desolate and unsafe, and we stay home even more. This vicious circle ends up with the whole population stuck inside their houses, scared to death--even more afraid than when we were out on the streets. We need to confront this fear. We need to move Mexican society, the members of society who are at this level, to the next level, which is action. We need to face our fears and take back our streets, our cities, our neighborhoods.

 

For many people, acting involves rage. We go from fear to rage. They say, "I can't take it anymore. Let's do something about it." Recently--this is a sensitive figure--35 public lynchings have been recorded so far in 2010 in Mexico. Usually it's one or two a year. Now we're experiencing one every week. This shows that society is desperate and it's taking the law into its own hands. Unfortunately, violent action--though action is better than no action--but taking part in it only disguises violence. If I'm violent with you and you respond with violence, you become part of the violence and you just disguise my violence. So civil action is vital, but it's also vital to take people who are at the level of rage and violent action to the next level, which is non-violent action. It's pacific, coordinated civil action, which doesn't not mean passive action. It means it's determined and effective, but not violent.

 

There are examples of this kind of action in Mexico. Two years ago, in Galena City, Chihuahua, a member of the community was kidnapped, Eric Le Baron. His brothers, Benjamin and Julian, got together with the rest of the community to think of the best course of action: to pay the ransom, to take up arms and go after the kidnappers or to ask the government for help. In the end, Benjamin and Julian decided the best thing they could do was to organize the community and act together. So what did they do? They mobilized the whole community of Le Baron to go to Chihuahua, where they organized a sit-in in the central park of the city. They sent a message to the kidnappers: "If you want your ransom come and get it. We'll be waiting for you right here." They stayed there. Seven days later, Eric was set free and was able to return home. This is an example of what an organized society can do, a society that acts. Of course criminals can respond. And in this case, they did. On July 7th, 2009, Benjamin Le Baron was murdered. But Julian Le Baron keeps working and he has been mobilizing communities in Chihuahua for over a year. And for over a year he has known that a price has been put on his head. But he keeps fighting. He keeps organizing. He keeps mobilizing. These heroic acts are present all over the country. With a thousand Julianes working together, Mexico would be a very different country. And they're out there! They just have to raise their hands.

 

I was born in Mexico, I grew up in Mexico and along the way, I learned to love Mexico. I think anyone who has stopped foot on this land--not to mention all Mexican people-- will agree that it's not difficult to love Mexico. I've traveled a lot and nowhere else have I found the passion Mexicans have. That devotion we feel for the national football team. That devotion we show in helping victims of disasters, such as the earthquake in 1985 or this year's floods. The passion with which we've been singing the national anthem since we were kids. When we though Masiosare was the strange enemy, and we sang, with a childlike heart, "a soldier in each son." 

 

I think the biggest insult, the worst way you can offend a Mexican is to insult their mother. A mother is the most sacred thing in life. Mexico is our mother and today she cries out for her children. We are going through the darkest moment in our recent history. Our mother, Mexico, is being violated before our very eyes. What are going to do? Masiosare, the strange enemy, is here. Where is the soldier in each son?

 

Mahatma Gandhi, one of the greatest civil fighters of all time, said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." Today in Mexico we're asking for Gandhis. We need Gandhis. We need men and women who love Mexico and who are willing to take action. This is a call for every true Mexican to join this initiative. This is a call so that every single thing we love about Mexico -- the festivals, the markets, the restaurants, the cantinas, the tequila, the mariachis, the serenades, the posadas, El Grito, the Day of the Dead, San Miguel, the joy, the passion for life, the fight and everything it means to be Mexican -- doesn't disappear from this world. 

 

We are facing a very powerful opponent. But we are many more. They can take a man's life. Anyone can kill me, or you, or you. But no one can kill the spirit of true Mexicans. The battle is won, but we still have to fight it.

 

2000 years ago, the Roman Poet Juvenal said something that today echoes in the heart of every true Mexican. He said, "Count it the greatest sin to prefer life to honor, and for the sake of living to lose what makes life worth living." Thank you.

中文脚本：

我名叫艾米拉诺•萨利纳斯。我想要谈谈，当这个国家四处弥漫着暴力气氛时，我们身为社会成员在此时所应扮演的角色。

我出生于1976年，生在一个传统的墨西哥家庭。我童年的生活十分普通，我去上学，和朋友、表弟玩耍。但后来我父亲成为了墨西哥总统，我的生活就此改变了。

我所要讲得内容，至少部分的内容，可能会引起极大的争议。这首先是因为我是那个要讲话的人，其次是因为我所说的都是事实。而事实总会使许多人胆战心惊，因为总有一些事实是人们不想听到的。但是紧迫的是我们必须面对事实，因为事实不可磨灭。这些事实同样会令犯罪组织的成员感到紧张。也是基于同样的原因，我将谈谈身为社会成员的我们在这些现象中扮演何种角色。

 在面对暴力时，我们的反应分为四个层次。我知道，大家很难把我这个前总统卡洛斯•萨利纳斯•德戈塔的儿子，与关心时事的公民相提并论。没关系，这与我要谈到的内容毫无关系。

我认为，墨西哥正面临一个问题，一个大问题。这是一个不争的事实，没有人会反驳，我们都认为这里存在问题。我们有分歧的地方是，问题究竟出在哪里。是泽塔斯集团，贩毒组织，还是政府？是腐败，贫困，还是其他方面？我认为这些都不是问题所在。我不是说这些问题不值得关注。然而，如不首先解决墨西哥面临的真正问题，我们就无法真正解决以上任何问题。

我们的问题首先在于，大多数墨西哥人认为我们自己是社会现状的受害者。我们是一个满是受害者的国家。在历史上，我们经常充当受害者的角色，受到某些事或某些人的残害。我们曾受西班牙人的侵略，曾受法国人侵略，曾是Don Porfirio的受害者，曾是革命制度党（PRI）的受害者，还曾是萨利纳斯和El Peje的受害者，而现在是泽塔集团、贩毒组织、犯罪团体和绑架者的受害者。停下来！等一下！要是这些都不是问题的所在呢？那些我们认为让自己沦为受害者的事情都不是问题所在。问题在于我们总在扮演受害者。我们必须睁开眼睛，看到我们并不是受害者。只有当我们不再认为自己是受害者，只有当我们不再扮演受害者，我们的国家就能得到彻头彻尾的改变！


 我所要讲的便是一个社会，如何从各种现象的受害者，转变成一个富有责任感、民众参与度高的社会。这样的社会才能够实实在在地把握国家的未来。我将从四个层次谈一谈人民对暴力的反应，程度由弱到强。

第一层反应，也就是人民对暴力程度最弱的反应，就是闭口不提，无动于衷。在今天的墨西哥社会，大多数人，都在回避现实。尽管生活陷入了非常的处境，但是大家都想正常地过日子。我们国家的生活，往好里说，面临着最极端、翻天覆地的现状。这就像一个人得了重病，却假装自己得的是感冒，过一会就好了。我们假装墨西哥患的是感冒，但事实并非如此，墨西哥患的是癌症。如果我们不采取行动医治，国家便会病入膏肓。我们必须将墨西哥社会对现状的无动于衷，转变为国民对现状的第二层反应——有效的认清现状。

认清事实会产生恐惧，认清事实的严重性。然而恐惧总比无动于衷强。恐惧让我们不得不采取行动。现在墨西哥有很多人都感到恐惧，我们都非常害怕。我们在恐惧中作出行动。我想谈谈在恐惧中行动，会产生什么问题。这就是民众对现状反应的第二个层次：恐惧。在恐惧中行动的问题在于，想象一下，墨西哥的街道因为暴力而变得不安全，于是人们就躲在家里，这样能让街道变得更安全还是更危险？当然更危险！这样街道就会变得更荒凉，更危险。结果我们就更不愿意出门，使街道进一步变得更加荒凉，更加危险，于是我们就更不敢出门了。全体国民都陷入了这个恶性循环，不敢出门，贪生怕死，在家里比在大街上还要担惊受怕。我们就必须战胜恐惧。我们必须把墨西哥社会，全体社会成员推向第三个层面——采取实际行动。

我们必须战胜自己的恐惧，收回失去了的街道、城市与街区。对于许多人而言，行动中总伴随着愤怒。我们的恐惧变成了愤怒。他们说：“我忍无可忍了，我们要马上采取行动。”最近，有组很敏感的数据。据记录，2010年以来，墨西哥发生了35起当众使用私刑的案件，而通常情况下，这种案件每年仅有一两起。现在，几乎每周都会发生一起。这说明这个社会已经陷入绝望，人们自己成为了执法者。可惜，尽管采取行动胜过无动于衷。但是以暴制暴的行为，只不过是让暴力看上去更冠冕堂皇而已。如果我对你施暴，你以暴力回击，你也成为了施暴的一分子。你不过是让我的暴力看起来更合理了。民众采取行动固然重要，但我们仍然必须让所有处于恐惧与愤怒的民众走向下一个层面——非暴力行动。

这样的行动是和平的，相互合作的。但决不是被动的，它是坚决的，有效的，非暴力的。在墨西哥，这样的例子出现过。两年前，在奇瓦瓦州的加莱阿纳市，当地的一位居民被绑架了，他叫艾里克（Eric Le Baron），他的兄弟本杰名和朱利安，集结了当地所有居民，共同商讨最佳解决措施。交赎金？抄上家伙找绑匪算帐？还是找政府帮忙？最后，本杰名和朱利安决定，采取最好的办法就是组织社区中的所有人共同行动。他们做了什么？他们动员了 Le Baron社区的所有人，让这些人集体去到奇瓦瓦州市，他们就在市中央公园组织了一场大规模静坐。他们给绑匪发了一条信息：“如果你们要赎金，就来拿吧；我们就在这里等着。”他们一直等在那里，七天之后，艾里克被释放了，他回到了家。这个例子证明了一个有组织的社会所拥有的力量，一个该出手时就出手的社会。当然，犯罪分子也会做出回应。这次他们也做出了回应。2009年7月，本杰名（Benjamin Le Baron）被谋杀了。但朱利安（Julian Le Baron）没有放弃，一整年，他都在动员各社区，在奇瓦瓦市进行各种运动。这一整年，有人悬赏要他的项上人头，而他的斗争没有停息，继续组织运动，继续做动员。这个国家里到处都不乏英雄事迹，如果千千万万的朱利安团结到一起，墨西哥今天会是个完全不同的国家。而这些英雄就在那里，他们只需要把手举起来。

我生在墨西哥，长在墨西哥。在成长过程中，我学会了热爱墨西哥。我相信任何一个踏足这片土地的人－不仅是墨西哥人－都会情不自禁的爱上这个国家，对此，没有人会有异议。我去过很多地方，而那些地方的人都没有墨西哥人的热情。我们在支持国家足球队时的热情，我们在支援受灾人民时表现出的热情，比如1985年的大地震和今年发生的大洪水。从儿时起我们唱国歌时就饱含热情，我们以为Masiosare是外敌的意思。我们用一个儿童的心唱着，“每个子民心中都有一个战士“。

我认为，侮辱一个墨西哥人，最恶劣的方式，就是侮辱他的母亲。母亲在人一生中处在最神圣地位。墨西哥就是我们的母亲，而现在她在召唤她的子民。我们正面临着近期历史上最为黑暗的时刻。我们的母亲墨西哥就在我们眼前遭人凌辱。我们该怎么办？Masiosare，外敌已经来了。那么每个子民心中的战士在哪里？

圣雄甘地，历史上最伟大的人民权力运动英雄曾说：“欲变世界，先变其身”。现在，我们呼唤甘地们，我们需要甘地们，我们需要热爱墨西哥的英雄儿女们，揭竿而起。这是在召唤每一位真正的墨西哥人，加入这场斗争；这是在放声号召。只有这样，我们所热爱的墨西哥的一切，各种节目、市场、餐馆、饭店、龙舌兰酒、流浪艺人、小夜曲、旅馆、El Grito、死日者、圣米格尔护城、喜悦、热情、斗争、以及让我们成为墨西哥人的一切事物，才不会从世界上消失。我们面临的是极其强大的敌人，但我们的力量更加强大。他们可以杀死一个人，谁都可以杀我，杀你，或者你。但是，谁也杀不死，墨西哥人真正的精神。我们的斗争是必胜的，但我们必须进行战斗。

两千年前，古罗马诗人尤维纳利斯所说的一些话，今天在每一个真正墨西哥人的心里余音犹在。他说：“万恶之首莫过于为生命而蔑视荣誉，为了活着而让生命失去存在的意义。”(*) 非常感谢。

(*)注：TED上的中文脚本对于尤维纳利斯的这句话翻译为：“为荣誉而蔑视生命是万恶之首。而对于生命而言，最大的罪恶莫过于让生命失去存在的意义。” 个人认为明显颠倒了这句话的真正意思，于是修改为：“万恶之首莫过于为生命而蔑视荣誉，为了活着而让生命失去存在的意义。”。后经查实，网上普遍翻译为：“保命大概是最大的过错，为生命而丧失整个生命的根基。” 而TED上的繁体中文脚本，将此话翻译为：“最大的罪惡應該算是捨棄尊嚴選擇活著，並且為了活著而失去讓活著有意義的事物。”