Nimeni nu va obliga sa participati la un forum. Nu toata lumea are bunul-simt pe care îl pretindeti atunci când agresati cu mesaje membri care nu doresc sa discute cu dumneavoastra. Cititi, când nu va place continuati-va drumul si încetati cu manierele astea care îmbie lumea sa va raspunda asemenea, ca unei precupete cu diferite dereglaje, adica. Personal am folosit butonul "block this user". Bine ca exista, butonul ala.
Expresia "cadavrul din dulap" , explicatia Rodicai Zafiu :
"Anchetele judiciare efectuate asupra unor persoane cu notorietate – oameni politici şi de afaceri – şi care scot la lumină fapte de corupţie ori alte infracţiuni petrecute cu ani în urmă determină în mass-media recursul previzibil la un clişeu aproape internaţional: al scheletului sau scheletelor din dulap. Expresia există, cu mici variaţii, în engleză (skeleton in the cupboard sau in the closet), în franceză (squelette sau cadavre dans le placard), italiană (scheletro nell’armadio) şi în multe alte limbi. Formula metaforică are aproape cu certitudine o sursă unică (respectiv limba engleză, în care sînt cele mai vechi atestări) şi s-a răspîndit foarte uşor pentru că evocă un scenariu poliţist clasic, are un sens transparent („secret ruşinos din trecut, pe care cineva încearcă să-l ascundă“), precum şi puterea de a şoca, prin hiperbolă şi umor negru. În română, se pare că formula a fost preluată destul de tîrziu, prin traduceri: apărea, izolat, într-o recenzie în Revista de filozofie din 1959, ori într-o notă de subsol explicativă într-un volum din 1979 (Legea entropiei şi procesele economice), cu referiri la uzul şi sensul din engleză. Frecvenţa i-a crescut însă enorm în presa din ultimele decenii. În puţine cazuri în loc de dulap apare sinonimul şifonier („N-am niciun schelet în şifonier“, jurnalul.ro); uneori, expresia este reformulată şi adaptată liber („Cînd cari în spate 25 de ani un dulap cu un schelet pitit“, reportervirtual.ro).
Destul de ciudat e faptul că în expresie termenul schelet apare tot mai des în forma de plural masculin: „penalii şi scheleţii din dulap pot îngropa partidul“ (stiripesurse.ro); „N.D. atacă dur: eu nu am scheleţi în dulap!“ (click.ro); „Cardul Naţional de Sănătate sabotat de scheleţii din dulap ai birocraţiei româneşti?“ (ziarulpiatraneamt.ro). Uneori, forma este pusă între ghilimele, ceea ce îi indică preluarea, sub presiunea uzului insistent, dar neasumarea: „R.L. la Sănătate, o propunere cu «scheleţi» în dulap“ (evz.ro).
În secolul al XIX-lea substantivul neutru schelet apărea şi cu forma de plural scheleturi: într-o anexă la lucrările parlamentului Moldovei (Obicinuita Obştească Adunare) din 1841, era publicată „Catagrafia obiecturilor aflătoare în cabinetul soţietăţii Istorio Naturală din Moldavia“, în care apăreau, într-un limbaj ştiinţific încă în faza de formare, „28 scheleturi de animale sugătoare“ (= mamifere) şi „ciolane împietrite“.
Cu cîteva decenii în urmă, se vorbea în lingvistica românească despre o tendinţă de trecere a substantivelor neutre în clasa masculinelor, mai ales în limbajul tehnic: astfel, robinetele deveneau robineţi (plural înregistrat de DEX). De fapt, oscilaţia de adaptare ca neutre sau ca masculine a unor cuvinte împrumutate din alte limbi e mai veche: pluralul impus azi al cuvîntului magnet e masculinul magneţi, dar în trecut circula şi forma de neutru magnete. În genere, denumirile de entităţi non-animate (cu excepţia celor cu formă feminină) sînt încadrate automat în română între neutre (computere, clickuri, laptopuri). Abaterile de la această tendinţă generală se produc fie prin analogie, fie prin traduceri prea fidele originalului. Prin analogie, cuvintele se pliază pe tiparele gramaticale ale altor cuvinte care denumesc lucruri similare. De exemplu, numele de arbori fiind în română masculine (meri, peri, pruni, plopi etc.), baobab a devenit tot masculin (cu pluralul baobabi). Masculinul blugi urmează fidel tiparul masculin al pantalonilor sau al iţarilor. Dincolo de această tendinţă firească a limbii, au fost cazuri, mai ales în secolul al XIX-lea, cînd prestigiul unei limbi-sursă care nu avea genul neutru să-i determine pe traducători să dea formă masculină în română unor cuvinte împrumutate.
Cred că la originea formei scheleţi nu se află nici limbajul tehnic (deşi schelet are asemenea utilizări, în primul rînd în terminologia construcţiilor), nici vreo oscilaţie gramaticală mai veche, ci o analogie particulară şi destul de recentă: încadrarea semantică a termenului în seria monştri, strigoi, vampiri etc. Probabil că pluralul a apărut în contextul filmuleţelor şi al jocurilor pentru copii, în care scheletele animate sînt mai apropiate de fiinţele umane decît de lumea obiectelor („un schelet este un tip de strigoi“, aluzii.ro). Internetul are mii de pagini care ilustrează această tipologie – „Jocuri cu fantome şi scheleţi“ (jocurikids.ro); „scheleţi cu drujbe – jocuri de acţiune“ (jocurigame.com) –, întărită de produsele comerciale aferente – „ghirlanda decorativă Halloween cu scheleţi, din hîrtie albă“ (fabricademagie.ro); „fursecuri cu forme de scheleţi“ (supermamici.ro). Între căutările frecvente pe google apar „poze cu scheleţi haioase“ sau „desene colorat scheleţi“. Se vorbeşte de invazia scheleţilor, războiul scheleţilor, atacul scheleţilor, armata scheleţilor, dansul scheleţilor etc. Forma masculină atribuită acestor personaje s-a extins asupra altor contexte, în care efectul e de inadecvare şi chiar involuntar comic. S-ar presupune că scheletele din dulap sînt foste victime, secrete mute şi apăsătoare – nu personaje vioaie şi răutăcioase, gata să ţîşnească la atac. Dar poate că interpretarea metaforică pe care le-o dau utilizatorii actuali ai formulei e tocmai aceasta din urmă. " LINK
Din momentul asta bag si o nota de subsol cand mai folosesc expresia. N-am chef ca CNATDCU-ul internetului sa-mi salte titlul de doctor honoris... pauza pentru plagiat.
Eu zic sa o lasati mai moale. Chiar daca ii offtopic, tot ii deranjant si aiurea discutia asta. Oricum este alegerea voastra. Si nu vreau sa dau ignore la tot topicul doar din cauza ca 2 useri se balacaresc in public. Spor
Acest topic se supspenda temporar si ca observatii: 1. Regulamentul nu-i facultativ, nu-i orientativ ci este echivalentul unui RG ergo executabil sub rezerva sanctiunii. 2. Utilizatorul PisicaNeagra primeste ultimul avertisment inainte de banare definitiva. 3. Userul Wolfenstein2 primeste avertisment cu mentiunea ca la urmataoarea abatere urmeaza banarea temporara,
Inainte sa sterg atacurile de pe acest topic, le-am si lecturat putin. Doamna sau Domnisoara Piscaneagra, forumul va sta la dispozitie pentru informare si este unul din putinele daca nu singurul forum din Romania unde puteti intra in contact cu profesionisti din sistemul national de aparare. Nu va ia nimeni peste picior, nu vi se raspude in 3 peri la o intrebare coerenta cu privire la SNA. Cand dvs veniti cu apelative "baietica" cred ca ne confundati cu anumite emisiuni colorate de la tv cu care nu avem absolut nimic in comun. Multi dintre noi pe langa faptul ca am daruit partea buna a vietii sistemului mai avem si parul carunt. Cu toate astea, ne facem timp sa stam la dispozitia oricarei persoane care doreste lamuriri, explicatii clarificari in legatura cu ce este si ce face un militar/politist etc.Cred ca este mult mai mult decat sa bateti la usa unei institutii din sistem ce da de multe ori un raspuns expeditiv, si ala dupa vreo 30 de zile. Putin respect sau va multumim pentru participare si sa aveti o zi buna.
Un eseu scris cu 3 ani în urmă care a generat şi o carte (va apărea în 2017): Tom Nichols - The Death Of Expertise I am (or at least think I am) an expert. Not on everything, but in a particular area of human knowledge, specifically social science and public policy. When I say something on those subjects, I expect that my opinion holds more weight than that of most other people. I never thought those were particularly controversial statements. As it turns out, they’re plenty controversial. Today, any assertion of expertise produces an explosion of anger from certain quarters of the American public, who immediately complain that such claims are nothing more than fallacious “appeals to authority,” sure signs of dreadful “elitism,” and an obvious effort to use credentials to stifle the dialogue required by a “real” democracy. But democracy, as I wrote in an essay about C.S. Lewis and the Snowden affair, denotes a system of government, not an actual state of equality. It means that we enjoy equal rights versus the government, and in relation to each other. Having equal rights does not mean having equal talents, equal abilities, or equal knowledge. It assuredly does not mean that “everyone’s opinion about anything is as good as anyone else’s.” And yet, this is now enshrined as the credo of a fair number of people despite being obvious nonsense. What’s going on here? I fear we are witnessing the “death of expertise”: a Google-fueled, Wikipedia-based, blog-sodden collapse of any division between professionals and laymen, students and teachers, knowers and wonderers – in other words, between those of any achievement in an area and those with none at all. By this, I do not mean the death of actual expertise, the knowledge of specific things that sets some people apart from others in various areas. There will always be doctors, lawyers, engineers, and other specialists in various fields. Rather, what I fear has died is any acknowledgement of expertise as anything that should alter our thoughts or change the way we live. What has died is any acknowledgement of expertise as anything that should alter our thoughts or change the way we live. This is a very bad thing. Yes, it’s true that experts can make mistakes, as disasters from thalidomide to the Challenger explosion tragically remind us. But mostly, experts have a pretty good batting average compared to laymen: doctors, whatever their errors, seem to do better with most illnesses than faith healers or your Aunt Ginny and her special chicken gut poultice. To reject the notion of expertise, and to replace it with a sanctimonious insistence that every person has a right to his or her own opinion, is silly. Worse, it’s dangerous. The death of expertise is a rejection not only of knowledge, but of the ways in which we gain knowledge and learn about things. Fundamentally, it’s a rejection of science and rationality, which are the foundations of Western civilization itself. Yes, I said “Western civilization”: that paternalistic, racist, ethnocentric approach to knowledge that created the nuclear bomb, the Edsel, and New Coke, but which also keeps diabetics alive, lands mammoth airliners in the dark, and writes documents like the Charter of the United Nations. This isn’t just about politics, which would be bad enough. No, it’s worse than that: the perverse effect of the death of expertise is that without real experts, everyone is an expert on everything. To take but one horrifying example, we live today in an advanced post-industrial country that is now fighting a resurgence of whooping cough — a scourge nearly eliminated a century ago — merely because otherwise intelligent people have been second-guessing their doctors and refusing to vaccinate their kids after reading stuff written by people who know exactly zip about medicine. (Yes, I mean people like Jenny McCarthy. In politics, too, the problem has reached ridiculous proportions. People in political debates no longer distinguish the phrase “you’re wrong” from the phrase “you’re stupid.” To disagree is to insult. To correct another is to be a hater. And to refuse to acknowledge alternative views, no matter how fantastic or inane, is to be closed-minded. How conversation became exhausting Critics might dismiss all this by saying that everyone has a right to participate in the public sphere. That’s true. But every discussion must take place within limits and above a certain baseline of competence. And competence is sorely lacking in the public arena. People with strong views on going to war in other countries can barely find their own nation on a map; people who want to punish Congress for this or that law can’t name their own member of the House. People with strong views on going to war in other countries can barely find their own nation on a map. None of this ignorance stops people from arguing as though they are research scientists. Tackle a complex policy issue with a layman today, and you will get snippy and sophistic demands to show ever increasing amounts of “proof” or “evidence” for your case, even though the ordinary interlocutor in such debates isn’t really equipped to decide what constitutes “evidence” or to know it when it’s presented. The use of evidence is a specialized form of knowledge that takes a long time to learn, which is why articles and books are subjected to “peer review” and not to “everyone review,” but don’t tell that to someone hectoring you about the how things really work in Moscow or Beijing or Washington. This subverts any real hope of a conversation, because it is simply exhausting — at least speaking from my perspective as the policy expert in most of these discussions — to have to start from the very beginning of every argument and establish the merest baseline of knowledge, and then constantly to have to negotiate the rules of logical argument. (Most people I encounter, for example, have no idea what a non-sequitur is, or when they’re using one; nor do they understand the difference between generalizations and stereotypes.) Most people are already huffy and offended before ever encountering the substance of the issue at hand. Once upon a time — way back in the Dark Ages before the 2000s — people seemed to understand, in a general way, the difference between experts and laymen. There was a clear demarcation in political food fights, as objections and dissent among experts came from their peers — that is, from people equipped with similar knowledge. The public, largely, were spectators. This was both good and bad. While it strained out the kook factor in discussions (editors controlled their letters pages, which today would be called “moderating”), it also meant that sometimes public policy debate was too esoteric, conducted less for public enlightenment and more as just so much dueling jargon between experts. If experts go back to only talking to each other, that’s bad for democracy. No one — not me, anyway — wants to return to those days. I like the 21st century, and I like the democratization of knowledge and the wider circle of public participation. That greater participation, however, is endangered by the utterly illogical insistence that every opinion should have equal weight, because people like me, sooner or later, are forced to tune out people who insist that we’re all starting from intellectual scratch. (Spoiler: We’re not.) And if that happens, experts will go back to only talking to each other. And that’s bad for democracy. The downside of no gatekeepers How did this peevishness about expertise come about, and how can it have gotten so immensely foolish? Some of it is purely due to the globalization of communication. There are no longer any gatekeepers: the journals and op-ed pages that were once strictly edited have been drowned under the weight of self-publishable blogs. There was once a time when participation in public debate, even in the pages of the local newspaper, required submission of a letter or an article, and that submission had to be written intelligently, pass editorial review, and stand with the author’s name attached. Even then, it was a big deal to get a letter in a major newspaper. Now, anyone can bum rush the comments section of any major publication. Sometimes, that results in a free-for-all that spurs better thinking. Most of the time, however, it means that anyone can post anything they want, under any anonymous cover, and never have to defend their views or get called out for being wrong. Another reason for the collapse of expertise lies not with the global commons but with the increasingly partisan nature of U.S. political campaigns. There was once a time when presidents would win elections and then scour universities and think-tanks for a brain trust; that’s how Henry Kissinger, Samuel Huntington, Zbigniew Brzezinski and others ended up in government service while moving between places like Harvard and Columbia. Those days are gone. To be sure, some of the blame rests with the increasing irrelevance of overly narrow research in the social sciences. But it is also because the primary requisite of seniority in the policy world is too often an answer to the question: “What did you do during the campaign?” This is the code of the samurai, not the intellectual, and it privileges the campaign loyalist over the expert. I have a hard time, for example, imagining that I would be called to Washington today in the way I was back in 1990, when the senior Senator from Pennsylvania asked a former U.S. Ambassador to the UN who she might recommend to advise him on foreign affairs, and she gave him my name. Despite the fact that I had no connection to Pennsylvania and had never worked on his campaigns, he called me at the campus where I was teaching, and later invited me to join his personal staff. Universities, without doubt, have to own some of this mess. The idea of telling students that professors run the show and know better than they do strikes many students as something like uppity lip from the help, and so many profs don’t do it. (One of the greatest teachers I ever had, James Schall, once wrote many years ago that “students have obligations to teachers,” including “trust, docility, effort, and thinking,” an assertion that would produce howls of outrage from the entitled generations roaming campuses today.) As a result, many academic departments are boutiques, in which the professors are expected to be something like intellectual valets. This produces nothing but a delusion of intellectual adequacy in children who should be instructed, not catered to. The confidence of the dumb There’s also that immutable problem known as “human nature.” It has a name now: it’s called the Dunning-Kruger effect, which says, in sum, that the dumber you are, the more confident you are that you’re not actually dumb. And when you get invested in being aggressively dumb…well, the last thing you want to encounter are experts who disagree with you, and so you dismiss them in order to maintain your unreasonably high opinion of yourself. (There’s a lot of that loose on social media, especially.) All of these are symptoms of the same disease: a manic reinterpretation of “democracy” in which everyone must have their say, and no one must be “disrespected.” (The verb to disrespect is one of the most obnoxious and insidious innovations in our language in years, because it really means “to fail to pay me the impossibly high requirement of respect I demand.”) This yearning for respect and equality, even—perhaps especially—if unearned, is so intense that it brooks no disagreement. It represents the full flowering of a therapeutic culture where self-esteem, not achievement, is the ultimate human value, and it’s making us all dumber by the day. Thus, at least some of the people who reject expertise are not really, as they often claim, showing their independence of thought. They are instead rejecting anything that might stir a gnawing insecurity that their own opinion might not be worth all that much. Experts: the servants, not masters, of a democracy So what can we do? Not much, sadly, since this is a cultural and generational issue that will take a long time come right, if it ever does. Personally, I don’t think technocrats and intellectuals should rule the world: we had quite enough of that in the late 20th century, thank you, and it should be clear now that intellectualism makes for lousy policy without some sort of political common sense. Indeed, in an ideal world, experts are the servants, not the masters, of a democracy. But when citizens forgo their basic obligation to learn enough to actually govern themselves, and instead remain stubbornly imprisoned by their fragile egos and caged by their own sense of entitlement, experts will end up running things by default. That’s a terrible outcome for everyone. Expertise is necessary, and it’s not going away. Unless we return it to a healthy role in public policy, we’re going to have stupider and less productive arguments every day. So here, presented without modesty or political sensitivity, are some things to think about when engaging with experts in their area of specialization. 1. We can all stipulate: the expert isn’t always right. 2. But an expert is far more likely to be right than you are. On a question of factual interpretation or evaluation, it shouldn’t engender insecurity or anxiety to think that an expert’s view is likely to be better-informed than yours. (Because, likely, it is.) 3. Experts come in many flavors. Education enables it, but practitioners in a field acquire expertise through experience; usually the combination of the two is the mark of a true expert in a field. But if you have neither education nor experience, you might want to consider exactly what it is you’re bringing to the argument. 4. In any discussion, you have a positive obligation to learn at least enough to make the conversation possible. The University of Google doesn’t count. Remember: having a strong opinion about something isn’t the same as knowing something. 5. And yes, your political opinions have value. Of course they do: you’re a member of a democracy and what you want is as important as what any other voter wants. As a layman, however, your political analysis, has far less value, and probably isn’t — indeed, almost certainly isn’t — as good as you think it is. And how do I know all this? Just who do I think I am? Well, of course: I’m an expert. LINK Tom Nichols is a professor of national security affairs at the U.S. Naval War College and an adjunct at the Harvard Extension School. He claims expertise in a lot of things, but his most recent book is No Use: Nuclear Weapons and U.S. National Security.
Astăzi în frumosul oraş de pe malul dunării albastre este fierbere mare: Se verifica începând cu data de ieri toate maşinile dacă au instinctor valabil în termen , trusă medicală la fel în termen şi două triunghiuri reflectorizante - dacă nu amenda la greu Acum eu, ca tot românul heirupist , am acţionat precum pompierii că ştiiam ca trusa şi instinctorul îmi sunt expirate şi cu bunăvoinţă m-am dus să-mi cumpar o trusă şi-un instinctor şi să-mi completez şi al doilea triunghi - surppriză, nu am gasit în toate lanţurile mari de magazine şi am căutat în trei locuri nimic Nu ştiu de ce dar am impresia că cineva - o dau uşor în conspiraţionism - face presiuni pe şoferi special Pe ce mă bazez când fac asemena afirmaţii: - păi în acest oraş eram să zic de rahat, dar na c-am zis-o, în care circulaţia este infernală , mai ales în orele de vîrf , în care sunt gropi de zici ca-i după bombardament şi nu glmesc şi nici nu le înfloresc , tu autoritate locală te ţii de găinării şi te-ai gândit să mai faci un ban dar nu numai tu ci şi toţi retailerii care vând asemenea produse pe spatele şoferilor - josnic - Mai este un lucru -în legislaţia din ţara lui papură vodă sunt multe lucruri neclare dar sunt lasate special să funcţioneze aşa pentru că unora le merge plugul de mama, mama şi nu mai stau să le dezvolt Acum punctul meu de vedere: ce faci tu săracule cu flinticul ăla de instinctor când ai o maşină ce funcţionează cu benzină sau GPL - este clar ca bună ziua că-i o porcărie dar nuuu , tu şmecherule ai stabilit că instinctorul este valabil 5 ani şi trebuie verificat anual - băăăăi voi sunteţi nebuni sau noi suntem proştii proştilor că plătim la taxe de ne-am cocoşat şi nu vă luăm la goană cu răngile.... La izbucnirea unui asemenea incendiu, conducătorii auto şi însoţitorii trebuie să se îndepărteze cât mai repede de pericol, punându-se în siguranță şi ulterior anunţând autorităţile nu să acţioneze cu flinticul ală .... Trusa medicală din punctul meu de vedere nu este de folos nimănui - ce se poate face cu asta să-ţi pansezi cel mult eventual un zbenghi ceva - başca acestea sunt omologate de nişte dubioşi dar ei sunt tot ăia smecheri, prieteni cu ăia de la instictoare - în concluzie complet inutile Da, triunghiurile şi vestele (pentru cei ce masa autovehiculului depăşeşte 3,5 to) sunt necesare, celelalte sunt hoţii mari
Vă rog frumos, nu mai folosiți cuvântul ”instinctor”, ci termenul corect, pompieristic și aferent de ”stingător”. Conform DEX ”instinctor” are alt înțeles...
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