二月 2011

Monthly Archive

Nokindows

Posted by on 22 二月 2011 | Tagged as: 浩氣

我看好諾基亞與微軟的戰略性合作協議。芬蘭工程師有其精細嚴謹的傳統,諾基亞在手機設計上保持領導地位本應不難,只是碰上百年難得一遇,快狠惡得來又深懂美學的喬布斯,被殺下馬來實非戰之罪。試問業界有那個招架得住?不過成也喬布斯,敗也喬布斯,喬布斯一去,有人悲從中來,但肯定有人笑出聲來,甚至噴出飯來。諾基亞要面對的將是一個沒有喬布斯的年代,有得追。

行內人都會將電子產品以用家的使用姿態和使用距離去分類,例如電視是十尺那類,筆電是三尺那類,手機一尺,它們一直各有山頭,不相往來,但互聯網將各頪產品的隔礙打破。今日不能上網的產品,一字記之曰死,而雲端服務(如GMail,Hulu,FB)十成十一是電子產品的未來。

諾基亞與微軟合作,有人看淡,但諾基亞總不能一世困在手機造商這個框架內,一定要殺出去。各市場調查報告都指出在電視和手機上睇YouTube的人數將不斷上升,消費者要求電子產品都能享用雲端服務已成趨勢,而產品要互通,以Unix/Linux為基礎最正路,但選Windows也不失禮。其實單看作業系統的核心,除非用心改(patch),不然Linux 2.6 在表現上未必及 Windows 7,但就算Windows整體不及iOS/Andriod有效率,但摩爾定律告訢我們硬件的進步一日千里,這將淡化Windows的弱勢。

諾基亞與微軟結盟的另一好處是攻取電玩市場,諾基亞的N-Gage不成功,但今回有X-Box在後,說不定能跟任天堂的DS和新力的PSP三分天下,眼下任天堂DS要小心了。

其實諾基亞還有其它生意,如技術顧問和交易系統等,整體而言與微軟合作,除了情意結外,向錢看其實利多於弊。

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber

Posted by on 15 二月 2011 | Tagged as: 浩氣

“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty," first published in 1939, is one of James Thurber’s most well-known and beloved stories. Its famous protagonist holds a place in the cultural lexicon, meriting his own entry in English-language dictionaries. In 1947, Norman McLeod directed an MGM Technicolor musical with the same title based on Thurber’s story. The film, which extends Mitty’s imaginary adventures over a two-day period, stars Danny Kaye as the affable daydreamer.

“We’re going through!" The Commander’s voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. “We can’t make it, sir. It’s spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me." “I’m not asking you, Lieutenant Berg," said the Commander. “Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8,500! We’re going through!" The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. “Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" he shouted. “Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" repeated Lieutenant Berg. “Full strength in No. 3 turret!" shouted the Commander. “Full strength in No. 3 turret!" The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. “The old man will get us through" they said to one another. “The Old Man ain’t afraid of Hell!" . . .

“Not so fast! You’re driving too fast!" said Mrs. Mitty. “What are you driving so fast for?"

“Hmm?" said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. “You were up to fifty-five," she said. “You know I don’t like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five." Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind.

“You’re tensed up again," said Mrs. Mitty. “It’s one of your days. I wish you’d let Dr. Renshaw look you over."

Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. “Remember to get those overshoes while I’m having my hair done," she said. “I don’t need overshoes," said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. “We’ve been all through that," she said, getting out of the car. “You’re not a young man any longer." He raced the engine a little. “Why don’t you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?" Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building and he had driven on to a red light, he took them off again. “Pick it up, brother!" snapped a cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot.

. . . “It’s the millionaire banker, Wellington McMillan," said the pretty nurse. “Yes?" said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. “Who has the case?" “Dr. Renshaw and Dr. Benbow, but there are two specialists here, Dr. Remington from New York and Mr. Pritchard-Mitford from London. He flew over." A door opened down a long, cool corridor and Dr. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. “Hello, Mitty," he said. “We’re having the devil’s own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you’d take a look at him." “Glad to," said Mitty.

In the operating room there were whispered introductions: “Dr. Remington, Dr. Mitty. Mr. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty." “I’ve read your book on streptothricosis," said Pritchard-Mitford, shaking hands. “A brilliant performance, sir." “Thank you," said Walter Mitty. “Didn’t know you were in the States, Mitty," grumbled Remington. “Coals to Newcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary." “You are very kind," said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. “The new anesthetizer is giving way!" shouted an intern. “There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!" “Quiet, man!" said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep. He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. “Give me a fountain pen!" he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. “That will hold for ten minutes," he said. “Get on with the operation." A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw, and Mitty saw the man turn pale. “Coreopsis has set in," said Renshaw nervously. “If you would take over, Mitty?" Mitty looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces of the two great specialists. “If you wish," he said. They slipped a white gown on him; he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining . . .

“Back it up, Mac! Look out for that Buick!" Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. “Wrong lane, Mac," said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. “Gee. Yeh," muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked “Exit Only." “Leave her sit there," said the attendant. “I’ll put her away." Mitty got out of the car. “Hey, better leave the key." “Oh," said Mitty, handing the man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged.

They’re so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along Main Street; they think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then Mrs. Mitty always made him drive to the garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I’ll wear my right arm in a sling; they won’t grin at me then. I’ll have my right arm in a sling and they’ll see I couldn’t possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. “Overshoes," he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store.

When he came out into the street again, with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had told him to get. She had told him, twice, before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trips to town-he was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb’s, razor blades? No. Toothpaste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, cardorundum, initiative and referendum? He gave it up. But she would remember it. “Where’s the what’s-its-name," she would ask. “Don’t tell me you forgot the what’s-its-name." A newsboy went by shouting something about the Waterbury trial.

. . . “Perhaps this will refresh your memory." The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. “Have you ever seen this before?" Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. “This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80," he said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. “You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?" said the District Attorney, insinuatingly. “Objection!" shouted Mitty’s attorney. “We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July." Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. “With any known make of gun," he said evenly, “I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand." Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman’s scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty’s arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. “You miserable cur!" . . .

“Puppy biscuit," said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking and the buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed. “He said ‘Puppy biscuit’," she said to her companion. “That man said ‘Puppy biscuit’ to himself." Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an A&P, not the first one he came to but a smaller one farther up the street. “I want some biscuit for small, young dogs," he said to the clerk. “Any special brand, sir?" The greatest pistol shot in the world thought a moment. “It says ‘Puppies Bark for It’ on the box," said Walter Mitty.

His wife would be through at the hairdresser’s in fifteen minutes, Mitty saw in looking at his watch, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn’t like to get to the hotel first; she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby, facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor beside it. He picked up an old copy of Liberty and sank down into the chair. “Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?" Walter Mitty looked at the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets.

. . . “The cannonading has got the wind up in young Raleigh, sir," said the sergeant. Captain Mitty looked up at him through tousled hair. “Get him to bed," he said wearily. “With the others. I’ll fly alone." “But you can’t, sir," said the sergeant anxiously. “It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archies are pounding hell out of the air. Von Richtman’s circus is between here and Saulier." “Somebody’s got to get that ammunition dump," said Mitty. “I’m going over. Spot of brandy?" He poured a drink for the sergeant and one for himself. War thundered and whined around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room. “A bit of a near thing," said Captain Mitty carelessly. “The box barrage is closing in," said the sergeant. “We only live once, Sergeant," said Mitty with his faint, fleeting smile. “Or do we?" He poured another brandy and tossed it off. “I never see a man could hold his brandy like you, sir," said the sergeant. “Begging your pardon, sir." Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. “It’s forty kilometers through hell, sir," said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. “After all," he said softly, “what isn’t?" The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout humming “AuprËs de Ma Blonde." He turned and waved to the sergeant. “Cheerio!" he said. . .

Something struck his shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over this hotel for you," said Mrs. Mitty. “Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?" “Things close in," said Walter Mitty vaguely. “What?" Mrs. Mitty said. “Did you get the what’s-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What’s in that box?" “Overshoes," said Mitty. “Couldn’t you have put them on in the store?" “I was thinking," said Walter Mitty. “Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?" She looked at him. “I’m going to take your temperature when I get you home," she said.

They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, “Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won’t be a minute." She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief," said Walter Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

source: http://www.all-story.com/issues.cgi?action=show_story&story_id=100

議論文的說服力 – 林沛理

Posted by on 14 二月 2011 | Tagged as: 浩氣

不管香港的教育制度還會有什麼微調和大變,只要是教中文寫作的,就必然會談到議論文。說議論文是四大文體之首,並不為過。較之記敍文、抒情文和描寫文,議論文的應用更廣泛,與生活的關係更密切。從特首的施政報告到報紙的社論、影評、食評和藝評,以至副刊的專欄與很多網誌,或多或少都有議論的成分。議論文最重視的辯才、說服力與修辭技巧(rhetoric),又恰恰是現代社會傑出領袖應該具備的條件。

對很多人來說,美國總統甘迺迪最大的「政績」是他講過這句話:「不要問國家能夠為你做什麼,要問的是你能夠為國家做什麼!」奧巴馬由不顯眼的聯邦參議員,搖身一變成為一個政治奇迹,靠的也是流利的口才和滔滔不絕的雄辯。

不好辯的民族

問題是中國人既不好辯也不善辯。中國人的千秋典範孟子說:「余豈好辯哉,余不得已也。」中國文學是一個抒情詩(lyric)的傳統而非史詩(epic)或敍事詩(narrative)的傳統,我們最早的美學家認為詩「不涉理路」,所以主張「知者不言,言者不知」(老子),並提倡「不着一字,盡得風流」。這大大不同於西方文學的傳統。

亞理士多德以來的西方文學評論家認為,優秀的文學作品皆有一有迹可循的邏輯結構,因而開創了詭辯色彩濃厚、以因果為據、「陳述——證明」為幹的批評理論。這種評論能夠說服人,因為它往往依循嚴謹的「始、敍、證、辯、結」的修辭法則。不管它用的是演繹法還是歸納法—— 兩者都是分析性的——它總可把具體的經驗解釋為抽象的意念程序。而反觀中國的傳統批評卻是「點、悟」式的,以不破壞詩的「機心」為理想,能否被接受和傳承,更取決於讀者的領悟能力,而非評論本身的說服能力。所以中國的傳統批評中沒有娓娓萬言的實用批評,有的多只是一些美學上的態度與觀點。

由此可見,「一言堂」在中國自有其源遠流長的歷史和文化根源。民主在中國的土壤難以生根,因為中國實際上根本缺乏一個論辯、說理的重邏輯的傳統(argumentative tradition);而一個不善於辯論、對話、以理服人和求同存異(agree to disagree)的社會,又如何建立真正的民主制度?中國政府以為要建立和諧社會,就要打壓傳媒,以防人民將他們的不滿、疑慮宣之於口而激化社會矛盾。這種管治思維不僅反映了一黨專政對異端和異見缺乏包容,也體現了中國傳統文化不長於講理和評理。

難怪在尊卑分明、講求克己與服從的華人社會,敢於挑戰權威和指出群眾愚蠢的批判力,很自然就成為少數膽正命平的知識分子的犀利武器。中國近代啟蒙思想家嚴復說過,西方學人重見解、尚新知,但中國學人卻崇博雅、誇多識。誠然,賣弄學問既可炫耀又不會得罪人,符合中國人明哲保身之道。然而中國近代最有影響力的公共知識分子,從魯迅到李敖,無一不是「目光銳利如刀鋒,文筆犀利如匕首」的批判型思想家。

「現代」的例外

以香港人比較熟悉的龍應台為例,論學養和學力,她大概比不上「雙余」——在美國芝加哥大學任教多年的余國藩和2006年獲「約翰.克盧格(John Kluge)人文與社會科學終身成就獎」的余英時。年近八十的余英時是普林斯頓大學歷史學與漢學研究的榮譽退休教授,曾在密歇根大學、哈佛大學和耶魯大學任教,公認是研究儒家思想與漢學的權威。至於余國藩,同樣是「知識分子中的知識分子」。他英譯的四大冊《西遊記》詳釋本,早已公認是比較文學的經典,他對《紅樓夢》虛構本質的開創性研究堪稱一家之言。果真如此,為何「雙余」在全球華人社會的影響力似乎及不上「一龍」?

這是因為龍應台除了有八面玲瓏的外交手腕外,還懂得怎樣運用破謬思維來月旦政事、評論社會和介入公共議題。她的寫作充滿敍事趣味與挑釁性,而全無學究味和頭巾氣。跟美國評論家桑塔格(Susan Sontag)一樣,龍應台在錯的時候也比多數華人作家和學者在對的時候有趣和富啟發性。她的揣測力和對概念、意義的執着和熱情,使她對文本的誤讀也往往成為一種有趣的新解。

source: 信報 2011年2月12日 我的中文老師

一本改變世界的書 – 毛羨寧

Posted by on 13 二月 2011 | Tagged as: 浩氣

沒有別的書名比《聖經》更令人有觸電的感覺——有人覺得威嚴,有人立刻抗拒,覺得沉悶,甚至連這篇文章也不想看下去。有關《聖經》的東西,還是留給信徒看吧。今年是《英王詹姆斯欽定本聖經》(King James Version,簡稱KJV)出版四百周年紀念,有些非信徒演員和名人輪着在電台朗讀其中的章節,聽起來不像教會崇拜,反而是莎士比亞式的詩詞歌賦,配上十六世紀英國作曲家Thomas Tallis的音樂,令人心裏充滿平和,好像置身於河上的輕舟,緩緩地享受春日陽光。聽着聽着,不得不佩服英國人對歷史研究的細緻,有沒有信仰都能欣賞宗教帶來的好處和影響,自己卻從沒有用文學角度看《聖經》,對琅琅上口的主禱文用辭及文體也沒深究。無知固然可怕,偏見更是通往智慧的路障。

水火不容

我起初以為《聖經》的英譯本是亨利八世所欽定的,因為劍橋聖三一學院圖書館收藏了一部《亨利聖經》(Henry’s Bible,又名The Great Bible)。首頁的圖畫以坐在王位上的亨利八世為中心點,旁邊的主教和神父傳閱着《聖經》,然後到百姓手中,以拉丁語高呼:「國王萬歲!」(Vivat Rex)。我記得用放大鏡找上帝在哪,原來祂被擠到畫邊一角!亨利八世當時因離婚、再婚的私事促使英國教會脫離羅馬教廷,並推行宗教改革及引入新教,故此利用剛發明的印刷工具印製了八千本《亨利聖經》,派發到各個教區,以他所核准的《聖經》翻譯本和君王形象來確立自己才是國家之首。聖三一學院由亨利八世創立,自然仍留着這件政治化的宣傳工具。

亨利八世跟第一和第二任妻子誕下的女兒瑪莉和伊利沙伯,後在權力鬥爭中導致教派四分五裂,天主教徒和新教徒水火不容。當伊利沙伯一世的表姪孫詹姆斯在1603年繼承她的王位,便接掌了政治和宗教的爛攤子,還要安撫百姓對西班牙入侵的惶恐。從前受逼迫而流亡到歐洲的新教徒,等到新國王登位便回到英國。他們看見信徒領受聖餐時要跪下,還有種聖公會主張的禮教儀式,特別看不過眼,相反,維護聖公會的貴族和主教認為這些清教徒威脅他們的勢力。兩派給詹姆斯王一份由一千人簽署的請願書,名為「The Millenary Petition」,提出了雙方的要求,當中其實並沒有說要翻譯《聖經》。

廣泛流傳

詹姆斯一世只希望由他開始的斯圖亞特王朝能延續都鐸王朝的黄金歲月,儘量不求變;新《聖經》譯本可能是統一教派的方法。他少年時已經開始將《聖經》的詩篇由原文翻譯成英語,而且從他1609年在國會的演說中,可見他視王權為神聖,是上帝所差遣的。他登位後不夠一年遇上倫敦瘟疫蔓延,只好搬到位於市郊的漢普頓宮,趁機請來聖公會主教、清教徒領袖和學者召開漢普敦會議,決定挑選全國最博學的神學和語言學家,組成六組翻譯隊,分別駐於牛津、劍橋和西敏寺,把新舊約由希伯來文、希臘文和拉丁文翻譯為英語。翻譯員定時到西敏寺開會,誦讀出自己翻譯的經文段落,所以不單修改譯法,還在乎用語夠不夠動聽。花了七年的時間,KJV終於在1611 年出版,令《聖經》得以廣泛流傳。牛津大學Bodleian圖書館入口前的詹姆斯一世塑像,下面刻上拉丁文Soli Deo Gloria—榮耀歸於上帝—便是紀念這位愛學問、求和平的國王。

KJV可算是第一代英國母語教學的教材,恰好用上新約耶穌的比喻,教導同樣以工農業為生的平民,影響他們的寫作言談,從而塑造出比他們日常生活更瞭闊更恆久的世界觀。詩人米爾頓所寫的《失樂園》、作家梅爾維爾筆下的《白鯨記》、聖誕節不停播放韓德爾譜出的彌賽亞樂章,甚至朋友形容上司是「我肉中的刺」,都是取自欽定本《聖經》。美國總統奧巴馬競選中最常用的「我有一個夢想」演說,是馬丁路德金用欽定本中以賽亞書四十章的話:「一切幽谷都要被高舉,所有山丘都被移平;坎坷曲折之路會改為平坦,崎嶇的地成為平原。」引用欽定本的例子多不勝數。著名博物館內的百年珍寶名畫,人們尚且會買票隔着玻璃去看,這本隨手可得的千年暢銷書,怎會沒有吸引力?世界上就再沒有一本書比《聖經》更令人有觸電的感覺了。

作者為牛津大學博士,曾於劍橋擔任管理顧問

Source: 信報 2011年2月12日 回眸英倫

何家何家何家猜

Posted by on 08 二月 2011 | Tagged as: 浩氣

最近網上流傳一句順口溜,曰:「何家何家何家猜,何家等緊何生die,何生die咗何妻high,何妻high到give me five,何妻分家唔洗猜,二奶三奶同一line,何生律師never mind,一於告到何妻cry, 大家不如猜一猜,最後邊個會_街」。不雅,但非常抵死過癮,尤其那個 high到give me five,不知可否真的用來猜枚。

我家流傳著一首兒童不宜的童謠,曰: 「打掌仔,買鹹魚,鹹魚香,買紫薑,紫薑辣,買菩達,菩達苦,買豬肚,豬肚肥,買牛皮,牛皮薄,買菱角,菱角尖,買馬鞭,馬鞭長,起屋樑,屋樑高,買張刀,刀切菜,買籮蓋,籮蓋圓,買隻船,船沉底,浸死兩個紅毛番鬼仔,一個浮面,一個沉底,好野!(注)」但由於最尾三句好狠毒,意識不良,姨媽媽稍為修改了些少,曰:「浸到兩個紅毛番鬼仔,一個游東,一個游西,好野!」

咒詛故然不好,但不能否定其發洩情緒的功用,詩篇139篇,從第一至第十八節都很和平,我尤其喜歡第十六節「我未成形的體質,你的眼早已看見了;你所定的日子,我尚未度一日(或譯:我被造的肢體尚未有其一),你都寫在你的冊上了。」很寶貝的一節,正想大衛必然宅心仁厚,如反對墮胎,反對死刑的人一樣,但第十九節,曰:「神啊,你必要殺戮惡人;所以,你們好流人血的,離開我去罷!」大衛當時應該受很大的壓力,而聖靈的帶領又實在奇妙。

香港人因貧富懸殊而帶來的自卑,若能以一句「最後邊個會_街」而化解,操些少粗話給自己加點正能量,無傷大雅吧!

注:正版應該是月光光,曰:「月光光,照地堂,年卅晚,摘檳榔,檳榔香,摘紫薑,紫薑辣,買菩達,菩達苦,買豬肚,豬肚肥,買牛皮,牛皮薄,買菱角,菱角尖,買馬鞭,馬鞭長,頂屋樑,屋梁高,買張刀,刀切菜,買籮蓋,籮蓋圓,買隻船,船沉底,浸死兩個番鬼仔,一個蒲面,一個沉底!」

發三師 – 劉天賜

Posted by on 03 二月 2011 | Tagged as: 浩氣

恭喜大家新年萬事如意!

去年香港的「八卦新聞」十分精彩,(似乎沒設十大獎!)阿奇生阿奇,出人意料之怪事特別多,而又不少合乎情理者!多少橋王扼腕搔腮,也未必能夠想出此番橋段,只有香港特區這等社會才有如此劇情,如此人物性格。香港本該是東方荷里活,就將活生生的現實加以妙筆生花寫成劇本,必定是極其感人的電影,果真笑中有淚,淚中有笑!

講真,人人都說︰「陷害朋友便叫他辦雜誌,打包單一Q清袋,連累全副身家!」如今這個憎人富貴厭人貧的大都會,咱們就有好幾百萬「站在道德高地,處於道德低地」的受眾,每天引頸以待上流社會發生的下流事,好待被人勞役工作十八小時後,得到一點小小的阿Q精神的補償,歪着嘴巴恥笑真正的大富豪、大孖沙受着的苦惱!心忖︰「抵你喇!妻多夫賤,錢多情賤,名厚福薄!」又忖︰「開講有話︰家和萬事興,家衰口不停!何以『家不和而財星旺?口不停爭產卻未見衰乎』?難道老話也要按時代轉型嗎?」

過去,老人家常言︰「香港發三師:會計師、西醫師、律師。」二十一世紀了,三師只剩律師有前途搵錢矣,下午被炒,黃昏受委,何其「朝秦暮楚」哉!

況且,無論怎樣畸怪的官非,都必須靠他們戴髮入狀的。或曰︰「香港新發之三師更厚利,曰︰『按摩師、風水師、乖豬師!』按摩師一朝找到了『合手勢,合嘴形』的嬌軀,施展出萬般溫柔,千種巧力,先為其皮囊安撫,再接觸其靈魂深處,便可予取予攜,一袋袋真金白銀抬回家中,易過中六合彩也!更可以染指其身家,直搗其銀倉矣。

如今,靠非腦力、非勞力發達已非面紅之事了!不由不信,羨慕者確有百萬男眾,自責不如者,也上幾十萬,恨鐵不成鋼的兄弟人數,想也足夠從尖沙咀排隊到官塘碼頭焉!古人有言︰「笑貧不笑娼。」今該改為︰「笑貧不笑『乖豬老竇』了」!唯一發人深省者,乃孔夫子的名句︰「以貌取人,失之子羽」,俗語也有︰「人不可以貌相,水不可以斗量!」外貌不是發達本錢,亦不必撒泡尿照照德性焉!更重要的本錢乃是一張嘴巴!風水師之絕學實於其語言也!俗語有言︰「風水佬呃你十年八年。」憑什麼?嘴頭也!可惜,香港大中小學制並沒有「風水學」之設,也缺乏「嘴頭學」之教,只言「通識」,通識包含上述發達之技術乎?

一年之計在於春,人人皆望子成龍發達,坐擁豪宅,暢飲名貴紅酒,醉臥佳麗香膝,不得不「絕聖棄智」,尋求限時發達之超級捷徑!欲打破香港核心問題、貧富懸殊之難關,就要想通想透,身處這「五十年不變」之小島,究竟怎樣轉型?改變不了現實,須改變對現實的態度了!

source: 信報2011年2月2日生命通識