|
|
|
to links pages [1]
[2]
[3]
[4]
/
phone texts to 00 36 30 610 1271 & 00 44 794 792 6614
@
/
links /
languages? /
pins
/
archive /
book
September 19th;
Monday. Nifty mini-film on quantum erasers, for all those wishing to change the past.
September 18th;
Sunday. A tune mixed by Dimitri from Paris, who seems have stopped dressing as an airline pilot of late.
September 17th;
Saturday. Back on Thursday evening was at Budapest's first
virtual-reality/augmented-reality meeting and met
some
folk attending. Took place at
a cafe slightly oddly themed after game known in Britain as
Nine Men's Morris.
September 16th;
Friday. Two long articles about spooks: the first from 2015 about the Athens Olympics, phone-tapping, and (by the sound of it) murder; the second about a spy looking for the mother he never knew.
September 15th;
Thursday. Busy day. Yes, I occasionally have those too. British ambassador to the Saudi kingdom goes native. Unorthodox US commentator Webster Tarpley (audio interview) gives a persuasive run-down on the war against (and for) ISIS/Da'esh in late 2015. Some excellent detail.
Vaguely regretting 4 or 5 days ago not getting phone number off supermarket customer in black dress with magnificent mane of straight brown hair right down her back. Crisply sheared off where it covered half her bottom. Of course she had the gimlet-eyed Impress-Me Glare and was a bit of a titch at perhaps 5'7", but you can't have everything.
September 14th;
Wednesday. Why self-driving cars "must" be programmed to kill. Oh dear, oh dear.
September 13th;
Tuesday. Finished reading through 'Toynbee on Toynbee', also borrowed from Lorinc, a short book-length transcript from 1974 of a set of radio conversations between the then-elderly Arnold Toynbee (83 years old) and G.R. Urban. Their topic: history, and Toynbee's views on human civilisations past & present, thoughtfully and articulately presented on both sides. Although I read and enjoyed Toynbee's grand book about civilisations back when Mother and I read it in the 1990s, this set of radio talks was instructive. It confirmed me in two thoughts I had the ghost of when reading the earlier book: (1) Toynbee was wonderfully educated, as well as wise and humane, with a mass of useful detail at his fingertips, but (2) while he was moderately clever he wasn't actually very clever. In several places, he makes shockingly silly remarks. He says that the lesson England/Britain learned about staying out of Continental entanglements during the Hundred Years' War had misled Britain over the EEC (later EU), which he regarded as a good thing, and was a "lesson learned too well". Of course, he was wrong there, and in fact the Hundred Years' War lesson was still good value in the 1970s and should have kept Britain out of another Franco-German pact. Elsewhere he makes the startling schoolboy howler of regarding the world's resources as fixed, saying there is no way the poorer countries of the world can get rich without the rich getting poorer. This was in the 70s, with a global population of 3 billion and now we are at 7 billion with fewer people starving, and an unimaginably larger section of the world gallivanting around flying in jet planes, using mobile phones and laptops, working in spacious air-conditioned offices consuming modern medicines and enjoying longer holidays. For Toynbee to get something as basic as elementary economics wrong harshly undermines the value of all that fabulous scholarship he accumulated in other parts of history. Along with his embarrassing zero-sum view of economics is his residual partial respect for Marx (even worse, Mao), making him very much a creature of 20th-century fashion rather than an independent thinker. To grasp that Marx really was just a deluded crank with a genius for guru/prophet self-promotion would have demanded a leap outside convention it seems Toynbee wasn't capable of. So my nagging doubts about his great-civilisations taxonomy now filled out much better.
September 12th;
Monday. Weather still hot. Know nothing about whoever it is giving Our Lady of Pleasure the good loving, but heartening to hear a couple of days ago her recognisable cries of approval ring out down the street both at midday and again just after midnight. There have been some early-evening trysts as well. Seems other men on this block still not making much effort by contrast. Perhaps an appropriate moment to ask 'Do We Really Want To Fuse Our Brains Together?'
September 11th;
Sunday. 'A Pesszimizmus Haszna' ('The Uses of Pessimism and the Danger of False Hope'), by Roger Scruton and translated into Hungarian by Gabor Csordas. This was the book with the dreary front cover that I bought in Szeged one depressing day last summer. Slightly gruelling to read in parts, given how my Hungarian fluency slumps in the years when I have no local girlfriend to have daily quarrels with, the overall argument is Scruton's calm, wise thesis that utopians in power always become authoritarians. This is, he says, because utopianism is based on misleading optimism about human nature. A late chapter on hunter-gatherers is interesting, because Scruton's thoughts come close to my own ideas about how Hobbes and Rousseau got prehistory wrong, and hence their own philosophies of politics wrong.
Footage from the US reveals the second Clinton Twin Tower collapsing, right on schedule, in New York, at a commemoration of the 9/11 attacks ("overcome by the heat"). This rather overtakes a video from about a week ago where a woman commentator in a stripy red outfit says Trump has "100% chance" of becoming president. Dilbert cartoonist and now freelance analyst of this US presidential election Scott Adams claims Hillary Clinton's hopes are now finished, and looks back at his own predictions last year that she would be found to have a serious hidden health problem.
September 10th;
Saturday. Finished Lorinc's copy of 'Point Blanc' by Anthony Horowitz. The second of his Alex Rider novels I've read, featuring a sort of teenage James Bond character, in which our young hero has to penetrate an isolated Alpine lair of classic Bond-villain types plotting evil and world domination. I can see how the twist on the old formula has done so well. Interesting to compare to the adolescent adventures of the Famous Five era, which I'm now thinking I ought to read.
September 9th;
Friday. Read 'The Tenth Man' by Graham Greene, kindly lent to me by Lorinc. A text, about novella length, that Greene wrote up in the 1940s for a possible film for MGM, which he claimed to have forgotten about until finding it in a drawer in the 1980s. He also claims in his foreword to prefer it in retrospect to his better-remembered 'Third Man'. An elegant, sparely-told tale in which simple details crisply sketch out distinct characters and then the plot emerges from those. The story, in which a French prisoner of the Germans buys his way out of a firing squad at the price of everything he owns, moves smoothly & naturally to a surprise climax.
September 8th;
Thursday. Our Man in Bucharest shares charming plot summary he found of an Italian opera called 'Il Brexito'.
September 7th;
Wednesday. Versatile Latvian finance minister & grandmaster takes game off world's no. 1 woman chess player; Petrograd radio show #394; sobering tale of business founder overreach.
September 6th;
Tuesday. 1st lesson after summer with Dr D. Meanwhile, Old Lady of Threadneedle Street talks sense on robots-will-replace-us panic.
September 5th;
Monday. I think it was the small hours today finished reading Stephen Potter's short book 'The Theory and Practice of Gamesmanship', illustrated by Frank Wilson with wonderfully convincing line drawings. This is what people would now call a spoof text, a pretend guide to a fake field of sports theory, a humour book about psyching out opponents in tennis, golf, bridge, and other healthy pre-war pastimes. In fact, it's a satire about how people have cheated at all of life for all of history. This is the main text that was very loosely, but brilliantly, adapted for cinema in the mid-1950s as 'School for Scoundrels' which I watched with Jeremy & his wife a couple of Christmases ago. There were several Potter books, and I read most/all of them from the library what seems now like several lifetimes ago. Scanning this for signs I'd read it before felt odd. The faintest ghost of half-recognition floated over some pages, but since the Potter books are essentially all the same joke redone in lots of different ways, I could easily be recognising him through one of the other texts. One thing I enjoyed this time were the deliberately awful made-up quotes heading each chapter:
Chapter II The Pre-Game
"And now they smile at Paradine,
Who but would smile at Paradine?
(That man of games, called Paradine)
For the Gamesman came his way."
Paradine
Chapter III The Game Itself
"East wind dhu bleow
En-tout-cas dhu geow."
Essex saying
Chapter VIII Lost Game Play
"--- for the game is one of a series,
and a fractional loser thou."
This is the first time I've been given a book with orders to destroy it once finished.
September 4th;
Sunday. Cloudy skies make you think more clearly.
September 3rd;
Saturday. Almost went down to sun-baked countryside yesterday to see Robin & Zsuzsi & Zeno, but 3 cold baths on Thursday plus some squiffiness made me a bit poorly. Glad I stayed in town to rest. Here's a way your computer can be hacked using barely-audible sound. Such fun.
September 2nd;
Friday. Childrearing news: a) glowing screens are addictive? b) smacking toddlers helps up to 6?
September 1st;
Thursday. Man kidnapped to teach English in North Korea: proper headhunting.
Recent weblog entries
continued:
Who can translate the next 300 words into
Korean or
Hindi?
Contact
us and there will be revelry.
Languages dying out each week
- who cares?
We do - otherlanguages.org is gradually building a reference resource for over five thousand linguistic minorities and stateless languages worldwide.
Thousands of unique language communities are becoming extinct. Out of the world's five to six thousand languages, we hardly know what we're losing, what literatures, philosophies, ways of thinking, are disappearing right now.
So?
We may soon regret the extinction of thousands of entire linguistic cultures even more than we regret the needless extinction of many animals and plants.
The planet is increasingly dominated by a handful of major-language monocultures like Mandarin
Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, Indonesian, Urdu, Spanish, Portuguese,
English, Swahili, Russian, Cantonese Chinese, Japanese, Bengali - all
beautiful and fascinating languages.
But so are the 5,000 others.
These are groups of people?
Linguistic minorities are communities of ordinary people whose native tongue is not their country's main official language. Swedish speakers in Finland, French speakers in Canada, Hungarian speakers in Slovakia - and hundreds more - are linguistic minorities.
And totally stateless languages are the native languages of some of the world's most intriguing, little-known, cultures. Like the Lapps inside the Arctic Circle, the Sards in Sardinia, Ainus in Japan. Cherokee in the US, Scots
Gaelic in Britain, Friesian in the Netherlands, Zulu in South Africa.
There are only a couple of hundred recognised sovereign states and territories, so 5,000 languages - more depending on how you count - are the native tongues of linguistically stateless people.
How could I help?
You don't need to learn an endangered
language - any more than go to live in the rainforest to help slow its destruction.
A good start is to just tell friends
about websites like this.
Broader public interest makes it easier
for linguists to raise funds and organise people to learn these languages while there's time.
That's right. There are people who love languages and are happy to learn them on behalf of the rest of us, but they need support, just like zoologists, botanists, or historians.
Fewer languages still sounds good to me
Depends what you think languages are for. They're not just a tool for business. We never said you should learn three or four thousand rare languages - or even one. And which ones we make children learn in school, or whether we should force children to learn languages at all, is another question.
Typical scene in a European city;
Chances are, folk here speak some sort of foreign
language *5
|
A century ago - before we understood
ecology, and when we cared less about wilderness, most educated
people would have laughed at the idea of worrying about plants or
animals going extinct. Now we understand how important species diversity
is for our own futures, we are more humble, and more worried.
In the same way, linguistic triumphalism by English-speakers who hated studying foreign grammar at school is dangerously ignorant as well as arrogant. Few of us know what we are losing, week by week.
How many people realise these languages have scientific value?
Scientific value?
You can think of these languages across the planet as beautiful cathedrals or
precious archeological sites we are watching being destroyed. That
should be motive enough.
But these five thousand languages may
also hold clues to the structure of the human mind. Subtle
differences and similarities
Wireless radio can be a great comfort to those unable
to leave the
textbooks in which they live *6
|
between languages are helping
archeologists and anthropologists to
understand what happened in the hundreds
of centuries of human
history before written history. And
that is one of our best chances of understanding how human brains developed over the thousands of centuries leading up to that.
Study of the mind and study of language go hand in hand these days. The world's most marginal languages are actually precious jigsaw pieces from an overall picture of who we are and how our species thinks and evolves. Every tiny language adds another brightly-coloured clue to this academic detective story.
Yet researchers have hardly started sifting through this
tantalising evidence, and language extinction is washing it away right in
front of us.
And worst of all, most people have no idea that there is this
fantastic profusion of cultures across our world, let alone that
they are in danger of extinction. Even just more people learning that
there are still five thousand living languages in the world today (most
of us would answer five hundred or fifty) is already a huge help.
We English-speakers hardly notice English - it's like air for us.
But every other language is also an atmosphere for an entire cultural world,
and each of these worlds has people whose home it is. Each language encapsulates a unique way of talking and thinking about life. Just try some time in a foreign prison, being forced to cope in another language, and you'll realise how much your own language is your identity. That's true for everyone.
Minority languages are a
human-rights issue?
One of the most basic.
Dozens of millions of people worldwide suffer persecution from national governments for speaking their mother tongue - in their own motherland.
Many 'ethnic' feuds puzzling to
outsiders had as their basis an attempt to destroy a linguistic community.
Would the Northern Ireland dispute be quite so bitter if we
English had not so nearly stamped out the Irish Gaelic language, for
example? Almost nowhere in the world does a language community as
small as the few thousand Rheto-Romanic speakers - the fourth
official language of Switzerland - get the protection of a national
government. Next time you see some Swiss Francs, check both sides of the
banknote.
But outside exceptional countries like
Switzerland or the Netherlands, speakers of non-official
languages have a much less protected experience.
Speakers of minority languages are often seen as a threat by both the governments and the other residents of the countries where they were born, grew up, and try to live ordinary lives.
They experience discrimination in the job and education markets of their homelands, often having no choice but to pursue education in the major language of the host state: a deliberate government policy usually aimed at gradually absorbing them into the majority culture of that country.
Mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow, of course *7
|
Most governments are privately gleeful each time another small
separate culture within their borders is snuffed out by a dwindling
population or a deliberately centralising education system.
The United Nations is no help. It is an association of a couple of hundred sovereign states based on exclusive control of territory, almost all of them anxious to smother any distinct group or tradition that in any way might blur or smudge the hard-won borders around those pieces of territory.
The usual approach by sovereign states is to deny their linguistic minorities even exist.
::
Mark Griffith, site administrator /
contact at
otherlanguages.org
back up to top of page
*1 image from , with thanks
*2 "Al-Araby" in written
Arabic
(read more)
*3 "What?" in American Sign
Language; image from , with thanks
*4 "Big" in written
Chinese
(read more); image from , with
thanks
*5 image from , with
thanks
*6 image from , with
thanks
*7 image from
'B?ume', with thanks to
Bruno P. Kramer,
and Franckh-Kosmos Verlag
|
|
|
...............................................................................................................................................................
August 31st;
Wednesday. Energising get-things-done-now record mix from friend & colleague Q.
August 30th;
Tuesday. blankwindows.com, for minimalists among you. Oh, and researchers find dogs understand Hungarian. Of course. Woof.
August 29th;
Monday. (1) New Putin (male) colleague seems quite odd. (2) Soviet sci-fi continues: all these old films are free to watch. (3) Long profile of woman campaigner striving to ban killer robots. (4) Taking a more direct approach, woman in Virginia shoots down drone [+ handy guide to 'aerial trespass']. (5) Meanwhile, Austrian police struggle to stop woman who likes scratching cars: she "mainly chooses black vehicles," an official said. (6) Intriguing claim that some anti-depressants make you want to murder your family. (7) WW2-documentary footage faking kept quiet for 3/4 of a century.
August 28th;
Sunday. Zoe writes about a tax outrage: US authorities demanding money off someone who lived there for 9 weeks as a baby.
August 27th;
Saturday. Interesting article from a week ago attributes Hillary Clinton's improved poll numbers against the Honey Monster to Robert Cialdini starting to advise her. His disturbing book 'Influence', a present from a friend, was never returned by a Moldovan student I lent it to, now I think working as a lawyer in London. She seems bizarrely indignant when I ask her for it back, as if I should be the one apologising - even when I offered to post her another book as a gift in exchange. 'Indirect aggression', perhaps? Tempting to see a pattern among girls who study law, but I shall manfully resist.
August 26th;
Friday. See Jessica from SF again for coffee and cake. Olympics over, thank goodness. Bronze medal winners are happier than silver medal winners; plus some photos of now-derelict Olympic villages, some built only a decade or two ago.
August 25th;
Thursday. Well-explained history article about how an Ottoman victory reshaped Islamic politics 500 years ago.
August 24th;
Wednesday. In a ridiculous situation with money waiting for me in a UK bank account I cannot withdraw from unless (having no phone credit) I phone them up. Kind Mystery Friend 4 over the river helps out. He greets me at his door gloomily sneezing with a heavy summer cold that has laid him low. He gives me a copy of an old Stephen Potter book about sly tricks to get ahead in life so cynical it has shocked and disgusted him. "When you feel like returning it to me, please burn it," he mutters darkly as we pad into his kitchen for an espresso.
August 23rd;
Tuesday. It must be about a year since the supermarket installed glass doors on the dairy cabinets, cannot remember. I let that milestone slip past. It's also been a year or so I think since they changed receipt paper so as to have a big red logo on the back, making the till receipts less useful as handily-sized scraps of note paper. Then about 2 weeks ago (or 3?) the old friendly ones with faint blue writing only on the back returned! Also a better paper for scrap lists, with a more matt surface taking ink better. Now I see they're using cash-register rolls of both types intermittently, sometimes the nice blue-print semi-blank matt ones and sometimes the ones less suited for scrap paper (or papier mache) use due to red logo & shinier finish.
August 22nd;
Monday. My latest article at The Salisbury Review weblog is up: in favour of hereditary peers returning to the House of Lords. Wonderful dinner in the evening: Robin & I go to Goran's and meet delightful company.
August 21st;
Sunday. Japanese art-school animation on vimeo involving bits of cut-out paper with some wonderfully splodgy colours. Strenuously low-fi.
August 20th;
Saturday. Hungary has its national day, with the usual firework display in the evening. On my quiet street, the night sky in that direction is blocked out, so I can only hear the bangs and the excited squeals of two girls a few balconies away who seem, judging by the timing of their wheeee noises, to be able to see the coloured lights. They might be foreign or Gypsy or under-5s because the general reaction of Hungarian adults watching firework displays is a grave uncanny silence without even an ooh or an aah. Apart from the two girls the street is as silent as if no-one lives here.
August 19th;
Friday. British mind-control cult (2003) that influenced Cherie Blair.
August 18th;
Thursday. In the Olden Days Department, a description of a heatwave in 1911 which had some people in New England committing suicide the weather was so hot; a curious decline in men's arm-and-hand grip strength which suggests testosterone levels really are falling; and an obituary of an impressive woman researcher into British espionage before the 20th century.
August 17th;
Wednesday. Radio interview with Peter Levenda, an articulate & balanced-sounding conspiracy theorist. Ticks all the far-out boxes for those curious about secret Nazis, spacecraft, ceremonial magic, the usual.
August 16th;
Tuesday. Ringing the street doorbell of a student I'd already for an hour sensed wouldn't be in for this morning's lesson, I look up at the slot of deep blue sky between the 19th-century building fronts in bright sun, with a mass of wispy white clouds scudding across that slot, and feel a surge of good cheer, how things are turning out well after all, and how kind people are. Lunch later with Heikki and then briefly meet Zoe on the steps of the cathedral. Here's a slightly eccentric top-100 French-film list. 99 looks fun.
August 15th;
Monday. Lovely impromptu dinner with Zoe & Mark in town for a very short visit. By chance we sit at an outdoor cafe table under a TV screen relaying an Olympic event: women's waterpolo between Hungary & Australia. We touch on whether some people's love of the EU reflects middle-manager/ambitious-clerk resentment of traditional class structures built round national loyalties.
August 14th;
Sunday. My landlady's fridge's stiff plastic ice-cube mould is cracking a bit more each time I twist it to pop out cubes of ice during the hot weather. I should make my own, designed to mould ice chunks in jolly shapes. Means creating a .stl file for a 3D printer, printing it somewhere, and then finding the right tool-and-die bod on an industrial estate to redo that in some kind of soft synthetic rubber. Not impossible.
August 13th;
Saturday. The oft-repeated (and rather odd) claim that almost no-one in Classical civilisation read text without moving their lips.
August 12th;
Friday. Worthwhile piece on newly-discovered links between the brain and the lymphatic system. Mind you, whoever's known a few doctors won't be surprised that physical evidence of lymph nodes connecting to the brain could, during centuries of exhaustive anatomy classes, careful dissections, and intensive lab research, simply go unnoticed.
August 11th;
Thursday. Nice introduction to cellular automata.
August 10th;
Wednesday. An interesting article on Rousseau very very weakly pegged on the Honey Monster's campaign for president. Tragic this is the only way people can find to talk about someone as important as Rousseau. And again, here is Trump tenuously imagined as Norse trickster god.
August 9th;
Tuesday. After lesson with Simon, Jessica from San Fran suddenly appears in his kitchen, and kindly invites me for lunch at the Kadar eatery. In the evening, I finish 'Turkey: A Short History' by Norman Stone, lent me by Robin. Brisk, entertaining prose leads us through the centuries of the Ottoman empire, into the post-WW1 Kemalist state, right up to the rise of Erdogan in 2010. Stone is at pains to decouple the Ottomans from militant Islam, suggesting (slightly implausibly) that the 1453 conquest of Constantinople was in some sense a preservation of the Eastern Roman Empire, not an end to it. Conflict between rulers and the army seems a constant theme through the centuries, right up to 3 weeks ago.
August 8th;
Monday. Vaguely depressing six-minute cartoon from 1946: a Salvador Dali & Walt Disney collaboration.
August 7th;
Sunday. As we chat into the evening, Robin mutters with firm resolve that "Tonight I've really got to be disciplined and get to bed before 5." Finally, a realistic plan. I suggest I might make some Platonic solids to go on his balcony. Meanwhile, a man in London claims the city's leylines have been altered by newer office blocks.
August 6th;
Saturday. Photographer turns movies into long-exposure stills.
August 5th;
Friday. Handy little chart being updated with each new fresh poll for those following current US presidential contest: Mrs Hillary Clinton versus Honey Monster.
August 4th;
Thursday. Important history update on magical death ray device.
August 3rd;
Wednesday. Another article of mine up at Salisbury Review: my song of the dying swan for Budapest's dwindling all-night shops.
August 2nd;
Tuesday. I'm sure now: the Sankt Peterburg devushka chooses a better mix of records when her radio show is live {#389} than when she pre-records one. Not so surprising, I suppose. We all try a bit harder when we're live.
August 1st;
Monday. Worthwhile 2014 Atlantic profile of Russian PR shapeshifter linked to Putin. A Belfast writer now in Paris working for Charlie Hebdo half-echoes Stewart Lee's famous 'gentleman bombers' monologue: what's tricky about talking to Al Qaeda, Da'esh et al. Meanwhile, a ghost writer describes his job doing world-ends-in-2012 books.
page top
diary entries by month
2016
August 2016 /
July 2016 /
June 2016 /
May 2016 /
April 2016 /
March 2016 /
February 2016 /
January 2016 /
2015
December 2015 /
November 2015 /
October 2015 /
September 2015 /
August 2015 /
July 2015 /
June 2015 /
May 2015 /
April 2015 /
March 2015 /
February 2015 /
January 2015 /
2014
December 2014 /
November 2014 /
October 2014 /
September 2014 /
August 2014 /
July 2014 /
June 2014 /
May 2014 /
April 2014 /
March 2014 /
February 2014 /
January 2014 /
2013
December 2013 /
November 2013 /
October 2013 /
September 2013 /
August 2013 /
July 2013 /
June 2013 /
May 2013 /
April 2013 /
March 2013 /
February 2013 /
January 2013 /
2012
December 2012 /
November 2012 /
October 2012 /
September 2012 /
August 2012 /
July 2012 /
June 2012 /
May 2012 /
April 2012 /
March 2012 /
February 2012 /
January 2012 /
2011
December 2011 /
November 2011 /
October 2011 /
September 2011 /
August 2011 /
July 2011 /
June 2011 /
May 2011 /
April 2011 /
March 2011 /
February 2011 /
January 2011 /
2010
December 2010 /
November 2010 /
October 2010 /
September 2010 /
August 2010 /
July 2010 /
June 2010 /
May 2010 /
April 2010 /
March 2010 /
February 2010 /
January 2010 /
2009
December 2009 /
November 2009 /
October 2009 /
September 2009 /
August 2009 /
July 2009 /
June 2009 /
May 2009 /
April 2009 /
March 2009 /
February 2009 /
January 2009 /
2008
December 2008 /
November 2008 /
October 2008 /
September 2008 /
August 2008 /
July 2008 /
June 2008 /
May 2008 /
April 2008 /
March 2008 /
February 2008 /
January 2008 /
2007
December 2007 /
November 2007 /
October 2007 /
September 2007 /
August 2007 /
July 2007 /
June 2007 /
May 2007 /
April 2007 /
March 2007 /
February 2007 /
January 2007 /
2006
December 2006 /
November 2006 /
October 2006 /
September 2006 /
August 2006 /
July 2006 /
June 2006 /
May 2006 /
April 2006 /
March 2006 /
February 2006 /
January 2006 /
2005
December 2005 /
November 2005 /
October 2005 /
September 2005 /
August 2005 /
July 2005 /
June 2005 /
May 2005 /
April 2005 /
March 2005 /
February 2005 /
January 2005 /
2004
December 2004 /
November 2004 /
October 2004 /
September 2004 /
August 2004 /
July 2004 /
June 2004 /
May 2004 /
April 2004 /
March 2004 /
February 2004 /
January 2004 /
2003
December 2003 /
November 2003 /
October 2003 /
September 2003 /
August 2003 /
July 2003 /
June 2003 /
May 2003 /
April 2003 /
March 2003 /
February 2003 /
January 2003 /
2002
December 2002 /
November 2002 /
October 2002 /
September 2002 /
August 2002 /
July 2002 /
May/June 2002
|
|
