Contemporary populism is a kind of convulsive autoimmune response by the body politic to the chronic degenerative disease of oligarchy. The greatest threat to liberal democracy on both sides of the Atlantic is not its imminent overthrow by meme-manipulating masterminds in Moscow or by white nationalists who seek to create a Fourth Reich. The greatest threat to Western democracy is the gradual decay of North America and Europe under well-educated, well-mannered, and well-funded centrist neoliberal politicians into something like the regimes that have long been familiar in many Latin American countries and the American South, in which oppressive oligarchic rule provokes destructive populist revolts.
Weimar Republic? No. Banana republic? Maybe.
ADSR
ADSR Mikrofon çıkışının hoparlör aracılığıyla yeniden mikrofonun girişine girmesi sonucu oluşan yüksek frekanslı çığlık benzeri ses. Kazancın kritik eşiği aşması durumunda sistemi kararsız hale getirir. Attack, Decay, Sustain, Release sözcüklerinin baş harflerinden oluşan kısaltma. Bir sesin zaman içindeki genlik zarfını (envelope) tanımlar. Attak: sesin sıfırdan tepe noktasına ulaşma süresi; Decay: tepe noktasından süreklilik seviyesine düşüş süresi; Sustain: tuşa basılı tutulduğu süredeki sabit genlik düzeyi; Release: tuş bırakıldıktan sonra sesin sönümlenme süresi.
Reklam
Most of history is written about destruction, not creation. Records are kept of wars, of the decay of civilisations, of murders and deaths, of men like Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Hitler, and others who built enormous empires on their abilities to destroy. But in a sense, destruction is a means of creation.
Kneeling in the dust. Sinking still lower. Lying prostrate in that dust, pallid taste on the tongue, a smell of desiccated decay stinging the nostrils. Was it any wonder that all manner of beasts enacted the mission of surrender by lying prone on the ground, in a posture of vulnerability, beseeching mercy from a merciless nature: the throat-bared submission to knives and fangs dancing with the sun’s light? Playing out the act of the victim—she recalled once seeing a bull bhederin, javelin-pierced half a dozen times, the shafts clattering and trailing, the enormous creature fighting to remain standing. As if to stand was all that mattered, all that defined it as being still alive, as being worthy of life, and in its red-rimmed eyes such stubborn defiance. It knew that as soon as it fell, its life was over.
But since, alas! frail Beauty must decay,
Curl’d or uncurl’d, since Locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
And she who scorns a Man, must die a Maid,
What then remains but well our Pow’r to use,
And keep good Humour still whate’er we lose?
And trust me, dear! good Humour can prevail,
When Airs, and Flights, and Screams, and Scolding fail.
“And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.”
Reklam
Reklam