воскресенье, 17 июля 2011 г.

This is not your parents’ job market

Today’s college grads need to be aware that the rising trend in Silicon Valley is to evaluate employees every quarter, not annually.

Whatever you may be thinking when you apply for a job today, you can be sure the employer is asking this: Can this person add value every hour, every day — more than a worker in India, a robot or a computer? And can he or she adapt with all the change, so my company can adapt and export more into the fastest-growing global markets?

But you would never know that from listening to the debate in Washington, where some Democrats still tend to talk about job creation as if it’s the 1960s and some Republicans as if it’s the 1980s. But this is not your parents’ job market.

Hoffman argues that professionals need an entirely new mind-set and skill set to compete. “The old paradigm of climb up a stable career ladder is dead and gone,” he said to me. “No career is a sure thing anymore. The uncertain, rapidly changing conditions in which entrepreneurs start companies is what it’s now like for all of us fashioning a career. Therefore you should approach career strategy the same way an entrepreneur approaches starting a business.”


До "Долгой ночи со вторника на среду" Лафферти недотягивает, но направление примерно то же.

понедельник, 4 июля 2011 г.

Тигр! Тигр! Ужоснах! Киса жжот в ночных лесах!

Тигр! Тигр! Ужоснах!
Киса жжот в ночных лесах!
Чьею вылеплен рукой
Был готичный образ твой?

Где, в каких глубинах ночи
Загорелись эти очи?
Что за Аффтар, воспарив,
Зафигачил креатифф?

Кто недрогнувшей рукою
Сердце вылепил такое?
Жил и нервов свив канат,
Не убрать посмел под кат?

Молот чей тебя ковал?
Фтопку кто твой мозг кидал?
Кто дерзал сжимать клещами
Это жызненное пламя?

В час, когда с ночной звезды
Слёзы лились беспесды, —
Улыбалсо ль молоцца,
Склеив Тигра — и Агнца?!

Тигр! Тигр! Ужоснах!
Киса жжот в ночных лесах!
Чьей бессмертною рукой
Юзерпик был создан твой?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?