Niemand ontkent dat het gebruik van het intellect van grote waarde is. Maar
kennelijk weinig mensen beseffen dat net als bij alle andere zaken ook bij het
gebruik van het intellect ook een bovengrens is. Dat gebrek aan besef van een
bovengrens blijkt ten duidelijkste uit de vooral bij intellectueel-bezigen
nauwelijks tot niet te onderdrukken neigingen tot diverse vormen va absolutisme,
met als meest bekende die van de ideologie. In alle universitaire vakken waar
het "met de neus op de feiten gedrukt worden" niet een inherent deel is van
opleiding en uitvoeringspraktijk, dat wil zeggen: alle
niet-natuurwetenschappelijke vakken, is ideologie en absolutisme vrijwel totaal
Bronnen bij Denkmethoden: gezond verstand en intellectualisme
Een constatering van het gezonde verstand, die dan ook alleen
maar door mensen met gezond verstand gemaakt kan worden. Hier een voorbeeld (van
imsdb.com, opgeslagen 16-08-2014
John Michael Hayes
Based on a short story
December 1, 1953
INT. JEFFERIES' APARTMENT - DAY - LONG SHOT
Although we do not see the foreground window frame, we see
the whole background of a Greenwich Village street.
We can see the rear of a number of assorted houses and small apartment buildings whose fronts face on the next cross-town street, sharply etched by the morning sun.
Some are two stories high; others three; some have peake
roofs, others are flat. There is a mixture of brick and wood
and wrought iron in the construction.
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK until a large sleeping profile of a
man fills the screen. It is so large that we do not see any
features, but merely the temple and side of the cheek down
which a stream of sweat is running.
The time -- 7:15 A.M., WOR, New York.
The temperature, outside, 84 --
Friends -- is your life worth one
THE CAMERA NOW PULLS BACK SWIFTLY and retreats through the
open window back into Jefferies' apartment. We now see more
of the sleeping man. THE CAMERA GOES IN far enough to show a
head and shoulders of him.
He is L. B. JEFFERIES. A tall, lean, energetic thirty five,
his face long and serious-looking at rest, is in other circumstances capable of humor, passion, naive wonder and the kind of intensity that bespeaks inner convictions of moral strength and basic honesty.
He is sitting in an Everest and Jennings wheelchair.
THE CAMERA PANS along his right leg. It is encased in a
plaster of Paris spica from his waistline to the base of his
toes. Along the white cast someone has written "Here lie the
broken bones of L. B. Jefferies."
THE CAMERA PANS to a nearby table on which rests a shattered
and twisted Speed Graphic Camera, the kind used by fast-action
Oftewel: dit is het script van de Hitchcock-film "Rear Window", één
zijn klassiekers. De hoofdpersoon is gekluisterd aan een rolstoel in zijn
appartement en gaat zich vermaken met kijken naar de buren. Om als film in zo'n
te kunnen werken moet de spanningsboog (mede) komen van zaken als conversatie en
dialoog. Een van de topics is de strijd tussen verstandig-handelen en de
verleidingen om dat niet te doen. Eerst het gezonde verstande verstand
||INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT
Jeff is seated in the foreground, in a waist shot.
Behind him, the entrance door to his apartment opens.
STELLA McGAFFERY comes in. She is a husky, unhandsome, dark-
haired woman who is dressed like a district nurse, with dark
coat, dark felt hat, with a white uniform showing underneath
the coat. She carries a small black bag.
Stella pauses on the landing to watch Jeff. He doesn't appear
to notice her entrance.
The New York State sentence for a peeping Tom is six months in the
He doesn't turn.
As she comes down the stairs of the landing, holding on the
wrought iron railing with one hand:
And there aren't any windows in the
She puts her bag down on a table. It is worn, and looks as
if it belongs more to a fighter than a nurse. She takes off
her hat coat, and hangs them on a chair.
Years ago, they used to put out your
eyes with a hot poker. Is one of
those bikini bombshells you always
watch worth a hot poker?
He doesn't answer. She opens the bag, takes out some medical
supplies: a thermometer, a stop watch, a bottle of rubbing
oil, a can of powder, a towel. She talks as she works.
We've grown to be a race of peeping
Toms. What people should do is stand
outside their own houses and look in
once in a while.
(She looks up at him)
What do you think of that for homespun
A look at his face shows he doesn't think much of it.
Readers' Digest, April, 1939.
Well, I only quote from the best.
Dat was de voorstelling van de twee antagonisten.
Dan de min-of-meer expliciete formering van de ervaringen van het gezonde
verstand met het intellect - de specifieke toepassing: relatie en huwelijk, is
||INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - MEDIUM SHOT
Jeff starts to protest.
Now look, Stella --
She shoves the thermometer into his mouth.
See it you can break a hundred.
As she leaves him holding the thermometer THE CAMERA PULLS
BACK as she crosses to a divan. She takes a sheet from
underneath, and covers the divan with it. Talking, all the
I shoulda been a Gypsy fortune teller,
instead of an insurance company nurse.
I got a nose for trouble -- can smell
it ten miles away.
(Stops, looks at him)
You heard of the stock market crash
Jeff nods a bored "yes."
I predicted it.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - SEMI-CLOSEUP
Stella stops for a moment, and looks at Jeff challengingly.
Simple. I was nursing a director of
General Motors. Kidney ailment they
said. Nerves, I said. Then I asked
myself -- what's General Motors got
to be nervous about?
(Snaps her fingers)
Overproduction. Collapse, I answered.
When General Motors has to go to the
bathroom ten times a day -- the whole
country's ready to let go. ["to let go" kan vertaald worden
met zowel "plassen" als "verkopen"; red.]
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
A patient, suffering look comes over his face. He takes out
Stella -- in economics, a kidney
ailment has no relationship to the
stock market. Absolutely none.
It crashed, didn't it?
Jeff has no answer. Defeated, he puts the thermometer back
into his mouth.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSEUP
Stella goes on with her work.
I can smell trouble right in this
apartment. You broke your leg. You
look out the window. You see things
you shouldn't. Trouble. I can see
you now, in front of the judge,
flanked by lawyers in blue double-
breasted suits. You're pleading,
"Judge, it was only innocent fun. I
love my neighbors like a father." --
The Judge answers, "Congratulations.
You just gave birth to three years
THE CAMERA PANS HER over to him. She takes out the
thermometer, looks at it.
Right now I'd even welcome trouble.
You've got a hormone deficiency.
How can you tell that from a thermometer!
Those sultry sun-worshipers you watch
haven't raised your temperature one
degree in four weeks.
She gets down the thermometer. Sterilizes it with a piece of
alcohol-soaked cotton in her other hand.
She gets behind the wheelchair the CAMERA PULLS back as she
pushes it over to the divan. She puts the thermometer away
in its case. Then she helps him off with his pajama top. She
helps him stand on one foot.
He hops one step, then she lowers him, face down, on the
divan. She gets a bottle of rubbing oil.
INT. JEFF'S APARTMENT - DAY - CLOSE SHOT
The CAMERA is very low at one end of the divan. Jeff's head,
half-buried in the sheet, is large in the fore-ground.
Beyond him Stella looms large and powerful-looking.
I think you're right. There is going
to be some trouble around here.
Stella takes a handful of oil, slaps it on his back. He
I knew it!
Don't you ever heat that stuff up.
Gives your circulation something to
(Begins massaging his
What kind of trouble?
You must be kidding. A beautiful
young woman, and you a reasonably
healthy specimen of manhood.
She expects me to marry her.
I don't want to.
(Slaps cold oils on
I'm not ready for marriage.
Nonsense. A man is always ready for
marriage -- with the right girl. And
Lisa Fremont is the right girl for
any man with half a brain, who can
get one eye open.
She's all right.
She hits him with some more cold oil. He winces again.
Behind every ridiculous statement is
always hidden the true cause.
(Peers at him)
What is it? You have a fight?
(After a pause)
Her father loading up the shotgun?
It's happened before, you know! Some
of the world's happiest marriage
have started 'under the gun' you
She's just not the girl for me.
She's only perfect.
Too perfect. Too beautiful, too
talented, too sophisticated, too
everything -- but what I want.
Is what you want something you can
Jeff gives an exasperated look.
It's very simple. She belongs in
that rarefied atmosphere of Park
Avenue, expensive restaurants, and
literary cocktail parties.
People with sense can belong wherever
Can you see her tramping around the
world with a camera bum who never
has more than a week's salary in the
(Almost to himself)
If only she was ordinary.
Stella sprinkles powder on his back, spreads it around.
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK as she helps Jeff to a sitting position.
He buttons on his shirt.
You're never going to marry?
Probably. But when I do, it'll be to
someone who thinks of life as more
than a new dress, a lobster dinner,
and the latest scandal. I need a
woman who'll go anywhere, do anything,
and love it.
THE CAMERA MOVES IN as she helps him into the wheelchair,
listening to him with exaggerated attention. He, stops as he
notice her attitude. Then he goes on with less conviction:
The only honest thing to do is call
it off. Let her look for somebody
I can just hear you now. "Get out of
here you perfect, wonderful woman!
You're too good for me!"
That's the hard part.
She swings him around in front of the window. He starts to
Look, Mr. Jefferies. I'm not educated.
I'm not even sophisticated. But I
can tell you this -- when a man and
a woman see each other, and like
each other -- they should come
together -- wham like two taxies on
Broadway. Not sit around studying
each other like specimens in at
There's an intelligent way to approach
Intelligence! Nothing has caused the
human race more trouble. Modern
Sterk gesteld, maar met een dikke kern van waarheid.
Alg. semantiek, lijst
Alg. semantiek, overzicht
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