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be + -ing > valeurs continuum + persuasion > la voix de son maître
Jas The Daily Telegraph 13.4.2006 Blair vows to press on with health reforms By Nic Fleming, Medical Correspondent
(Filed: 13/04/2006)
The Prime Minister admitted the NHS faced "challenging" times, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2006/04/13/nhs13.xml
http://digital.guardian.co.uk/guardian/2008/12/02/pdfs/gdn_081202_ber_19_21356367.pdf
The Guardian p. 16
25 November 2008
Pat Bagley
Salt Lake
Tribune Utah
Cagle 7.12.2006 George W. Bush - 43rd president of the United States
Contexte
J.D. Crowe Alabama
The Mobile Register Cagle
6.12.2006 George W. Bush - 43rd president of the United States
Contexte
Ed Stein The Rocky Mountain News, Colorado Cagle 23.3.2006 L: George W. Bush, 43rd
president of the United States
Steve Bell The Guardian
17.3.2004
Gary Varvel Indiana --
The Indianapolis Star-News Cagle
2.12.2005
Robert Ariail The State South Carolina 27.9.2004
Jeff Danziger Cagle
30.9.2004
Labour Party website mast 27.10.2004
Dans The Economist du 28 février / 5 mars 2004 (pp. 68-9), une publicité de British Telecom (BT) vante sur une double page la fiabilité des solutions de l'opérateur britannique de télécommunications (et donc la fiabilité des réseaux, des liens).
Le message est simple : nos solutions sont si fiables, tout est si bien imbriqué, relié, tout s'enchaîne si parfaitement, qu'il n'y a plus rien à faire. Vous, co-énonciateur / lecteur / chef d'entreprise, pouvez enfin dormir sur vos deux oreilles.
La photographie (couleurs douces : vert, bleu, blanc cassé et chair) montre en plan rapproché, se détachant sur un fond vert flou, d'où percent quelques taches de lumière, un homme de profil, aux tempes grises, endormi sur ce que l'on devine être une chaise longue, dans un jardin. Cet homme à la cinquantaine paisible sourit en dormant, les deux bras se rejoignent dans la nuque, la visière d'une casquette blanche recouvre en partie ses yeux et son nez. Le soleil éclaire doucement la chemise bleue, le menton, la visière.
Sur cette image idyllique se détache une voix en lettres blanches de petite taille (avec parfois des variations de taille suivant les phrases).
Cette voix se veut douce, rassurante, paisible (il ne faut surtout pas réveiller cet homme) : laissez-moi vous chuchoter à l'oreille (oreille bien en évidence sur la photo) que tout s'enchaîne sans heurt (smoothly), comme dans un rêve sans drame, sans angoisse.
Moi, observateur-énonciateur, je vous dis que / vous voyez bien que dans le monde de BT, il n'y a plus de problèmes, plus de stress, tout marche si bien que vous n'avez plus besoin d'intervenir, de travailler. Laissez-nous faire, vous étiez si fatigué, endormez-vous, entrez dans le monde de BT...
On retrouve ici plusieurs valeurs de be + -ing :
- Anaphore visuelle : d'après ce que je vois, moi énonciateur, je suis en mesure de vous dire que, j'en déduis que ...
- Anaphore textuelle / Continuum discursif : tout est lié, tout s'enchaîne. Presque tous les énoncés sont en be + -ing, et plusieurs d'entre eux reprennent la fin du précédent (écho énonciatif).
- Validation / persuasion : ce que je vous dis est vrai, croyez-moi.
- Sujet mis sur le devant de la scène (// sur la photo, l'homme est au premier-plan).
Texte intégral :
Dave is a chicken.
He was a fish but now he's a chicken.
And he's being chased by a fox.
Because he's dreaming.
He's dreaming because he's relaxed.
He's relaxed because his organisation is doing really well.
It's doing really well and the profits are up.
They're up because everything's running smoothly.
It's running smoothly thanks to BT's communication solutions.
BT's communications solutions help solve your communication problems.
Which is why Dave, is a chicken.
BT In business, communication is everything.
Admiral Nimitz is Banking On You
MH Electrons Are Coming!
WWI UK poster. Source à identifier.
Have we created a generation
of joyless, selfish monsters? To you, it's a temper tantrum. To child psychiatrist Robert Shaw, it's
the beginning of a slide into perdition. And it's all the parents' fault. Joanna
Moorhead reports
Parents are getting it wrong. Not just a bit wrong; not just round-the-edges, straighten-things-up-a-bit-and-everything-will-be-OK wrong, but horribly, monumentally wrong. We're screwing up our kids' lives and because of that we're screwing up our own lives and screwing up the future for everyone. We're refusing to heed the warning signals and ploughing right on ahead into a colossal, disastrous pile-up. Robert Shaw, the American child psychiatrist whose tome on bad parenting, The Epidemic, has taken the US by storm, has an uncomfortable message. Today's children are emotionally stunted individuals whose every whim has been indulged to create a generation that has lost the capacity to appreciate the feelings and needs of other people. All around us, he says, are whining, nagging, complaining youngsters who are being brought up in the lap of economic luxury but without the moral input of parents, who are either unavailable or far too lax. The result, according to Shaw, is an epidemic of joyless, selfish individuals moving through life without empathy or a sense of duty to others. It is a tragedy not just for individual families but, because of the scale of the problem, for society as a whole. One of Shaw's boasts is that he does not need to illustrate his book with examples of bad parenting that he's come across in his medical prac tice. No, he says, the evidence is all around him - and us - so he plucks examples from the corner shop, the local restaurant and the park. Take the three-year-old whose parents get home from work too exhausted to cook a meal, drag their kid with them to a restaurant and then ignore him when he throws his food on the floor and gets down and runs around other people's tables. Or the four-year-old whose father, when he goes to pick her up from a friend's house, is met with a torrent of tears and screams and ends up promising treats in a desperate attempt to take control and get his child out of the door. Or the 12-year-old who, when his mother asks him to do something, gives her a defiant look and does exactly the opposite. Feeling a bit uncomfortable? I can't imagine I'm the only parent who will see in those examples a few echoes of her own family life. The problem, says Shaw, is fourfold. One, we are not bonding well enough with our kids - either in their early months and years or on through their childhood. Two, we're letting them watch way too much television. "There's nothing good about TV," he tells me, from his home in California. "People say children get taught their letters by Sesame Street but I say it's far better for parents to sit with them and cuddle them and look at a book with them - they learn far better that way." Three, we're failing to give them a proper moral grounding. Of course, says Shaw, it's difficult when they're more influenced by their peers and the media, but that's all the more reason why we need to be on the case. And four, they are not getting enough unscheduled time to just hang out, be themselves, switch off: we've become too competitive, over-obsessed about their accomplishments and their achievements, and we are cramming them from their earliest years. Have we created a generation of joyless, selfish monsters? : To you, it's a temper tantrum. To child psychiatrist Robert Shaw, it's the beginning of a slide into perdition. And it's all the parents' fault. Joanna Moorhead reports, G, 21.4.2004, http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,3604,1197022,00.html
My car broke down in what used to be Montgomeryshire, but is now Powys, with its sheep and its gently rolling hills. As I peered under the bonnet, friendly local people stopped by to offer advice or just to pass the time of day. When he arrived, the AA mechanic - a cheerful cockney who had moved to Wales for the fishing - shook his head. "I'm afraid we'll have to get this to a garage, guv," he said, "and you may have to spend the night in Welshpool." Welshpool is a rather dark and austere Victorian market town that, apparently, comes alive only when the farmers arrive on Mondays to sell their pigs, cows and sheep at the pens down by the railway station. Walking around, I went into a largely deserted pub that had a large, wood-panelled lounge that opened on to a terrace and garden. Music was coming from a CD player in the corner. "German marching songs," the barman explained in a low voice as he drew me a pint and then smoothed off the froth with a wooden spatula. "They're popular with the lads, and quite rousing." German marching songs? In Wales? A huge man at the bar, with a shaven head and small swastikas tattooed on his wrists, turned towards me. "You're not from round these parts, then?" he asked. I noticed other people now coming into the pub, some with the letters BNP embroidered either on the sleeves of their jackets or on small metal badges about the size of a 2p coin. The marching tunes had given way to 1930s Bierkeller-type drinking songs, and as the bald giant and his friend went off to join the new arrivals, the barman winked. I was thinking of getting out of the place when I felt a reassuring hand on my arm. Gwilym, a pensioner in his 80s with a pleasantly lilting Welsh accent, was saying: "You don't want to take too serious what they're writin' in the papers about these boys. They're good lads, and what they're sayin' is no more than most of us believe anyway." But as The Horst Wessel Song thumped out of the improvised sound system, the lads in the bar started to bang on the tables with their fists, slowly but rhythmically. Then, as the last track ended, everyone in the bar was on his feet, with right hand extended, as Deutschland Uber Alles rang out in the centre of a small Welsh market town. The Welsh Nazis that weren't, G, 13.3.2004, http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,3604,1149662,00.html
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