Showing posts with label Tetrapilotomie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tetrapilotomie. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Audiatur et altera pars

Yesterday night I had an interesting conversation with my closest friend which I want to share with you.
Confess, I am still a little puzzled. Here we go.


Tetrapilotomos?

Hm.

Busy with pre Aztecan philately?

No. Translating Post Eastern Bloc fairy tales into Latin.

Interesting. Your latest five words, so far?

. . . Cloaca Maxima. Pecunia non olet .

Never?

Try these paltry shillings.

Hm, indeed. Can’t smell anything.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

What is your current fairy tale’s title, and what is the tale about?

The poor prisoner who became a billionaire and . . . or well, to cut it short: It’s about organized crime, its increasing threat and influence on people's daily life, and about that the majority of common people - rather than caring about their freedom - are interested in panem et circenses.

Interesting coincidence. Did you read this?

Yes, and most links; and the links to the links.

And? Alarming, isn’t it?

Yes, according to my informant, her source assures the story is stinking to heaven.

Any details? What would your informant's source tell?

For the beginning, some rhetoric questions. Would Mr Putin closely associate with Mr. Usmanov, if he were not a true democrat?

Hm.

Doesn't speak for his virtues when a humble, innocent ex-prisoner being released, before you could spell bandit becomes a billionaire?

Hm.

Can an art lover be wicked?

Hm.

Would the owner of newspapers promote censorship?

Hm.

Didn't Mr Usmanov become President of the European Fencing Confederation, last not least because in his programm he proposed 'improvement and democratization'?

Hm. To be honest, I did not ask myself any of these questions before.

I thought so. According to my informant, his source moreover assures Mr Usmanov is a lover of the poor.

Of course, otherwise he would not be a billionaire.

No irony, please. And he loves Arse . . .

Bandits would not be his friends?

Not as far as according to my informant her source would tell.

Her source, his source, her source! Is your informant a he or a she?

No comment. Informant protection. Forgotten the good old codex?

Hm. Sorry for interrupting.

You are welcome.

May I humbly add one question?

This is still a free country.

Why would Mr Usmanov wash, eh ... spend his pocket money in England. Why would'nt he try to win the Champion's League with a Club like Gazprom Tashkent?

Interesting question. I shall forward it to my informant who will forward it to her source who ...

. . . will personally ask Mr Usmanov? After all, he seems to be a jolly good fellow who would do no harm to anybody.

Hm.

Tetrapilotomos! What's the matter? Where have your thoughts been?

I was thinking about Mr Usmanov's wife and rhythmic gymnastics, and suddenly . . . or well: And the creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig again, but already . . . and then: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?


There would not be many people being able to follow the wondrous paths of your thoughts, Tetrapilotomos. Apropos "diet": Has your informant's source ever met Mr. Usmanov?

According to my informant's information, yes.

Her or his source is absolutely trustworthy, and would never tell a lie?

According to my informant's information: Yes.

What did he or she say about Mr. Usmanov's outside appearance?

A true asketic. Compared to him Twiggy was Miss Piggy.

And I came to the conclusion:
All I read was an illusion,
for to reason pointedly:
what must not, that can not be.