Le petit verbicide

A certain Professor Le Grand seems to have very special ideas how to change so-called health habits of Her Majesty's subjects, of course on behalf of common purpose.

By the way, Mr Grand would call his (?) proposals "libertarian paternalism".

That is why le petit verbicide landed well-deserved in the devil's kitchen.

Dark matter happens

:)
Seems I decided in favour of the title heading my latest post, because my (sub-) conscience felt/knew that I should not waste a title as to be found above now, in order to just satisfy my sometimes strange sense of humour.

Indeed, and seriously, dear readers:

Dark matter happens

As to be seen above: Turkish readers visiting my blog are obviously not supposed to see my "visible" support for freedom of speech in their country.

Would you call this democracy, Mr. Gül?

Or would you call censorship an act of "libertarian paternalism", ordered by for common pupose?

Shit happens

Wanderer, if you come to Harran, beware of your peristalsis.




Short Postskriptum:

Dear readers,
to find the four letter word in the title above, undoubtedly will have irritated your eyes, as you would not expect such a word when visiting this blog.

Let me, therefore, try to explain what let me feel the urgent need to confront you with an aprosdoketon of this kind.

Originally, of course, I pondered about headlines such as

Modern twin town of Gotham and Schilda found(ed) in Turkey

or

Yippie yippie yooh: Turkey ripe for the EU

or

A (septic) tank is not a tank is not a tank . . .

[if you don't believe me, ask General Büyükanit]


Considering - for various reasons, which to elucidate would take too long - all these headlines too long, I went on rummaging all shelves and drawers in the delivering room of my thoughts, when suddenly the poison cupboard fell open.
Probably my fault, as I suppose I did not lock it properly when lodging the latest word I had found when visiting . . . ah, I should rather not tell.

Anyway, what a mess. Fortunately, not all words had dropped out; still, more than you would find in the Devil's Kitchen, and therefore it took me quite a while to put them all back.

Ah well, as you have come to know and appreciate I am not a man of many words and thus far from being blithering, chatty, gabby, garrulous, gossipy, loquacious and so on, to meet your expectations I shall cut this long story roundly short, and - the more as I am convinced that brevity is the soul of the wit - immediately come to the essential inheritent interior essence which is hidden in the root of the kernel of everything:

Yes, for about half an hour, or so, I contemplated following alternative.

Dark matter happens

But this would have been the more irritating, wouldn't it?

And, after all: Shit is part of Omnium, isn't it? :)

My conviction

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,

The instruments of darkness tell us truths,

Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s

In deepest consequence

Oft, uns in Elend zu verlocken,

Erzählen Wahrheit uns des Dunkels Schergen,

Gewinnen uns durch ehrlich Spiel im Kleinen,

Um uns in größten Dingen zu verraten.

[Banquo in McBeth, 1., 3.]

My comfort

So, I shall let Shakespeare's Henry V. speak for me:

My comfort is that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face.

Just so

In the last hour of the day that 515 years ago - according to Lichtenberg - "the first American who discovered Columbus made a horrible discovery", and in the last hour I am as old as the year within I was born, I do . . .

. . . not say that this one is going to become my last post.

Probably it would be a wise decision, though.

The Peace of the Night.

Targets for common purpose

In certain situations it is wise not to react spontaneously but rather go to bed and listen to one’s pillow.

I am glad I did so yesterday night. I should have regretted my words.

And this is what my pillow told me.

[A new young dynamic female member of one of those wonderful think tanks abandoned to vice, sitting vis-à-vis Mr Cheney.]

Do you love bloodsport? [sneer]

I love it, sir.
The chase, the sport of kings,
Images of war without guilt. [Clintonian laughter]

[sneer] Any suggestions?

We need a solution for the growing army of homeless people, right?

Rather today than tomorrow.

Well what about following project? Let’s collect all the organic waste and transport it …

. . . invite our homeless fellow countrymen; on behalf of the political correctness (little sneer]

Yes, of course, Vice-president.

- and women … [sneer] ….

- and women … [Clintonian laughter] … er … where did we stop? Ah, best will be I do repeat: Let’s invite our homeless fellow countrymen and –women to settle in a reservation.

Okay. Where?

Montana?

No.

A reservation along the Mexican border?

Excellent. And then? Ah, didn’t we recently speak about that our boys and the Blackwater folks et al. do need exercise conditions in step with actual practise in order to get optimal prepared when going abroad to make this world a better place?

Sir?

Moving targets, and so. [sneer].

Gorgeous. [Clintonian laughter] I fear, though, … er … some do-gooders …

No problem, I let George Doublejooh deliver one of his touching speeches, spiced up with the usual stuff. Only this morning Laura and I had a chat with God about compassion, democracy, patriotism and love, and so on and so on. [sneer]

[Clintonian laughter] And God said: Sometimes you should not ask what the people could do for the state, but what the state could do for the people. In this moment Laura and I decided to initiate a patriot act for our wonderful homeless fellow countrymen. We ordered our National Guard to help those humble people to find a new homeland in …

Okay, okay. How many quick targets do we have?

One million lost their home only last year. And thanks to the housing crisis there might be another two millions this year.

Sounds good. And, anyway, there will always be fresh supply crossing the border to our National Security Homeland. [sneer] Any logistic problems?

No, Sir. It will, of course, be a no-go area. Those who survive a day will get some waste from hotels and super-markets. And fresh targets will be delivered on demand.

Okeydokey, and make sure that at minimum twelve weekends get reserved for special guests and members of the club. Especially the latter will be delighted about such new kind of safari. [sneer[. Err, better you do not mention the safaris. Just write 'for common purpose'.

All right, sir.

Good job. See you tomorrow.

Good bye then, sir.

…

Ah, where to start?

9.000 will do?

[nodding]

Then I do suggest Orlando.

And up I woke. Glad that it had been just a dream. But what a horrible dream. And why? Orlando? Then I remembered what I had read a couple of minutes before I had gone to bed, and decided neither to listen to nor to watch any news nor to read any newspapers ... at least for one day.

Lateral thinkers' thoughts

Do I need to assure that I do like Mr Cheney less than Mr Bush, and Mr Ahmadinejad about as much as Mr Bush and Mr bin Laden?

Having written this I do recommend reading following articles:

What did he say? by Ian Appleby,

and this one by Mark LeVine.

And afterwards, please take your time and ponder these thoughts.

No time? :) Ah, perhaps you just do not want to?

A diamond of altruism

Third time not always is a charm.

I hardly can believe following headline, especially as I found it by exploring crime news: Arsenal tycoon Alisher Usmanov in diamond 'fraud' row.

Very puzzled by reading all these confusing news I asked my clostest friend for his opinion.

And thus spake Tetrapilotomos: Soon you will learn that the altruistic Mr Usmanov whose parents allegedly could not bring up a gangster and racketeer did all he did . . . just for common purpose.

Above Mr Usmanov's dignity

People who happen to be of my generation may remember this song: This world today is a mess.

What would Donna Hightower sing today?

Mr Usmanov who has only recently been quoted saying "It is beneath my dignity to respond to all the allegations. People like my parents could not bring up a gangster and racketeer", reportedly has ordered unstated lawyers "to issue Indymedia UK with a takedown notice [10th of September & 21st of September]. The notice served to Indymedia charged Indymedia with publishing allegedly libellous accusations about Usmanov, one of the richest men in Russia, recently linked to a possible hostile takeover of Arsenal FC."

Read here.

Not about Mister Usmanov

Didn’t I say Alisher Usmanov seems to be a jolly good fellow?

This post is not primarily about Mr Usmanov, though, but about a happy few who would enjoy his generosity.

It’s a post about journalism.

To get prepared for the following I do - with compliments to Bloggerheads, Chicken Yoghurt, Matt Wardman and all those who are doing a great job on this very issue - ask you to read this first.

. . .

Back? And? Water on the mills of your opinion/prejudices?

Well, so let’s go on.

I think it was Robert Edwards, the “father” of Louise Brown, the first test-tube baby, who somewhen in the 90th of the past milennium basically said, though in another context: Ethic has to adapt to the progress of science.

Following this kind of logic, journalist’s have to adapt to the progress of corruption.

Too harsh?

Let me try to explain.

In these times journalists who would courteously insist on paying for even their cup of tea when being (jovially) invited by their interview partner, are being regarded as antediluvian fossils.

Are these fossils pedantic?

Is pedantic who declares a journalist should not be member of any party; in these times when very frequently the membership book in many countries would “decide” who climbs the ladder, and who not?

Once I have been "taught": Journalist’s are whores.

Are they? No. Not “they”. But: Yes, many are.

Others are disillusioned; partly, because they “accepted” what - beginning about 20 years ago - they are being told: Your articles are nothing but “garnishing the ads”; partly because they were "taught" how to use the scissors in their head.

So, why not choose the easy way? Taking the released statement by firm X or ministry Y, and that's it. Or, in case some tiny little scruples managed to survive, changing a subject here, and a predicate there.

And the loveliest are those whose autobiography could start with following sentence: Three months ago I shouldn't know how to write "shornalist", and today I do already happen to be one.

[Those feeling insulted, are those who are meant]

So, what is to say about the journalists who followed the invitation of Mr Usmanov; and what about their newspapers, their TV-station?

PS: And as for Financial Times: You paid all bills? Congratulations. Reading the article, even the last reader could learn: You know how to burn money.

Sláinte, Flannie Boy

Yesterday, October 4th, was the 67th anniversary of his first 'An crúiscín lán' column in The Irish Times.

Today Mr Nolan will celebrate his 96th birthday. I should not tell which pseudonym he does currently prefer, but I may say those few people still taking it for granted he died April 1st 1966, can look back on a remarkable long career as April fools.


In five words: Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag, alter Knabe!

The Plain People of Ireland: Isn't the German very like the Irish? Very guttural and so on?

Myself: Yes.

The Plain People of Ireland: People say that the German language and the Irish language is very guttural tongues.

Myself: Yes.

The Plain People of Ireland: The sounds is all guttural do you understand.

Myself. Yes.

The Plain People of Ireland: Very guttural languages the pair of them the Gaelic and the German.

* * *

And now - although it is most unlikely they exist - to all those who happen to not being in possession of the birthday boy's complete work: Saddle your ponies, folks, and hurry up. The friendly, most well-educated and -sorted bookseller just round the corner will be happy to fill the gaps of your education and in your bookshelf.

Free Burma

http://www.free-burma.org/

http://adelaidegreenporridgecafe.blogspot.com/2007/10/free-burma-oct-4-2007.html