Lichtenberg knew before

Tonight, June 29th, 2007 second channel of German television, ZDF, presented following story:
"Der wahre Kolumbus" (The true Columbus).

Congratulations!

The so-called news is not as new, though.

It could, f.e., have already been read as a news August 7th, 2006.

News? Really?

Already Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (1742-1799) knew:

"The first American who discovered Columbus, made a terrible discovery."

After all, he got it

The designated Ex-president of the United States of America, after all, has reportedly found some tiny nuclei of the ingredients, which but are significant parts and parcels of the essential inherent interior essence, in which -as generally known - is hidden the root of the kernel of everything.

Security is security is . . .

Just in case you do think of security when the word is mentioned.

Security is almost omnipresent, f.e. in Iraq where the people day by day more and more are enjoying the sweet fruits of enduring freedom, what may easily be seen in this tiny nutshell.

The murder is out!

Those having been reading "The Third Policeman" will not only know the name of the author (no link needed, therefore); being asked to recite the very last question they would, of course, be able to do so blindfold; moreover, they even could while lying in Morpheus' and respectively or somebody else's arms.
Thus, why repeating what everybody knows?
Those few blissfully ignorant are requested to immediately enter the nearest bookshop and order the master’s piece. After reading they may return and breathe the magically charming cantrip of stand hangstill - the sublime sublimeness of being part of Omnium.

End of the beforegoing.

And now to cut a long post short:
About seventy years after being asked, one of the last most brainteasing and riddling conundrums of all mysteriously puzzling enigmas in literature has been solved:
The ominous bicycle has been found.

A Director for Devil's Kitchen

By reading this article by ELİF ŞAFAK published a while ago* in TDN (Turkish Daily News) you will find the Turkish author quoting a Director of Cultural (sic!) Affairs:
"Honor killings apply only to those who run away without informing their families, who deceive their husbands, and not to the innocent."

As this humble blogger's maxime is not to insult any animals, genitals et al. by voicing his disgust - which admittedly proves to be extremely ardous to comply with, at times -, I do ask my readers to carefully study what this huMAN might be called in Devil's Kitchen. [Link may follow, hopefully soon.]

Well, as said, no swearing here, I swear.
But there is one thing I wish:
May this Director of Cultural Affairs lose all his teeth!
Well, may one remain.
For toothache - 59 minutes per hour.

The Peace of the Night!

Wicked WARshippers

What happened to Zakia Zaki and Shokiba Sanga Amaaj, unfortunately, must be taken as another evidence for the deep respect Afghan women are being paid by godlike huMAN beings,

Trying to find the essential inherent interior essence which is hidden in the root of the kernel of everything, one might be inspired to ask:

• Do those huMAN beings not trust in the one's ability to judge they pretend to worship?
• Do those huMAN beings fear the one's judgement could not meet their desires?
  

In other words:

• Do those huMAN beings not believe that "their" god is a bloody killer, and thus are playing god by grace of their own?

At this point my closest friend - a writer who would never write the following for reasons I might probably never understand - murmured: "At least, too many bloody gods on this planet."

Bridging a gap

For all those contemporaries, who do feel their holiday spoilt all inclusive (sic) when f.e. noticing a wheelchair in the opposite corner whilst having breakfast: Here you find a good news.

Those who would not dare to claim money back, as some of those addressed above did in the past, - yet without success - might be inspired to ask themselves, what may have been the root of the kernel in which this very market gap dozed from the very beginning of time, until a homo sapiens sapiens in the labour room of his brains bore an idea to bridge it.

The Peace of the Night!

Final is final is . . .

In respond to an alarming report Australia's Prime Minister John Howard decided to seize control of Aboriginal land in the Northern Territory. Banning alcohol and pornography and sending military seemingly are thought to cure a "national emergency".

Well, there have been quite a few reports in the past 30 years.
One, released by the parliament in 1977 (Parl Paper Number: 299/77) was titled.

Final report on alcohol problems of Aborigines.

Tit for Tat

The Pakistan Ulema Council bestowing the title of Saifullah (Sword of Islam) on Osama Bin Laden in response to a British knighthood for Salman Rushdie let arise three humble questions:
- Where will the inauguration take place? And when?
- Why did none of the purported 2.000 members of these undoubtedly extreme honourable Islamic scholars inform the Leading Source of Pakistan first, so that it readers had to content themselves with 18 lame lines refering to two foreign resources?

Right now my closest friend - a writer who wouldn't write for reasons I shall possibly never understand - murmured:
"When there is no god, there exists no blasphemy, would you agree?"

And now - with thanks to the Monty Pythons - for something completely different.

Karl Krauss would probably say:
"Where the sun of wisdom is sinking deepest,
even dwarfs are casting gigantic shades."

Nothing new under the sun :)

Actually, I should like to see Turkey with all their Armenians, Greeks, Jews, Kurds, Laz etc. - entering the EU within my lifetime.
For quite a few reasons.
For the beginning the first:

Such promising politicians are nothing new under the sun.

As the first lesson almost any politician seems to learn:
Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. *

XXIII

I love a girl more fickle than a straw: like other girls there's no relying on her faith more than the word of the mouse that fell from a beam into the beer.

The mouse leaped in the new-brewed beer, and what did the good gray cat do, but spring into the vat where the mouse drowned and lift up its head out of the beer? But the cat did not leap in lest the mouse should drown, but because of the oath he swore, when he was lifted out of the beer, to please the cat before returning up into the thatch. But when the mouse was out, he went up among the laths, and taking refuge in the roof, said noth­ing from up there.

"Mouse, keep your word : you've gone too far!"

"The oath I gave in the vat, does not bind me here: and a creature I trusted when I was drunk, I do not trust next day."

And so, my dear, there is no trust in mice, and so indeed Gwen, he who trusts them is deceived.