Rather a Dandy than a pig

Well, Brummel, d'Orsay, Baudelaire, Barbey d'Aurevilly, Wilde and des Esseintes (the protagonist in Huysman's À Rebours) kept me busy for a while.
A work about Dandysm in the English and the French literature of the late 19th century.
Work? Rather a pleasure; except for those moments, minutes, hours a chosen word, a phrase, a metapher would not fit, or a smooth transition to the next aspect not be found. At times, no doubt, the master in the devil's kitchen would have demonically smiled about this polite blogger knowing so many wonderful swearwords. :)
By the way, although Dandysm is pronounced dead, when reading this or that detail I'd immediately think of this and that contemporary.

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


to be definitively continued

News from Russia ha ha ha

There have been elections in Russia?

I see.

The media are selling the results as news.

A "news" which a ready wit might have written twelve weeks or twelve months beforehand with sufficient accuracy.

Three questions just for common purpose

Isn't it strange what questions occur, when one is interested in everything, which is Omnium?

And do I need (to?) say that I should not ask following questions, if I were not convinced they are being asked for common purpose?

a) What has the Council of European Jaamat
in common with
the Criminal Records Bureau?

b) What common purpose let the the Criminal Records Bureau decide to award 32.000 pounds of its "challenge fund" to an organisation calling itself Common Purpose, and what was the quid pro pro?

c) What is the criminal record of Common Purpose?

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.

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.

Not only Bush's brain is missing

When reading this, please keep in mind that Karl Rove has not yet retired!

So, what else could get lost, when goes missing what used to be called Bush's brain?

What a wonderful dream

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I had a dream:

Mr. Kamm woke up and henceforth spoke a rare Hindu dialect . . .