Spy in the sky

The German military commissioned its first spy-in-the-sky satellite system on Thursday, Dec. 4 enabling it to peek through clouds or the darkness of night at any spot on the planet.
Continue here.

Wow, somehow I feel safer now.
The peace of the night.

Monsanto-soybeans for Monsanto-pigs

It was a small step for the EU, but a great one for the bosses of Monsanto on their 'mission' to win the global food monopoly.

Good night, and good luck!

Top of the pops

It's never too late to talk about potatoes, isn't it? :) Thus, as anounced only eleven days ago, here some pics and but a few words.

As already mentioned, this year I felt I ought to be a bit worried. :)

Seriously, digging was a pleasure, not only for our cat which was ...

... meticuously supervising ...

and with Argus-eyes kept guard.

The potatoes, too, had their fun.

Drinking

Talking

Sunbathing

Dozing

On an even more serious note: Although we had planted only ten short rows (5 rows with 'early', 5 with 'late' potatoes', at the end we had carried around four hundredweights into the cellar. Marvellous potatoes many of which would not been sold in supermarkets, as their shape's considered political incorrect - and thus they are (somehow) illegal, the more as they don't contain of the average pesticides-level.
Anyway, I can assure you: despite all these flaws they do taste delicious. :)

XIX by Daffyd ap Gwilym

Miserable poet, fear filling him, harrassed and stumbling. Dark is the night on the cold bog. Dark - O God a torch! Dark over all, how shall I come out alive? Dark - great madness grips me! Dark now is the treacherous bog, dark the growth of the moon. Miserable man, that the sun, the good sun, is hidden. Dark it is for me, a poet, shut out with all my fame in dark and bitter winds outside. And if I were found here in the one land that hates me, bared to the guile and treachery of strangers, how should I and the gray horse escape?

Worse though, if I were caught, drowned in the bog-hole as I went with my horse in the mud at the bottom of the bog, after all the reverence I have had. Who can escape the bog-hole filled with the fishes of Gwynn of the Mist, a pit between crag and moor, place of ghosts and of their children, a lake of vinegar and bloody waves where swine wash?

I ruined my good Carnarvon stockings on this wrong road, I do not know why, except ill-luck, my horse and I fell in the bog-hole. The cold first overcame the lout, then was he heated as he dug and scrambled out. So now I am come to land, and can freely give the bog my blessing.

Acquainted with the night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost

Indeed ... and not only today

Thanksgiving at the Oral Office

Remember Bill Clinton?
Fine.
Remember Thanksgiving 2001 (sic!)?
No?
Well, let's have a look.

[quote]Come on, be a good bird.[unquote]

[quote]Oops, she's does it. I'll call her Monica.[unquote]

Afterwards one could read that Mr. Bush had pardoned the turkey, named it - now guess! ...? ... yes!! - Liberty, and from now on Liberty would live in Vir-gin-ia-ha-ha-ha. Well who would believe this from a notorious liar?

According to my friend Tetrapilotomos his deep throat has investigated the truth.
[quote] Monica still lives in the Oral Office, and her favourite place is the one under the President's table.[unquote]

Now don't I mind Mr. Bush's preference for turkeys (be they female or male); I wonder however, why there has never been an impeachment trial?

A letter from Farzad Kamangar

No, I do not know if Farzad Kamangar is still alive.

I hope.

Tonight I happened to read this letter from him.

No, I do not know, if it is authentic and - given it is - how he'd been able to write it and 'smuggle' it out of his cell.

However, having spoken to two (renowned) Iranian writers once being tortured in Iranian prisons, I tend to rely on the letters authenticy and its contents.

Well, read and judge yourself.

Urgent appeal to save the life of Farzad Kamangar

Via Jams O'Donnell:

'Education International (EI) has been informed that Farzad Kamangar, the Iranian Kurdish teacher and social worker sentenced to death on "absolutely zero evidence" according to his lawyer, could be hanged on Wednesday 26 November 2008.

According to several reliable sources, he has been taken from his cell 121 in ward 209 of Tehran’s Evin prison in preparation for execution. Jail security officers are said to have told him he is about to be executed and they are making fun of him, calling him a martyr.

The Revolutionary Court issued the death sentence against Kamangar on 25 February 2008. His lawyer has said: "Nothing in Kamangar’s judicial files and records demonstrates any links to the charges brought against him." Kamangar was cleared of all charges during the investigation process. The last time Kamangar was seen, he was at the health clinic of Evin prison and his physical condition was poor. Witnesses testify that he has been beaten again. Kamangar has not been allowed to see his lawyer or family members for the past two months.

EI has been appealing to the Iranian authorities to commute Kamangar's death sentence and ensure his case is reviewed fairly.

Now, EI is once again appealing to Iranian judicial authorities to halt the execution. EI is also asking members of the international community urgently to intervene.'

Please click here to send a message of protest to President Ahmadinejad.

Update:
Tried four times, however when pushing the 'send message'-button the message would not be sent.

in case you wish to speak out, you may directly address President Ahmadinejad, by using your own account and sending an email to following address:

dr-ahmadinejad@president.ir

This is the message I sent:

Mr. Ahmadinejad,

having learned right now that Farzad Kamangar faces hanging in the next few hours, I call upon your humanity to immediately commute his death sentence and have his case re-examined through a fair trial.

The peace of the night,
Sean Jeating, Germany

- - - - -

Choose your own words, or - in order to save time - you may copy and paste the message above - don't forget to sign with your own name, though. :)

Thank you.

Just a thought

To attack a man for talking nonsense
is like finding your mortal enemy
drowning in a swamp and
jumping in after him with a knife.

Karl Popper

Essai on the universal validity of certain virtues

Thanks for your attention.

As time goes by

Mrs. J. does sometimes worry for the statics of the house, but that's another story. :)

And neither I intend to tell that I was ten years, one month and nine days old, when John Fitzgerald Kennedy was murdered (by whomsoever), nor to bore with my memories.

Much more interesting I found when today re-reading this extra edition that 40 pages (mainly containing of large-sized Black&White photos) then would have cost 50 Pfennnig (ca. 25 Euro Cent), that 'Illustrierte' would have been spelled Illustrirte, and that it could have been knocked together within less than 48 hours and thus before Jack Ruby murdered Lee Harvey Oswald.

Sorry for the quality. (A4 scanner)

Well, and I find interesting that today 45 years ago I would not at all have taken notice of that on this very day also an author had died, parts of whose work some years later I'd devour with pleasure - Aldous Huxley.

Parts of his work? Well, I prefered his first two novels to those on which his fame mainly bases.

Most impressed, though, I was and still am by one of Huxley's short stories: Klein Archimedes / Young Archimedes.

So, if you find you must repent
from side to side in argument,
at least don't use your mind too hard
but trust my instinct - I'm a bard.

Couldn't have put it more nicely than Robert Frost. :)

Very busy ...

... not blogging I've been for quite a while, and this goes also for visiting and leaving comments.

The more I do appreciate the patience shown by my esteemed readers. Thank you.

US-election, a so-called financial crisis, the ban of Blogger.com in Turkey, uncounted further evidence that human dignity is violable etc.: There could have hundreds of posts been written.

However, I decided to set other priorities.
[Did you take notice I did not write 'I had no time', as it's said that those complaining they have no time, are just not able to organise? :) ]

Not that I did not follow what happened in the world. I stayed awake for all TV-duels and did not sleep at all in the election night, felt pleased when it became clear that "Did you know I'm a Vietnam veteran?!" had not been convincing enough an argument for the majority of the US-voters, and I did even feel moved by Mr. Obama's 'victory speech' and the whole atmosphere, although I do not share his supporters' enthusiastic optimism. Perhaps if I were 45 years younger. :)

Well, back to the priorities:
1. Writing
2. Gardening
3. Reading
4. Reflecting and Contemplating.

Interesting to see the above black on white.
Probably not for you, but for me. :)

Did I succeed?
N-yes. Sounds better than Y-no, hm? :)

The books I read are good, some 'just great'.
The reflecting and contemplating was both exciting and relaxing.
As for the writing, I am quite content with the quantity - and in some weeks when I shall start to re-read it, and after the 'polishing', hopefully even with the quality. :)

Again, interesting to see the above black on white.

As for blogging.
The story about that one 's' is (almost) able to 'kill' a story's clue, has to wait, as I am still pondering about how I could get out of the tight spot. :)))

Neither I do feel like writing about politics today, about economy, organised stupidity in its various forms, about Sir Veillance, pirates and other criminals.

Rather I do prefer to share - for the beginning - some of those many tiny things which during the past two, three months let my eyes sparkle, the corners of my mouth start expeditions to the ear-lobes, and my heart rise with joy like a falcon up to the sky. :)

Here's a little foretaste:

Potato manikin relaxing on rhubarb leaf :)