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.