Hypocritical cant

To start with the beginning: For the past 20 years I have been fully aware that when researching 'hot topics' there would be third listeners - at least now and then. That's why I use to greet those listeners and wish them a nice day. Hm, well, sometimes I'd be a tiny bit mocking.

No need to say what I think about the fact per se.
However, I am surprised that 'everybody' - politicians and media - by their reaction would try to make people think wiretapping of / spying on politicians and journalists would not be the norm.
What hypocritical cants. Otherwise secret services* would have nothing to do, would they?

The Afghan government is clearly upset by revelations that Germany's foreign intelligence service (BND) had been spying on the country's trade and industry minister. It says it will approach Berlin in the next few days.
News broke at the weekend that the BND had read e-mail correspondence between Der Spiegel reporter Susanne Koelbl and an Afghan politician between June and November 2006, sparking outrage because of the breach of press freedom.
It only emerged on Thursday (Apr. 24) that Trade and Industry Minister Amin Farhang was the actual target of the operation. No explanation has been given for why he was under scrutiny.
Farhang, who lived in Germany for a number of years, has told the German newspaper Neue Osnabruecker Zeitung that his life was now at risk because the measure implied that he was co-operating with hostile forces.
"Because of this absurd lie that I'm some kind of double agent, my life and the lives of my family are in great danger," he said. "I could be shot on the street tomorrow," he added.
Full article here.

As said, I am not surprised about the fact itself. Just one question, though.

Given I do understand Mr. Farhang correctly, he says his life is at risk because corresponding with a German journalist implies he was co-operating with hostile forces.

So, why are there still hostile German soldiers in Afghanistan?

Would be nice if the answer would not be 'Germany is also defended at the Hindu Kush', for a change.

* not: intelligence services

Literary Wednesday

On Shakespeare's 444th birthday and
the 392nd anniversary of either his death
and the death of Cervantes
just to wish a very special literary Wednesday.

It's also the (International) Day of the book?

Well, yes. But isn't every day a day of the book?
At least it should be.

Anyway,
instead of writing or weeding,
now I go on reading ...

The Dilemmas of an Upright Man: Max Planck* and the Fortunes of German Science

* today is his 150th birthday

Just a thought on relativity

If China - in order to help all their friends - sent one million soldiers, respectively, to protect human rights in each member country of the 'United' Nations, i.e. 196 million soldiers, there would still remain about 1,2 billion Chinese to enjoy human rights in China.

If the U.S.A. did the same today, there would remain about 107 million people in the country.
Well, plus one million Chinese protectors.

If England, France and Germany tried to do so in a concerted action, there would remain three million Chinese protectors of human rights, one million in each country.

Holiday in Zimbabwe

Reading following news I felt reminded of Jimmy Carter meeting Deng Xiaoping in 1979, when the U.S.-President demanded China should respect the human rights.
Here's the gist of what Deng Xiaoping replied: According the human rights we are of different an opinion. But to make you happy: How many Chinese do you wish to take with you to the U.S.A.? 50 millions? 100 millions?

Chinese troops have been seen on the streets of Zimbabwe's third largest city, Mutare, according to local witnesses. They were seen patrolling with Zimbabwean soldiers before and during Tuesday's ill-fated general strike called by the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC).
Earlier, 10 Chinese soldiers armed with pistols checked in at the city's Holiday Inn along with 70 Zimbabwean troops.
Full article here.

Well, 10 (in words: ten) Chinese soldiers. I suppose, they are the flame guards who did a great job guarding the Olympic torch in London, Paris & San Francisco, and now got their well deserved reward: holiday in tourist's paradise: Zimbabwe.

A real friend

In case anybody is still wondering why Robert Mugabe & accomplices refuse to release the results of the election: They are waiting for a (just in time) delivery.

South Africa confirmed that it will not intervene to stop a shipment of Chinese-made weapons from reaching Zimbabwe, despite fears of a violent crackdown in the country.

A Chinese ship docked in Durban harbour late on Wednesday carrying three million rounds of ammunition for small arms, 3,500 mortar bombs and mortar tubes, as well as 1,500 rocket-propelled grenades, according to local media.
Full article here.

Ah, I start feeling the Olympic spirit of international understanding, and to understand what E. W. Howe meant when he wrote in his Country Town Sayings:

When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it.

Wordy Wednesday V

To start at the end. You will not only enjoy a good laughter; you might even be able to imagine why I'd call Wordy Wednesday what others f.e. call blogfocus.

And now for something completely different: The beginning.

Thanks a lot to all of you who are visiting me and leaving comments these days, despite of that I am 'lazier' than ever, myself. I do appreciate your patience and kindness very much.

Oh it is a difficult thing to do indeed...knowing what the right way to respond to a problem. For first there has to be a problem...and just how the heck does one define a problem or even decide what the problem of the problem is? And then there is the ball of wax that comes from fixing the problem and making a new problem.

As if the lady had written this sentence just for me. :)
I haven't read many of her meanderings and blatherings, yet, but after this I am quite sure I will.

Surely it will happen to you, too: Someone, by painting with letters, creates a picture that from now on will be exhibited in the gallery of your mind - and from time to time you can't but must enter this room and contemplate this very picture.
The wonderful jmb - It will be fine! It will be fine! It will be fine! :) - in March 'painted' one of these pictures in my mind-gallery:

[...] He is still a good looking old fellow, with a full head of the most wonderful grey hair, now below his ears and curling a little at the ends. When I spoke to him his face lit up, although he has no idea who I am and he really can't speak now, just makes noises. He has the attention span of a flea, so after a moment he wheeled off leaving me standing there. I watched him go, thinking about the university professor of Pharmacy that he once had been and whom I met at the Faculty 46 years ago. Luckily he has never lost his wonderful disposition, as so many do with this terrible disease, and for that I am very grateful because the caregivers all like him and he is relatively easy to take care of. [...]

And now let me introduce two bloggers to you who recently gave me their placet to add them to my seldom borings. :)

What to choose from Gracchi at Westminster Wisdom? One of his film- or book-reviews?
No, I'd rather commend one of his recent posts where you will find what I do like about Gracchi's style: He's moderate in tone, and at the same time often thought-provoking, as when f.e. asking

Why Tibet? Why Palestine? The Rational Choices of Protest

And now, what shall I say ... err ... write in order to properly explain what I do appreciate about Mr. Deogolwulf? His up till now 236 'fewtrils'? His widening my horizon? Oh well, is it enough when I tell you that I intend to discover him / his blog by reading his postings chronological, from the very first in May 2005? - Ah, end of the eulogy! :)

Enjoy The Joy of Curmudgeonry.

Hm, and herewith we are back at the beginning where I promised you a good laughter at the end of this Wordy Wednesday.

Originally I intended to quote the essential passages, but now I am hesitating, as I fear I might divulge too much.
In order to increase your suspense let me just say: James claims it is his 'best post yet'.

Time for me to put my head on the pillow
and listen to the silence.

The Peace of the Night. :)

Forza Italia!

The majority of Italian voters, i.e. of those Italians who cast their vote, obviously thought they deserve to again being ruled by Silvio Berlusconi & Co..

Well, already Seneca knew: Successful and fortunate crime is called virtue.

Time for some special drops of vino then. You'll find them in any well-assorted Italian shop.

Forza, Italia!

Impression, soleil levant

This work painted by Claude Monet in 1872, or rather the first word of its title - Impression, soleil levant / Impression, sunrise -, arrogance demonstrated by the French Academy of Arts, the decison of artists such as Cézanne, Degas, Monet, Pissaro and Renoir to exhibit their works in a Paris salon on April 15th, 1874 plus a mocking critic - and born was the Impressionism.

Great art ... is preeminently and finally
the expression of the spirits of great men.
[Martha Graham]

... and may I add: women. :)

Waiting for Sam

People are bloody ignorant apes.

Pah.

Charming spot. - Inspiring prospects. - Let's go.

We can't.

Why not?

We're waiting for Sam.

Ah. You're sure it was here?

What?

That we were to wait.

He said by the grave. Do you see any others?

He must be dead.

No more weeping.

We are always finding something, eh, Sean, to give us the impression we exist?

Yes, yes, we're magicians.

Happy birthday then, Sam! :)

As for Nietzsche's skeleton

Friedrich Nietzsche declared famously that “God is dead!” so it is probably safe to assume that he did not much care what happened to his skeleton.

Thus Mr. Boyes decided to start his article, published March 26th.

Good news for the gentleman:

Nietzsche's birthplace, baptistry and grave will persist.

Bad news for the gentleman: His inference (above) does not lack of illogicality.

Advice: It's probably (sic! - not: perhaps) safer to think before mauling the keyboard.

The advisor knows this from own experience. :)

37 laughable Popes

With the attack of Fort Sumpter, today 147 years ago the American Civil War began.

Exactly 100 years later, thus 47 years ago , Juri Gagarin happened to be the first human earthling in the orbit.

Well, and 375 years ago was the first day of the process Pope(s) versus Galileo Galileo.

And only 37 Popes or 359 years later, 23 years after Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon, the damned heliocentrist, got rehabilitated, which makes me still laughing. Ha. Ha. Ha.


Ah, anybody feeling offended?

So ... err ... No sorry. You see, I am agnostic. Thanks god? :) Oh well, anyway, I am.


... Well, yes :) Science by itself, cannot supply us with an ethic. [Bertrand Russell, 1950]

Good for bilateral relations

Berlin police have found a body that is probably* that of a missing Russian artist who had been condemned by the Orthodox Church for an exhibit in her homeland. The death was an apparent suicide, police said Friday.

Anna Mikhalchuk, [unfortunately not English entry, yet - sj] who moved to Berlin in November, has been missing for three weeks. She created a stir in Russia with an 2003 exhibition that the church considered blasphemous, and was tried and acquitted by a Moscow court on charges of inciting religious hatred.
To be continued here.

Apparently!! I see.

In German - although most Germans would not know :) - there is a big difference between scheinbar (only looks like being true/a fact) and anscheinend (it looks very much like; thus seems quite probable).

This allows the conclusion: Apparently Anna Politkovskaja committed suicide by shooting herself into her back.

Thanks for having me.

* Meanwhile according to Spiegel online (German edition), Anna Mikhalchuk has been identified by her husband, the Russian philosopher and author, Mikhail Ryklin.

O tempora, o mores!

Today German lawmakers agreed to allow broader embryonic stem cell use. But they signaled their ambivalence by refusing to completely do away with restrictions.

Germany's science minister, Annette Schavan, said reforming the law was key to fostering research in Germany.

“This is a good day for both protecting life and also for research in Germany,“ Schavan, of the Christian Democratic Union, said after the vote Friday. *

Hear hear!

And may I add it is a good day for Mrs. Schavan et al.: Here questions like this one will not be asked.

There was, however, a German philosopher whose name is being pronounced like one of the words you could read in the devil's title: Kant.
And I am quite sure Kant would agree: What a bunch of hypocrites, per se!

Having followed the discussion about stem cell research from its beginning in the past milennium, I am not surprised, though.

To give you at least a glimpse, of what made me come to call hypocrites hypocrites, I commend reading this article.




* Full article here.

Wordy Wednesday IV

'Oh Sean - your Wordy Wednesday is now an institution.'

Of course, I could imagine one of his eyes twinkling when reading my dear friend James' (*) comment on last week's 'Wordy Wednesday'.

* Is it too much to call 'a' blogger your friend? - This, readers, is worth a post of itself, would you agree? :)
As this *idea* came - as most of my ideas - spontaneously - it would not be suprising, had you to remind me of this; in case you are interested in my thoughts/convictions. :)

Anyway, here's Wordy Wednesday IV. And again I do hope you will enjoy; and again I do ask you to leave comments on those posts you like (or dislike), 'cause (your) comments are the salt in the soup of any post. :)

Prodicus can be sure that I shall pinch this very post, but before doing so it's my pleasure linking to his site.
No, I do not agree to every detail he is posting about, but he's what I do call 'unique'.
In order to preparing you for what you are going to read:

I read the first part to Mrs. J, then stopped as if it were the end.
Her one word-comment: 'Impressive.'
Then I added the rest.
Mrs J: 'Sean, it's good to know you have an alibi. This would have been very embarrassing for me and the whole family.'
I, myself: Laughing and laughing and laughing.

Now you know a little more about my sense of humour, let's get a bit serious:
The Old Brit about a man I once (around 1990) tended to 'admire', until I started to learn that he has his personal Blairney stone (not to mix up with the Blarney Stone): Tony Blair.

Call me lazy: But here is another one by the Old Brit.

Ah, Ben Hur, ah Soylent Green; and despite I could go on praising the actor: here is the title I call the best of this week, made by Colin Campbell your host at the Adelaide Green Porridge Cafe. :)

No poem today? No. But a painting - by Fabian Perez**. Which one? Ah, difficult to decide. Actually, I should like to show you four. But as a copy of Dali's 'Girl in the window' (the fifth painting when you are scrolling) is hanging in our front building - I chose this one:

** Hat tip Sandra Singh at Internation Musings.

Remains a question to myself, tonight: Am I playing with Death, or is Death playing with me?

The Peace of the Night.

If the Games fail ...

"International companies are ignoring basic human rights in return for business opportunity, while the Communist party is offering profits in return for continued control of the internet and the ability to intimidate dissidents."

"The collusion of these two kinds of ugliness means that there is no way for western investment to promote freedom of speech in China, and that in fact it greatly increases the ability of the Communist party to blockade and control the internet.”

“You are helping the Communist party maintain an evil system of control over freedom of information and speech."

Three core statements from an open letter to yahoo co-founder Jerry Yang quoted by the Financial Times - almost 30 months ago, October 18th, 2005.
Its writer: Liu Xiaobo, Chinese intellectual human rights activist who accuses Yahoo of betraying its customers and supporting dictatorship by providing information on journalist Shi Tao to Chinese authorities.
Full article here.

Of course, Mr. Liu who had the pleasure of several years being spoilt by 'his' leaders' unlimited love - in prison - would be delighted by the increasement of voices demanding a boycott of the Olympic Games in Beijing, wouldn't he?

Hm, and that's what he said according to a yesterday published Spiegel-interview:

"That wouldn't be a good way to punish China. If the Games fail, human rights will suffer. The government would stop paying any attention to the rest of the world. I personally think: We want the Games and we want human rights to be respected."

And what do you think?

Prisoners in Freedom City

'For five articles they sentence him to 3,5 years in prison. Our daughter will be four years before she will see her father again.' Two sentences spoken by Zeng Jinyan that I do remember from the interview she gave two days ago, after her husband, Hu Jia, had been sentenced.

At the end of the interview Zeng Jinyan is waving back towards the camera.

She has entered that part of Beijing where the Hu's have a flat: Freedom City.

Lovely name, isn't it? Almost as lovely as The Place of Heavenly Peace.

But who am I but a 'misinformed malicious Western blogger'?

Let's watch some videos, documenting how intensively Mr. Hu the leader of the leaders and thus General Secretary of the CPC Central Comitee lets care his best men for the safety and freedom of an unemployed father aged 34 and his family, never giving up the hope these black sheep may find back on the left path.

Here we go:

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 1 / 7)

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 2 / 7)

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 3 / 7)

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 4 / 7)

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 5 / 7)

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 6 / 7)

Prisoners in Freedom City (part 7 / 7)


In this sense: The peace of the night.

The Bastards of Beijing *

Quoting from China Daily - March 17th, 2008:

Chinese citizens are guaranteed freedom of speech by the nation's Constitution, Zhang Jun, vice-president of the Supreme People's Court, said on Saturday.

"Citizens have the rights to express their ideas under the legal system, which includes suggestions to and criticisms of the government. These rights are protected by law and by the Constitution," Zhang said.

It is acceptable for people to criticize preparations for the Olympic Games or express their complaints, he added.

Zhang made the remarks in response to questions raised by foreign media at a press conference on the sidelines of the ongoing legislative session.

Marvellous, isn't it?

Well, the next sentence starts with a 'But'.

Back? Did you also see the portraits of nine leaders? Fine. Just keep these in your mind. Especially the one of the leader of the leaders, the General Secretary of the CPC Central Comitee, Mr. Hu Jintao.

End of the beforegoing.

Mr. Hu has been sentenced to 3,5 years in jail!

Ah, no. Not the General Secretary of the CPC Central Comitee.

Mr. Hu Jia.

Why would Mr. Hu Jia be sentenced, although he is not the General Secretary of the CPC Central Comitee?

Well, as one could - for certain reasons - not rely on Western newspapers, I do again tend to rather trust on the phare of journalism, the China Daily.

Back? Let's recapitulate then:

'Hu spread malicious rumors, and committed libel in an attempt to subvert the state's political power and socialist system.'

How did Hu, 'libel the Chinese political and social systems, and instigate subversion of the state, which is a crime under Chinese law'?
By 'two website articles' ... 'published [...] on overseas-run websites'.

In other words: 'An unemployed father aged 34 and the holder of a college degree' by 'spreading malicious rumor' tried to find oversea-allies to knuckle down his fellow countrymen - roughly one billion Chinese.

And here comes the moment to remember the portraits of nine leaders. Especially the one of the leader of the leaders, the General Secretary of the CPC Central Comitee, Mr. Hu Jintao.

Obviously these gentlemen do not only suffer from mental inferiority, but also are heroic cowards who fear 'an unemployed father aged 34 and the holder of a college degree'.



* How could this happen? I had just started to write a review of 'The Bastard of Istanbul' by Elif Safak. While writing the title suddenly the Olympic Games in Berlin ... err Beijing came to my mind, and thus the little faux pax seems to have happened.
Of course, I do distance myself from the title. Never would I call mighty criminal and corrupt cowards who suffer from mental inferiority bastards.


Postscriptum:

Ah yes, as the phares of China's daily journalism did not mention (surely due to a lack of space), I do allow myself to add:

Mr Hu Jia has a wife, Zeng Jinyan (24), and a two months old daughter.

But that's completely a different post.

China feels insulted ha ha ha

China Tuesday criticized a British newspaper's report that linked the Beijing Olympics with the Berlin Games of 1936, saying the story is an insult to Chinese citizens and to the people of the world.

Well, Tetrapilotomos and I, both people of the world, would not feel insulted, at all; due last not least to following old saying:

Those who feel insulted by others,
confess to their mental inferiority.


It's, by the way, a Chinese saying.

... and there is ...

... a time to dance ...

There's ...

... a time to cry ...

Wordy Wednesday III

Another Wordy Wednesday then. And as it is known latest since Donna Hightower's 'This World is a Mess': Why not on a Thursday?

Unlike last week today I shall listen to my stomach (German idiom). And this is what my stomach said the other week: Careful, Sean. Less is more.

Thus, instead of ten remarkable postings and perhaps too much reading stuff, tonight I do commend just five. Here we go:

1. To help us getting in the right mood for this year's Olympic Games, The Little Man let us for 7:04 minutes feel the wonderful spirit of those Olympic Games 72 years ago the 'leaders' of China are absolutely determined to surpass.

2. This is a great pleasure for me. Very probably he will leniently smile when reading 'this man is no blogger; he is a poet'. But that is what he is.
To visit his site every morning has (almost) become a ritual. And I am glad, Floots gave me permission to 'pinch' one of his recent gems. Here it is:

Now, is that poetry?!

3. Back to prosa. Late, only yesterday night, I noticed Ian Appleby's latest post: No nukes are good nukes. As (almost) always: Thought provoking.

4. And now to my badly neglected friend Erkan who's output is such amazing that one could daily spend hours on his site. To cut it short: I do admire his professionalism, his wonderful friendliness - and, just to make him happy - I wish Besiktas to become Turkish champion. :) Some days ago Erkan put the focus on following question: Should Wilders become censored?

5. And finally, a painting by the poet I introduced you to the other week: Janice Thomson. It's to be found on her second blogsite: Gray Sky Over Mountains.

And now, I hope to have found a nice little mixture. Enjoy, and have a marvellous week - until next 'Wordy Wednesday' - and if it will happen to be a Friday. :)

A coffee for The Poor Mouth

Hard times. :) Only five days after his birthday, Jams O'Donnell, master of The Poor Mouth, celebrates his blog's second anniversary.

Congratulations, Jams, and voilà, as promised, here's your anti-hangover-coffee.

By turning the mug you'd, of course, read:

When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
And your face is pale and wan,
When doctors say that you need a change,
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.

Wanderers Night Song

Today's evening thought, posted by the famous Khan Semaj Mahgih spontaneously reminded me of Wandrers Nachtlied / Wanderers Night Song by Goethe.

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh',
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch.
Die Vöglein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.

Over all peaks
Reigns calm,
In all treetops
Senseth thou
Barely a breath.
The birdies keep silent in the wood.
Simply wait, soon
Resteth thou, too.

translated by McSeanagall :)

Flann fooled you, folks

I'll not tell which pseudonym he does currently prefer, but I may again say those few people still taking for granted Flann O'Brien died April 1st 1966, can look back on a remarkable long career as April fools.

Fact is, furthermore, that only last midnight Flanny, Tetrapilotomos and I as well as a certain chap who asked to remain incognito met in, at and around Seanhenge, having some pints of plain and, of course, at one stage of our vivid conversation Flann would raise his voice and not only enjoy our ears, hearts and grey cells but animate the rami zygomatici and rami buccales of nervus facialis to massively innervate our musculi risorii by declaiming following legendary dialogue:

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 master's complete œvre: 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.

How to avoid a fight

28

Hat tip to The Poor Mouth.
By the way, despite yesterday's little indisposedness, Jams would have 'fought off' 25 sweet dwarfish sunshines. Seems both we are bugbears of not the lowest order.

Well, that's, of course, but dull theory. There is no such battle to happen, even in case the gang of dwarfs called their giant brothers via mobile for help.

All I need say: Come on you boys, let's first conjugate fight.
And off they run, screaming in panic.
Ask my nephews.

Happy Birthday, Jams

As regularly readers do know, The Poor Mouth and Omnium have quite a few in common. And so have Jams O'Donnell (photo) and I.

There is but one tiny difference: Jams is exactly 20 years younger than John Major, and this will always remain, which is remarkable, but ... I shall always remain 28 years younger than Maggie Thatcher. :)

Hm, or is it rather another kind of coincidence?

To cut a long story short: Today Jams has become as young as I became nine years ago, which means he is now exactly one sixth younger than I am, which will - and herein I do find a great comfort - not remain. :)

In this spirit: Happy birthday, Jams!

My present for you: The legendary bicycle,

and my favourite Irish blessing:

May the devil not catch you before I shoot you!

I am looking forward us together celebrating your 104th! :)

Sláinte!

Wordy Wednesday II

Do I need say my 'seldom boring' favourite bloggers are worth daily visits? Thus, it's a bit difficult to pick one of their postings for a 'Wordy Wednesday' to recommend reading it; the more as I wish to at least now and then introduce you to 'other' bloggers who are both on my blogline and seldom boring, whom I'd not have asked my 'question of courtesy', yet. :)

May today's 'top ten' find your interest; and, please: In case whenever what you are going to read is able to provoke a thought - don't be as 'bloody lazy' as I am. Write down your thought(s); leave a comment. :)

Here we go:

- Antipasti, anyone? Help yourself. :)

- Now you back, starched by the Sicilian viands Lady Limoncello is generously offering her visitors when she and Simi are not living adventures at the post office or kissing the driver of the water lorry - that is, in case he comes; not sure either Simi would kiss him :) ...

- ... you will have the required energy to read lots of 'stuff' you will find here.
Stop!! :) Before you are heading off, one big request: Please read thoroughly, don't miss the comments, and please, follow the links offered by James, especially the one to the Flying Rodent, who will get another commendation, later on.
:) Hm, I think this should do for now. Thus, I shall not give you all links necessary to take fully delight in the comment of the blogosphere's politest 'Anon'. :)

- Amongst many excellent postings by Jams O'Donnell who, by the way, is not 'just' seldom boring but a 'natural part of Omnium', as you will be easily able to understand by reading his profile :) , I chose this one.
It's about what once the Olympic idea was about. And immediately many many pictures in my mind. Only to mention two: Abebe Bikila winning the Rome Marathon (1960) on his bare feet; and Eddy 'the Eagle' who would have won Gold in Calgary (1988), had the competition been cancelled after the first starter of the second heat had safely landed. :)

- Ardent chose a topic letting my blood boil whenever it comes / is brought to my mind, which is why I did here not yet focus on it. No introduction. But I can tell you I am writing this with my clenched fists.

- Hey, hey, Sean, what's about something light, for a change, I hear you sigh. :) All right.
Here's another tale 'my' Turkish Seanachie, the inimitable Super Hero via keyboard let flow into the blogosphere. I am glad at least the fish was good. :)

And now, may I introduce you to the most recent 'part of Omnium'? It's a Lady who's Drinking the Moon , able to express in but a few words wherefore an ordinary mortal like me would mostly need at least fifty sentences. :)

Thanks for the precious gem you found
in the realm of letters, Lady Janice. :)

- Internation Musing will let your inner peace pidgeon start cooing with delight when reading what some extraordinary pious protagonists of the most peaceful religion to find in all known galaxies and those galaxies yet to discover recently asked their humble and decent followers to do in order to transform this planet into an oasis of love and harmony.

- According to one of my maximes (Audiatur et altera pars) now you will get 'two in one'. One event, two opinions. Voilà: Here is the Flying Rodent with what he calls an Incredibly unpopular opinion (please do not miss to follow his updated link!!); and here an Egyptian Lady on the same event from her point of view.

Last not least quasi a belated thanks to Chris who would not have known that I took this very post as an antedated birthday present. Over listening several times I forgot telling him then. :)


And here we are again: Sean the lazy commenter. Thus, follow my commendations but not my example. :)

Above all, enjoy!

The Peace of the Night.

Just a short note

Ladies, gentlemen, friends.

Friday morning I got up, felt ill,
after hours went down to mother-in-law
and asked for a pill.

Afterwards I visited little brother death,
i.e. I slept all day, all night,
fortunately woke up again,
feeling slightly allright.

McSeanagall

This short note just to let you know it seems not impossible that I'll be back soon. :)

May health be on you.

Experiment failed

Trial and error.

I thought I could easily write about 15, 20 subjects within a couple of hours.

I failed.

Still, I think I'll forgive myself and sleep well.

Hope you will, too. :)

The Peace of the Night.

Wishing long rotting testicles

You want to get rid of your husband/wife or any other rival; of a neighbour whose nose you dont't like, your mother-/father/brother-/sister-in law. Lucky you are when living in China.

It's people's war, folks. 'High noon' for 'informers'. Ah, denunciation. Ah, how wonderful. A highlight of civilisation.

The Dalai Lama? Oh well. (Almost) always smiling and friendly. Playing 'his role' almost perfectly.
What "His always smiling Peacefulness" would not say: Tibet was not heaven before 1950. Buddhism is not peace-loving 'per se'.

But it's quite logic what happens.

You can supress people for many years, many generations of them; it may last 50 years, hundred years, several hundred years - somewhen the day will come!

Well, I wish to the Chinese government and especially to all those regional criminals who are terrorizing what they think are 'their' people, the same I wish to Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld et. al.: may they become several hundreds years old and may their testicles be painfull rotting all the time.

Yes, I am humanist. Yes, I do like people. In general.
And I am still not swearing, would you agree? :)

A journalistic Hiroshima

What is another's accident, is the other's catastrophe.

No problem with this.

No problems either when people who would not care about (catch-)words, do call an accident 'catastrophe'.
Let alone they have not been taught/told: Very often such 'uneducated' persons are wiser than those who think they got the best education one could get under the sun.

But when journalists who - in my (in this case not) humble opinion - should know better, do call an explosion the Albanian Hiroshima and an Apocalyptic tragedy, they should give up their profession.

Mind: Those who lost beloved, may call what happened whatever comes to their mind. But journalists who would dare to write such rubbish are poor idiots*.

* not in the classical sense. May any idiot sue me. It will be my pleasure.

And be sure, I could give you thousands of examples for (embedded*) idiocy.
But please don't ask me to give them.. I am tired. Really tired.
On the other hand: As long as millions of those who are allowed to vote - come on, here's a chance to severely attack me :))) -, would spoil money to buy such excellent papers / to watch such super mega TV-channels, it's a market, would you agree?

* here I am not refering to those journalists who'd go in bed with the 'devil' for what they - or rather their masters call a good story, but to something general: education.

Ah, another trap I digged for myself. Okay: education is a 'hot field'. Who would set the canon? What if the pupil does not wish to listen to the teacher(s); to the parents (who may have had good or bad teachers)? Who defines what's a bad teacher?
Should teachers teach what has been thought, or should they teach inspire thinking?

Rhetoric question. Yes. Sorry about such a simplicity.

Anybody who thinks s(h)e has a simple / the one and only answer to the problem: Very welcome!

Two simple poems

I do remember our daughter asking in February 2003: "Do you think one million poems plus your's will change anything?"

What a wise young woman.

My answer: I could sit in front of the teli, watching the tales of Mr. Bush et. al., chips in one hand, bottle of beer in the other, muttering indecent words, and I'd change nothing. And I could write a poem.
It will change nothing, either. But at least I shall not have kept silent.

These were my second and my third poem I ever wrote in English:

[As an answer to Mr. Bush saying: 'Either you are with us or against us.'


New World Order

Those
pleading for peace
without diplomacy
are being taught:
You are an enemy.

And the second, refering to '"Enduring Freedom":

Enduring Peace
or: The Whore of war"

(Fiction)

Once upon a time
- not in the years of Babel, though, -
a puppet said with oily voice:
"I am a peace-loving person"
and offered "World"this choice:
"Either you are with us, or you are against us."

Thus, pushing forward to
the inmost inner of the roots of the core,
united peace-lovers found a visionary lore:
Short after unweaponed "World"
embraced the whore of war.
"World" would need no ...
... no; no ...: would HAVE no
enemies anymore!

As, some years later:
Goodman Death knocks:
"The game is over!"

The puppet’s life flees,
and so does the masters'
And 'World says: R.i.P.!

The rest is peace ...

(How naive? - I told you, it’s fiction.)

'Noble' criminals

Yes, yes, I do remember.

Today, five years ago the first 'noble' bombs fell on Bagdad.

'Shock and awe.'

Indeed.

Let me anticipate you do have all information I had during the past nine years.

It spares me repeating millions of words.

I'd like to say so much, though.

I won't!

Only this.

Bush, bin Laden et. al. are one side of the medal.

Cheney et. al. are the third (sic) side of the medal.

I wish these gentlemen will become 2003 years old, suffering from their testicles rotting off. - And I mean it. I mean it with all my heart!

Yes!

Just to make sure: Bush, Cheney, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Pearle (please continue page 112) are (war-) criminals.

Nothing against soldiers. They are useful idiots. Example: Mr. McCain.

This does not mean I do expect any better in case Mrs. Clinton were going to enter the oral office (sic), or Mr. Obama with his adviser Brzezinski.

By the way, (latest) in case polls were 'telling' one of the so-called Democrats might be winning, I'd not be surprised if there were a new war (guess where) initiated*, as 'one does not change the horse during war times'.

* no! No! There will never (!) be an outbreak of war. A war would always (!) be instigated.

Experimental speed-blogging

What's this then?

:)

Well, as the title says: an experiment.

I shall be writing and posting fast tonight, as the thoughts come; not caring about typos, not looking up my dictionaries in order to - hopefully :) - find the proper word, trusting upon that those who have (virtually) come to 'know' me (a little) better will leniently smile, ...
... and perhaps even you who's just stumbling upon this site.

So let's go. Without filtres.

Hm, yes - one filtre will be on!

But that - a spontaneous decision :) - is already worth a post of its own.

Anticipating a question:

Why would you run the risk to make an exhibition of yourself?

Answer: Is there a risk? :)

In other words: Critizise my thoughts, negatively and/or posively. Correct my mistakes. Do whatever you wish. Your opinion is highly appreciated, the more when you do it in a friendly manner. :)

In this sense (as Robert Frost once said):

Go on talking
but don't take my style away,
it's my face - may be not good,
but anyway,
my face.

Rush to Croagh Patrick

A minute ago, Tetrapilotomos sent following photo and comment.

Seems your early afternoon post caused a spontaneous exodus. Bars and pubs empty. Traffic jam on all major roads to Mayo. The first topers ... err ... pilgrims arrived at 13:20. In five-minute-intervals RTE's repeating following message, sponsored by the Guinness Brewery and Bushmill's: 'People of Ireland: Return to your pubs. His Holiness will not be serving free Guinness and uisce beatha on top of Croagh Patrick.' Nobody seems to listen ...

St. Pat's crawling

Optimists would undertake climbing Croagh Patrick today as on top his Holiness might be serving free Guinness and uisce beatha.

Instead, more Irish will enter a bar and get pretty stone-drunk.

Which is why clever - one could also say:
optimistic landlords use to have two professions.

Sláinte!

Irish metamorphosis

Early this morning spake Tetrapilotomos:

'Until Wednesday then.'

'Oh, trip to Tibet?

'No, march to Mayo.'

'Ah, celebrating once again that St. Patrick worked wonder?

'What wonder?'

'Expelling all snakes from Hiberna.'

'It was no wonder, at all.'

?

'All Old Paddy did was quasi expemplifying a metamorphosis.'

?

Sean, did you ever notice that since there are no serpents the esmerald island is swarming with priests? :)

And off he went.

On the Ides of March ...

... 2054 years after Caesar rattled "You, too, my son Brutus?", 92 years after Austria-Hungary declared war to Portugal, 82 years after the first telephone-line between London and Berlin started to work, 52 years after the first performance of "My Fair Lady" in New York and on the 101st Birthday of Zarah Leander who once sang "Ich weiß, es wirrrd einmal ein Wunnn...derrrrr gescheh'n ..." (I know there will once happen a wonder ...) ...

... I went down in history by not falling off the ladder when being busy in garden. :)

Oh yes, and in Modica Lady Limoncello posted her 1000th 'articulo'.

What a day!

A very dear friend of mine

The Panther

His tired gaze - from passing endless bars -
has turned into a vacant stare which nothing holds.
To him there seem to be a thousand bars,
and out beyond these bars exists no world.

His supple gait, the smoothness of strong strides
that gently turn in ever smaller circles
perform a dance of strength, centered deep within
a will, stunned, but untamed, indomitable.

But sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part,
the pupils of his eyes dilate as images
of past encounters enter while through his limbs
a tension strains in silence
only to cease to be, to die within his heart.

Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming

Der Panther [Original]


Im Jardin des Plantes, Paris

Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf -. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille -
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.


Rainer Maria Rilke

When magic strikes

When
the woman of the south & the man from the north
will have united in love for eternity,
and have become one in flesh and spirit,
the children of Lir, who have been transformed
into swans by Aife, will be redeemed ...'

The Swan

This labouring through what is still undone,

as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way,

is like the awkward walking of the swan.

And dying-to let go, no longer feel

the solid ground we stand on every day-

is like anxious letting himself fall

into waters, which receive him gently

and which, as though with reverence and joy,

draw back past him in streams on either side;

while, infinitely silent and aware,

in his full majesty and ever more

indifferent, he condescends to glide.

Translated by Stephen Mitchell

Der Schwan

Diese Mühsal, durch noch Ungetanes
schwer und wie gebunden hinzugehn,
gleicht dem ungeschaffnen Gang des Schwanes.

Und das Sterben, dieses Nichtmehrfassen
jenes Grundes, auf dem wir täglich stehn,
seinem ängstlichen Sich-Niederlassen –:

in die Wasser, die ihn sanft empfangen
und die sich, wie glücklich und vergangen,
unter ihm zurückziehen, Flut um Flut;

während er unendlich still und sicher
immer mündiger und königlicher
und gelassener zu ziehn geruht.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Wings of love

Once I heard a remarkable Moroccan woman say:

Imagine love to be a bird, and man and woman being its wings.

Only when both wings will move in harmony the bird can fly.

Once in a year?

Did (Do) I care about International Women's Day?
No.
Not because I'd be against such days.
It's just I do not need them.

I do respect (wo)men 365 days a year - and 366 days in leap-years.

Regardless of their age, their looks, their (dis)abilities.

Yes. :)

Same procedure as every year

Michelangelo Buonarroti and Mrs. J. do have quite a few things in common.

Both were born in the past millennium, both March 6th.

But there's a difference:

Today was quite certainly not Mrs. J's 533rd anniversary.

Which is why there was the same procedure as every year when opening our eyes this morning.

Said I: You're looking younger than ever.

She, smiling: 'Ah, you are so charming.'

And I'd breathe a little sigh of relief
when she didn't add '... Michelangelo'.


The Peace of the Night! :)

Wordy Wednesday

Tomorrow, tomorrow!
Tonight I'll do it.

Don't you live the same (at least) sometimes? You read a wonderful sentence and you 'need', you wish to share. "Darling, listen."
:) Well, ideally, 'Darling' would hear you breathing heavily, sighing, chuckling and chirp: "My ears are yours."

Analogue:
So often I'd 'stumble' upon remarkable postings. And only seldom I'd let you know.

Why? There are quite a few remarkable bloggers recommending 'good stuff', and there is just not the time to read all. So, why should I increase the dilemma? :)

Anyway, hic Rhodos, hic salta. :)
Tonight, I do ask/recommend to read following posts.

No, I shall offer no 'introductions', just the links.
But I am very curious to learn, if you like/find interesting what I do like/find interesting/find moving. :)

Here we go:

A poem.

A daughter's 'homage' to her mother(s).

A 'real character' and his search for a job.

Turkey's veiled dilemma.

The Raven and the First Man.

Courage - Amnesty International Call

I so hate the barbers: a story of doing nothing.

Two trips to the hardware store.

On transmutation of nouns.

Money makes the world go mad - an economic forecast.


And in case some of you like the mixture, there will be more 'wordy Wednesdays'. :)

XX by Dafydd ap Gwilym

Today's St. David's Day reminds me that it's time after these two to enlighten your hearts with a third poem by another great 'David' - Dafydd ap Gwilym.

Although it is not May, yet, I do not have any doubt you will enjoy. :)

I made a tryst in the May brushwood, (graceful Dafydd and a handsome girl). An honest woman, she who met me. On the fair hillside under a dark bank, I gave her the kisses she was seeking, finding no fault in the pretty creature; and she got from me — bright generous jewel — two for every kiss she gave.

But in her declarations, far bolder was my girl than I, and when I heard my gentle creature speak so plain I fled at her challenge into my shell, and Startled, hid her words under my unlucky chatter.

But there under the oaks my fate was spun, and this new colour woven in :

"Rude Dafydd, you never came just to meet me, without hoping for all the embraces you remembered, and no refusal ? "

"For pleasure, not for this I came - but still for love of you, ­‑ Fair foolish creature, I know I shall not have you!"

"But I never came just for your sake to the wood, but hoping to leave it freed from maidenhood!"

”A maid you’ll be though, unrevenged on me, and here you'll see nothing that's not pure as snow, nor hear any but pure and proper speech." (O Mary, even if you wish this, I do not: nor will I submit!) "You'll be spoken ill of, and not without reason, that you came to meet me here. I am wise now through having lost my wits, and I would not care to feel the hurt and fury of your father, which I felt a little while ago."

"Stop your clever excuses and let what may be, be. Out there in the meadow, or in some byre, it's safe enough!"

"This easy going brings down the black faced wrath of relatives, and though this is harmless, there is the great archdeacon. liberal when he wishes, but excommunicating whom he likes in his own district if he is not given generously forty Shillings"

"O hard and nasty you are Dafydd, here under the leaves of the hillside! Shall a good Welshman lack the grace to give these forty Shillings?"

"What if I have not these forty Shil­lings, so early on the bold summer's day?"

"Get it from me then, and owe me a song and pay me fairly when you wish."

Then I could make no more clever ex­cuses, but stayed there since she did not refuse me; and with this handsome creature found perfect pleasure.

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi

Well, the Irish have to wait another 16 days until they can celebrate that St. Patrick worked wonder by expelling all snakes from Ireland exemplifying a metamorphose - the esmerald island is swarming with priests, since. :)

Not so the Welsh. Today they are celebrating St. David's Day.

St. David's Cathedral

Wish therefore, I could be in Sicily and enjoy eating some delicious Welshcakes. :)

Hoisting St. George's Cross

'Hoisting' a flag? Me? Never!

One should never say never (and, actually, I am mostly - noticed I did not write ' always'? :) - trying to avoid superlatives).

Today I am 'hoisting' a flag.
No, not the Irish. The English. The Cross of St. George.

Why?

By visiting James at nourishing obscurity you will understand.