Hoi georgoi - or sacrificing pawns

It was not (primarily) my intention to remind of what happened on August 13th, 1961. Why should I try to remind anyone on this planet of something that most Germans would not at all (seriously) care about?

What I was looking for was a 'pars pro toto' - one good example for a politician's/criminal's falsehood.
As to be seen in the previous post, less than two months before the Berlin Wall got erected, being asked if a border at the Brandenburg Gate were planned, Walter Ulbrich, head of the so-called German Democratic Republic, answered:
"I understand your question like there are people in the West who wish that we mobilize the construction workers of the capital of the GDR to erect a wall, yes? He he he, I am not aware of such an intention, the construction workers of the capital are mainly busy with the construction of homes. [...] Nobody has the intention to build a wall."

Well, and now try to compare what f.e., U.S.-proconsul Saarkashvili and Vladimir 'Ras' Putin's presidential spokesman Medvedjev recently said and what 'actually' happened.
?
Right!
In other words:
The first casualty when war comes is the truth.

*

As there is another Sean* posting about what's happening in the Caucasus-region, in quite an interesting way, I do restrict myself on but a few thoughts:

If I felt fancy to enter my local pub and trounce the village's assembled carrousers, I ought not to be surprised of the result, hm?
:) That's why I prefer staying at home and posting a bit.

So, why would Saarkashvili make his move?

Did he make the move? Or did somebody else let him make the move?

Remember:

hoi georgoi = the farmers.

Standing on the chess-board the farmers are called 'pawns**'.

And not only for Zbigniew Brzesinski (at present advisor of US-presidential candidate Obama), this planet is a Grand Chessboard.

Apropos chess: Years ago during a grandmaster tournament a Georgian grandmaster invited me to Tiblisi. The tournament, by the way, was won by a Russian - Anatoli Karpov. :)

Back to the big 'game' which is not at all just a 'Caucasian'.

Who's to blaim for what's happening in Georgia? Who's the aggressor? The hen or the egg? Or, completely another scenario: If you were to be the President of Russia, would you give a kopek to what the coming Ex-President of the U.S.A . is demanding?

Isn't it just laughable when the US-(war-)criminal admonishes the reaction of another (war-)criminal by saying "Bullying and intimidation are not acceptable ways to conduct foreign policy in the 21st century"?

Well, and following the logic of the mentally disabled 'leader of the free world' the N.A.T.O. cancels contacts with Russia. Says Russia, i.e. Putin & Co.: We cancel contact with the N.A.T.O..

Kindergarden.

Hohoho. (As an alternative to laughing I recommend being very very scared).

Anybody fancy to criticize? Wait a minute. I do appreciate the fact I was not born 100 kilometres eastwards, so that I could (so far) enjoy life thanks to the power of the Washington-warlords.

If anybody's not able to get the (self-) irony: Her/His problem.

Last thought for now:

"Why don't you [the West; sj] not invite us [Russia;sj] to join the N.A.T.O.?" Ten years have flown by since Valentin Falin and I were sitting at a corner table in a tiny hotel, and the former Soviet ambassador in Germany would ask this question.
"Hm, I suppose I am not the the first you're asking this question. Did you ever get an answer?"
Falin's answer: smilingly reaching for his cup of coffee.


* I recommend reading his latest postings (including all comments).


** and then there are the pawns of the pawns: they who'd just like to live in peace ...

Today 47 years ago

As I do prefer this, for a change,

although I'd have much to type on the topic

only that,

with thanks to the bloke who produced it.

Just a thought 06

Sometimes
it's good
to have a friend
who'd not speak much
but just ...
listen

How to ward off an award - or ...

Fall of a principled man

A while after I had given birth to Omnium ...

[pause to award not only those scientists amongst my esteemed readers whose attempts to find the world formula, i.e. 'The Theory of Everything', up til now all were in vain time to measure the paramount importance of this subordinate clause*]

... and started to visit not only online newspapers but other bloggers as well, soon I'd stumble upon a 'phenomenon' - awards: Here the 382nd best conservative political blogger of his country, there the 94th best left wing blogger of her country; the 169th funniest of all etc. etc. , ... cont. page 1066, where you'd find: The Best Cardiff Bay Gossip Blog.

[pause to award readers time to savour this]

And - as if this were not enough - people would design more or less felicitous awards and dedicate them to five, seven or hundred of their best / sweetest / schmoozest /cutest /etc.etc. fellow bloggers who'd in turn (have to) choose seven or hundred of their ...
Oh dear I thought, like in kindergarten - an award for everyone, so that noone's unhappy. And since, whenever reading the word 'award' in a title, I'd 'turn tail and run'.
Not to get misunderstood: I am not mocking about the quality of any blog(ger), I am mocking about the 'awarditis'. By the way, by typing 'award', google awarded me 343 million hits.

Having written all this, need I say I am glad that nobody ever awarded me an award, or, at least, I never became aware of having been awarded an award, as then I'd be confronted with the next conundrum: How to ward off the award without being (thought) to be arrogant and/or impolite?

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

As Fritz Weigle alias F.W. Bernstein once rhymed (it was Bernstein, indeed, not Gernhardt! :) At least Gernhardt told me so.)

Die größten Kritiker der Elche
waren früher selber welche.

The greatest critics of the elks
in former times were elks themselves

Varying this, it reads:

Die größten Kritiker der Elche
werden dereinst selber welche.

The greatest critics of the elks
once will become elks themselves.
[McSeanagall]

In other words:
Herewith the 'enigmatic Sean' - smilingly and with great joy - does accept an award by nobody important. :)


Thanks, dear jmb. I take it as a lovely compliment.

Well,and now it's my turn. As with Cherrypie, Crushed, James, Jams and Mutley already five of 'my' Seldom Borings are 'sharing this burden' with me, I am going to spread the award around the planet. :)

When clicking their names, and reading you will know why I'd call following bloggers brilliant.

Ardent at Ardent Observations,
Colin at Adelaide Green Porridge Cafe
Hans and his team at Internation Musing
Superhero, my Turkish Seanachie at me and others,
and Erkan at Erkan's field diary.

Champagne!! :)


* which, again, will give experienced readers time to wait for the corners of their mouths returning from an expedition to the ear-lobes.

On manners

Ná cuir do chorran angort gan iarraidh.

Do not bring your reaping-hook to a field
without being asked.

Life, laughter and the unexpected

This morning Miss J. and the astrophysicist returned from a trip to the Baltic Sea, bringing fresh warm rolls for breakfast, plus - not for breakfast, though - twelve sea-washed pebbles and two beautiful stones they had found at the beach and carried more than one kilometre to their tent. They will embellish our stone garden, and one is supposed to become my worry stone. :)


Well, collecting pebbles and stones was not really a reason for making this trip. The astrophysicist thought the partial eclipse might not be observable where we do live, but did not want to miss it. Right he was, as here we had clouds, clouds, clouds.


The breakfast? Oh yes, it was marvellous. And Mrs. J. decided that we'll have a trip to the Baltic Sea to watch the next eclipse - in 73 years.

We shall be 128 then, Miss J. and the astrophysicist 99 respectively 103. No doubt it will be great fun, the more as our mother will be accompanying us.


Well, unless something unexpected is going to happen, 'cause life, laughter and death not seldom are close-knit, as we got reminded by a tiny noise on balcony.

August beginning

:)
Variatio delectat. Instead of replying (to the first seven commenters) in the comment-section,
here's an update.

Prologue:
Do you sometimes have so many thoughts/posts in your mind that you just can't decide?
Well, I do. Often. Plus: Words (not only in English) often don't come easy to me. The proper words I mean. The words which are able to exactly tell what I mean.
All I 'knew' was the title of this month's first post: August beginning. - the adjective/the month and the beginning.
To cut it short: At last - in my despair - I decided to post one of those ten photos I'd take with me on the legendary island.
And never I'd thought, let alone intended it could incite quiz-like questions.
A lovely surprise. Thank you all.

Well, jmb, it was not winter when the photo was taken. It was middle of May. Minutes later it would rain cats and dogs. Not somewhere in Australia, Ardent; not 'edge Dartmoor', Crushed;
closest got Chris and Jams.
The photo was taken 1991, in the West of Ireland, Connemara, a couple of miles behind Leenane, driving in direction of Kylemore Abbey, on the left hand side.

Why would I have spontaneously stopped, jumped out of the car, climbed over a wall? Two thoughts: What a motif. And: 'Soon nobody will know you've existed. In my photo you will (at least for a while) live on.' :)

Yes, jmb, it's a dead tree. And - indeed - you'd not find it anymore. It remains existing ... in this photo.

Ha - the 'tartly' Sean; the one who'd call a bastard a bastard, a cretin a cretin, a criminal a criminal?
:)
Hm, that's why there's this very header - it's part of Omnium.

Epilogue:
Mostly I do trust on that my (constant/regalar) visitors* do feel 'it', but tonight I do feel the wish to write it 'black on white': It's good to have you.

* do I need say that I do not 'only' mean those who commented on this post? :)

PS:
Cherrypie, I did not know where to put you(r comment), as it was rather a statement than a question. Will you forgive me? :) - The photos you posted tonight, once again do incite my desire to visit the Lake district which is one of the (few?) 'spots' in England I did not 'happen to' visit up til now.

D'accord

Hypocrisy is the homage which vice pays to virtue.

La Rochefoucauld, Maxims, 1665

Counterstatement :)

First thrilling story:

[Tucker Bounds, a] spokesman for Republican presidential candidate John McCain blasted Barack Obama for cancelling plans to visit wounded US soldiers while in Berlin, adding that the Democrat prioritized "throngs of fawning Germans."
Continue here.

Second thrilling:

A German politician has called on US presidential candidate John McCain to take back disparaging remarks made about Germans by his campaign after Barak Obama visited Berlin last week.
Alexander Graf Lambsdorff wrote that he, and the German public, was surprised and dismayed by the comments, according to the newspaper.

Full article here.

Well, being part of the German public I do herewith declare: Mr Lambsdorff does not speak for me. I am neither surprised, nor dismayed.

Mr. Bounds may have missed the bounds of diplomacy, a tiny bit. So what? A subaltern babbler is truthfully babbling what his would-be-president babbled. It's his job, isn't it?

Does anyone know how often this poor soul is being called a stupid mothertucker?
Human beings sometimes are cruel, and do not care about 'No jokes about names'.

It's interesting to see, however, that Mr. Bounds - and thus Mr McCain - some might say: the disabled doter who'd like to succeed the current criminal cretin - obviously would have prefered a demonstration of 'Anti-U.S.Aism'.

Very interesting, indeed. The German public should remember this, in case Mr. McCain once were to visit Germany.

Oh, did I say that Mr. Tucker Bounds did tell nothing but the truth? I watched the faces of Walter Steinmeier, Klaus Wowereit et. al.
Absolutely euphorized, one could say. Or, near an orgasm.
Mr. Bounds prefered other words.

Thus, to end with Robert Frost:
Go on talking,
but don't take
his style away.
It's his face,
may be no good,
but anyway - his face.


P.S.
Spake Tetrapilotomos: I'd not be surprised if once in Berlin Mr. Bounds would love collecting wet thongs of euphorized German (wo)men.

That's politics.

Verses on a cat

A cat in distress,
Nothing more, nor less;
Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,
As I am a sinner,
It waits for some dinner
To stuff out its own little belly.

You would not easily guess
All the modes of distress
Which torture the tenants of earth;
And the various evils,
Which like so many devils,
Attend the poor souls from their birth.

Some a living require,
And others desire
An old fellow out of the way;
And which is the best
I leave to be guessed,
For I cannot pretend to say.

One wants society,
Another variety,
Others a tranquil life;
Some want food,
Others, as good,
Only want a wife.

But this poor little cat
Only wanted a rat,
To stuff out its own little maw;
And it were as good
SOME people had such food,
To make them HOLD THEIR JAW!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Whodunnit?

Praised be my laziness. It has its advantages. :) When Sunday I happened to read the first news of the bomb attack in Istanbul I intended to write a post but didn't as I was pretty sure that one of the many Turkish 'opinion-tellers' soon would get close to what I am thinking, and thus save me lots of time*.
And, voilà:

It did not take much time for Turkish officials, and even less time for the Turkish media, to put the blame of Sunday evening's deadly blasts on the outlawed Kurdistan Workers' Party, or PKK, terrorist gang. The explosions in Istanbul killed at least 17 people -- five of them children -- and wounded scores of others. Although Istanbul Governor Muammer Güler stressed that investigations were ongoing, he also said the blasts appeared to have been the work of the PKK. It also did not take much for the PKK gang to issue a denial. The pro-PKK Kurdish news agency, Fırat, quoted Zübeyir Aydar, one of the senior chieftains of the gang, as saying that the PKK “has nothing to do with this event … this cannot be linked to the PKK.”

Irrespective of who might actually be behind the deadly Sunday evening attacks, I am confident that sooner or later one of those creative prosecutors – who have successfully demonstrated their rather superb skill in literature with the 2,455-page “Ergenekon indictment” masterpiece – will find a way of incorporating this tragedy among the heinous crimes they believe a cocktail of hardcore leftists, Maoists, Kemalists, patriots, nationalists, ultra-nationalists and fascists have committed with the aim and intention of disrupting public peace and order, creating conditions for a military takeover, or provoking a national outburst and thus getting rid of the elected government of the country.
Full article here.

* Saturday evening I had asked a friend in Turkey to translate a sequence in a Hurriyet article about the 'Ergenekon affair'. She did, after following introducing words which now do again let me chuckle:

You don't mean all 2455 pages but only this article hm? :)
Believe me these silly plays are not worth your giving time.

Well, at least sometimes ...

Is maith an sgathan súil charad.

The eye of a friend is a good looking-glass.

Thanks for the lecture, Mr. Pausch

Life.

Since it is not granted to us to live long,
let us transmit to posterity
some memorial that we have at least lived.
Plinius the Younger, Letters

Yesterday while we were celebrating the 84th birthday of my mother(-in-law), Professor Randy Pausch died.

There's much I could write; even wish to write, but why when (almost) everything can be put into six words?

Thanks for the lecture, Mr. Pausch.