WURSTWRITER

Tom's blog of whatnots and other stuff

Category: Blog

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  • Feindesliebe Or Stockholm Syndrom Or Both?

    Source of pic: wiki

    Worst-title 2: After Nazis and DDR what will be Germany’s third atonement?

    Oh, it’s so rare, dear worst-reader. So rare that I sit back and watch a German tv-movie. You know. Those movies that have looked, sounded and play-out the same since… Well, since post WW2/Wirtschaftswunder Germany got all whacky with their Tatort and Doctors working in the German Alps, etc, TV shows. Or something like that. But before I get too far off worst-subject complaining about the same looking actors on the same looking shows, let me worst-move on.

    I watched the film Honecker und der Pastor the other night. The creative personality behind this film is no-less than Jan Josef Liefers, who I believe is one of the founders of the #allesdichtmachen campaign that I’ve worst-written about here (more info below). In the spirit of keeping my worst-writing as short as possible, allow me to say this as my worst-critique of this movie: what a missed opportunity. Now that we have that behind us, let’s get it on.

    The thing is, dear worst-reader, I was here when the wall came down. At the time I was glued to the news and tv and papers and magazines through the whole ordeal. I took a few train rides to Berlin during that time. I remember trading a pair of Levis for a watch with a random guy from Dresden that I’ve since lost and it only worked for a week after I got it. The reason I traded something valuable for something worthless was because the watch had written on its face: Made in the DDR. I thought that was cool. I also worked for the Truehandanstalt that was responsible for privatising and/or selling-off the DDR’s state owned enterprises. Yea. I did all that while at the same time securing my future as a loser on account I should have jumped ship just as fast as I did when I left my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant. You know. I’m one of them slow learners. So it took me a few years (a few years too late) to figure out that once the train got rolling that would become REUNIFICATION, as a foreigner, my days were numbered as a productive participant in good ole Germania. Hence, by the end of the 90s, I got the full wrath of Deutschland den Deutschen (Germany for Germans). Obviously I never left but I also found a way to give up any career aspirations on account there are just too many lonely people in godforsaken Germania and #Eurowasteland. And so. Having been forced into a kind of early retirement, I gave into the idear that I would simply marry-well, stop working all together and that’s that. But enough about worst-moi and the uninspiring choices I’ve made, eh.

    The early days of German reunification was kind of mind-boggling. That the Helmut Kohl government committed to a one-to-one exchange rate of West Deutsche Marks to (worthless) East Deutsche Marks was a shocker. Then there was the Solidaritätszuschlag which was an abrupt and not insubstantial tax surcharge that would be added to a life of über-taxation–which to this day I believe still exists. And let’s not forget about the Ossi vs. Wessi culture war that engulfed the new unified country–and which I had a particular fun time with on account it added to the schtick I played as a stupid Ausländer (foreigner) making fun of both sides. But none of that holds a crock of significance compared to how the commie cocksuckers of the DDR got away with more than just murder. In fact, I was shocked out of my wits when the Germans let the Honeckers leave for Chili. For let it be worst-said here, dear worst-reader. If there’s anything I hate more than monarchs, it’s commie cocksuckers that get away with (more than) murder.

    Which brings me back to my worst-critique about Honecker und der Pastor that Jan Josef Liefers screwed up. For you see, dear worst-reader. Germany has much to atone for in its short history. Keep in mind. The country of Germany, as we all know and love–you know, its Fräuleins, its Bier, Cars, Autobahns, bread and the women, the women, the women–has only been in existence since 1949. And in that short period of time it has to show the world that it can do better than Nazis. Unless, of course, you are a fcuking commie cocksucker. Which also means this relatively young country has to show the world that it can do better than the DDR. As far as I’m concerned, it’s done a pretty good job regarding all them fcuking Nazis. But it’s not done a good job about the DDR. Why that is remains to be seen but I’m guessing it has to do with stuff that I’ll never understand. You know. Pacifism (for the sake of pacifism). Free will (until it has something to do with someone else’s money). And let’s not forget that whole god and religion thing. For if you’re not aware, dear worst-reader, religion still plays a huge role in the life & times of most of #Eurowastelanders–and especially Germanians.

    The story of Honecker und der Pastor is about a brief relationship between a DDR Evangelical pastor who takes into his home the former leader commie cocksucker Eric Honecker, who just happens to be, due to certain circumstances (sarcasm off), homeless and destitute. Of course, the pastor doesn’t just put up Eric Honecker but also his wife Margot, who is more of a commie cocksucker than Eric. These two people, who once brutally and ruthlessly ruled East Germany as though they were the hand of some commie cocksucker evil-god, stayed with the pastor and his family until they would eventually leave Germany for Chile. Now. That’s fine and dandy. Jan Josef Liefers does a good job of putting this story together. Where he fails–in worst-writer’s opinion–is finding more ways to be critical of what commie cocksuckers really are. Namely. Commie cocksuckers and any other form of authoritarianism, whether religious or political (ideology), deserves no respite when it comes to ridicule, criticism and being portrayed as anything other than, well, commie cocksuckers. It’s the job of the artist–the true artist–to do just that. That is why as I watched this movie I had the following dialogue with my better-half.

    Worst-moi: What’s the point of portraying the Honecker’s as human? It’s the same mistake they made in the movie Der Untergang (Downfall).

    My better-half: The movie is not about the Honecker’s it’s about the Pastor and his family. It’s a nice story.

    Worst-moi: No woman! You’re wrong. It’s not a nice story. Germans don’t have nice stories. And besides it should be a movie about how this fcuking country should atone for all its sins, which now includes the fcuking DDR! Fcuk. This $hit pisses me off. How come they don’t hire me to write this $hit. I’ll give you and your fcuking Germans a story. A fcuking worst-writer story about fcuking commie cocksuckers, baby.

    My better-half: Oh. Atonement. Yea. More atonement. That’s a good one.

    Worst-moi: Fcuk!

    As good as the movie Der Untergang is, it shares one thing with this movie. For whatever reason the Germans are having a hard time, at least in their story telling, dealing with their past. Politically and legally, I have no issues with Germany. In fact, unlike my beloved & missed #Americant, I’d put Germany up against any western country that claims to be law abiding and politically just. As far as Germany’s capitalism, well, that’s a whole other worst-post. But let me worst-say this. Considering how Germany’s capitalism has reunited this country, I’d say there are worse examples out there regarding the what/how countries distribute consume-to-survive and/or wealth. Is that, perhaps, a reason Jan Josef Liefers thinks it’s ok to portray monsters as humans? And even if Honecker und der Pastor is about the humanity of a DDR evangelical family, I’m worst-wondering if this movie would have been better served without so much of the Honeckers that history only needs to remember for their disservice and abuse (of humanity).

    Rant on.

    -T

    Links:

  • Overcooked Pasta Ain’t All That Bad

    Screenshot from the movie Pig (2021)

    Worst-title 2: Review of the movie Pig (2021) and SPOILER ALERT!

    The most profound moment in the entire film is when Robin Feld (Nicolas Cage) tells a former cooking student that he always overcooked the pasta. Now. In this film/story we’re dealing with a somewhat famous albeit now reclusive/austeiger chef from Portland, Oregon, who has turned to hunting truffles while living in a shack in the woods. Portland is a place, by-the-buy, I’ve been to once–and will probably never return. And I’m not worst-saying that because of the pretentious nature of everything involving the service industries in that part of hourly-wage #Americant. It’s just a place, like most of the North West–if not all of #Americant–that gives me the creeps. I don’t know. Maybe it’s how the weather is so similar to German weather. Or the wet forests out there that can only breed vampires, wolves and she-males that should be lifting weights or gutting forests. That worst-said, this film threw worst-writer for a loop so far and wide that it’s been added to my list of great movies–or at least one of the best movies I’ve seen in years. I mean. I didn’t know what to expect when I started it the other night. Nor had I heard anything/much about it. But it is starring Nicole Cage. And even though I’ve not seen anywhere near ALL his movies–because he’s certainly prolific in that arena–there are a few that will always stand out in my worst-mind. Wild At Heart is one. Raising Arizona is another. Adaptation is NOT one as I can’t stand that film and I’m sorry I ever tried to watch it. Cage is also fan-fcuking-tastic in Lord of War. I thought he was pretty cool as that demonic-thingy that turns to a skull and catches fire and rides around on a motorcycle saving the world. Or something like that. Whatever. Needless to say, I dig Cage. Especially now.

    The thing about Pig that I find sooooo cool is 1) its originality (even though it takes place one of the most unoriginal places in the universe) and 2) the title is a give-away about what this movie is about–and it wasn’t hard for wosrt-moi to figure that out pretty early on (hint: overcooked pasta = a country of overcooked stupid people). It’s also about the pig in everyone that is subject to the mediocrity/mendacity of a place-in-time where nothingness and superficiality and submissiveness rule everything because of greed and dollar worship. This movie is about how one person was able to find a way out of $hit but because everyone else (EVERYONE) can’t find their way out he has to return. And so. Cage’s character has to return to this world of $hit $hit $hit only to find out that nothing changes except now all that non-change has killed a pig that he didn’t even need to hunt truffles. The pig was just the best human replacement friend he had.

    Consume to survive, baby.

    Wow.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Search For Mother

    Not sure when this worst-thought first came to worst-moi, dear worst-reader. It’s a recent thought though, within the past year or three I’m sure. This thought has been percolating in a corner of my worst-mind as though it were a distant memory suppressed. It’s certainly been magnified since last summer. Indeed. Last summer is when I lost Mother. Oh don’t worry. She’s still alive. But lost she is all the same. And so. This morning. While walking Beckett, the killer pug, I happened across my favourite dog walking friend and I inquired as to his thoughts on the film Rollerball (1975). The reason for my inquiry–beyond the fact that he’s quite the film buff–has to do with the wife of Jonathan in the movie. With that in worst-mind, how bout a quick summary.

    Spoiler alert

    Jonathan (played by James Caan) is the world’s most famous Rollerball player. Rollerball is a violent, Roman gladiator-like sport that involves a ball that is ejected out of cannon onto a circular roller skating rink. The object of the game is to catch the cannon ball and then score a goal with it. As its champion, Jonathan is facing both his retirement and the reality of (his) life that evolves around this game. The movie is pretty abrupt in telling us from the beginning that Rollerball is more than just a game, though. For example. The players of the game and the audience represent the working class. The ruling class, on the other hand, is made up of those who own and control the game. In this dystopian world there is nothing but Rollerball–except a reference or three to some extreme bourgeois, elitist behaviour, i.e. the tree burning scene, which I’ll get to in a sec. There’s also a bit of this-that regarding the up-n-coming computer age. But before I get too bogged down with all that…

    Because of Jonathan’s popularity the ruling elite want to martyr him. As the story progresses, each game results in Jonathan resorting to not only winning (at all costs) but also fighting-the-man at all costs, even as each game becomes more and more violent. Hence the drama and suspense that Hollywood does best. In the end, the corporate elites fail to kill Jonathan. Instead his symbolism has been raised to the highest level which may or may not represents fighting-the-man. I guess. As the credits roll Jonathan skates around the Rollerball rink as the ultimate champion. Who wins what? I have no idear. Luckily there was never a sequel to this movie.

    With that worst-summary behind us, what’s going on with this movie and worst-writer’s worst-thoughts about Mother? Well, don’t you know, dear worst-reader, it’s a lot. For you see. The thought that stirred me the other night as I was thinking about my youth, rollerskating, my mother and, most important, how wives become mothers, I also started thinking about Jonathan’s wife, Ella (played by Maud Adams). Although I’m not sure what the original intention of Ella is/was in this story–keep in mind I’m writing all this based on my memory of having seen the movie in the late seventies at a drive-in–along with a few recent views of web posted vid-snippets. Anywho.

    There is one very subtle and extremely important issue regarding Jonathan’s wife. First. Ella is now someone else’s wife even though through out the movie Jonathan clings to her. She is the protaganist love-interest, if you will. And even though she’s with someone else, there’s no jealousy or bitterness between her and Jonathan. In fact. I don’t recall there being a divorce. But I could be wrong on that one. But that doesn’t matter. There does seem to be lots of compassion and understanding between these two working class adults. Also. Guess who her new husband is? No. It’s not a rival Rollerball player. No. It’s not a famous and rich doctor. Oh wait. Did you say that she probably left the world’s greatest athlete for a movie star? Ok. That’s a good thought. But no. It’s wrong.

    Ella’s new husband is no less than the owner of Jonathan’s Rollerball team. And he’s a really old, elitist white guy. Could this old elitist white guy be the answer to a woman wanting to marry a grown up man instead of haphazardly marrying a man-child that never grows up and out of (his) game-play? Wait. Scratch that. Move on.

    This thing is, dear worst-reader, this old white guy isn’t just any Rollerball team owner. If I’m not mistaken, all the owners of all Rollerball teams are also CEOs of the worlds biggest corporations. But don’t worry, dear worst-reader. That’s not even the reason I found myself worst-thinking about Ella. Or is it?

    As I posted in this worst-blog-post some time ago, there is a fight being fought for the world at large. This fight, don’t you know, isn’t a traditional fight. Nor is it a gladiatorial Rollerball game. For you see, dear worst-reader, there are fights being fought each day, every second of each day, and that fight involves Mother. Which begs this worst-question:

    What came first, Mother or…?

    Forgive me, dear worst-reader, if I’m treading on your chicken & egg answer-question. For we all know by now how and what the answer is to that one. Or? Indeed. That’s right. The egg came first! (There! Worst-writer said it.) But to the question of whether or not Mother came first and if she didn’t what did… Now we’re getting somewhere, aren’t we? Which brings me to the whole idear of Nature. Or it brings me to humanity’s hate of nature–especially nature as Mother. And how is this hate personified? If you haven’t seen it then go ahead and have a look on the #interwebnets at the tree burning scene from Rollerball. Here’s a link that may get your started. During this scene, in worst-writer’s humble opinion, something extremely important takes place. Here’s what goes down.

    An elegantly clad group of elites exit a mansion’s garden terrace with champagne glasses in hand. They cross the patio and walk over a field of grass. When the camera finds them all together in the middle of green we see a woman in a red dress convincing a man in a tuxedo, with a gun, to let her have that gun. When she finally gets the gun she proceeds to shoot at a tree. After initially missing the tree she fights off those who would say they can shoot better. She then proceeds to shoot again and hits the tree. The tree immediately goes poof and burns bright orange and red and smokes. Immediately the camera focuses on a different woman who now has the gun and she proceeds to shoot another tree, this time hitting it with her first shot. Then another woman gets the gun and does the same thing to another tree. I can’t remember exactly how many shots were fired but I can remember that they were all fired by women, surrounded by cheering elitist men, and all the trees were set ablaze. There is a brief moment during this scene where the first woman who shot the tree seems to regret or question what’s she’s just done–but that scene passes toot-sweet.

    Now. I’m sure there are a few things worst-written about this movie and the tree burning scene and that’s fine & good. I also think this is a very profound moment in the movie–even though it doesn’t really have any connection to the drama of Jonathan, Ella, Rollerball or worst-writer’s Mother. But. Then again. Here’s where it all might come together.

    Has there ever been a clearer moment in time where the obviousness of humanity’s ill-ways was more apparent? (Than now?) Ill-ways being man’s fight against not only other men but nature itself? Hence the likes of Putin, #Trump and the lust of constitutionally ordained FREEDOM TO BE STUPID? Again. If I recall from the movie Rollerball–as it’s been so long since I’ve seen it–Ella is taken away from Jonathan in order to control him and hence his popularity, his game play, his effect on the lower classes. But Ella didn’t leave him by her own accord. She left him because she was coerced by the corporate elites who had threatened Jonathan’s life. She loved him so much that she gave herself, if you will, to the biblical. She gave herself willingly to be coveted by a brother’s keeper. Is this the true fate of man vs nature? Is there a better example of humanity going against nature than to portray a woman (potentially a/the Mother) going against her nature–which may or may not be LOVE? That means, potentially, Rollerball is a movie about how to avoid not only corporate elites ruling the world but also, maybe, it is an allegory to help us figure out the true meaning of love, sacrifice, commitment and NATURE. Or. Wait. Maybe…

    No. Scratch that. Moving on.

    Yeah. Bag that. The friggin movie is about those damn trees and the gun that turned them into poof the friggin magic dragon run amok. And it’s about macho men doing their thing in sporting events that get men laid thereby leaving women to fend for themselves–until they get a better offer. Don’t you know. I guess. Yeah, baby.

    And so. With that in worst-mind…

    Rant on.

    -T

    PS This is what happens when I can’t maintain my thoughts. When I let my worst-self get too far off subject. Oh well. At least I still know the difference between good vs #MAGA idiots.

  • Pseudo-Review and Long-Term Test: RPi4 As A Desktop PC

    Worst-writer’s desktop

    Today, dear worst-reader, it is time to take another look at worst-writer’s experience with a/the wonder of the tech world. I’m worst-writing, of course, about nothing other than my favourite computing platform the Raspberry Pi. Specifically. I’m reviewing today my trusty Raspberry Pi 4 after having fiddled with it for the past two years as a desktop alternative, among other uses. For those not in the know and at the risk of being a bit redundant, Raspberry Pi is, IMHO, the mostest tech hardware innovation since the #interwebnet itself. But don’t worry. I know. Some worst-readers think that the personal computer (Mac or PC) or the smart-phone or tablets or gaming or cloud computing, etc., should be included in any claim of great tech innovations. But I’ll leave that worst-argument for a different worst-post.

    My setup

    As far as my experience with single board computing (SBC) goes, I’ve currently got four Raspberry Pi’s in full-time use as media and/or audio players in my little townhouse. In other words, I’ve replaced ALL old-school tv receivers, radio, stereo, video, etc., with SBCs. Other than Raspberry Pi, I’m also using a RockPro64 SBC running Jellyfin media server. This device is also my home data server using Samba that includes 6TB of data storage. Along side that I have a Rock64 (the little brother of the RockPro64) running an ad-block server. Both these devices are from Pine64.org which is also a great SBC maker. Unfortunately, and once again, IMHO, Pine64 takes a backseat to Raspberry Pi when it comes ease of use, setup and software. But that’s neither here or there. These are all great devices. That worst-said. All my SBCs, except the RPi4 being worst-reviewed today, are running linux and I manage them headless via SSH. But let me not get too far off subject.

    The device I’m pseudo-reviewing today is a Raspberry Pi 4b with 4gb of RAM. It is one of the first iterations of this board, which also means that there is a new iteration that can do a bit more $hits & giggles. There’s also a Raspberry Pi keyboard-computer that came out two years ago which has the same specs as mine, but don’t worry, I won’t be getting into product iteration details here. Or will I? #Nomatter. Let’s move on.

    I’ve been testing my RPi4 as a desktop PC ersatz for a while now. In other words. Although my daily computing driver is a 2017 12″ Macbook with i5 CPU and accelerated 500gb HDD–which cost around sixteen hundred Euros new–I’ve often wondered, since the day I started fiddling with Raspberry Pi’s, if I could actually quit Apple (and thereby quit standard, old-school PCs) and use an SBC instead. I mean. Heck. Come on. Even with all the covid BS and subsequent economic downturn and supply chain issues, inflation, greed-galore, etc., SBCs cost a fraction of a traditional PC. As I worst-write this post and, although they are pretty much out of stock in Germany, a Raspberry Pi is still worth its weight in gold compared to my MacBook. Indeed. As far as old school desktop PC work goes, I think I’m finally coming around to accepting what may ultimately be my future in computing. In fact. I’ve fiddled enough with Raspberry Pi to learn, in a pinch, I could even make the likes of an RPi3b a total and functional desktop device. Worst or best case scenario considered, one just has to curb some enthusiasm–as the saying goes–and these things work like a charm even if they are a bit slow. The only serious issue one has to consider when making this leap is the tech learning curve compared to old-school computing, which boils down to convenience. More on that in a sec.

    Which OS

    I’ve tested three operating systems for regular use while considering the RPi4 as a desktop device. The first is Raspberry Pi OS, formerly known as Raspbian (if I’ve got the vernacular correct). The second OS is Manjaro. And the third OS I’ve tried is DietPi. Long story short, you can forget DietPi as a desktop alternative. It’s just too cumbersome. As a headless device, though, it’s all I use. That said, as of the 64bit version of Raspberry Pi OS, it is the clear winner. The only reason that Manjaro loses out in this race boils down to my choice of keyboard and Bluetooth. I’m using an old Bluetooth Apple keyboard. I’ve NEVER been able to get this keyboard to work consistently with Manjaro or DietPi. And let me tell you, I’ve since learned a thing or three about configuring via bluetoothctl. That is, if/when I have to restart the OS–which is often–I have to go through the whole reconnect thingy with the keyboard. With the recent 64bit upgrade to Raspberry Pi OS, though, it seems to connect directly, #nomatter how many times I restart. That means I don’t have to worry about replacing my trusty old Mac keyboard that I’ve been using for the better part of ten years.

    As far as software, looks & feel, Manjaro is the clear winner. It’s impressive what the Manjaro team has done. It doesn’t win based on the amount of software available, though, or its ease of use. The interface of Manjaro–especially the Gnome and KDE versions–are simply brilliant. In fact, Manjaro is so good it made me give up on Ubuntu, hence the reason it’s not in the running for my favourite Raspberry Pi OS. For whatever reason, Ubuntu has always been the most bloated and slowest OS I’ve tried.

    As far as interface and design goes Raspberry Pi OS is totally functional. It’s not as pretty as Manjaro but it certainly gets the job done. Although its software repository is borderline obnoxious to use and it reminds me of everything I hate about computing, once you get used to it, it works. But. Then again. Beggars (or hunters for free software) can’t be choosy, eh. The simple fact is, for worst-writer, after two years of fiddling, the recent Raspberry Pi OS 64bit on the RPi4 is killer good. It works like any OS for real world computing and that’s pretty impressive stuff.

    Is this thing a viable PC ersatz?

    Yes. Basta!

    The learning curve

    As indicated, the only thing that should hold anyone back from using a Pi as a desktop PC is getting it to work consistently, which in and of itself might be the only reason to not use it. Considering how much it costs, though, should also make this decision a no brainer. Even though flashing a micro SD card is fairly straight forward, maintaining the card w/ backups and data recovery is cumbersome. For what ever reason and error on my part, I’m sure, I’ve lost two SD cards to data corruption. I attribute that to the constant requirement to do hard restarts every now and then. The Debian based Linux kernel works like a charm but it still has ALL the quirks and challenges of Linux. For example. Accessing the software repository leads to the majority of crashes and restarts I’ve experienced. I have no idea why but I’m sure it all has to do with my lack of linux abilities. Configuring and personalising the interface is also a challenge and I pretty much refrain from fiddling with it anymore. Until the recent 64Bit update, though, maintaining OS updates was also a challenge. Now it works like a charm. But that’s probably all higher tech stuff that normal users shouldn’t be bothered with. Word processing, note taking, file management, connecting to my network, surfing the #interwebnets works flawlessly, albeit sometimes a bit slow.

    Conclusion

    Considering the one-way greed street that is the tech industry–where nothing seems to change in the right direction, as far as I’m concerned–it’s a wonder to me that the Raspberry Pi isn’t more wide spread as a desktop alternative. Perhaps its keyboard design will change that. Even at its current inflated price, though, it’s certainly worth consideration. Hopefully when this stupid economic and covid crisis is over the Raspberry Pi foundation can get back on the development good-ship and up the ante with upgrading its specs. Not sure how that can be done, though, with its 5v power consumption and credit card size. It is entertaining to watch videos of guys out there adding water cooling to coincide with over-clocking. Which begs the question: am I ready to replace my Mac for this thing? Maybe not right now because I can afford a new Mac. But what is clear, as far as tech in my house goes, there’s nothing that can beat these little things.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Dada Dodo Doodoo

    Screenshot from YouTube

    Worst-title #2: Dada-absurdism conspiracy-theory galore?

    Worst-title #3: Another Bielefeld Conspiracy?

    Here’s a time-stamp link to the YouTube video.

    Had a rough night, dear worst-reader. Probably drank the wrong thing–again. You know. Wrong cocktail mixed with a bad vino. Or maybe not. Although I didn’t have a headache when I awoke around two in the A.M., there was an urge to busy myself after which I’d find my way back to deep sleep. Usually I’ll read something or watch an episode from Star Trek (TOC, of course). Or I’ll find a podcast and lay in bed with my ears propped up like a puppy, waiting for something interesting to be heard, at which time I’ll eventually fall asleep again and forget everything I heard anywho.

    Something interesting was heard and I didn’t get back to sleep. But before I get to that.

    Ever heard of the Bielefeld conspiracy theory, dear worst-reader? From what I understand, it’s one of Germany’s first #Interwebnet conspiracies dating back to the days of Usenet. In short, a couple of Germans came up the idear to mess around with people from the town of Bielefeld thereby making the following claims:

    1. Do you know anybody from Bielefeld
    2. Have you ever been to Bielefeld
    3. Do you know anybody who has ever been to Bielefeld.

    That’s it. Pretty funny, eh? I mean. Pretty funny as far as German humour goes. The idear is that the town of Bielefeld is a government/alien/blah-blah fictional town for the purpose of… I don’t know what the purpose is. Then again, I’ve been expatriated in Germany for well over thirty years and I still can’t laugh about the Bielefeld conspiracy. Is that because I’ve been to Bielefeld? Or that I’m an alien (which I technically am)? Not sure. But I suppose that’s neither here nor there. So let’s move on with more pertinent conspiracy-theories, shall we.

    Although I’ve been sporadically following BirdsArentReal for a while, it’s never crossed my radar as something that needs deeper thought or consideration. It’s more performance artistry, don’t you know. I mean. It’s yet another fairly straightforward conspiracy theory that continues the intertwining of simple minds. Yet there is something different about this one. Or is there? Unfortunately the interview I heard last night with the creator of BirdsArentReal is proving that he’s not quite ready for prime-time performance artistry. With that in worst-mind, what is this guys schtick? Well. It goes something like this. A young man has found meaning in his life–in a world that is forevermore meaningless. It is a meaning that contains a narrative. A very entertaining narrative. Does it matter that this narrative is a bit farfetched–in a world of conspiracy-theory farfetched-ism? Of course not. So let’s move on.

    When I first heard about birdsarentreal sometime late last year, I loved the idear. What a gob smack of creativity, I thought. For me it reeked of anti-establishment behaviourism albeit from the left. For you see, dear worst-reader, the conspiracy-theory goes something like this. Birds are not real. Instead birds are government made drones. For. Don’t you know, dear worst-reader. The reason birds sit on power lines is because that is how they recharge their batteries. Or didn’t you know that? Batteries that drive the motors that enable them to fly. Right? They sit on telephone lines, btw, because that is how they transmit the data they have collected about us and send that data to the government. You getting all this, dear worst-reader? Amused yet?

    The thing is, dear worst-reader, in order to maintain this sort of bat$hittery, aka conspiracy-theory krapp galore, there has to be a way to maintain the/a narrative. The best way to maintain a narrative is to get lots of people to believe in the conspiracy theory and to buy the t-shirts and baseball hats and hoodies and get lots of people talking (about you). In other worst-words, there has to be a social-political-economy behind the whole schtick. Hence, my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant, like so many other countries, is awash in conspiracy-theory bat$hit galore. And now the bat$hit galore has a new generation taking hold. Look what they’ve come up with, eh.

    Hail conspiracy-theory anew, baby.

    In order for conspiracy theory to thrive a few things have to come together–according to worst-writer. The first is the gullible. The second is no way out. The third is the narrative. I’m sure there is a lot of other stuff that hold conspiracy-theories together but that ain’t what worstwriter.com is about. For that apply your #interwebnets activity as you see fit. Anywho.

    If you have a look at the video/interview linked to in this post, the kid that started this new-fangled conspiracy-theory bat$hit is struggling to maintain his narrative. And we all know what happens when certain types of people get too much attention for things they may or may not have expected. As far as I can tell, based on the video/interview, this kid is losing touch with all the stuff that makes this bat$hit thrive and all the stuff that made his narrative entertaining. But I’ll let anyone interested in that worst-theory be their own judge about that.

    So what is the point of this new-fangled conspiracy theory? My initial guess was thus: $hit on #okboomers and all those who’ve f’d the future of Gen-Xers. For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, I sympathise with Peter McIndoe. He’s the same age as my son. And even though I’m a late #okboomer, I certainly do not share the mindset that has lead to the times we are all forced to live in now, which is obviously stealing life away from Gen-Xers. You know. Capitalism run amok where it only serves the old (old money). War. War. War. And let’s not forget this/a new way of life that is FREEDOM TO BE STUPID that has lead to the advent of former prez pee-pee-hair, #MAGA and #Americant.

    I’m starting to feel bad for this McIndoe. His conspiracy show, which, btw, is traveling across the US, not unlike barber surgeons of yore, might lose its momentum though. Reason? Well. Even though McIndoe is a pretty good narrator (of is conspiracy-theory), there is one key element that he seems unlikely to maintain based on how he interacted with this particular podcaster. In short, there is the adage that goes something like this: don’t shit where you eat. In other worst-words: if he wants to be so defensive and combative he should do so on platforms that his conspiracy-theory narrative espouses to bat$hit upon. The fact that he tries to label The Majority Report and Sam Seder the media is simply preposterous, if not blatantly ignorant. But on that note I should die-gress.

    The gullible. No way out. Narrative.

    Conspiracy theorists have to be combative. And that’s cool. Being defensive ain’t the worst to end all either. But this kid, by attacking a left-wing podcaster, who I’m sure up to the point of this interview was also very entertained, might be pushing his bat$hit-show in the wrong direction. As I worst-noted, of the three things required to maintain the social-political-economy of conspiracy-theory, you got to have three things working for you. Of those three things, you might be able to lose one of them but you can’t lose all three. Hence the gullible, no way out and the narrative are easily maintainable when it comes to moon landings. I mean. How many people are privileged enough to prove things otherwise? On the other hand. Being unable to maintain these three things might be the reason Alex Jones is facing financial ruin because his conspiracy theory about Sandy Hook being a government hoax is beyond evil.

    Ok. I might be off subject a bit–or confused. But hear me out a worst-sec or two more.

    It’s unfortunate that I was once entertained by BirdsArentReal and now I’m pretty much sick of it. Such a short-lived fun bat$hit show, eh. Then again, is there something more to not only a Gen-Xers anger regarding his life being ruined by old people, greed-mongers and politics-of-bat$hit? Of course there is. Peter McIndoe should pick his enemies better if/when he comes up with a new & improved meme that may or may not make him a buck. For. Don’t you know. Dear worst-reader. I was on the verge of buying one of his t-shirts. But now. No. He’s just too friggin mean & stupid. So let’s all just keep laughing at what got BirdsArentReal going–the whole thing about birds charging on power lines–and forget about this kids almost psychotic way of handling interviews with rational thinking people.

    Rant on.

    -T

    Links:

  • Apple Fanboy Unfun And Bath Salts

    Even though there’s a lot of know-non-sense here about worst-writer’s tech preferences, I’m always afeared to admit that I am an Apple fanboy (aghast). Which means, it cannot go un-worst-said: my choice of tech is NEVER about what one can do (w/ tech) but about what one can circumvent to make due (with tech). Or is it do? #Nomatter. In other worst-words: technology today is not about what you can do but about what IT lets you do. All of it determined by the graces of monopolies, of course. But enough about worst-conspiratorialisms galore. Or maybe not.

    As far as a fanboy goes, I like most things Apple Macintosh but have a take-it or leave-it attitude towards all things iOS. That is, I really don’t like anything touch screen. Hence I’ll use an iPhone (what other choice is there really) but could give two hoots about iPads. But. Again. Enough about my prejudices.

    There was yet another fruit event this week, dear worst-reader. And. Yes. I watched it all on my iPhone 11 while bathing in a tub full of Kneipp Salz (bath salt). What? Never heard of Kneipp Salz? It’s really cool stuff, don’t you know. You consume-to-survive these little packets of crystalline what-not, throw it in a tub full of hot water and within fifteen or so minutes you kind of dissolve. Of course. I have no idear what the therapeutic value of this stuff really is. But. Considering it stems out of a period of #Eurowasteland history where people didn’t know the value of good food, proper hygiene, and a bit of exorcise, etc., it’s no wonder that it has lingered through the centuries albeit reduced to marketing bull$hit galore not unlike what Apple does to get me throw money its way. And keep in mind, when I worst-say throw money, I’m not really talking big bucks here. For worst-writer is nowhere near spending the big bucks on computing power that some folk spend. Indeed. That worst-said. I’ve thrown a penny and three at Apple over the years. And now. Let’s move on to closing this worst-post.

    Apple is unfun because it is a fcuking monopoly that deserves as much hate as love. Or maybe not. Basta!

    I started using Apple’s Macintosh computers back in the mid-90s. There was a small stint there (during my divorce years at the end of the 90s) where I was reduced to piecing together a cheap PC–on account I could no longer afford a Mac–but after that, once things recovered from the monotonous lie that is industrial matrimony, I quickly got back on the Mac ship. By the mid 2000s I was full-on Mac again. That said. After all these years, I’m glad that I’ve finally figured out what it is this device can do for me and all my worst-writing. Hence, the lust driven by Steve Jobs marketing bull$hit galore for a new & improved glorified typewriter every year is mute. I can now stretch the use of a Mac for up to five years. I know there are some out there that can push their devices for much longer, and you can do that with Macs, and that’s cool, but I decided to not go through any more divorces, which also means I can easily afford a new Mac every few years. It also means, I have to keep an eye on what’s new in the Apple-verse. Aghast! The only problem is, when Apple goes through its marketing freak shows, like it did the other day, I have to sit through all the bull$hit before something interesting comes along. You know. The bull$hit about iPads and iPhones and AppleTV blah, blah, blah. Needless to say, my lustful eyes perked up when they finally get to the serious tech stuff i.e. the Mac.

    But then I was, as usual, let down.

    The thing that surprised me with Apple’s recent announcement was that there was no new chip. At least no new chip in a device that I wanted. The introduction of the M1 chip (2020) threw me in a tizzy, dear worst-reader. Wow, I thought. Apple is finally done with Intel. But are they really? #Nomatter.

    I rarely buy first generation Apple products. My trusty 2017 Intel MacBook, which I bought in early 2018, is still going strong. That said. I knew it wouldn’t be a problem to NOT lust after a first iteration M1 device. Instead. I could just wait for them to introduce the M2 or a new designed MacBook Air, which would then be second iteration. But that didn’t happen. WTF? No one wants my money? That worst-said. Looks like I’ll be waiting a while longer before getting rid of my 12” Intel MacBook–which I’m still kinda loving, btw. Yes. I’m even kinda loving the butterfly keyboard. I’m worst-typing on right now and it feels odd, vague, unreal but kinda good. What’s everyone’s problem with the butterfly keyboard? But I digress.

    The Apple event was boring–but the bath salt felt good. Yet I’m intrigued by the continued development of the ‘M’ series of new CPUs aka SOCs (system on a chip) even though it become more and more obvious as I watched the show that I wasn’t getting a new MacBook anytime soon. That worst-said, the way Apple is positioning these new chips I find kinda odd. As good as the M1 is, #nomatter which iteration (M1, M1plus, M1max, etc.), there’s something missing. Keep in mind, being a fanboy doesn’t mean that I’m blind, nor does it mean I don’t follow other parts of the tech world. I mean. If this chip is so good and under complete and total control by Apple, why hold back and continue after almost two years with the same M1 label? Could it be that they can’t develop an M2? I’m sure that’s not the case. But still. The same chip (M1) for more than two years? WTF?

    Worst-writer’s quick & dirty assumption is thus: Apple obviously doesn’t give a hoot about the rest of the industry–nor does it really care about competing with Intel (anymore). That ship has sailed. Yet. As I watched the Mac presentation I couldn’t help but wonder between all the tech comparing and contrasting that perhaps the M1 ain’t all its cracked up to be. Which is fine. For the Mac world it obviously works. I mean. I’m a creator. Worst-creator. Or? Ok. But I’m also anti-monopoly. Yeah. Ok. But let’s move on.

    Here’s another worst-writer thought about what Apple is doing. If these chips are so awesome why hasn’t any company from the gaming industry ported their fancy-pants games in order to utilise Apple’s incredible GPU capacity? Again. It’s been two years. Even though I’m no gamer, I’d buy Call of Duty if it ran on my Mac. You know. For $hits & giggles! But perhaps I should stop there. I really don’t know much about the gaming industry–other than it requires krapp loads of computing power to make it all happen. Yeah. Moving on.

    I’ve considered more than thrice to simply dump the Macintosh because of what Apple has done to it over the years–especially the years following the introduction of all-things iOS. And even though I’m working on one of the last Jony Ive Macs, I certainly don’t miss him and his confused industrial design bull$hit either. I’m pretty confident at this moment that I could easily transition all of my worst-writing over to a linux based laptop. Since I’ve got all my home networking and media devices running on Linux it would be a no brainer. So what’s stopping me? In short:

    Even though Linux is awesome there’s much to be desired out of the confusion of linux software and hardware.

    I was impressed with the introduction of the M1 chip in 2020. The thing that impressed me about it is not just the chips technical prowess, though. I was hoping that because Apple is no longer dependent on Intel maybe it could also depart from the vertical monopolisation of its product pricing. That is, I always thought/hoped that Apple’s devices are expensive not ONLY because of all the Apple bull$hit behind them (designed in cupertino) but because all the bull$hit combined with having to pay-off the likes of Intel now means there could be a bit of a dividend for users. I know. I know. How naive of you worst-writer. Then again. The price of a new M1 MacBook Air is between five and six hundred less than what I paid for my 12” Intel based MacBook. And, according to the numbers, a new M1 MacBook Air is probably twice, if not three times, faster. Oh yeah. I’m running the faster 12” MacBook with the i5 and larger/faster HDD.

    The introduction the other day of the new Mac Studio though has yanked my chain in another direction. Holly krapp is that damn thing expensive–which shouldn’t surprise anyone. This is Apple, right? Does the marketing bull$hit work getting potential users riled up about its speed and technicality, #nomatter the price? Of course it does. But can you open it up? Can you change parts? Does anyone really need to hook up five friggin monitors? Obviously none of those questions apply to worst-writer. Worst-writer just needs to worst-type. Then again. The thing that’s got me worst-riled now is that Apple didn’t introduce a new M2 MacBook Air because it’s in the process of disappearing the cost savings it gained by stealing from open-source chip architecture (ARM). Indeed. I was hoping with the intro of the M1 that Apple would/might free-up not only its hardware and software integration but also its old-economy pricing. But. Again. How naive of worst-moi.

    Obviously no new MacBook means that I’m gonna continue evaluating a new laptop purchase. As far as replacing my Mac with a Linux laptop? Yeah, that may still be in play, even though I thought I would buy an M2 MacBook Air this spring. Then again. The only comparable Linux machine that I can buy will have to be with an Intel chip. And who wants that these days, eh. Which begs this last worst-question: why ain’t there an ARM based laptop out there to compete with what I’m forced to buy from Apple? Pine64 Pine Pro? Not quite up to par, I’d say. System76? Darn tooting except for the fact they’re all about Intel–and, as far as I’m concerned, overpriced! But what about a Framework laptop? Now that’s something on worst-writer’s radar–except that it too is all about Intel and it also is supposed to have linux OS issues. Oh well. The fight against the monopoly continues.

    Rant on.

    -T

    Links:

  • Old General’s Movie Worst-Words Lingering Large?

    screenshot from the #interwebnets of the movie Patton

    Not sure what motivates worst-moi to worst-post this. Could it have something to do with Russia and Russia’s recent attempt at enabling/facilitating a new tzar, i.e. Putin? Then again. Europe, as I worst-write this, is (once again) at war. I mean. Don’t you know. It’s as though #nomatter how many generations of war-mongers pass–as in pass on to the netherworld–Europe can do nothing else but war war war. And so. Here’s a quote from an interesting movie about the mindset of war-mongers at the end of WW2. You know. That most recent war thingy that lead to the world finally realising (or not) that maybe it’s time to stop with all this bull$hit. Oh. And. By-the-buy. This is, of course, from the winners of said war. You know. Winners. The ones that write the history.

    The war shouldn’t be over. We should stop pussyfooting about the Russians! We’ll have to fight them anyway. Why not do it now, when the army’s here? Instead of disarming Germans let’s get them to help fight the Bolsheviks.

    The quote above is from the 1970 movie Patton starring George C. Scott. I saw this movie for the first time in the mid 1970s–even though I was to young to actually be let in (to the cinema) on account of the extreme (curse word) language. But that’s neither here nor there. I was pushed to see this movie because the pushing is/was what’s done with young American males. The cinema, don’t you know, gladly let me in–and not just because I could afford the fee. Indeed. So I watched yet another propagandist movie. And to this day I kinda like it. Or was it a movie about good feelings galore regarding where/what I was born to love (or not)? #Nomatter. Moving on.

    A few years after watching this movie I would go to a US armed forces recruiting centre regarding whether or not to volunteer, join, the forces. Needless to say. The movie mentioned above lingered large in my mind back then. Could I actually sign-up for four years (that was the commitment back then) and follow all these guys who don’t seem to think twice about killing others? Is the military a life for me–which was the reason I had to talk to military recruiters in the first place on account that’s where the American poor go if they believe it will be a spring-board to something better in life? As far as worst-writer was concerned, I chose to leave it all on the table. In fact. I can still remember one of the young army/navy/marine recruiters getting pissed off and gruelling me about wasting their time if I couldn’t sign up to the greatest fighting force in the history of mankind where I would find glory defending my country. But before I get too far off topic.

    Although I’m not sure if General Patton actually said the words that George C. Scott said in the movie (quote above), considering Scott’s portrayal of Patton, it doesn’t seem far fetched. Then again. How does one sell the American dream, the American story of glory, persuading poor souls to go their way instead of a different way that doesn’t involve killing Russians, Vietnamese, middle-Americans, Arabs and muslims and and and, etc.? I obviously don’t know anymore the answer to that question(s). That was so long ago. Yet it all lingers. Lingers large. In the back of my mind. And. Like I worst-said. I left it all on the table. But. Then again. Considering Ukraine and the issue (currently) of more useless death in Europe… No. Stop.

    That’s not the reason I’m posting this. The question I have now is, after so many years, after the Cold War and squandering my youth because I couldn’t kill, what’s with the Russians right now who can (kill)?

    Rant on.

    -T

    Link:

  • How To Denazify The Renazified

    The Germans and the Italians lost WW2 but the fascists won. -George Carlin

    Once again, dear worst-reader, let’s review worst-writer’s worst-world view, shall we. Or. Put another worst-way, what is a fascist and, at the same time, since they are similar, what is a Nazi? I suppose, of course, the whole nazi-thing is easier to understand. Reason? There is a face and a body and a stench and an ideal that is a nazi and it seems to walk among us EVERYWHERE. Fascists and fascism, though, is a bit more packed away and stealthy. With that in worst-mind. Both these idears are usually made up of white, male, sexually repressed dudes from mothers (dedettes) that probably should have, for just a little while longer, kept that aspirin between her knees. Then again. I worst-write about all these worst-issues because I’m genuinely concerned about this worst-world as worst-words like nazi and fascist get thrown around like a crate of wiffle balls in a world where little, itty-bitty man-children have no wiffle bats. For you know the old adage, don’t you, dear worst-reader:

    In a world of wiffle bats everything is a wiffle…

    Wait. Scrap that. Maybe I’ve got things backwards. #Nomatter. Move on.

    I spent a bit of time yesterday reading Putin’s February 21, 2022 whack-job speech, including his follow-up speech on February 24. But before I get to the speech, you know what baffles me? After reading one translation of his speech, I thought I should also try to find another version to read. You know. I was looking to see if there’s a difference in translations.

    Btw. There is one thing I will never forget about those days so long ago when I tried to learn a bit of Russian. Of the few languages I’ve tried (and, of course, failed) to grasp, Russian was the most curious language to me. Reason? And I hope I’m not too far out of my league here. The Russian language felt to me as though it is wonderfully, magically nuanced. In other words, it can–if one wills it–be extravagantly nueanced or it can be lugubriously precise. Very much unlike the German language, don’t you know. With that in worst-mind, nuanced precision is a good mix–hence my love of Dostoyevsky and Gogol? I mean, these über-great writers did so much more than wax poetic about the human soul–through the mind of oppressed humanity. Indeed. Yet Putin’s speech in all its Russian glory….

    Holy krapp, dear worst-reader. If I haven’t worst-said it enough already, then let me just go ahead and say it more more: we are doomed.

    If there was a pinch of hope where I thought that maybe Putin could do something worthwhile with his dictatorship antics, that hope is now forever squashed. In fact, I have the squash residue lodged between my left ring finger and pinky. I’ve tried several times since yesterday, even applying mechanic’s hand cleaner, to get it off but I give up. My squashed residue is now forming a wart and I’m sure, soon enough, it’ll have to be surgically removed using a dental drill, sulphuric acid and some K-Y Jelly. But don’t lose a thought or three about my ailments, dear worst-reader. It all ends up being yet another scar that will makeup the coffin of worst-writer’s end. And so.

    The thing that gets me about Putin’s speech is that it was tedious just finding a copy of it. It’s everywhere to hear and see, don’t you know. Yet to find a transcribed version of it isn’t easy. Am I wrong in worst-assuming (or conspiring) that no one outside Russian influenced spheres of the #interwebnets wants to publish it—in transcribed form? There are, of course, numerous sites that quote from it and even dissect it (see links below). Which begs the question: WTF? Perhaps I’m over doing it thinking I need to read various translations. Still. After reading it once in english and once in German, I can’t help but wonder if something is awry. Or maybe it’s just too winded and rambling. Either that or there’s a little dark patch in the back of my brain that can’t accept the reality that we’re living in a world that is so deeply stuck in late nineteenth and early twentieth century precision nuances, where knowledge ain’t power and the end is nigh and things free will be squashed and and and and…

    #Nomatter.

    Putin’s attempt at justifying a war with Ukraine is beyond absurd. Yet, so much absurdity cannot be dismissed. In fact, the last time I heard something as absurd that could also not be dismissed, former prez pee-pee-hair of my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant was flooding the zone with so much right-wing bull$hit that seventy-four or so million morons tried to re-elect him. And now many of those same morons are being told by various bat$hit newz sources that Putin is kind of OK. Indeed. Dear worst-reader. Fake newz, nuking a hurricane, grabbing them by the pu$$y, etc. is no different than Putin’s defence of defending his fear that his cuck is just too friggin small. Or is there too much friggin in the cuck of our small…

    The gist of Putin’s speech is, like I’ve said, beyond absurd. But while worst-writer is also not dismissing it, what can we take away from it? Well. Like all sexually repressed right wingers, authoritarians, fascist, let’s have a new worst-look at Nazis. Or. As Putin puts it: de-nazi.

    Wait. Is that how he puts it?

    First. Denazification is a real thing. Austria and Germany went through it. Supposedly the same basic thing was done in Iraq. Then again, the Chinese revolution, which gave way to the China we know today, also pulled off some serious de-imperialisation. And that’s the ticket, eh, dear worst-reader. When the likes of Putin uses terms like denazify or decommunise, what is he really saying? Here’s where the biggest crock-of-$hit of his speech blossoms its fruit. How is it that anyone can take what Putin says seriously when he’s obviously showing all his cards when it comes to all-things imperial, authoritarian, controlling galore? Can all this boil down to projection? You know what I mean with projection, right? You know, that whole Freudian Projection thing. While claiming that Ukraine is full of communists and nazis and he’s the only one to get rid of them, isn’t he really talking about himself, his regime, his dictatorship–the weakness and fear of who and what he really is? How is it that this man can rule over a country like Russia–especially after the failure of the experiment known as the Soviet Union? That worst-said, his speech has got to be one of the most profound speeches ever. Profound in the sense that it reveals so much of what’s wrong with being human. Ok. Am I worst-rambling-ranting yet?

    Ok. One more worst-shot at the denazification thingy.

    One of the things I learned about Nazis when I expatriated to my mother’s country of birth is that they’re everywhere in #Eurowasteland. Not unlike my beloved & missed #americant, of course. But in Germany there are two points-of-view when it comes to all-things Nazi. The first POV is that some Nazis were turned and by turning they’re OK now. You know. They’ve seen the ill of their ways. They’re not gonna kill anyone anymore and they’re not gonna persecute unbelievers anymore either. Heck, a whole bunch of them served in various government and even more in private sector positions after WW2–which ended up turning Germany into the economic juggernaut of #Eurowasteland. Don’t even get me started on all the former Nazis I met while briefly circling in and around certain upper German classes.

    The second POV, though, is a bit more nuanced. And it stems out of the former GDR, i.e. eastern Germany that was so conveniently gobbled up after 1989. You know, that whole reunification thing. But get this. One of the pillars of the then East German school of ideology was that it had no Nazis. It not only had no Nazis–but there was no reason to even talk about them, learn about them, study them. East Germany was simply the answer to what would have become of the Germans if it weren’t for uncle Adolf. In other worst-words, if you were a Nazi then you’re a friggin communist now. Oh. And let’s not forget. The Nazis, the East Germans thought/believed, were all in The West. Ok. So there’s that.

    But where does all this flinging and swirling of the Nazi stuff come from at a time when the Nazi belief system, although thoroughly defeated, has long lost its affectation? I mean. Why/how could a leader of a superpower use such archaic if not jingoistic terminology in a major speech given to the world about why he needs to kill people? Well, here’s worst-writer’s simple worst explanation. The essence of being/thinking/living the Nazi dream is not all about authoritarianism. It is, though, about the human propensity to control what is perceived to be inalienable. Hence, Putin’s need to protect what he believes is his/a inalienable right to arbitrarily wield power in the name of protecting those from the very same thing that he espouses: control. Control of everything. Especially control of money, greed, possession(s) and more control. Wait. Why did I use that word twice? #Nomatter. The thing is, Putin even eludes to all this in his speech by constantly reflecting and recalling the failure of the Soviet Union which employed the same disastrous ideology albeit painted in a different color, wearing a different frock, sporting a/the new & improved sportcoat–of all things nazi-like-authoritarianism, etc.

    Remember, the difference between a fascist and Nazi is in nuance. Ok. Maybe there’s also the construct of nationalism. Hence the N in nazi. For the fascist, on the other hand, it was all about capitalists protecting capital–from the likes of communists, socialist and those who really get their kicks out of questioning the legitimacy of the Haves, the Have-Mores and the system that makes all that happen. For Putin to claim that he must denazify Ukraine really means that he wants to control those who think his brand of top-down socialism should not have to subject itself to money and money and lots more money–all because Ukrainians just want to have more fun than Russians do. And if that worst-thought is true, why doesn’t Putin just call a spade a gardening tool? Why use all these old, archaic, run-out-of-steam labels?

    But before I reveal more worst-writer naïveté…

    #Nomatter.

    Good luck suckers.

    Rant on.

    -T

    Links:

  • Fifteen Year Single Malt Darkness Joy

    Source of pic: worst-writer doing his thing.

    The storm’s name is Eileen. I think. Hitting UK and the continent bigly. I have one of those massive Strandkorb chairs on one of my five balconies and I just missed being able to film the thing being toppled over as though it were a leaf in the wake of an angry woman scorned. So I left the hallow wet-noise of the upstairs and sought some refuge with Beckett the killer pug on more solid ground flooring. I turned up the hifiberry stereo with trip-hop, hip-hop, downtempo instrumental and watched the rain pound the windows of my atrium. BTW, I have no idear what trip-hop or downtempo is but I like it. I fits well with a stormy afternoon and an early scotch. Also. I guess I’m glad it’s not hailing. Big hail would certainly break a window or three of my atrium. Or? #Nomatter.

    To go with storm gusts in the middle of flatland Germania I cracked open my birthday present. A bottle of fifteen year old single malt scotch. It tastes like caramel and seared chocolate and at forty-six percent it hits the nostrils hard but then a poof of forestry and shaved fresh timber hits my smell centres as I move it to throat. The high alcohol doesn’t hit the tongue as hard but smooths out a pathway touched with a silky, mighty, albeit mild aroma that may or may not have ridden the crack moon of a peat field. But then I sensed a slight flowery bouquet–which I thought couldn’t be right. The flower stuff is in my second birthday present which is a twelve year old Japanese bourbon that I can’t wait to crack. Then I realised that, perhaps, that smell was coming from my better-half’s tulips that her useless husband bought her for Valentines day. Remember those days fellow worst-writers? The days we bought the chicks flowers to help smooth out the evening. But now that you’re committed (locked), smoothing things out is a bit less demanding. Or is it? #Nomatter. Yeah. The bouquet of tulips might be influencing my scotch–but in a good way. And there’s still the hint that woman scorned could strike anew.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Oldest Profession vs Three Trillion Dollar Man

    Screenshot from the #interwebnets

    Disclaimer: if you’d prefer to skip all the/my worst-writing about the pitfalls of being an Apple fanboy, scroll down to buzz-word-monopoly.

    As an Apple fanboy let me first get this out of the way: technology is never about what you can do but instead about what you cannot do. Taking that worst-thought one step further: the reality of (post-Dotcom) technology is not about progress but instead consolidation and/or dictating profits–as opposed to earning one’s keep in a functioning market place. Worst-writer’s worst-opinion regarding non-open, monopolised markets? I can’t tell you how many times a day, when using Apple tech krapp, I ask my-worst-self: why can’t it do this or why can’t it do that? And don’t you know, dear worst-reader, the reason(s) it can’t do any of the stuff it should (be able to) do has nothing to do with technology itself. The capacity to do what I wish it could/would do is there. Instead, we’re all forced to live with the monopoly i.e. corporations owning/controlling everything. And don’t get me started on the stupidity of krapp tech services e.g. Siri, Apple Music, etc. Ok. Maybe just a few worst-thoughts on that.

    After giving up on iTunes years ago, I finally broke down at the end of last year because Apple made an offer I couldn’t refuse—to try its Music (streaming) service. Instead of the standard three month trial they offered it to me for six months. Ok, I thought. Six months might be the time I need to evaluate this krapp. After a week or two of consideration on whether or not to try it–for I must contemplate deeply compromising my worst-principles–I took them up on their offer. I mean. What the heck. I’ve put off streaming since its inception. I just never thought I needed it. Tick that off to I’m an album guy, I hate wawawa pop music, the music industry sucks anywho, etc. But get this. With three months remaining in my testing of this krapp I can honestly say that I’m not impressed. In fact. The only thing I’ve gained from giving this a try is the reassurance that I’ve been worst-right all along. Apple Music and any other streaming service (both music and video) is nothing if not the long grift. Long live physical media, eh. Long live owning what you pay for. In fact. I’ll just keep maintaining my CD and DVD collection that I access through my dirt-cheap SMB Linux-based home media server. As far as the convenience of streaming? What a crock of $hit. And since I don’t consume music that way–which means I can’t find a reason that warrants paying hundreds of Euros a year for this krapp, WTF? And by the buy. The reason I won’t sign up for AppleTV is the same. I would rather rent movies via AppleTV or buy DVDs. (That’s right. DVDs, not blue-rays, are perfectly fine.) And so. Are these worst-capitalist times we live in where everything has to be monopolised–because these organisations can monopolise–worth it? Hell no, baby. On the other hand, I’m just another ageing fuddy-duddy stuck in an eco system–until I finally make the hundred percent jump to Linux. Am I wrong.

    Buzz-worst-word: monopoly

    While I was reading through a post about yet another lawsuit involving Apple’s monopolising over everything, its recent situation with the Dutch struck my fancy. Now. I don’t always feel sympathy for software developers, which is the reason I use open-source whenever possible. But software developers (the guys who actually write/create stuff) deserve their due–if their software warrants it. What determines software’s worth? Well. That’s a whole other worst-blog-post. But then something else hit me about this situation.

    According to Apple’s latest attempt at justifying what is obviously monopolistic behaviour, I can’t help but want their to be some long over-due and serious government regulation to get this bull$hit under control. If I understand the situation correctly, see link below, the Dutch government is siding with software developers in their fight against Apple’s unjust payment processing system that is the Apple App Store. Now. I don’t know about you, dear worst-reader. But get this. Apple actually believes that it has the right to dictate away a third of potential earnings from app developers simply because it arbitrarily controls the means with which software is forced to transact through its system. As is always the case with greed-mongering, perfected, of course, by Steve Jobs, delusion becomes reality. And delusion is part of the downfall of capitalism, hence the likes of former prez pee-pee-hair, right-wing political bat$hittery, and we’re all now on the brink of WW3, etc. These are all signs of a system that is in free-fall. But don’t get me started on politics, eh.

    Allow worst-moi to worst-write what I think needs to happen in order to stop all the monopolies and all the arbitrary (meritless) money making that is today’s digital world run amok.

    1. The Internet is a public utility
      • no ifs ands or buts
    2. ALL personal information is private and NEVER a mechanism for corporate profits
      • find another, more socially productive way to make money you cucksuckers
    3. No corporate Internet for stupid people
      • e.g. facebag and social media should have to jump through regulations hoops galore in order to make money because that would be a good thing
    4. No software, protocol or hardware is allowed to monopolise data that curbs individuals choice(s) regarding use of personal data
      • no more .doc or file systems (ntfs) or containers (HEIF), etc.

    It’s an unfinished list, dear worst-reader. A bit of worst-mind farting, if you will. It’s also, obviously, less than empirical. But it might contain a seed of legitimacy. In any case, something needs to be done about monopoly corporate power that is nothing less than grifting.

    There’s one other thing about Apple’s App Store bull$hit. In the few articles I’ve read about this stuff, everyone is concentrating on the obvious. That is, Apple’s arbitrary requirement of 30% would be ok if developers had other choices where to sell their wares.

    It’s essentially the same issue between Apple and Epic software (Fortnite). The problem is, due to the monopoly of the App Store, developers have no other choice. Aren’t we supposed to have free markets? For those out there that claim the Apple App Store is no different from a mall, which also charges outrageous fees for retail space, that issue is mute. I mean. Could one argue that the reason Malls are dying-out is because the free market challenged the arbitrary costs they added to retailing? The Apple App Store is obviously not a mall. Is it a service? Sure. Why not. But does it deserve 30% of developers earnings when those same developers have no other choice in selling their wares?

    There’s one other issue that I’d like to address regarding Apple vs Dutch. Keep in mind that what we’re dealing with here is a dating app. The developers of this dating app don’t want to have their margins reduced (or have to raise their prices to cover lost margins) because of unwarranted fees. Ok. That’s fine and dandy. I’ve already worst-established where I stand on that. But how ‘bout this worst-thought: could it be that the Dutch government has gotten involved in this issue because, well, don’t you know, a dating app in The Netherlands could threaten tax revenues on what the Dutch do best, other than selling (taxing) dope: selling the oldest profession? Indeed. Dear worst-reader. Now that’s a worst-thought or three about how to deal with too much corporate power. Or?

    Rant on.

    -T

    Links that motivated this post:

  • Patriotism vs Nationalism

    Worst-subtitle: The meaning of words don’t matter if everything else is un-understood

    So. Like. A thought hit me a few years back, dear worst-reader. Been kinda busy with it ever since. It goes something like this. I was questioning (my) worst-choices in life that had lead me to hang-out in one of those lodges for a few hours. You know the lodge I’m referring to, eh? One of them humpty-dumpty buildings/facilities either right in the middle of nowhere or next to a barbershop or a five-n-dime, in and around suburban-hell? On the outside it never looks like much but inside you’re overwhelmed with red, white & blue taped and glued everywhere, except for the 1970s fake wood paneling, which is taped and glued but hides walls from interior and exterior cheapness galore, covering everything up with more and more 1970s cheapness galore. These lodges always have a bar, a pool table, foldable chairs and foldable tables and those obligatory candy striped table cloths that may or may not be made of plastic which has the sole purpose of covering über plastic dining furniture. There is always a jukebox to be found and lots and lots of neon mirrors decorated with Bud and Schlitz and Coors advertisements. Another indicator that I was stuck in humdrum-hell was the average age of the lodge’s patron-members. Yeah. These lodges are full of two kinds of people. There are the old and old-old people and then there are the bearded, middle-aged children of these old-old-old people–who are getting old-old to. You know the children, don’t you, dear worst-reader? They’re all fat and full of eat and can’t find the right thumb on their left hand and because of the behaviourisms of their parents are relegated to repeating their parents idear of fun and enjoyment and life’s meaninglessness. For. Don’t you know. Dear worst-reader. These lodges are the only places where the working poor families of my beloved & missed #Americant can wet their whistle at the cheapest prices anywhere–especially during happy-hour. Even though this is a member-only lodge, outsiders can get in as long as they’re with a member. Membership, along with a small yearly fee, is possible only with having served in the US armed forces. Yeah. I was a real outsider.

    Now. There is a reason worst-writer has no friends and doesn’t do much socialising—and is also an expat. This place I was stuck in for a few hours is part of that reason. Ever since I was a child I never fit anywhere. I barely had any friends and, to be honest, I have never minded a second of it. Solitude has been good to me. Other than that, I’m a pain in the arse to talk to. I also can’t stand small-talk and my contempt for most people stems out of my super-power which was/is to have learned the magic of reading at a late date in life. You know. Reading to expand and not close the mind. Anywho. If I do end up talking to someone about the weather (in any given situation), I’ll find a way to make them feel bad about their existence–or at least make myself feel bad for having partaken in their f’n existence. Then again. If the topic at hand turns to all-things politics, that’s when I have to re-evaluate (my) life choices and at the same time figure out if I’ll get out of this conversation with mental capacity intact. Put another worst-way. Before getting it rhetorically on in an #Americant lodge of misconstrued patriotism and what I think of #Americant politics, national interests, the latest score from a sporting event, etc., there always seems to be a moment where I just lose my $hit.

    Exactly that is what happened while I was bored out of my mind in this lodge and a geezer (old man) tried to strike up some small talk on account he wanted to know why I no longer live in my home country. That bit of information, btw, he surmised out of being friendly with my mother and her new lodge member boyfriend, which he also called his member-friend. Long worst-story short, after I insulted him a few times about the mendacity of discussing the weather on account my beloved & missed #Americant just elected a $hitbag to the presidency (this was around 2017-18) I wound up asking him if he knew the difference between patriotism and nationalism. Bingo, baby. What do you think could come of such a conversation with a former Korean War vet?

    Below is part of a winded “mission statement” from this lodge that I researched after I got out of dodge. Please keep in mind, dear worst-reader, it is not my intention to criticise or denigrate this lodge and/or organisation. May its god bless its members. I do respect what these places are supposed to be. But that’s where my niceties end. Hence I have a lot of contempt for all-things organised, ritualised, laid to waste in the rot-bed of nostalgia and, lastly, dumped on the dungheap of weak-minded tradition(s). Even though one might assume that I’m a bit disgusted with all-things #Americant at this point in my worst-expat-life, I still believe that there is lots of room for improvement when it comes to what and how people believe in the things they think are true, righteous, meaningful. It’s just that in my life I’ve found that most of the beliefs stem out of something misconstrued if not downright diabolical. With that in worst-mind. As with anything that requires belief, faith and submission, there still needs to be rational thought, consideration (for others and everything else) and, perhaps most important, tolerance. And as you now shall see, with words like these, things get complicated—especially in times when most people are intellectually incapable of figuring out the $hit they’ve gotten themselves into. People are so deeply indoctrinated in things of the past that there is no way to see or imagine a future that could/should be different. Hence, as of February 2022 Russia and the US are the brink. China is hosting an olympics where all visitors and guests and athletes are not allowed to mingle with its people–which I suspect would be the case with or without Covid-19. And the whole world seems to be basking in the crunch-krapp of financial woes that has enriched the rich to a level comparable to late 19th and early 20th century megalomania.

    Which begs the worst-question: What’s the difference between patriotism and nationalism?

    But before we get on with providing worst-answers to worst-questions, one of the things I did, as mentioned, after I finally got out of that lodge, was to look up their website to get a bit of edumacation about something I’ve always been aware of but never really gave much worst-thought. What threw me for a loop was when I came across a long winded Mission Statement of this lodge (organisation). The preamble list below (numbered) is a small part of the entire mission statement. The indented comments (-) are from worst-writer. Keep in mind, dear worst-reader, as a college drop-out, a man that is a hop-skip-jump away from sixty, and worst-writer that has never been able to earn a dime with what is I wanted (and still want) to do with my life, I’m comfortable in claiming that I know a thing or three about subtext, innuendo, social and political framing, newspeak, etc., etc. Not unlike how some interpret things like religious scripture or Constitutions, now more than ever, it’s time to get a grip on what is making people do what they do so that the world and life cannot move forward (progress as opposed to regress).

    Mission Statement:

    1. To uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States of America
      • Is anybody doing this considering the current state of affairs both domestic and international, especially considering Jan 6, 2021? Also. A great example of not upholding is how political ideology has practically occupied the judicial branch of the US government via the Supreme Court.
    2. To maintain law and order
      • Why do such words give off a feeling that a foundation of fear is being entrenched, deeper and deeper?
    3. To foster and perpetuate a one hundred percent Americanism
      • Ok. But does it have to be my way or the highway all the time? When can we get back to sneakers and jeans and loose women and junk food–and bigotry and racism and hate stuffed in the corners of a dark closet–left to rot?
    4. To preserve the memories and incidents of our associations in all wars
      • Uh, right. War. Violence. Preserve the tradition of it all. Consider the wars that have been fought since WW2, of which none have been won–only money made.
    5. To inculcate a sense of individual obligation to the community, state and nation
      • Wow. This one’s so bad I’m just gonna leave it un-worst-commented.
    6. To combat the autocracy of both the classes and the masses
      • WTF!
    7. To make right the master of might
      • Are you guys serious? WTF x 2 = WTFFFFFFFF
    8. To promote peace and goodwill on earth
      • So now you’re a beauty pageant?
    9. To safeguard and transmit to posterity the principles of justice, freedom and democracy
      • Yeah, this is gonna be great in a few hundred years when enlightened people get a load of what their great, great, great grandparents were up to. Will it be hard to accept that you’re from a history of dimwits.
    10. To consecrate and sanctify our comradeship by our devotion to mutual helpfulness
      • Ok. That’s cool. I’m too tired to worst-write anything about this one.

    Ok. Ok. That’s a bunch of words. In a neat list. Nice sentences, too. I’ve even included a link below where you can read a whole bunch more just like it. But here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. How much of this mind-boggling, superficial, mendacious $hit can humanity take? Even if I do not rip each of the ten preambles apart to reveal subject, meaning and subtext–in the context of what is going on in the world today–is it a surprise to those of us who strive for higher intellect and knowledge, especially when it comes to the worst-written word, that this stuff is part of the reason #Americant is THE LAND OF FREEDOM TO BE STUPID? Btw, it seems to be accompanied wholeheartedly by Canada at the moment. I mean. Read through those words again, dear worst-reader. You could consolidate all ten preambles into about three concepts.

    1. Submission
      • Get with the program
    2. Coercion
      • My way or the highway, baby
    3. Behaviourism
      • Be me, be like me or be NOT

    The worst of it all? None of it is about getting people to think for themselves. Wow.

    Again. Don’t get me wrong, dear worst-reader. I don’t want or mean to insult people who believe this $hit. Seriously. Whatever floats your boat. But in these times of #Trumpism, right-wing bat$hittery, all of which fits perfect to the ten preambles (above) as long as you believe and follow and never, never question, the only solution to absolve one of his/her mindless sins: it to get the fcuk out. I mean it. Get the fcuk out of Dodge. In case you’re still confused…

    to make right the master of might; to foster and perpetuate a one hundred percent Americanism

    Wholly krapp, dear worst-reader. WTF is going on! And it’s not like these words are new. They’ve been around for longer than I have, I’m guessing. How come it took me so long to see through them? Wait. Scratch that. It took me quite a while to see through religion. And all the while the country that is supposed to be leader of the free world is stuck in grade school, maybe even middle school and it will most certainly never graduate high school. (Or did you actually think former prez pee-pee-hair was a grownup?) And to think this organisation with such a sincere mission statement is one of the biggest in the world? Not unlike a church. Not unlike a mindless society. Orwell–your work is done.

    I’ve well established that I am an avid anti-trumper. But I’m also of the idear that former prez pee-pee-hair is not the sickness but instead a symptom. If that’s true, where/what is the sickness? Could it be in the banality of the ten preambles listed here? Or could it be in the horror of asking an old man in his favourite cheap-drink watering hole what the difference is between what he believes and what he is incapable of understanding/comprehending/knowing? Yeah. Indoctrination is a biatch.

    Which brings me ‘round to the difference between patriotism and nationalism. I suppose some would simply say there is no difference. Whereas others might go all out and write a doctoral thesis on it. As far as worst-writer is concerned, it’s probably time to figure this out. As in. Patriotism is ok and in most cases acceptable. I mean. What’s not to like about loving your country. Nationalism, on the other hand, is what becomes of patriotism when mass delusion-confusion sets in. Hence the ’n’ in nazi. Perhaps the most important thing to keep in mind is there is a difference between these two concepts and only one of them could be something less than evil. Have a read of the link below for more info. And so.

    I finally got out of that lodge and swore to never step a foot in it again. The problem is, every time I visit my mother I have to pass by it. And I have to accept the fact that her new boyfriend is a member of it. The saddest part of it all, dear worst-reader, is that my mother will end her life never having lived it without depending on yet another flagrant, arrogant, generationally privileged white guy that proves proof is in the pudding named #Americant. Oh well.

    Still gotta luv mom, eh!

    Good luck suckers.

    Rant on.

    -T

    Links that helped with this post:

  • Blathering To The Stars

    With all the deserved criticism of rich people these days, worst-writer considers Elon to be less worthy of such criticism. The problem with having (so much) money, dear worst-reader, is that it usually turns people into arseholes. The reality is–in these pseudo-capitalist times–the vast majority of rich people are not rich because of merit but instead because of privilege or some other obscure reason devoid of productivity. That’s what happens when capitalism inevitably regresses to its origins i.e. feudalism. Hence, worst-writer say: stop worrying about capitalism’s gyrations. There’s no such thing. Instead worry about capitalism eating you. But I die-gress.

    How bout worst-writer’s thoughts on Jeff Bezos? Bezos, the most successful banker-type that made it in tech, is a perfect example of a rich guy who has charmed his way round rotting barrels more than most. Or did you not get that scene where über-proud Canadian Bill Shatner cried after returning from a 10min space ride that was paid for by impressing Bezos as a kid when he played Captain James Tiberius Kirk on TV? Am I wrong. Or do you consider Bezos success as a distribution cut-throat disguised as a tech guru all that special? Then again. No. Seriously. Amazon is a distribution company. If I have to give Amazon credit for actually creating something that was/is productive yet based on technology, it would have to be AWS–which I hate anyway. Then again. Bezos did put the likes of Walmart in its place. So there’s that. Or? #Nomatter.

    Even though Elon Musk’s (see vid above) speaking style is tiresome (Asperger), I follow as much of his doings as possible. This guy is nothing short of spectacle-testicle-amazing. Does it bother me that he is (could be) the spittin image of Weyland, the old filthy rich financier from the movie Prometheus? (Although the movie got bashed, it’s one of my favorites, btw.) Which begs the worst-question: will Elon, while on his space faring exploits, end as Weyland ended? Honestly. WGAF.

    My worst-point is this. Of the rich arseholes around the world, why is it that Elon is the only one that gives off a vibe that he’s actually doing something? You know. Doing something other than making money off money. But what do I know. I can barely spell anything and even though I could act as good as Bill Shatner, I don’t think there’s a billionaire out there that’s gonna take me up with his penis rocket. And don’t get me started on not having learned a thing about writing while being schooled in the hell-scape of suburban-hell #Americant. But. Again. I die-gress.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Perfect Pic

    Source of pic: see link below.

    Get a load of the pic, dear worst-reader. Does it hurt/pleasure? Ache/relief? Split that slight creese between mind and body that perturbs so much (y)our ill-existence aka (y)our compulsive driven existance that is #Americant(ism). Or have you had an original thought (lately) that could/might circumspect (all things) of (y)our nationalism? #Nomatter.

    How does one put (a little bit of) truth into a #interwebnet screenshot? Is the answer to go to huffpost dot money dot com (link below)? Sure. Why not. But. Does one just hijack a picture (as worst-writer has)? Paint it? Portray it? Hope to find it on the #interwebnets in the hands of the downtrodden and/or, as I heard the great Cornell West say… n-er-ized it? Or is there something more to toilets and what goes in them? You know. Something along the lines of… there really is $hit out there that could be informative if it weren’t for reactionary money making on the backs of the n-er-ized aka poor, greedy and stupid white middle classes. Or. Maybe not. It’s just a pic. Of two toilets next to each other. #Nomatter.

    The problem is, dear worst-reader, I get such a kick out of all the krapp that is/becomes readily available on the #interwebnets. I can’t hold back. Hence: worstwiter. Hence: posting a whole $hitload of grammatically inaccurate krapp that too few people can either read or comprehend is like a godsend–and not a godsend in the realm of all-things mystical. No. But then again. It does feel good to be the antitheses of the likes of joe rogan and/or rush (thank goodness he’s finally dead) limbaugh. (What a cuck suker they both are, eh?)

    And so. In closing. Good luck suckers. You deserve former prez pee-piss-hair and the toilets you’ve turned everything into and all that he’s left behind once you’ve flushed.
    Indeed. Just another Friday with nothing good to say, baby.

    Rant on.

    -T

    Link:

  • Worst-Heilfasten And Herbal Tee, Baby

    The Fasten regiment.

    Don’t you know, dear worst-reader, I just finished my second fasting session. The first fasting was at the beginning of October last year. It was followed by a low-carb diet. I finished the second fasting Saturday. I’m now back on low-carbs. Result? I’m down forty-plus pounds. At five feet ten, approaching sixty years, kinda enjoying the solitude of covid and enjoying a lot of good cooking and drink to coincide, by the end of summer last year, it was time to attack what I’ve been putting off for far to long. Needless to say, as I worst-write this, my fasting partner (my better-half) and I are pleased. The attack is working.

    During the last four months the quest for reaching a body weight I haven’t had in over thirty years is near. Needless to say, the comments I’ve been getting from the locals when walking Beckett, the killer pug, varies between Are you healthy? to Are you sick? to What’s wrong? Indeed. Typical German to not just ask or say Wow, you look good or Congratulations or What’s your secret?, etc. When I tell everyone I’ve been fasting their eyes look around as though I’m talking about something fascinating (that rhetorical Spock thingy) or they show a kind of emptying unobtainable curiosity. Conversations continue along the lines of whether or not they can fathom not eating any solid foods for five days.

    For any worst-reader out there, even with a slight weight problem, worst-writer highly recommends fasting in a controlled and regimented manor (see pic above). The best part of it, other than being kinda reborn once it’s over, is that the struggle of hunger (from dieting) is not longer an issue. In other worst-words, it was no problem to go low-carb after the first fasting. Subsequently it was never an issue again to remove all the other things that form bad (eating) habits, you know, the stuff in-between, the snacks, the booze. One other things that got me through all this is herbal tee. Lots of it. But first.

    Worst-writer’s fasting regiment

    Day 1: Relief day. Relief from regular eating. This is the last day of food with a light breakfast and a bland lunch of boiled potato and carrot. No dinner. Start drinking herbal tee.

    Day 2: Elimination. Morning starts with Glaubersalz (sodium sulphate) diluted in one litre of water; drink the whole thing within fifteen minutes. After one to two hours you will have discharge fit for royalty. Set aside a few hours for this to finish. Sounds terrible but for worst-moi this is what really starts the show as it empties you.

    Day 3 – 6: Fasting. No solid food. Lots of herbal tee and water. For vitamins and minerals dilute (half juice, half water) organic (no sugar!) vegetable juice or fruit juice and drink it like you’re eating it. Slowly. Try to chew the fluid. (Seriously!)

    Day 7: In the morning eat one small to medium size apple with small bites, lots of chewing. It will taste incredible. Lunch is a simple soup made of organic veggie broth with two small boiled potatoes, an equal amount of boiled carrots garnished with chopped parsley. Dinner is fresh plain yoghurt with fruit.

    Day 8: For breakfast a small portion (no bigger than your fist) of organic porridge. Lunch is same as Day 1, boiled potatoes and carrots. For dinner we continued our low-carb diet.

    The Herbal Tee Man

    Euphoric and tickled that I lost so much weight, I can’t quit Herbal tee. To replenish my supply I went out to my local herbal tee shop the other day to stock up. It’s a nice little shop owned by an elderly couple born and raised in Düsseldorf almost a century ago. If you walk by the front of this store and don’t see the sign above the sidewalk, you might mistake it for a Christmas store–it’s that flashy. Entering from a small but trafficked one-way street, the door triggers one of those automatic bells that is both big and loud. The showroom is about twenty by ten feet. Directly to your left upon entry, behind a long counter, is a wall full of green and gold trimmed two gallon cans labeled to the highest German Ordnung. The arrangement almost looks like a spreadsheet come alive. At the top of each column of cans is Darjeeling, Assam, Herbal, Heil, etc., underneath (rows) are the tee varieties.

    Upon entry, after a short wait, where I could sing sweet-nothings in my head thereby distilling the obnoxious door bell that continued to ring in my mind, the owner eventually entered from a stairwell underneath the middle of the showroom floor. As his head bobbed up and down ascending the stairs, he slowly emerged out of what was most certainly a bunker circa seventy years ago. Keeping his distance, for he was unmasked, he proceeded to a desk at the back of the showroom to put on his covid attire. Salutations ensued.

    After requesting three different herbal tees @ 100 grams per bag, I asked him what other tee he recommends for Fasten (Fasting). As stated above, I really haven’t had any major and/or irritating hunger issues since my first fasting session in October. But I did read that there are some tees that go especially well with fasting. Since I’ve been drinking so much of the stuff, I am always open to variety. But then the old tee man asked if I wanted tee for Heilfasten or just plane old Fasten. Heil in this context means therapeutic–but I didn’t know that at the time–or at least it didn’t register that way. So I was curiously confused at that moment because I hadn’t expected to start thinking about the type of fasting I was doing. I just wanted more tee. As is the case with my limited and undisciplined German, I asked about the difference. The old man squeezed out a sigh and then proceeded to kindly teach me not only his language but a bit of cultivation, which may or may not have been the way I’ve learned German for the past thirty years. Well. That and reading Marx and Goethe and, my favourite, Schiller. You know, the three amigos of all-things German. Turns out that Fasten (fasting), at least in Germany, relates more to religious beliefs, aka Lent or Ramadan (Sawm). Heilfasten, on the other hand, what I’m doing, is the therapeutic stuff that is part of a diet or something related to health issues. Long worst-story short, and after the language lesson was done, the old tee man didn’t have a new tee for me. Reason? He said that all I should drink are the herbal tees and anything else would contain caffeine, which was allowed for religious fasting. Oh well. Live and learn (German), don’t you know.

    The low-carb diet continues till I hit that weight of thirty years ago–which only a few pounds away. As far as fasting in the future again, I think I’m gonna make this a two time a year thing. We’ll see.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Charger GX, New Battery, Motor Maintenance

    Wow. It’s been a while dear-worst-rider. How bout an update on worst-writer’s wunder e-bike? And. Don’t you know. My R&M Charger GX is still going strong. Lots of strong, I think. With that in mind. I’m about to surpass 18k kilometres? Is that a lot? I have no idear. My wife’s Charger Mixte is slowly creeping up to 5k kilometres. Are we happy with these bikes? Shur’nough. Then again…

    After four years I’ve been considering getting a new e-bike. My better-half even insisted on it. But there was something that irked me. First, other than Stromer and Canyon, there’s nothing on the market right now that tickles my fancy. As far as buying another R&M? I don’t like the frame-integrated battery design. Then again, I didn’t initially like the design of my Charger. Then again again, frame integration for Stromer tickles a bit. What’s holding me back from moving on to a Stromer?

    1. They’re full-on with 45 km/h bikes. Come on Stromer!
    2. The company gives off an “Apple” vibe not only with pricing but service (from what I’ve heard; I do mange a Apple household; but I die-gress).
    3. I rarely see Stromer’s in the wild.

    No. Seriously. I can count them all on one hand. Since I moved to e-biking, I think I’ve seen three Stromer’s out and about. Then again. To be honest. Should seeing a Stromer in the wild determine its buying factor? It does make me think though. E-bikes are everywhere now (in Germany). And we all know how expensive they are. Heck. Stromer does have competitive versions of their bikes. Btw, seen the new Pinion drive coming out soon from Stromer? Oh my. Anywho. Maybe it’s the 45 km/h thing that’s holding me back. To this worst-rider Stromer doesn’t make it easy. Or is German regulations what make it difficult? Certainly not the case with 25 km/h bikes. Let’s move on.

    Wunder E-bike Maintenance

    As mentioned, I’m at 18k kilometres. I would be 20k if it weren’t for covid. I’ve refrained from any long trips for the last two years. Long being trips outside a sixty kilometre radius of home. That said, it is both my chore (with panniers) and fun-time vehicle and, weather permitting, I keep within a thirty mile radius.

    Apropos weather permitting. I started noticing that riding in the wet ill effected more and more the noise this bike was making. For a while there I wasn’t sure what to make of it. More on that in a sec.

    Here’s a quick list of wear & tear on my Charger.

    • Grips. Showing lots of wear, especially the left grip. They’re gonna need replacing soon.
    • Handle bars, brake levers. No issues.
    • B17 Brooks Saddle. I luv this saddle, baby. I’d buy it again again and more again.
    • Thudbuster. It took me a while to come around to it but always takes the edge off. It does need luv & attention to keep from singing while you travel.
    • Steering. No issues.
    • Forks. No issues.
    • Frame. Other than wear on the rear rack from the panniers, which is pretty severe, no issues.
    • Brakes. I lost count of how many brake pads I’ve used. I shuffled between the Shimano recommended pads and Gorilla pads which aren’t resin. The Gorilla pads work better (IMHO). But. After a few hundred KMs, they are loud and squeaky. Oh. Another thing. I chipped a small piece off a push piston in one of the callipers last time I changed the pads. My bad! They’re working fine.
    • Front wheel quick-release (LOC). During a tire change it got jammed up. I had to remove the nut on the end that houses the quick-release do-hickies. The entire thing fell to the ground in pieces. Watch out for that, dear worst-rider. Now I’m missing one of the inner washers. Contemplating replacing it.
    • Derailleur. Going strong.

    New Battery

    Between 15-16k kilometres, in Sport mode, I couldn’t ride 10km without losing one of the five notches on the battery indicator on the board computer. The further I rode, the faster the battery wore down. The last two notches wouldn’t even go 5km. For the first year I got up to 25km per notch. I kept fiddling around with the various power modes but that didn’t matter. Eco mode would give more distance, of course, but Turbo would drain everything within 30km. From what I understand these Bosch batteries are supposed to last between two to four years. So I’m not disappointed.

    I found a deal for a new Bosch 500w battery @ €675. Since the battery used to retail for just under €1000, I went for it. It’s a lot of money for some Duracells but what can we do, eh? (Sarcasm off.) I’ve put about 700km on the new battery and I’m relieved I don’t have to think about it anymore. The only issue remaining is what to do with the old battery. I’ve got this five pound brick of batteries in my basement now. Send it somewhere to have the cells renewed? We’ll see.

    Motor Maintenance

    As mentioned above, I was noticing how wet weather was ill-effecting my drive train. Now. As far as sprockets go, I’m on my third rear cassette, which is supposed to be higher quality, higher mileage. The front sprocket I change here and there between 13 and 16 teeth depending on my mood. They’re both fine. The chain is supposed to be high mileage too.

    Apropos chain. I switched to car transmission oil for chain lube. I’ve found it to be the best bike chain lube I’ve ever used. An old Dutch friend recommend it. And if you’re not aware, dear worst-rider, the Dutch know a thing or three about bikes, e or not. Transmission oil doesn’t collect dirt like all the recommended chain lubes and is easier for cleaning. It’s also quieter (IMHO). Still. My wunder e-bike is noisy as…

    After a trip to the German north shore (Sylt) in the fall last year and riding for days in heavy rain, when I returned home and took another ride the noise was unbearable. And it was clear that the noise had nothing to do with the chain or sprockets. It’s the motor. To avoid dealers (who seem to be overwhelmed with work because of covid which means extra long wait times and stupid money) I did a quick search on YouTube and came across numerous videos about this issue.

    The noise is a common problem with Bosch e-bike motors. Something to do with the bearings (duh) and the nylon and metal gears that transfer power between peddling and the electric motor unit inside. The cure is to remove the right side of the motor, clean it, grease it all up and then make sure you get it all back together. Another solution is to buy the Bosch repair kit, which is available online. Price? Including shipping, I paid €130.

    The kit includes everything for the procedure. The new and well-greased nylon gears are pre-assembled to a new motor cover that’s included. Once you remove the old parts, all you have to do is clean the motor of old grease, insert an o-ring (bottom bracket) and put the prefab unit back on. Worked like charm. I managed to do the job in about two hours, which was the result of paying close attention to the included instruction/installation manual. Result? Holy krapp, baby. It’s like I’m riding on a new bike. The bad news? My better-half’s Charger Mixte has the same motor and now that mine is renewed and quiet, it’s obvious that it’s not the amount of kilometres (miles) you ride that determine when this has to be done. I’m sure I’ll be doing the same on her bike soon.

    In Wunder E-Bike Conclusion

    For now I’m definitely passing on my better half’s recommendation to buy a new e-bike. I’m sticking with this one for the foreseeable future. It’s still that good, don’t you know. Heck, it even catches eyes here and there. What’s not to love about an ageing e-biker that attracts the attention of other ageing e-bikers on account… R&M Charger GX, baby. But enough of my worst-romanticising.

    Rant and worst-ride on. Baby.

    -T

    PS Yeah. We make our own pumpernickel.

  • Hiatus Indeed

    Taking a break. Major break.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • From The Desk Of…

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Scamerica

    Source: worstriter pic of someone’s sidewalk art; pic is inverted to avoid shadows

    Few and far between are these visits to my beloved & missed #Americant. When was the last time I was here prior to May 9th, 2021? Well, there was a short kinda emergency visit in November 2019. What a mess that was. Before that there was a short visit in March of the same year. Not so much of a mess but a mess all the same. And so goes the pattern, dear worst-reader. I usually try and come twice a year, sometimes three. Of course, the reason for the visits are to checkup on my ageing mother. Indeed. The prodigal son having a look at how Mom is getting on. Either that or I travel here or there to put out the fires, bandage the various wounds, beg my mothers church for forgiveness that I’ve left her alone in a rural #Americant beach town that is three months out of a year a hell traffic zone full of drunkards or whining brats and the other nine months (off season) it is a find your way around the bottle $hithole. Then again, there is also the chore to maintaining my citizenship, don’t you know. A citizenship that is waning, I should worst-say. How long have I been an expat? Thirty-five years or so? Again. Indeed.

    But then, there are the other issues that I must address each time I travel to the LAND OF FREEDOM TO BE STUPID. For example, this time I renewed my driver’s license. Wait. Hold a sec. I didn’t have to renew my license. But the state issued these new-fangled licenses back in 2017-18 that is supposed to meet federal standards for I.D. cards which is also supposed to make it easier to travel if/when you do so without a passport. Although I wanted to do this in the spring of 2020, covid nipped that in the bud. And so. With this visit I went ahead and paid the twenty bucks to get it done–even though my license expires in 2023 and I’ll have to renew it again then. Also, and get this, after so many years of blowing it off, dear worst-reader, I went ahead and filed my friggin taxes. When was the last time I did that? Of course, since I don’t earn anything (for I am worst-writer, don’t you know), there’s no need for me to file taxes. Ever seen a 1040 tax form with nothing but zeros on it? Then again, with all the so-called stimulus money floating around, I thought, what the hell, why not see if I can get some of that. It’s still not clear if I’m gonna get the stimulus payment but I’ll be sure to let you know if I do. And then there’s the last reason for visiting my beloved & missed #Americant. That’s right. To be reminded of who I am, where I’m from, taste the water that bread me, eat a few blue crabs, admire the Atlantic form this side–say my final goodbye? Of course. There’s also the issue of having a look at what’s happened to my beloved & missed #Americant post president pee-pee-hair. Which begs the question: Does all this soothe my lost soul that is also losing touch with my… beloved… and missed…?

    Btw, dear worst-reader, President Biden is only up the road from me today at his Rehoboth Beach house. Now wouldn’t that be cool to run into him on a bike ride and give him all-hell about how I’m just another #Americant on the verge of giving up my citizenship due to his lifelong politic? But I die-gress.

    And there you have it, dear worst-reader. I’m here (in #Americant) to check on things. To clean things up. To organise an old shelf. To wipe the table. To cook a meal (for my ageing mother). Etc., etc. But then, also, there’s something else. There’s that thing that one cannot avoid while here. There is this place that is starting to look more and more like a foreign place. Even the crumbs on the table that I’m trying to wipe away that are magically replaced by the local ants, seems foreign to me now. Like something I no longer know. It’s as though I’m returning to that dream of America that I used to have–oh so long ago. It’s that dream where I got a chance to make sweet love to Farrah Fawcett. Oh! What a dream that was. And so. What has become of the America that gave me that dream? Oh yeah. Republicans happened to it. Greed happened to it. (Not that greed hasn’t always been there, don’t you know. But the greed post Reagan has grown a few more tentacles. Or?)

    With that in worst-mind, let’s have a look at #Americant today and the things that perturb me like nothing else. Like words. Like the media. Like #Americants. And so. How ’bout the word: patriot. For it is a word flung around here and there as much as I fling around my Farrah Fawcett goo. But that’s not the only word. What about the word hero? Holly-molly, dear worst-reader. If I hear that word one more time, usually echoed when someone does something so banal that the it requires embarrassment banality–everyone cannot be a friggin hero. And so. Shall we (not) talk about diluting, deflecting, avoiding reality? This country is awash in it. And why? How? The media? Is it all the tv channels? The robocalls? Bumper sticker intellectualism? Faux-newz? All the above? Just call someone or something a patriot or a hero and then complain about the foreigners, Democrats and liberals, wearing masks. Should I even get on about the economy? You know that nebulous thing that happens to have a word associated with it and, of course, fits on a bumper sticker? Indeed. And so. Is it a wonder that I came up yesterday with a new word for my beloved & missed #Americant?

    Scamerica, baby.

    The whole country is but a scam. Which also means: who’s the best scammer? With that in mind…

    There you have it. And now I should stop. Nuff worst-said.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Jab 2 Done, Vaccinated

    It takes another two weeks for the vaccine to do its full job, dear worst-reader. But at least I can say I got both shots as of today. And how proud, thankful, grateful I am to be able to get vaccinated. In fact, I’m so tickled, I’m thinking of getting an image of the corona virus tattooed on my arm (where I got the shot) with the letters MRNA just below it. Now wouldn’t that be worst-writer cool, eh? For those doubters out there–you know, all those science deniers. If you’re concerned how I’m gonna feel if all this is for not, well, get this. I’m so convinced that MRNA treatments like this (vaccine) are so advanced that the Covid-19 debacle and subsequent inoculation could mean the end of global pandemics. So will I be sad (or dead) if I’m wrong? Maybe. But at least I believe in science–even if science gets things wrong sometimes–instead of all that other bull$hit like free markets, fail upward capitalism, greed-mongering-galore and spaghetti monsters in the sky. So there. ;-)

    Rant (and get vaccinated) on, baby.

    -T

  • How Creativity Dies The Slow Death

    Source of pic: screenshot from the interwebnets

    Worst-writer can remember his first confrontation with a movie sequel. It was Superman. Then came Star Wars. If you don’t know, dear worst-reader, I’m worst-writing here from the POV of movies from the 1970s. Soon after that, the 1980s, the movie sequel would become the norm. But then, probably around the turn of the century, something changed even with sequels. It is worst-writer’s worst-opinion, dear worst-reader, that change was, of course, only for the worst. And so (1). What happened to the movie sequel? Well, the easy answer is: money. The difficult answer is: creativity is dead. And so (2). The movie sequel was replaced with the movie franchise. Indeed. Which begs another worst-question: are you splitting hairs, worst-writer, or do you actually think there’s a difference between sequel and franchise?

    I’ve always judged movies, first and foremost, on whether or not they are based on impulsive creativity or compulsive creativity. Most modern movies that are based on a screenplay alone suck–in my worst-book. Unless, of course, those movies are comedies or horror or whatever genre. Most genre movies suck anyway. But before I get too far off subject, let me abruptly close this worst-thought with this idear: The movie franchise, or the new never-ending sequel, sucks just as much. Reason? Again. Creativity, like god, is dead. So take that Robert Downey Jr. And. By-the-buy. Even though the first Iron Man was great. The Marvel universe sucks batballs. But at least Downey made a lot of money, eh?

    Which brings me to James Bond and the article linked below. In worst-writer’s opinion, all James Bond movies sucked after they ran out of source material–which I think ended around Moonraker. With that in mind, 2006’s Casino Royal saved the franchise for worst-moi. Reason? I’ve read the book. The 2006 movie, Daniel Craig’s premiere, was a great version of the book. Of course, every subsequent Bond/Craig movie kinda sucked but I watched them all, on account, well, as far as big screen action movies goes, I’d prefer a weak written Bond movie to all other action movies. So take that praise with a grain of worst-salt. Which begs the question…

    Am I interested in what a screenwriter says about the business transaction that is the purchase of MGM? Fcuk-no! I mean, Amazon hasn’t created a thing (except maybe one-click purchasing) since its inception. Can the same be said of the business that is MGM? On the other hand, has Amazon sold more books–created by others–than MGM has made original, non-compulsive (written) movies? Indeed (1). Creating anything was never the idear behind Amazon. And since movie sequels have given way to movie franchises…? Indeed (2). Everything and everyone is about making money and that’s it. Blessed be the greedy heart, eh, #Americant? With that in worst-mind, fcuk Bezos, Bond and all the rest where money murders creativity.

    Rant on.

    -T

    Link: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/31/opinion/amazon-mgm-james-bond-bezos.html

  • Transubstantiation Wit In Times Of Covid

    As you may or may not have noticed, dear worst-reader, I’m visiting my family in times of Covid. Reason? Well, I’m not quite uncomfortable enough to say exactly why I’m here. Let me just put this out there in the mean time: I’m here, during the worst pandemic in a hundred years, because a family intervention is necessary. That being said, I’m actually gonna try to enjoy the company of my mother for a few days, maybe even a week or four. Of course, due to covid–and the sheer angst I now have from how #Americants refuse to accept CDC guidelines–I won’t be doing any of the shenanigans one usually does when one visits a redneck beach resort town. My priority is, in fact, to take care of the family issues surrounding my ageing mother and also, to get my second Pfizer shot, which is scheduled for June 1. Still. There are a few other things that need be taken care of. For example. There’s tons of yard work–which I’m going to hire out. There’s also lots of family finance stuff to be taken care of. And then, well, there’s my mother. With that in worst-mind, let’s just worst-say that she’s gettin’ friggin old and this most certainly won’t be my last rushed trip here in the near future. Hopefully, though, I won’t have to rush here anymore during this hellacious pandemic!

    One of the things I’ve enjoyed doing with my mom as she’s gotten older is going with her to her Church. I don’t know where that comes from because when I was younger I didn’t enjoy it all. And don’t worry, dear worst-reader. I know what you’re asking. You’re asking how can worst-writer, a devout disbeliever, an unabashed skeptic, a promotor of religious alternatives in the form of great spaghetti monsters in the sky, someone who clearly has not been blessed with the gift of faith… How can I attend church? Well, the answer is easy. First. I see in my mother’s eyes her faith. Even for a skeptic like me, that’s good enough. Also. Church is good down time with my mother. Then. It’s also something I can talk to her about–since I’m well versed regarding Bible stuff. (That’s right. I’ve read it. So there!) Also. My mom’s pastor is a really nice guy and if you ask me, she lucked out with this church in redneck-beach-ville. Yeah. He’s a heck of a guy.

    Anywho. One of the things that impressed me with how the church has been able to hold mass for the past few months, especially since they haven’t been able to do so for all of 2020, is how well they’ve organised everything according to CDC guidelines. Her church has a rather large gymnasium-like facility attached to the chapel where there’s plenty of room for seats to adhere to social distancing. Of course, everyone wears a mask and even temperatures are checked before entering. But the real cool thing is the transubstantiation stuff. And let me not get-on about how this sort of thing totally doesn’t fit into a Lutheran church. And so. Just get a load of the pics above. I don’t know about you, dear worst-reader. But you gotta hand it to these church managers for coming up something like this. How ingenious. Or?

    Rant on.

    -T

  • The Problem With Un-Gentleman Suitors

    I try, dear worst-reader. I really do. In fact, I might have broke my personal record when it comes to days watching at least fifteen to thirty minutes of faux newz. As revolting as that is, I’m glad I got through it–and it’s now over. And so. Indeed. It takes a day or two (or three/four) for me to purge the emotion-driven bat$hit political broadcaster from my (mothers) home–if not my own worst-mind (oh the poison of stupid). Of course, until she met her un-gentleman suitor a fews years back, she never even watched the network of lies and untruth. But that’s a whole ‘nother worst-post. Or?

    Allow me this, dear worst-reader, about the un-gentleman suitor. My widowed mother has hooked up with a redneck. There! I said it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m only (obviously) a hop + skip away from being a redneck. Or? #Nomatter.

    After my stepfather died I was hoping my mother would take the path of independence. But I suppose for her that was asking for a bit much. Of course, over the past two and half to three years, she’s obviously developed a fondness for an un-gentleman suitor. And. Again. I’ve got nothing against that, if it’s her choice. It’s just that. Well. There’s no other way to put it. He’s one of them… faux newz diehard blah-blahs. And that’s not all. He is also a member of one of them #Americant “clubs” (or is it “lodge”) that oh so emulates the clubs of #Eurowasteland history that gave way to the making of conspiracy-theory #Americant. I’m worst-writing, of course–and without getting into specifically which one–that he belongs to one of those organisations where like minded individuals… also freely wipe away their individualism. You know, the clubs/lodges that sew the seeds of convention, compulsion and the grand #Americant sickness that is: conformity. Of course. Let’s give credit where it’s due. As conspiracy-theories have become the new norm, I can imagine that historically like-minded persons of, say, Free Masonry, are laughing in their graves as to what has become of the once great idear that is now #Americant as it is propagated through the mills of never questioning anything or employing just a hunch of skepticism.

    But before I get lost in all my family negativity. At least–if you’re not watching faux newz–there’s plenty of other stuff regarding former president pee-pee-hair and what will hopefully become the perfect ending to a life of grift—that can make worst-moi smile:

    Link: https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2021/05/20/whats-behind-the-new-york-attorney-generals-criminal-probe-of-the-trump-organization-489866

    Rant on.

    -T

  • When the answer just comes

    Source: interwebnet screenshot

    There are moments when advertising even works for me. Take for example this billboard. I mean. As worst-writer, it’s kinda obvious I’ve already failed but at least I answered that question long ago. Or?

    Rant on.

    -T

  • The Not So Grand Intervention

    I’ve been in my beloved & missed #Americant during the worst pandemic in a hundred years for a week now. I received my first covid shot within hours of arriving. Should be getting second shot within the next three weeks. I consider being able to fly here and get vaccinated an awesome privilege–and for that I am humbly thankful. But get this, dear worst-reader. I’m kinda shocked that this whole pandemic thing ain’t just a touch worse. I mean. Come on. Check out some of the numbers. Officially almost six hundred thousand brethren have died from this disease. Many many more refuse to even recognise that it’s a problem–even after so many deaths. Yet what do I observe after being here for only a week? People are utterly clueless as to what is going on. They don’t understand six feet distancing. If they were giving cartoon directions they couldn’t wear their masks properly. And #Americants young and old are obsessed with returning to a normalcy that contains EVERYTHING that lead to this problem in the first place. Obviously I’m generalising and there are those who do have a clue. But then there’s that other post Reagan new-fangled #Americant way of life: the gluttony and sloth greed $hitshow. Indeed, baby. Greed is good, eh? (Sarcasm off.)

    cases/deaths/rates/death per 100k;
    source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/COVID-19_pandemic_death_rates_by_country

    Ok. What is the result of not handling covid from the get-go? Indeed. For my widowed mother, it’s obviously not been good, although she’s vaccinated and safe for now. Hence, this trip ain’t about covid distress per say but instead is a family intervention. Of course, without divulging personal family matters, allow me to worst-write that the ageing matriarch of my family is not well. Put another way, not only has she not done well with widowhood, she’s given in to the demons of sloth and gluttony that are personified by everything that worst-writer despises and ran away from so many years ago, namely the ugliness of white trash galore. Although she has not fallen off the edge, certain activities around my mother’s life and lifestyle have raised alarms. As far as my siblings and I are concerned, something needs to be done. Hence, I have travelled here from afar–during the worst pandemic in a hundred fcuking years and I’m pissed. I mean. I don’t know about how you were raised, dear worst-reader, but are we now in times where parents, after fcuking up both their kids and the world, simply throw in the towel and treat their remaining years as though they were the crud and slime below the sandals of Caligula?

    With that in mind, in the past few days things have escalated where the first casualty must be registered. After returning from a short hospital visit, I found our front door knob lock busted (see pic above). Obviously the locks have been changed but the situation does beg the question: WTF Mom!

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Safe than sorry with good views

    I can feel it dear worst-reader. The contempt. The disdain. The disrespect. It’s everywhere here, don’t you know. Of course, what better place to actually see the origin of it all–the all that is contempt, disdain, etc., than to be in the lower canal bowels of the bellied beast that is my beloved & missed #Americant. Indeed. I mean. I’m actually here and I still refer to Her in the past tense. But let’s not get to far off worst-subject. Let’s just stick with contempt & co. For. Don’t you know, dear worst-reader, it’s a good thing #Americant is vaccinating people as fast as it is. Every time I look around, no matter where I am, someone with a mask hanging half down his/her face is hugging someone who has a mask hanging around only one of her/his ears. And then there’s all the touching. People literally go up to other people and get in their face. I saw this really tall, fat American lean over one of those clear guard panels in order to point to a clerk with his long arms and fingers that his papers were in order. As he pulled his hand back over the guard panel he almost hit the clerk in the face. Perhaps social distancing hasn’t registered here even though there are lots of markings on grounds and floors detailing six feet social distancing. Hence. #Americants hate what is happening to them post Ronald Reagan and the dipshittery of thirty or whatever years of wars of choice. So what should they care about pandemics? But I digress.

    The plan was to self-test after three or four days of arrival. You know, check and see if the airports, the planes, the pretty stewardesses, didn’t pass on the covid worst-moi. According to the result above, I reckon I’m in the clear. Then again, this morning I did spend well over an hour in a department of motor vehicle facility waiting to get my new-fangled state slash federal driving license. I mean. I’m not really sure what it’s called or what it’s actually about. But ever since early 2019 (pre-pandemic) I’ve been itching to get me this license on account I was approached in an airport on a connecting flight that inquired about my driving license and that to avoid any sharper scrutiny I should renew my license to this new fangled one. But. Again. I’m not really sure what these government agencies post Homeland are actually up to with their enhanced bureaucracies. All I know is, like the comforts of home (or underneath one), I prefer traveling and talking to as few people as possible about who/what I am. Which means, I got no issues showing an identification here or there. So I went and got the damn new fangled license this morning and after being crowded into such a low ceiling building with so many people–even though you couldn’t get in unless you had an appointment–I’m thinking I need another antigen test. Speaking of which. Time to go wash my hands with lots of lather for twenty or so seconds.

    Other than that, dear worst-reader, at least there are some nice fews when taking walks in a beach town.

    Rant on.

    -T