Category: Blog

Write. Just write. Write more.

  • Speeders Beware

    speeding ticket Croatia

    I should consider myself lucky, I guess. I mean, if the Croatian police officer with the fine penmanship could read my mind about what I was thinking at the moment I received my first speeding ticket in this really, really, beautiful, picturesque country, I’d be in jail right now. But I kept my cool. I paid my fine by credit card and I moved on heeding the officers warning as he returned my papers and gave me the receipt: “you drive slower now.” Indeed. After driving around Istria for a few hours the other day, on the return to our villa, after about a five kilometre downhill trek, penmanship police officer waved me over at the base of the mountain. Of course I was going too fast. I was driving down a fcuking mountain! Although I can’t remember how many times within that five kilometre downhill stretch the speed-limit changed between 40, 50 and 70 km/h, I was obviously in a 50 zone doing 74 when his speed-gun caught me. Yeah, he was even kind enough to show me the speed gun. Did I mention that I was only a few hundred metres away from the base of the mountain? Oh well. So that’s what they do in Croatia, eh. Be warned those who might come here by car. They wait for the tourists to struggle between engine braking or over-heating your disc brakes and if you let go of either for a just a second or two, perhaps while conversing with someone in the car, the downhill slope of 10-15% degrees will rocket your vehicle to excess before you know it. There were at least four other cars behind me doing the same speed but not one of them was pulled over (Croatian plates?). In fact, at the top of the mountain I was passed by at least two cars doing excessive speeds and not one of them was pulled over at the base. Dumb me, eh, for getting caught and/or not knowing how the police fill the coffers of the state here. Oh well. No hard feelings.

    Rant on.

    T

  • Labin E-Bike Tour And Testing Limits

    My better half surprised me with some R&R that includes e-biking. Since I’m staying at one of the higher elevations as my e-bike starting point, heed this: you’re either going up or your going down any given surface when riding an e-bike in Labin, Croatia. Other than the backyard where you rest your machine, or the beach where you stare at the euro-bikini-chicks (the flat area in the graph below), there’s no surface here that is NOT going up or down. I suppose that’s not such a bad thing if you’ve got the right e-bike–or if you’re a bit younger and not suffering from too much wine and too many truffles with noodles. With that in mind, hats off to my boys and gals at Riese & Müller–my favourite bike maker in the whole world. And since I’m not the great photo-maker (I am worst-photographer), let me share a few worst-words on what I’ve just experienced.

    I just finished the hardest 4-5km bike trek I’ve ever been on. The whole ride was about 17km. Of course, this isn’t an issue of endurance or physical stamina (I have neither), it is instead a testament to what I consider to be one of the most difficult surfaces I’ve ever ridden on and the only bike I’d ever do it on again. As you may (or may not) note in the pics above, the two pics that show the trail and the gravel road are what you must face here if/when you leave paved roads. The trail, btw, (the one with the red sign) I haven’t done as of the writing of this worst-post–but I’ll get to it soon enough. The gravel road, on the other hand, I just finished riding UP. As you may (or may not) note in the pic below, that area where “Rocks, boulders and bears” is indicated is pretty much a pseudo-road filled with baseball and softball sized rocks that goes for about 3.5km… UP! The area approaching the serpintine (see the map) has grades of (I’m guessing) 20% before and after it. I didn’t make it up the front of the serpentine without having to get off the bike due to lack of control on the rocky surface. But I made it up the back after having learned/adjusted a bit how to navigate under e-bike power over the large and loose rocks. The average grade of the entire distance of the hill is about 7-12%. Would I ever attempt this without e-bike power? Only if I stop drinking wine and eating truffles. But then, if that happens, I wouldn’t be in Labin, Croatia. Or?

    17km ebike trek Croatia

    Although it only took me about half an hour to make it up the hill (Rocks, boulders and bears side of the graph above), and I plan on doing it again for practice, I’ve never before experienced my bike in this type of environment. This bike is so well built that I enjoyed feeling the tires gorging on the edges of rocks. The Bosch CX motor was brilliant in assisting me and not allowing any overcompensation with wild pedal kicking due to the rocky, loose surface. Also, I noticed for the first time how the Bosch computer was telling me when to up or down shift. In fact, for the past 5000km I thought the shifting indicators of the computer didn’t even work because this bike has a derailleur. Goodness knows, the “mountain biking” I’ve done up to now, which has been mostly in and around Wuppertal and Solingen, Germany, doesn’t compare to this rocky Croatian surface. With that in mind, I really feel as though I’ve finally tested my Charger GX to its limits. After riding just under 100km in this area as of this post, the bike is rattling, humming and weirding out on me as never before. But not one thing has snapped off, broke or come loose. Can’t wait to get back on it and find new trails tomorrow.

    Note: The pic with my bike and the Adriatic Sea in the far background should provide some perspective on how high we are. The 3-4KM ride is up the side of the hill (cause it’s not quite a mountain yet, is it).

    Keep up the good work R&M!

    Rant and worst-ride on, baby.

    T

    PS The reason the grey Ortlieb bag is strapped to the top of the rear rack is because they jostle and bang around too much when hung on the side. Seriously rough surfaces here.

  • First Time In Croatia

    Although there are lots of Das Volk out there that don’t mind long car drives, I ain’t one of them. So. On our way to Istria, Croatia, for a bit of R&R we stopped for two nights in Salzburg. Perhaps more on Salzburg later. Exhausted from the drive from Salzburg to Istria, we eventually found our way driving up and through winding, barely paved road-ways to a luscious Tuscany-like villa with heated pool and a view of the Adriatic that is to die for (pic not included YET). The only problem is the heated pool can’t get heated enough with the chilly fall winds that have suddenly turned on. In fact, after one or two tries and my better-half catching a cold we’ve given up on swimming in here. But enough bitchin’ and moaning (ranting).

    Istria is gorgeous. Can’t recommend it enough. Even though you have to drive to get around, if you stay in the outer hills, as opposed to a village or resort hotel, there’s very little traffic–other than a few minor delays due to road work–to stop you from getting around. The only problem is, once you start driving around and looking at all the little walled-in, mini-towns built waaaaay back atop rolling forever hills (mini-mountains?), like Motovun (above), you’ll want to stop at them all.

    And then there is the food. Or should I say: the truffles. If you like gorging on truffles, this is the place to be. I only wonder how long it’s gonna last as an affordable place to hang out for a week or two and eat this delicatessen–as opposed to how expensive it is in Italy or France. If you find the right place along one of them hill roads, all you need is a few Euros for plate of perfectly cooked noodles in a butter-wine sauce and then topped with dark truffle shavings (above). The cats seem to know what they’re begging for under your table, too.

    And by-the-buy, check out the arrogant über corporate message from LA Times when I was trying to read up on some #SCOTUS bull$hit this morning. Even though the message is trying to be sympathetic and show interest in problem solving, any rational mind knows that what they’re really trying to say is that my grand & missed United Mistakes of #Americant is having a hard time getting-on with the EU’s attempt at reigning in on digital greed and abuse. The whole point of what the EU is trying to do (I hope!) is to right a long standing wrong–as long as the attempt is about users being the ones to decide what happens with their data. FB, Twitter and even the LA Times have no business whatsoever thinking they can own and manipulate what I do on the Interwebnets. That’s right, baby. You may own your software, you may own your website, but if you put it out there on a public network–which is what the Interwebnets is–then you have no right to own, sell or manipulate my data–even if it’s going through your website (or software).

    Or something like that.

    Rant on.

    -T

  • Coat Hangers Or Knitting Needles

    Watching/reading about the proceedings regarding scariest #SCOTUS appointment ever–that #Americants deserve? Also a few pics from #Eurowasteland that coincide with it all. (Actually I’ve since learned that, in Germany, women who died from botched abortions, did so because of knitting needles not coat hangers.)

    Rant on.

    T

  • From New To Old Or Skipping What’s In-Between

    ibooks v kindle v book.JPG
    1st Gen iPad Air, 2nd Gen Kindle Paperwhite, a fcuking real book!

    Subtitle 1: E-Book reading. Looks like there’s no turning back (for worst-moi).

    Subtitle 2: A pseudo-review of e-readers.

    I first started e-reading on a Kindle 2. I loved the design of the Kindle 2, especially the analog page change buttons and the odd but fully functional keyboard that enabled the best note-taking (at the time) while reading electronic books. Luckily, including voice dictation, I think I’ve finally found a viable replacement for the only Kindle I’ve ever loved. More on that in a sec. Because the battery died on my Kindle 2 and Amazon offered no upgrade, I broke down and bought a Kindle Paperwhite while it was on sale. From day one I’ve hated the thing. Talk about technology going backwards! Ok. Ok. The “Paperwhite” screen is pretty good, especially during night reading. But to be honest, that really doesn’t matter until night lamps go the way of the Dodo. Also. What can one expect from a guy like Jeff Bezos, the greatest mooch and scavenger capitalist the world has ever seen? Or do you actually believe that hijacking already marginalised capitalism from the likes of Walmart and retail, physical book stores is really such an ingenious endeavour? Please. Amazon and Bezos suck bat balls on account he’s only found a way to lead in the race to the bottom. But before I get to far off subject.

    I’ve pretty much given up on Kindle as my e-reading device (for now). Here a few reason:

    1. Eco-system. There’s basically three digital eco-systems that I would consider using. Amazon and Google have lost out to Apple (for now). But to be honest, if/when I have to change eco-systems, my next choice will be Google.
    2. 3G. When I needed it, it never worked. I remember once traveling through Asia and not being able to download a book for a research project. Not only that, when I finally connected to WIFI in an airport lounge, Amazon wouldn’t let me download the book that way either–something about copyright. Go figure!
    3. Performance and obsoletism. We’ve had three Kindles in our family so far. Sure, they are relatively cheap devices but now that Amazon has gone full expensive with their newest fancy-pants Kindle (as of 2016 or so), where’s this gonna go? Their colour screen tablets are a joke. They can’t make a phone. And that voice-AI speaker thing… No thanks!

    Of all the Kindles we’ve had (I can’t remember exactly but it’s somewhere between three and four), they are all, after eighteen or so months, great door stops. The third gen Paperwhite in the pic above is also so incredibly slow that it’s no fun to use. Yeah, Jeff Bezos. Innovation ain’t just about bringing something to market but also making it better without breaking the bank.

    Moving on.

    I gave up using an iPad 4 three years ago. The main reason for giving it up was because 1) I’m a Mac guy and 2) I have an iPhone. Although I did learn to appreciate the iBooks interface and preferred it over the Kindle, the iPad 4 was just too heavy as a reading device. There are times when I read for more than two hours. But last year after my wife upgraded from her shattered iPad Air 2 to an iPad Pro, we also discovered in a drawer her shattered first gen iPad Air. We traded in the shattered iPad Air 2 and she got a pretty good deal on a new iPad Air Pro. But since Apple only lets you trade in one device for another device, we put the shattered first gen iPad Air back in the drawer. While visiting our local Apple store a few months later, I happened across a conversation with one of the dunces in the blue shirts. When I mentioned that I still had a shattered iPad Air he quickly checked inventory and told me that if I trade it in, he’ll sell me a brand new one for €250,-.

    A brand new what, I asked.

    Oh. Sorry, he said.

    Even though Apple had just announced their new low-end iPad line which had a better processor and more storage, the hundred to hundred-fifty price difference wasn’t a factor. Reason? I don’t need an iPad. I especially don’t need a low-end iPad. I mean, let’s face it. As much as I fight it, it looks like Macs are doomed. Apple is going full iOS. I’ve since learned from my wife’s multiple iPad to iPad Pro experience, that I’m eventually gonna have to give in. Of course, it’ll take till iPads can drive a second monitor–as that’s the way I use both my 2016 MacBook and my 2015 MacBook Air–I’m putting off full iPad integration into my life. Again. All I really needed was a new e-reader on account of how much I hate the Kindle Paperwhite!

    Long Apple-Store story short: I went home and got the shattered iPad Air. I traded it in and nervously paid €250,-. Gee, I thought, I just got the best e-book reader there is, didn’t I? And not only that. It really was a brand new first generation iPad Air with 32GB and cellular. It’s not even a refurbished one. Say what you will, dear worst-reader, about my lack of scruples when it comes to consuming tech $hit. I mean, I could have easily afforded the  new iPad. I just don’t need a new iPad for anything but watching the occasional video while it’s propped up in the kitchen and I’m cutting onions or I’m consuming lots and lots of research, reading, study, etc. Since the newest Kindle (that’s waaaay overpriced one) cost almost the same… Yeah, it was a no-brainer.

    I think I lucked out. I’ve had the iPad Air (version A1475) as a news reader, the occasional Plex client, definitely a useful you-tube watcher and, when needed on account I’ve already purchased books there, it’s great with the Kindle app, for about six months now. And to be honest, I’m enjoying reading/using Apple’s iBooks more and more. Not only is the iPad Air much lighter than that iPad 4, but its also got a much better screen. The only negative with the iPad as an e-reader is the battery life. Yeah, Amazon does have the advantage with that one. Which means I have to charge the iPad every night… along with all the other krapp I have to charge. But then again, compared to the Kindle, it’s a fcuking computer beast.

    As stated, I really like to interact with what I’m reading. I like to write short notes in the margins of pages (of real books) and also underscore text. The iPad does that huuuuuugely better than the Kindle. In fact, with the iPad I can highlight text and if I have a comment about the text, I then call up the note function and instead of using the cumbersome iPad keyboard, I just dictate my comment and voice recognition transcribes it. Also, if I need to write anything longer, I can immediately go to Apple’s Note app, which I’ve actually become more and more dependent upon even when using my Mac. So I’m really digging Apple’s eco-system right now. It works great when reading.

    Who knows how long relations with Apple’s eco-system will last. Btw, I’m still not using iCloud for all my files. I prefer Dropbox for that. Also, as far as home media is concerned since we stopped watching TV ten years ago, I haven’t and don’t plan on upgrading my old AppleTV3 anytime soon. For one thing, as stated, we don’t consume TV anymore. When we do watch stuff, we do so through the internet or our Plex server which is on a 2010 headless MacPro in the basement. Replacing our living-room TV with a new bookshelf system where my wife and I are able to combine our entire (physical) book collection into a really, really cool private library, has been one of the best choices we’ve made yet when it comes to life and living at home.

    Rant on.

    T

  • Tyre vs Tire Or Summer vs Winter

    Pics as follows:

    • 2017 Mini Clubman jacked-up for tyre change
    • Michelin CrossCountry all-weather tyres; the ones with the sticker on the top tire
    • Bridgestone “Run-Flats” with around 5000km on them after being removed and now in my basement on top of a flat/folded moving box ready for sale or whatever else their fate has in store (size 225/45/R17)

    First, dear worst-reader, for worst-moi, after all these years living within the Germania  tribe of #Eurowasteland, it’s “tyre” and not “tire.” Coming from an American expat that may not sound like much to you but according to (expat) folklore it is an indication of having gone native. Thank you for letting me get that out of the way.

    I can’t remember ever considering changing from summer tyres to winter tyres while living in my beloved & missed #Americant where I owned three cars (before expating). Usually the vehicle you consumed determined whether or not you had season oriented tyres. Keep in mind that I grew up on the mid-Atlantic coast, which has a fairly mild climate. Although we had snow once or twice a year and ice more than that, the costly idear of actually changing tyres for seasons…? Whaaaaaaa? I mean, get this. #Americant is a country that still allows krappy, cheap retreads. Ever wonder why #Americant highways are so polluted with exploded tyre rubber? Ever get caught on a motorcycle riding behind a tractor-trailer going sixty-five mph and one of its retreads explodes? Seriously. Retreads shouldn’t be allowed on public roads. Nomatter. I’m waaaaay off subject.

    I’ve been tickled, don’t you know, with our new Mini Clubman. In fact, every time I get in it and take off, I can’t help but say to myself: wow, this is a great little car. We’ve put a bit more than three thousand kilometres on it so far (we bought it with two thousand kilometres). And although we’re pleased with it, there is still one major thing left to do. As the lawmaking goes in #Eurowasteland, winter tyres are mandatory now. And although it’s a bit early to worry about snow season, we’re about to embark on a trip to Croatia with our big-little Mini. That means we’ll be crossing the Alps in Austria in late September. I know. I know. I’m sure it won’t snow then, plus, the summer tyres will be fine in Croatia but… I’ve got to get winter tyres anyway. How ’bout doing so now and thereby killing two birds with one stone?

    Did you know, dear worst-reader, Germans are brake-drivers. That’s is, they drive their fancy, leased, German engineered and sometimes über high-powered cars with their brakes. Unfortunately, with the current state of Autobahns, there isn’t much choice to drive fast anymore because you’re constantly driving through construction. The good news is, because of the enormous cost of driving a car here, people are going with smaller, less powerful, less heavy and less super fast vehicles. That means, people don’t need to change tyres all year round–if they go with so-called all-weather tyres–which are nothing more than detoxed (if you will) winter tyres. Hence the two birds I’m gonna get with one stone, don’t you know.

    Keep in mind, this isn’t a review of tyre brands. Even though I picked the Michelin brand, I could have easily gone with Goodyear or Bridgestone or Continental, etc. The only thing that was important to me was to get a major branded tyre. There are a lot of tyres out there to choose from. But I will never forget changing from a cheap brand of tyres to a major brand a few years back and boy was there a difference. That said, the price difference between major brand to non-major brand isn’t enough to sway my prejudice to the cheaper tyre. So Michelin it is. But first a few thoughts on the run-flats.

    The Mini came with Bridgestone “Turanza” summer run-flats (RF). Some years ago, I had a run-in with run-flats on a drive from Stuttgart to Munich. Half way through the drive the onboard computer of the Mercedes notified me I had a flat. At a rest top I checked the tyre. It didn’t look flat to me. At the time I had not idear what RF tyres were. So I got back in the car and drove the remaining distance to Munich. When I gave the car to the leasing company to deal with the “flat tyre” notification they asked how long I had driven on the flat. “What flat,” I said. The guy explained the RF concept to me–all the while holding back any (deserved?) ridicule of stupid American drivers. The only problem is, I was stuck with that car for a while and it needed a new tyre–NOW. The guy said it would take three weeks to get the same brand tyre. Whaaaaaa? I had to drive two days later from Munich to Köln–with that car. “No problem,” the guy said. So he replaced the tyre within twenty-four hours with another sub-brand RF tyre.

    Go ahead, dear worst-reader. Call me a stickler. I’m spoiled. I want better. With that in mind, I don’t care what you think (of me). So get this: I can’t stand the idear of driving a four hundred horsepower Mercedes Benz on the fcuking German Autobahn for hour after hour and that vehicle not being in tip-top performance condition. Running three Continental branded RF tyres with one no-name RF tyre–that had a totally different tread profile, as well–just pissed me off. But of course I went with it. I was working for the man. I could only bitch (rant) at the world so much. Did the Mercedes drive differently? Of course it didn’t. Did it look different? Well, yeah, kinda, on account the profile of the one tyre was different. But I don’t care. In fact, I might even tolerate two different brands front and rear but… three brands to one? No. No. No. (Talk about provoking my tourettes.)

    Anywho. RF tyres cannot be repaired if they’re punctured. They have to be replaced. That means, if I don’t have to, I don’t want to be in the predicament again where I have to wait (for weeks) for a tyre maker to deliver me the right tyre or have to then choose between buying a brand new tyre that doesn’t fit to the other three. But there’s one other thing.  RF tyres are extremely uncomfortable–even with the proper suspension. You see, RF tyres have something akin to metal lining in their walls. That’s how you can drive on them if they go “flat”. The metal lining prevents the tyre from buckling completely so you can continue (at limited speed, of course) without the wheel rims ruining everything. But then… Those metal walls, when filled with air, are as hard as rock.

    The Mini Clubman is pretty bumpy and unnecessarily uncomfortable with the RF summer tyres it was delivered with. Also, the Mini is far from being a performance vehicle. The Bridgestone tyres are simply too much tyre for this car. With that in mind, the significance of “performance” only plays a role, IMHO, with vehicles that can also deliver that performance. By-the-buy, don’t get me wrong, I’ve since learned that the BMW 1.5litre, three cylinder turbo-charged power plant is a lot stronger than I thought it would be! But the Mini still does not perform in a way that requires anything more than solid, well built, good running tyres. Although I’ve only gone a few kilometres with the new Michelins, I have already noticed how much more comfortable the Mini is now. And. Since the tires are all-weather, I definitely killed those two birds.

    -Rant on

    T

    PS Did you catch that last expat mis-spelling?

  • German Confusion Or Re-Inventing The F-Bomb

    selling cheese in Europe

    No. Seriously. To get by in #Eurowasteland, especially since I’m gonna need some dental work soon, I sometimes sell cheese or sell t-shirts that sell cheese.

    -Rant on

    T

  • Gourmet Festivals And Bee Stings

    The bourgeoisie have been let loose, dear worst-reader. This weekend in D’dorf was the yearly Gourmet Festival. The entire Königsallee is filled with all kinds of food stands, food trucks, etc., where you can indulge in fine dining galore or examine fancy-built grills. You can even be astonished at a “farmed” yellow fin tuna from Malta that is probably worth a few grand (if not more). Of course, getting to such a festival is the hard part. It begins with the night before and watching Steve McQueen in The Cincinnati Kid. Although not the best film to watch, Ann Margaret is worth every moment–especially her biblical consumption of an apple while lying on a bed in a negligee. After a good nights sleep dreaming about Ann Margaret (or was it Biblical apples) I hopped on my trusty e-bike and before I could even get very far I was stung by a bee that got caught in my shirt. Luckily I was able to get the stinger out before it got too deep. I can’t say that I’m happy to be reminded about how much a bee sting hurts. It’s been a long time since I was stung. I was stung, btw, on my side, just above my hip. Yeah, that smarts extra. And before I forget. If you ever happen to make it to this street festival, steer clear from the fancy stand with the colourful, luscious olives. We bought two bags of olives and some incredible tasting dried tomatoes. It cost us more than thirty friggin Euros. But that’s the Königsallee for ya.

    -Rant on

    T

  • The Glory Hole Of Rubbernecking And The Only Voice Spoken For You

    crash.jpg
    Screenshot from the #interwebnets

    Loved it when Robert De Niro took a moment at this year’s Tony Awards and said what need be said. I’m worst-writing, of course, about his vivid criticism and ornery dismay of a world where Donald J. Trump, aka President Stupid, is for real. But then again where could the GOP, republicans, conservatives and their old-money go after…

    1. first black president and
    2. bigoted misogyny galore, i.e. too much un-love for #Hillary?

    Is it not inevitable that the likes of President Stupid emerge and that mouths, souls and eyes bleed with foamed goo-hate? Or did you ever think that the bumbling idiot Dubya (Bush) couldn’t be topped by electing an even stupider president after a beautiful, brilliant president (Obama)? That’s right, dear worst-reader, there is a way to fix stupid:

    1. leave it up to #Americant uglies (deplorables) and
    2. lighten up on what stupid really means.

    Indeed, dear worst-reader. We’re dealing with a whole new level of stupid here. For example. Obviously Trump has done well with his inheritance from a racist, paranoid, ugly, greed-mongering stupid white-man father who represents all the uglies of at least two generations. In fact, Trump has done well enough to have avoided the prosecution he deserves, which is what he really should have inherited. Or does he just deserve a good, humiliating tar & feathering in a public space? But on that note, I digress.

    We’re not really dealing here with the opposite of “smart” in the intellectual sense, are we? Indeed. Anti-intellectualism in my beloved & missed #Americant has reached epic proportions. What else can happen in a land where words like creationism and intelligent design are part of the norm and not part of the abnormal? Is it not this abnormality Trump rides upon–as he does with so many deserving gold-diggers–that got him elected via the GOP? I’m worst-writing, of course, about the evangelical base that will forgive him for anything. Finding absolution from clergy has found a way to circumvent advances from the middle ages and even the enlightenment. Yes. They will forgive him for anything he’s done and have already forgiven him for what he will do. The religious right-wing of #Americant, baby. It is so forgiving. Forgiving stupid is as limitless and mindless as anti-intellectualism plus faith.

    Stupid? How to find it? Where to look. Or, as Elvis once sang: Stop! Look and listen, baby, that’s my philosophy. It’s called rubbernecking, baby…

    Rubbernecking is the act of staring at something of interest. The term rubbernecking refers to the physical act of craning one’s neck, performed in order to get a better view; it has been described as a human trait that is associated with morbid curiosity; it can be the cause of traffic jams, sometimes referred to as “gapers’ blocks” or “gapers’ delay”, as drivers slow down to see what happened in a crash. -Wiki

    A crash, dear worst-reader. #Americant is in a state of perpetual crash with everybody incessantly staring at it. Behold the minions staring with their morbid curiosity at the crash they’ve made. Which brings me to the following: How else can the taped conversations of Omarosa & Co. be interesting? Have you heard them, dear worst-reader? Those crash tapes. Listening to them is not unlike trying to watch Faux-Newz. The stomach starts to churn first. Then come the gaseous expulsions followed by pre-throw-up. The next thing you know, while some dimwit stupid white person is telling you what to do, what to think, how to behave and how to follow, you throw-up like never before. But I braced myself for Omarosa, especially the tape with John Kelly. Even though the tape with President Stupid’s son’s wife was also chilling and followed the/this pattern of stupidness, the one with Kelly is a jewel. Reason? If you listen close enough (if you can stand it; throwing-up before-hand will help) you can hear your life being spoken to you, if you’re one of the minions. Can you follow me on that thought, dear worst-reader?

    Let me explain anew. Omarosa is quiet in the tape with Kelly. Kelly does most of the talking. I imagine her craning her neck as Kelly talks by her, beyond her, above her. For it does take two to tango in such a crash, doesn’t it? You need the crash participants and you need the rubberneckers. And Kelly delivers his part brilliantly. Kelly is the crash with #Americant. He represents not just #Trump but those who made him. The bumpers and wheels and transmissions from a former glorious Detroit rock-city where cars ruled the world. And now they just are a crash. The tone Kelly uses in his crash. The words he chooses. The texture in his voice. The cadence of his and #Americants’ sound. It’s as though humanity reached a peak at one point (the enlightenment?) and since then has been on a long journey of spiralling down from the top of ladder of failure forever reached. And as I had listened enough I realised that what I was really hearing was not a conversation between two people (of intellect) but instead wasted minds shivering about the ills of space & time run amok where nothingness plus money is the only thing there is. The sound of corporate, power-hungry voices stuffed full of guilt, no-shame and limitless inhumility. Oh, how my beloved & missed #Americant has fallen. And we can thank Omarosa for one thing during this fall: allowing us to hear its decline galore in ugly corpo-voice.

    Thank you Omarosa for the world you and your ilk have made. Enjoying choking on it.

    -Rant on

    T

  • Nothing Pretty About Them At All

    swan.jpg

    At a place where I walk Beckett, the killer pug, is this little body of water that is filled with all kinds of weird algae (due to the extreme summer heat), ducks and swans. Two of the swans are kinda there permanently–as I can see from tags on their webbed feet. These two swans are obviously mates and, as mates do–so I’ve heard–they procreate a whole bunch. Indeed. This spring I’ve witnessed their their third offspring. Needless to say, these critters can be quite ornery. Sometimes, as the banks of the little lake are quite high, I have to be careful not to be surprised by them as they feed with their heads sunk under the water’s surface. For if you are surprised by them they will first start hissing and then they will attack you. With that in mind, are these pretty creatures or what? Then again, what the hell happened in nature that could result in these animals? Just askin’?

    -Rant on

    T

  • The Whole Thing About His Trip To CA USA In The 70s

    umberto eco page.JPG
    Source: Travels in Hyperreality, Umberto Eco

    Yeah, having an Eco morning.

    -Rant on

    T

  • The Darnedest Things Around

    Brisk walk this morning… No. This afternoon. Yeah, had brisk walk this afternoon. Nomatter. Get a load of that elbow, dear worst-reader. The left elbow of the dude with the fancy pig head. I’ve been passing by that Baroque building and statue for almost three years now. Never noticed the strange position of the elbow, though. Ever seen such a thing? Luckily, when I consulted Claudia, a former sculptress, and now a highly praised dancer in the art of vertical pole-ology, she told me that she even knows the local artist that made it.

    “Yeah,” she said. “He ran out of time and money, as usual. So for shits&giggles he threw an arm on it that was laying around. He saved some money, don’t you know.”

    Well, go figure, I thought. But it does (the arm, elbow) look kinda out of joint. Or?

    Then I found a teddy-bear from Vulcan (yeah, Spock Vulcan). Found green blood n’all. I’m sure he was a cute little fellow at one time. But he smelled kinda funny when I took the shot. (And, yes, I buried him out of respect.)

    The kicker in this post, though, dear worst-reader, is the Anti-Monopoly game I found on a park bench along the Rhine River after a welcome rain storm. You know, we’ve been having a heatwave here. My only question was, did the storm come along and scare the players away? Cause they left the whole game.

    -Rant on.

    T

  • Not A Train Buff

    Short pause while biking yesterday.

    -Rant on

    T

  • Wishful Roadkill On Your Dashboard And Other Worst Pics

    Cute as a button how someone could put tiny animal-dolls on their Mercedes dashboard. I only wonder what they are thinking as they drive. I even went around the car to see if there was anything else to photograph. No rotting animal carcasses anywhere. Also, no USB cables or smartphone holders. Whaaaaa? I then headed to the Rhine, which is terribly shallow right now on account of one of #Eurowasteland’s worst heatwaves in years. But perhaps the desertification of the Rhine region might hold out a bit. Then again, shipping German made tractors can’t displace all the much water. Or? Then Beckett, the killer pug, discovered a pumpkin patch right on the corner of a drive-way. Cool, I thought. Now if only Cinderella can find it when she needs it. Say, ever herd of “Gang – Joker Crew”? Me neither. But I think I’ve seen this graffiti before. Nomatter. Final pic is of some German miscalculation when tearing down an old house. Or do you think they hit it right?

    -Rant on

    T

  • Crocs Of $hi+

    crocs of__
    Worstwriter’s leather topped and fancy speckled…in my fav colour.

    “Crocs, Inc. is a company that manufactures and distributes a foam clog shoe.” -Wiki

    The above quote says pretty much everything, eh? “Foam clog shoe…”???? Unless, of course, you’re a devotee. According to the pic above, I guess, I’m a devotee. Actually, that’s not true. First. Yes, I own a pair of crocs. As you can see in the pic above, they’re a pretty old pair of crocs. I think they’re at least ten years old by now. Does that say anything for this brand of shoe? Who the f cares? Second. The truth is, I hate these things. The only reason I have them is because, well, I’m f’n lazy and über middle-aged–and I hate shopping for house-shoes–which means I haven’t yet gotten around to replacing these things that were a gift from Mom. Hold a sec. They were a gift from wife. Wait. I forget who gave them to me. What’s important is that I never bought a pair of these things. Also. I hate hard wood floors. And when my feet get tired from standing while reading… Hold a sec. Let me clarify that. That’s right, dear worst-reader, for half of my designating reading time, I stand. Give it a try. It’s a healthier thing to do. Anywho. When I’m standing while reading my feet get tired–from the f’n hardwood floors. These krappy shoes–clogs?–actually provide some relief when standing for extended periods. But as soon I start to walk around in them, I want to remove them. These things are awful to walk around in. Why do people love them? With that in mind, I’ve been living with hardwood floors for most of my years in Germania expatriation. Seriously. What’s with hardwood floors these days and when is shag carpet gonna make a comeback? Hardwood is freezing in the winter–even though our place has floor heating. They’re hot in the summer–especially considering the heatwave we’ve been dealing with lately. And they produce an odd and prevalent dust-film that is extra difficult to clean. That is, because of the hardwood and possibly the floor heating system, there is a constant dust-film everywhere. Needless say, Margaret, my Dutch slave-maid who wears skimpy garb when cleaning, hates me for dust but that’s why I pay her with my presence and money. And on that note, I digress.

    I read a strange article on the #interwebnets this morning that Crocs–the shoe maker–was shutting its doors. First, I giggled. Second, I was kind of relieved. But then I started to think about it. Could Crocs actually go out of business and shut it’s doors? I mean, even though I hate the shoes, whenever I’m in my beloved & missed #Americant, I laugh my a$$ off watching people–a lot of people–walk around in these shoes in all kinds of public places. And for that, I suppose one has to recognise the genius of who ever came up with this krapp. Make it, make it cheap, sell it everywhere, always. There is a mass of human beings that would rather walk around in ridiculous sub-par house-shoes than wear something decent. Which brings me to this last worst-thought: even though I’m getting to that age where wine consumption and other sustenance abuse makes bending over and tying my shoes torture, I swear that I’ll do it till the day I die if it means not having to walk around in public as though the whole world is a sloppy Walmart store.

    And by-the-buy, the article I read about Crocs closing is bogus. Yeah, fake newz has really caught on, eh.

    -Rant on

    Links that motivated this post:

  • Myth Porn Or How I Learned To Dodge Jizz Bling Bling

    viking myth blood eagle.jpg
    The Blood Eagle. A depiction of sacrifice, burial or pre-barmizwa?

    As stated here and here, dear worst-reader, I really dig the epic poem Beowulf. Reason? It’s a very telling story–and not just about times long past, don’t you know. Although difficult to read, especially the latter parts, it is truly a work of art that, once conquered, gives the feeling that one can somehow relate to what is depicted–in a literary sense, of course. But I suppose that’s what the written word does. Or?

    Considering the popularity in recent years of various screen oriented story-telling that is not far flung from Beowulf, I’m wondering what writers of these pay-per-view TV shows are really thinking when they manufacture this stuff. For it is manufactured, isn’t it dear worst-reader? I’m referring, of course, to TV shows like Game of Thrones and Vikings. By-the-buy, I actually got through four seasons of GoT, don’t you know. Of course, after about three seasons I was already tired of watching it. I was tired, indeed, of the repetitiveness and stretchy-ness of every mis-continued episode. But since I had purchased the DVDs (second hand, of course) and ripped them to my home server, I thought: what the heck. And so. I have not seen, nor will I put any effort into watching any other season of GoT. Do you know why? That’s right, dear worst-reader. Once you’ve seen one episode you’ve practically seen them all. But let’s give credit where it’s due. Four seasons of GoT, baby. I did it.

    Anywho.

    After putting it off for sometime, I recently dabbled in the TV show Vikings. Reason? I had read a few things here or there or heard someone in a podcast talk about it. It is supposed to be a great show and everyone should watch it. The drama and story and the settings and the characters… bling bling. Even though the show is currently in it’s eighth season, I thought I’d give it a go from the beginning. And get this: Would you believe I got through eight and a half episodes of the first season within, like, three days? Well, it’s true. Eight and a half–ain’t that something akin to a Vikings’ lucky number? Oh wait. Dumba$$ Vikings didn’t even have numbers. Nomatter.

    First, let me just put this out there: who watches this $hit?

    Don’t get me wrong. As far as production value is concerned, Vikings (in the eight and a half episodes I could stomach) is much better than GoT. Also, Vikings (in eight and a half episodes) didn’t immediately turn me off because of the excess fantasy genre-krapp that, IMHO, is the ruin of GoT. But this post ain’t a comparison post. This is a rant. A rant, indeed, about what the fcuk do people think they are watching when they scatter their brains with this krapp? Oh wait. We’re living in porn-times, eh. Yeah, we are. Everything is “porn” now. There are shows and podcasts and video clips of people freaking out over cars, jet planes, cooking, sewing, fat asses with dollars stuck in fat cracks, and bling bling. The only difference to this krapp and real porn is that, heck, back in the day of real porn–let’s say 1980s porn–it was actually better than all this genre manufactured TV $hit.

    Alone the shear glorification of violence is ludicrous. But how do the manufactures of this krapp compete with all the bling bling? That’s right. You turn it into porn. Seriously! After seven or eights episodes of Vikings–and also knowing a little bit about Norse Mythology–I decided to fast forward to the cumshots. So I resorted to YouTube to do some research. You know, on account the cumshots of 1980s porn was the best part. Alone the reaction of a woman receiving a man’s sword gluttony all over her face and, where applicable, she is enjoying it, on account she knows she ain’t gonna get knocked-up, is just downright cool. But on that note, I digress.

    Now where was I?

    Oh yeah.

    The facial.

    No.

    Oh yeah.

    The glorification of violence in the TV show Vikings is downright ludicrous. So I did a little search for “Viking TV show and death…” and behold, toot-sweet baby, I got a whole lot of hits of various slaughterings galore. It’s unbelievable not only how much but how death is portrayed in this TV show. But I guess it’s the same everywhere on TV. Or? I mean, all the killing on GoT was just as stupid. Like that idiotic fight between The Hound and that… yeah, Viking blond chick! Whaaaaaa! And what about all the super hero movies–most of which I can’t stand to watch anymore on account of stupid super hero capes and silly super hero pseudo-violence. You know–gotta appeal/sell it to the kids, right? No wonder the world is so fcuked up these days and a guy like $hitbag #Trump can become President Stupid of land of free to be stupid. But before I get too far off subject.

    It’s not only the glorification of violence these shows hang out there. The show Vikings is a perversion of Norse Mythology dressed in a stupid-cloak. Indeed. We live in stupid times. For example. (Spoiler alert!) That “Blood Eagle” torture-death of whatever dip$hit English King in season… whatever. I mean, come on. Is there really verisimilitude in this depiction? I know. I know. You know it’s all just fiction. But do you really know that? Do you know that people watching this stuff, people that are glued to it, really know the difference between fiction and Norse Mythology? And if you do know it’s all fiction, is it possible that through so much bling bling, people will never put any effort into trying to get informed about how incestuous tribes of Northern Europe did what they had to do in order to survive–which had nothing to do with slaughtering defenceless priests with hi-larry-us hair-dos but instead they had to move south. In fact, that’s why/how the blonde hair, blue eyes got to Europe in the first place. It’s because all those inbred cocksuckers from the north could no longer survive when sisters and brothers kept bearing grapefruits as children. With that in mind, the first thing to know about Norse Mythology is that it is all about exaggeration. Indeed, dear worst-reader. Exaggeration galore–and a few glorious cumshots.

    -Rant on

    T

  • Misdirected Lyrics And The Ultimate Lie Of The #Americant Mind Long Run Amok

    Another email exchange with an old friend.


    To Worstwriter:

    I’ve been reading a bit lately. Found this quote:

    What’s more crazy than a bunch of people gathering each Sunday to sing and greet each other at the foot of an empty cross, the ancient equivalent of the electric chair?

    Pretty good, eh.

    Your old friend.


    To dear old friend:

    Oh, dear old friend, since you insist on quoting odd and perhaps mis-directed lyrics—especially without sourcing it—then you deserve yet another worst-writer response.

    The analogy in your text is, of course, inaccurate and ultimately fails to convey, what can only be assumed, is its intended message: that people are witnessing a murder sanctioned by the state while worshipping a supernatural being. Obviously your lyricist is trying to compare modern day church-goers with people witnessing a capital punishment execution each time they go to their place of worship. Is then their place of worship an execution facility?

    First, the cross, in and of itself, doesn’t represent a device used in capital punishment. There is evidence, for example, that Christ was crucified on a cypress tree. The exact location of that crucifixion, though, is unclear. But we do know, according to the gospels, that Christ was crucified outside Jerusalem’s walls, which means it is plausible a tree was used. Hence, a cross–or the image of two pieces of wood crossing each other, where the short, horizontal piece of wood almost sits atop the longer, vertical piece, has become the image of a living deity–is not an image of an execution. So. Is the cross valid when comparing it to the electric chair, especially when the man being murdered doesn’t really die? Or. Is state-sanctioned murder also a kind of sport for the stupid-of-mind, e.g. spectators of WWE, realityTV, republicans, modern day evangelical church goers, etc.?

    Indeed.

    Let’s go with the latter, shall we? You live among the truly Stupid in my beloved & missed #Americant. Now that Stupid has finally shown its true colours, its face, its whole being and thereby elected even more Stupid to the Presidency of the united mistakes of #Americant—most of this was made possible, by-the-buy, with the mindless influence of evangelicals—there might be some minds out there (your lyricist?) hearing new supernatural voices preaching the gospel of fcuking dumba$$ stupid idiot cocksuckers who can only earn money and do nothing else worthwhile–with their lives. And so. Little minded stupid people come up with ridiculous analogies in lyrics in order to circumvent their inner most thoughts compelling them to wake the fcuk up. And as usual, it will all fail un-graciously upward and up.

    Anyway. I hate fcuking ignorant play-time lyricists.

    T

    -end email-


    -Rant on

    T

  • The Delete: Tweets

    Ok. Maybe I jumped the gun.

    Reactivated Twitter account and am employing tweet delete app. Not concerned about my tweets, btw. Just concerned about cleaning slates, desk, and wax out of ears.

    Next delete? Sept 3 I have a dental appointment.

    -Rant on

    T

  • The Delete: Twitter

    Star-date blah-blah-blow-me. Let it be known that on this day, an f’n krappy Sunday, I finally got around to deleting my twitter account.

    -Rant on

    T

  • Heatwave, #Eurowasteland And How I Learned To Love Electric Shades

    If you haven’t heard, dear worst-reader, #Eurowasteland is experiencing a pretty severe heatwave. Indeed. In all my years living among the Germans as a lost and useless-eating #Americant, I’ve never experienced it this hot for this long. Yesterday I measured 37.5°C (that’s almost a 100°F). That may not sound like much to you but considering the humidity in this area combined with a bit too much green through out the year… Seriously. I’ve been to dry heat areas. I can take 40° plus in India. I can even hang in summer-time Arizona. Northern Europe is different than all that–when climate goes nuts. The worst part about is that it’s been in and out of  30°C–plus or minus–since early July. Oh, how this reminds me of my youth on the eastern shore of Maryland and the grand and luscious Chesapeake Bay (that I miss dearly). July and August and September (and sometimes June and October) were unbearable with heat and humidity back then. But there was always something to fall back on. That’s right, dear worst-reader. We could at least get out of the heat and even sleep in modern air conditioning. Here, though, there ain’t no A/C. Instead, there are concrete walls, wood floors and lots and lots of electric shades. In fact, during the day, for the past few weeks, these shades are down all the time. Not until about 7pm can we open them. As you can see in the pics above, we live in a rather rectangular, three level flat. These pics are of the ground floor. Separating our relatively small but comfortable living room and the kitchen is an open, outdoor atrium with eight glass doors. It’s where we do all our out-door cooking (grilling) and fresh air patio-ing; it’s connected directly to the kitchen (not pictured). It’s kind of a nice layout once you get used to it–except when the sun becomes a barrel full of heat. And so. During mid-morning hours we lower the shades. It’s at that time I begin worst-writing and hoping that the devil-heat doesn’t overwhelm me.

    -Rant on

    T

    PS I’m fully aware that my use and abuse of air conditioning in my youth is part of my suffering today. For that I am sorry. And although my neighbours are all buying plug-in A/C units, we’ve decided to just keep our shades lowered.

  • The Patriotism Monkey Gnawing On Your Back Or How To Be Ruled By A 30% Minority

    crumpled currency

    Subtitle of this worst-post: The reasons President Stupid is so overtly, well, stupid.

    The stupid currently running everything in my beloved & missed #Americant is there because, basically, it’s all part of a plan. Seriously. Stupid isn’t just stupid. It can be more. It can even be stupider. Or. Only this much stupid can attract the mindless, zombie automatons that make up the conservative base of #Americant that elect not just #Trump but all other conservatives–including pseudo-conservatives better known as: neo-liberals, libertarians, free-market moguls, etc. And while on the subject of #Americant stupid, don’t miss the brilliant bottling of it by Sash Baron Cohen (see link below). Indeed. Stupid begets elections where the willing and able so gallantly make choices that are obviously not in their best interest–and they do so because, well, like a puppy-child so cute and sweet, they caint healp themselves. And they do it year after year–since that actor was elected in 1982 who can be accredited with literally starting this whole $hitshow of stupid. And so, at this point there can only be #Trump.

    Here’s a short list of #Trump’s stupid that represents the whole lot of it, i.e. #Americant:

    • The supreme dear leader of #Americant victimhood
    • Meritless achievement galore
    • Super Bowl of blame game
    • An Oscar for scapegoating
    • Self interest to the point of collective annihilation
    • Hillary’s “Deplorables” plus Romney’s 47% equals the 30% that rules you, etc.

    And while on the subject of 30% and stupid…. I’ve always believed that there is a small part of #Americant that runs the whole $hitshow. That doesn’t mean I’m talking in terms of conspiracy-theory, though. Please keep that in mind. I got Alex Jones & Co., out of my system a long time ago. Also. I really don’t think there is something akin to a star-chamber where a group of cigar smoking white men rule the world. Again. I got the whole bat$hit #Americant conspiracy-theory krapp out of my system. The whole expatriate-thing kinda helped things along, don’t you know. Which means, dear worst-reader, I got out of the greed $hitbag show long before reality-TV chose President Stupid! Which makes me kinda clairvoyant. Indeed. But there is something out there, something in the space-time continuum, that does connect a fairly small portion of the population that has the ultimate goal of promoting stupidity-galore as a means of capital production. That something is a voice–as in how and what is spoken/said. That something is a way of thinking–as in think like me and be or think otherwise and you are own your own. That something is also about clothing–which might be a reason why nomatter where I travel in the world you can always tell when an #Americant is nearby. Or have a good look at the uniforms the automatons wear (as in suits or plaid shirts or button downs with khakis) to their compulsive behaviourists jobs. (Btw, nobody works anymore. They/you behave. -Just thought it appropriate to throw that in there.) Just walk around NYC, Wash DC when the automatons do their thing. Hence a few creative types were able to come up with the zombie entertainment industry. But I’m probably off-subject again. What I’m trying to get at is, there is a small portion of my beloved & missed #Americant that has literally executed history’s greatest coup d’etat. This coup d’etat is not about a dictator or even oligarchs. It is about greed and power and a population that is wanton of it without understanding it, let alone knowing who or what wields it. It is about making sure that those people–who give us THE LIST ABOVE–don’t lose too much face on account they’ve got nothing and have never had anything which means they have never nurtured life, love or creativity. The #Americant way, baby.

    And on that worst-note, here is my transcription of a brilliant interview between Bill Maher and Malcolm Nance where the 30% is mentioned.

    From the show Real-Time with Bill Maher, Ep.#467. Podcast link to this show is below.

    -Begin transcript-

    Bill Maher: What do you think the meeting that Putin and Trump had for two hours (Helsinki) was about? They were there together. You know. (Mimicking Trump.) Just talk to me. Like. There are no cameras, no audience. We’re just having a couple of brewskis. (Stop mimic.) What did they really say to each other? What did Putin want? What did Trump want? Are they as overt as… (Mimicking Trump.) Hey thanks so much for winning the last election for me. You know we got another one coming up. (Laughter.) Do something for me. I promise you I’ll get the sanctions lifted. (Stop mimic.) Is it that naked?

    Malcolm Nance: I wouldn’t be so sure if it was that naked. I think it was… I think they’ve already got that plan hashed out. I think that Trump, in 2012, sorry, 2013, when he went to Miss Universe (in Moscow), met with the top twelve oligarchs in Russia, in secret, just like this (Helsinki). When he went in there he was a blank slate. When he walked out he was spouting–to this day–the Kremlin party line on the elimination of NATO, the breakup of the European Union, getting America out of all of its treaty obligations, the elevation of Vladimir Putin that could only have been put into his head by men who are so rich that he’s jealous of their riches. (Audience applause.) So whatever they said in that meeting… I’ll tell you what I told Chris Matthews the other day on Hardball. I think what happened there was a secret Yalta which was the meeting in the 1940s between Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin where they divided up the Western world as it was going to look at the end of World War 2. I think though that that meeting heralded the realignment of the Western world.

    Maher: And what is it?

    Nance: Well. You break it up. The first thing is you destroy the Atlantic Alliance.

    Maher: Right.

    Nance: Breaking up the United States, NATO, the European
    capitals and you angle it to a pole between an autocratic Washington and an autocratic Moscow leading to an axis of other European autocracies after you knock down their governments. And Trump did that. He called for… While he was sitting at Theresa May’s table he called for regime change in Britain.

    Maher: This is his plan. To do it in the open, right?

    Nance: Yes.

    Maher: I know guys like this. Who cheat on their wife. (Mimicking Trump.) This might be the most popular
    restaurant, honey. If I was cheating would I be sitting here with my hand on her ass? (Laughter.) Yeah, that’s… That’s his method, right? He does it right in the open and people can’t believe it. I mean. In his tweet this week about (Jeff) Sessions. That he should close down the investigation. The admission to Lester Holt. It’s all out in the open.

    Nance: Yeah. But he’s doing it… He’s only speaking to the thirty percent of the population in the United States…

    Maher: But we can see him.

    Nance: Yes.

    Maher: And we can hear him. We can hear him. I don’t know if he knows that.

    Nance: Yeah.

    Maher: All right.

    Nance: And he doesn’t care.

    Maher: All right. I gotta go. You’re a great Patriot. Thank you

    -end transcript-

    -Rant on

    T

    Links that motivated this post:

  • Last Of The Mohican Bookshelves

    Actually the brand that is the last of anything is “Mocoba” not Mohican. As in the last bookshelf I’ll probably ever consume-to-survive.

    So much for worst-writer worst-humour.

    This is indeed a fancy-pants bookshelf system sold by some fancy-pants art-like shelf dealer in Köln. It is created/designed by some fancy-pants architect, I think. (#Interwebnet search it yourself on account I’m not selling anything here except worst-writing.) Yes. Architect. You know, those dudes who look and live like nature is the enemy they’ve long since turned into their lover? Yeah. Architects. Anywho.

    After more than ten years with our Ikea Billy bookshelves that were showing a bit too much wear, we decided to make one last investment in new shelves in order to begin our own little home physical book museum. Actually, the Billies we had were also dark brown and we were tired of how they stole so much light from the room. When we bought them they were set up in a large foyer/entry area to our one-hundred-fifty year old apartment. Now they’re in a living room that was built five years ago. The walls are clear white, without aged stone blemishes and cracks and the damn floor is even level. And the reason I’m referring to this our last physical book shelf museum is because… Well, you know, on account, all the books I’ve read for the past three years have been ebooks. This books shelf shall house all the real (physical) books I bought between 1985 ca. 2014. It was a hard acquaintance, if you dare to know, dear worst-reader. Leaving physical books for something new. In my own defence, I fought the transition for as long as I could. Then, one day, while traveling, I was reading an ebook and I realised: Gee, this ain’t so bad. When I finished that ebook and I then directly bought another and without snail mail delivery time, I was reading another ebook and lovin’ it. Now my problem is which ebook service to use. Yeah, first world problems, eh.

    IMG_4mocoba bookshelves almost filled.JPG

    -Rant on

    T

  • Exploding Shrooms Or How To Razor Wire Your Paranoia?

    Sites seen while walking Beckett, The Killer Pug. The mushroom is at least 12-14 inches in diameter. When it ejaculated its spores there might have been a slight wind from the South West. There is a metallic greyness, an almost mechanical shade around the base of the fungus. I never before thought I could see a smell, especially one that must, if a taste for it could be acquired, that has a look that smells so hideous. Perhaps I should document how the fungus will end up once it’s completely dried out. For indeed, dear worst-reader, there are hardened, if not fossilised fungi in the forest-park that Beckett and I traverse. And so. Yes. Two things I need to do in life (before it ends). One is to photograph all (ALL!) the churches in Köln and the other, perhaps, is to take majestic pictures of all the fungi inherent to the Germanin Boden (ground). And worst-speaking of Germania. Once I left the forest-park and began the trek home–for my pug has a difficult time right now dealing with the extreme weather situation caused by a world of greed mongers galore and their hate of climate–I finally took a snapshot of one of the houses on Rich-Inheritor Street that I walk by almost daily (on account it’s between where I live and the forest-park). Don’t you know, there are a few of these streets in every major village of Germania. (For those not in the know: there really are no cities in Germania; only villages.) They are the streets where no one earns a thing but their parents and grandparents did. And so. The lap of luxury in almost ancient, if not old #Eurowasteland villas, that all say fcuk-you in caps to people who would like to have a chance at upward mobility, where grand-children of Nazi conspirators and/or corporate fascists bought their way through the game of life. These places (villas) when listed for sale on real-estate sites go for millions of €uros. Yet there is something sinister about them–about them all that is above and beyond their fiat value. I’ve spoken to a few occupiers of these old-money places (villas) as I can’t help but pass their servants who walk the watch dogs. “What’s with the military grade razor wire,” I inquired of a MILF walking a mut hound-dog that has the longest droopy ears I’ve ever seen. Before she could answer I glanced at an open button on her thin blouse, gazing at the lace of the brassiere underneath as it pressed and smooshed her ageing teat. I could see sweat in her sweet place and I think the hound could smell it, too. “So, baby. Is the razor wire because of the neighbour-hate that you Germans have for one another,” I added. For a second I thought she was gonna point two fingers from her breast to my eyes and then to her eyes. But she is not a German servant. Instead her hound growled and she went on a short tirade complaining about Merkel and the immigrant problem that Germans shouldn’t be having at this time. I kept my rude eyes fixated and showed sympathy to her dog. Once she got on about the increase of break-ins in the area I got bored. I then asked her if she wanted to fcuk in the forest-park. “I know of a soft stump you can use to bend over. Will your hound mind or will I just have to push his nose away all the time. Such a thing is very distracting, don’t you know.” But she had moved on down the street, somehow proud of telling an immigrant how she hated immigrants. Nomatter. I’m keeping an eye on that one. I know where she lives. I know that there is no military grade razor wire on one of her accessible ground floor windows.

    -Rant on

    T

  • The Anatomy Of Corn, Puffy Nipples And The One That Got Away

    What are the things you miss most as an unwilling expat? It used to be blue crabs. But I’ve indeed had more than my share of them. (May the God of the Chesapeake, you lovely Bitch, have mercy on my soul for all my sins!) There was also a time when I missed the #Americant highway–especially when traversed on a motorbike. Oh how things have changed throughout the years. Yet there are things I still miss, still yearn for as this going-native journey has become something quite unexpected. For example. Soon in my beloved & missed United Mistakes, especially in the mid-Atlantic area where the headquarters, Washington DC, land of free to be stupid suburbia, it’ll be corn–as in on-the-cob–season. Of all my memories, the fishing and crabbing, the hunting, the untrimmed putang of the early 1980s, etc., etc., and the puffy nipples of THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY, the thing I’m thinking about most, especially this time of year, is the corn. Those ten to twelve inch cobs that are anywhere between two and three inches in diameter, with light-green, almost transparent husk-leaves…. Yeah. My mouth is watering already. And then there’s the experience, once perfectly cooked, you bite into the small, stiff, snow-white kernels of the super-sweet kind and there is literally an explosion between your teeth and gums of juice filling your mouth with a sweetness unmatched by even honey droplets delivered by THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY and her luscious puffy-nipples. And so. In the mean-time, considering that I probably won’t make it there till October, I’ll just have to have some puffy candy to stare at. Indeed. I won’t eat that krapp. But it is a great image to fill the mind’s eye of dreaming about puffy nipples during corn season while forever growing up.

    -Rant on

    T

  • Caught With The Cookie In The Hand Jar

    Screen Shot 2018-07-26 at 09.20.11
    Screenshot from the Interwebnets

    Title 2: Jar Caught With Hand In The Cookie

    Title 3: Cookie With The Hand Jar Caught

    Etc., etc.


    Let’s figure them out, shall we? I’m referring, of course, to right-wingers. I mean, it’s one thing to simply call them all Deplorables–as Hillary so brilliantly but also mistakenly did–but it’s another thing to actually get down to the nitty-gritty of what these ugly and disgusting morons–I mean Deplorables–who are ALL so susceptible to propaganda and manipulation–really are. And so. While walking Beckett the killer pug this morning in ravaging heat in old Germania, I thought of the old #Americant adage of the child stealing from the cookie jar.  So let’s give it a go.

    First. Here the parameters of a cookie jar world that is fundamental to right-wingers, conservatives and GOPers and their political ideology.

    1. The cookie jar is owned.
    2. There is a time and place for a cookie.
    3. The cookies are manufactured.
    4. The thief is a child but old enough to understand rules.
    5. An authority establishes cookie rules.
    6. Everybody wants a cookie.
    7. The cost of a cookie is equal to how much it’s wanted or needed.
    8. A cookie can be a physical object or not.

    And so. Here’s the scenario.

    A child comes along one day and steals a cookie from the cookie jar. In the spirit of truth, justice and an all-powerful lust for cookies, a few other children call out the cookie thief. This call-out causes a split in the cookie nation and there is a panic. During this panic the makers of the cookie-jar, the cookies and the place where the cookie jar exists, face some existential issues. They come up with a plan to turn the lust children have for cookies into political advantage. Their plan is successful beyond their wildest dreams. All the children become mindless cookie monsters. Now, whenever a cookie is stolen, the child that stole it and was witnessed stealing it, has a huuuuuge platform that magnifies his or her baby eyes and screams of anger where cookie crumbs spew from butt-hole shaped mouths. This used to be called a tantrum. But since cookies are stolen everyday and deniability has joined with scapegoating–a tantrum is no longer a tantrum, it is a way of life. But that’s not the biggest problem. The biggest problem now is that the planners of cookie-hell have run out of the means to maintain the cookie jar. Add the fact that there are no more children lusting for cookies who also know truth, justice and…

    Or something like that.

    This might be a work in progress.

    -Rant on

    T