Whelp, we got a new horriday coming up.....

Easter. We have a pagan tradition. On Palm Sunday, you make an Easter tree. And if you do it right.... on Easter Sunday, the willows will throw out green leaves. I KNOW that this is pagan, because someone from the CARITAS came over to see Peter, and said so, and wanted to see his 'Dead Man on a Stick', as Annti would say. This year, the Easter Tree is paltry. But a bit of horriday for Peter. He likes tradition. Most of my stuff for this 'disappeared'. Or got 'disappeared'. Curses.



But the world keeps renewing itself.




And even the Beeches in Buchenweg 'came out.' Pretty.

Rudy Doody was at it again....

'W'erner wanted me to take his stuff down to be transported. And I said, I don't think that is a good idear, because the rats and whores in the next building will stop it, and I get a caveat, and he has nowhere to stay.

After yesterday, I would believe 'anything'... Am just minor league, not major...

Profis in intrigue...

Have been up since last nite, and very worried.

It is too long a story.

I hate drama queens....

Although I can be one if the occasion warrents...

My nefarious plan, part two

I wouldn't be RenB if things would go easily. Really.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the day I can finally see an end to getting the couch critter into Peter's old place and throw a monkey wrench into the works. But it has to be certified by a notary public, and HE has been ill and only gets to see him on Thursday.

But W. has to be out of the house tomorrow. I spent the morning washing Peter's floors, trying to free the drain that in his NEW shower, cooking, and then coming home wanting to crash.

But got requisitioned to go over to the Couch Critter's place and help him pack up the rest of W's stuff. I never knew you could get so much stuff into twelve square meters and have it look tidy....

Maybe I should have spent some time in the French Foreign Legion....

What with all the activity the past few days, my back is acting up. A long story.

So, how are we looking here?

To top it off, W had a death in the family, someone he hated. His sister's husband. Whom he hated. The guy cheated on her. He is really, really angry, but he won't call his sister. Seemingly his brother-in-law was a real rat.

I talked and talked and talked.... carefully.

He just took off to have a corfee on the square and digest.

As hard as it is, he can't forgive and make that one call....

A death in the family is always tragic, especially if you were not good with the newly departed, or estranged, or let others put a wedge between you and whom you hold dear.

For me, it is like looking into a mirror of something similar, something I regret.

No one should have to carry that poison in their heart. No one.

This has all been happening as I wrote, so not so coherent.

I WANT Maria M. to regret everything she everything she did to Peter. I WANT to inflict pain that she doesn't get to rule over the appartment as she thought she would. I WANT my couch critter to have a roof over his head and not have him under foot all the time. As nice as he is.

I want silence in my house.

Am so sick of hearing Brian Ferry....

But I am not such an easy person to be with either.....

And on the whole, it wasn't so bad. If you are confined to a small space, you develop little jokes. He loves to make a mish-mash of red beans onions, and a bit of meat. And then he gets gas. And I will either say, 'Did you just call me?' Or worse, 'How often have I told you not to misuse my name???' Cracks him up.

It is finally Spring. The birds outside are chattering away, doing their mating thing.

Sounds pretty.

And OH GAWWD! La Puppe came looking for Werner in my appartment. Good thing he was out for corfee. La Puppe is my landlady. Diabetic Peter next to where he was housing, not living, saw me helping W. pack to move out. She gave me the third degree, where was he going, what was he planning, and so on and so forth.

And I said, 'I don't know him that well', and that I had helped him with his computer over the summer, and he was so nice to help me move Peter, so I helped pack his things to move out.

Where was he going, she asked. 'No idea...'

'Do you feel ok here?'

'Yes... I feel fine...'

'Can I come in?'

'Yes...'

Man, that was a trip and a half....

And then she warned me against Werner. 'He seems so nice at first, but he was in the French Foreign Legion.' He can seem so nice but is a horrible person.

'I know that... Thank you...'

BE CAREFUL....

Whoaaa, as we say...

WTF is going on with the rats and whores in my building who can make me go nuclear?

Werner is an integre, fully honest person. If you spend four weeks with a person in close contact, in a tiny bed-sitter, you KNOW if that person is ok or not. He has had my keys to the apt for weeks, and nothing has EVER been touched among my personal belongings. Yes, it was an act of trust, and could have been stupid.

But you have to have trust in people.

Some people, anyway....

And I so want him to get his own place so that I can finally have one night of silence, and not have to worry about anyone.

But to paint Werner as the Satan of the Block.... hey..... We have talked about God and the World, and what hurt us, and where we got to where we are, and so on and so forth. He has never been 'afraid' I would go after him.

And that is good so. It is like having a brother again.

And if I can effect a hex on the lady of the Mühlgasse, so much the better.

Y'know what????...

Sometimes you run across someone interesting.

And noooo, it isn't someone from the foreign legion this time.

It was from a nice scared newbie who ventured onto Annti's blog and being new to it all, asked questions. And despite the tone sometimes on Mark of the Beast, we all were kind, and explained what she wanted to know.

Yesterday she asked Annti if she would blog-roll her, meaning putting her link into the right side of her tool bar on the front page. And gave the URL, so I hopped over there, and took a look.

In her self-description, she is a devoted Christian, and I thought.... uh-oh.... But then I read her post on attending a wedding. And a few others. And was surprised.

Y'KNOW.... over the past eight years the radical right has taken over the so-called 'Christian Movement', and changed it to hate. And the word 'Christian' nearly became a swear word of the highest order.

The bigots painted in the worst colors.

And we forgot. A lot of us just forgot.

What I found was a thoughtful young lady with a good sense of humour, and an excellent way of expressing herself. She has her own voice. I wish she wouldn't put herself down.

If her religious beliefs are honest, and she is very tolerant, that makes us the bigots for pushing away when we hear the C word. Surely, we get beat up all the time from people who CALL themselves Christians. So it becomes like Pavlov and the dog, and is no excuse, but you get to the point where you do not know whom to trust.

So I wish you all would take a look at this blog. It is worth the time.

http://unidiversalsusanisgoofy.blogspot.com/

And best of all.... she can make me smile. Sadly, but smile all the same.

It rained lightly... And overnight Spring sprang....

oooh, forsythia.....

Rolled Peter back to the Mühlgasse to pick up some forgotten things..... It took me over fourty minutes. The couch critter can do it in twenty.

I am getting fucking old.

Moving day 2

We are making progress.... That is the ramp to the door of Peter's new house. So far... ran into an older woman whose daughter was taking her out to shop for the weekend. Next door, after the orange part, are several severely handicapped people who got picked up and taken for a weekend thing... And a lovely African woman who was surprised because I greeted her in a friendly manner.... No one greets her, and I was not surprised. The large building next to this is a totally other story. More like what my friend Annti calls Hotel de Fucktards. Kinda skeery.....


After his first night, Peter was a bit uncertain about his new surroundings. We were still unpacking, and getting things in order. He told me last night that there is a man across the way wearing a wife-beater, with a huge belly, and checks out his building with binoculars. Earlier in the day I had said, the view from this room looks like 'Rear Window' from Hitchcock. So I said, 'watch out, it's Raymond Burr and he is up to no good!' We laughed.

And this is the couch critter taking a well-deserved corfee break. Without his help, I would still be Flipper. Dorle was postitvely ok with her take on him. Maria M got skeered. 'I don't think it would be good eating cherries with him'... which is dialect for.... 'This guy is hostile.' Yup. But he would never do anything violent to her. I am so glad she is skeered..... And just to get this straight... he IS straight. Fully straight. Yesterday I thought he was just loading the washing machine, and walked into the bathroom, and he was nekkid, because he put in what he had been wearing into the machine. Embarrassing, much? I was mortified, and excused myself. But not before seeing that he has a very attractive hairless butt. But enough.... And no, am not attracted to him in any way whatsoever. Although I am very glad I have been able to help so far. And that is it. Really not my type.

Peter has finally been moved....

What a morning..... I would have been lost without the couch critter. Honestly. Spent a mess of time unpacking things, cartons all over the place, hey... It was a grey day, but as you see, the new place is bright and cheery, and the doors slide back, and no thresholds..... Peter needed a bottle of bubbly to calm down.



Our friend Dorle came by and was a wonderful help to me as well. Especially since I was steamed that it was the Bosnian Serbs who carted over his tee-vee and stuff that the movers didn't dare to touch. And left me stranded on a square when I went to buy an extension cable, and had to hoof it over to the new place a half hour's swift walk away. I was steamed.



But as you can see... nothing got damaged..... Everything is still in a clutter, however....







But his couch-bed is more or less ready. I couldn't find the sheets however. WTF?








The bath doesn't photograph well, but that is the wc, all right...







And was so stooopid, and distracted, I forgot to take an outside shot with the ramp up to the door. Will correct that soon. And no, the couch critter is not in these photos either. Sorry. It was too hectic.

This is nice news...

Go take a look at this ABC video that Pam Spaulding put up. It is encouraging.

http://www.pamshouseblend.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=10084

Flipper.... I'm Flipper.....

If I got really freaked about something? My colleagues started singing the Flipper signation.

It was never meant meanly, and I did it so seldom.... They thought it was 'cute'.

What they didn't know....

If I go into Flipper mode, just get out of my fucking way, because I am DEADLY serious.

It means I'm full of rage, and would mow down anyone who gets in my way.

It happens probably once in a decade. But then, watch it, whoever you are... I go deadly and verbally for the jugular.

I only do it once in a decade. Usually.

Today was the day, my friends. I sharpened my already acidic tongue, and called the gas company. And threw flames. Verbally.

I should be doing three dozen things over at the Mühlgasse, and waited in vain for some asshole to read my meters yet again. These people need to get their act together.

And the usually quiet RenB shouted.

Please don't faint.

Yes, he shouted over the phone, and was totally fucking rude. He went totally Howard Beale all OVER those idjits.

A half-hour later.... the meter reader was here.

Lesson? Sometimes you have to shout to get some attention when stupid people want to just play you for a fool.

I hate shouting.

But sometimes you have to.

Fuck these people five times over.

Hokay... now I am SERIOUSLY pissed off....

The meter reader is still not here. Good, am hard to find, but they found me anyway over the past years.

One time missing the date. ... hokay.

Messing up the second one, WTF are they DOING?

Third time, and it looks that way....

I'm gonna go nuclear.

This 'person' has fifteen minutes to get in and out of my fucking house, or I am going to file a complaint.

Against my 'incompetent' energy partner!

Oh yes...

I cut my couch critters' hair. Right down to one mm as he wanted it. That was weird..... He likes a bald dome.

I was afraid I would hurt him, but it was ok. My 'machine' isn't the best, hey.

And four more minutes, and I am going to go off the charts for nuclear with those people.

To be continued....

Moving sucks

Spent all morning packing kitchen things.

Tomorrow.... I have to deal with Bosnian Serbs who will take what the fucking social service people refused to pack, and have it transported over to Buchenweg. (Beech street.) And then we can take months to get things in order.

Peter keeps going ON and On... 'You're sending me to Buchenwald'. Right. And am gonna send Dr. Mengele to visit him next. And the street before that is named Birkenweg. Birch Street. So that must be Birkenwald???? Both infamous concentration camps. I never knew they were so close to one another....

It is the pits. Just the pits....

The BS's think they are finally on target, but I hope to have a real surprise for them. Am so wanting to goose Karma and make it happen. This weekend is gonna be SO much fun. My couch critter has to get out of his mansard apt. and will put his stuff over at Peter's. And if I am correct on this.... Peter has the right to the apt till he dies. If he lets someone else use it if he is not there, he still has the right. Tuesday we get to find out if that is possible.

And my couch critter finally gets his own four walls with a roof over his head, and can do what he pleases, and the Bosnians will tear their partly non-existant hair and wail and lament.

And I get a few hours in the day where I don't have to be restrained. That would be my idea of heaven at the moment. Just not to be in the presence of anyone and enjoy stillness.

Not that the couch critter isn't 'rücksichtsvoll'. (considerate... it took me a while to find the word again in my head... so few people are.) He is. Very.

But I want my private space back. I want my silence in my house.

Silence is very underrated....

Horriday update

It was worse than I thought. I had to stay and wait for the meter reader, so I asked my couch critter to go over and oversee things till I could get out of my little prison.

At 07:33 I got an sos call from Peter. The people social services hired to move his stuff were so awful. And called him filthy, and verkakt. (shitted) He was crying. They were pissed because the stuff wasn't packed 'properly'. And I couldn't leave the house, waiting for the assholes from the gas people. Otherwise I get a fine, and not a small one and not one I can afford.

So that is how you treat a freshly minted seventy year old man if you are with social services? Well FUCK THEM! I wanted to go over there and rip them a new one.

They refused to transport his expensive tee-vee, radio and cd player. Refused! Because they are not insured if anything should break....

So.... I went to the crapper and thought 'what now?'

Called back and said, 'Stay where you are. You aren't taking the bed, the kitchen isn't finished being packed, and they aren't gonna connect your telephone till Friday, so we can think of how to get all that down there by then.'

The phone kept ringing off the hook. (The phone NEVER rings here, and it was unnerving....) First Peter, then the couch critter (and thanks for that, Terrible...). And back and forth and drove me to distraction and back.

One thing after the other, and I was still waiting for the meter-reader. They were supposed to be here at nine. At nine-thirty, I called them, asking where the hell he was. Got a recording. 'Your COMPETENT energy partner'. Uh-huh. (thinking, if you are so fucking competent, why didn't you arrive on St. Patrick's Day, as advised?)

Then I got a live person on the line. Asked what was up, but had a tinge to the voice that let her know I was fucking pissed off. And after her typing wildly on her keyboard, she said, 'Oh, you're slated for March 26th between 13:30 and 14:30...'

I said, 'That is not what I was told. TODAY, at nine a.m!'

'Who told you that????'

'The lady on customer service who messed up my stuff on March 17th! And I think you should change your tape to 'incompetent'.'

(Yes, polite RenB was steamed.....)

So here we go again, hey.....

A modest question. WHY the fuck can't anyone just plan something logical that will work?

And why would social services hire people who vilify old men? I am so ripped, I could punch someone out. I don't have big fists, but I can do some damage, at least.

And why does everything have to have so many obstacles in the way, and other people just sail through them?

I don't get it.

And when I see Elke Kahr on the square.... SHE is so gonna get an earful!

Subtle, but very funny....

Portia de rossi apologises for getting married. It was my morning lol.

Another kind of horriday.... moving day...

Yesterday, Peter turned seventy. The one day a year he gets cake. Made a soup, and shrimp risotto. But was mostly busy packing for him.

Today he gets moved into a handicapped appartment. It's taken two years to get it all done, and am glad, because I can get him in and out of the house by myself. I just couldn't do that heavy lifting over the ten stairs by myself any more where he is now.

After over fifteen years in the Mühlgasse it has been hard on him emotionally. And will mean my getting a monthly bus pass in order to get there and back on a daily basis, as it is quite a way across town, but better than all that lifting....

Our GP was reluctant about doing his weekly house call, 'because it is so far', but that seems odd, as the guy has a car. I think he wants Peter in hospital because of his foot, and Peter is refusing. And the good doctor will probably refuse to treat him if he doesn't go....

Whatever, today is moving day, and that is always a horror for me.... And he will piss and moan.... right.

This article is sort of fun.....

but then I have always loved vampire stories. Interesting look at history as well.

Yesterday seems to have been a fata morgana....

I slept over night.... seldom for me.... and this morning? Poof, the snow was gone. The guy in the orange jacket from Africa on the corner sells magazines about the problems immigrants have. It is the only job that the government will allow him to do and he is about my age if not older. He is always friendly, and really doesn't have it easy, although I do not know his personal story.

But every time I pass by there, I get angry.

How in fuck can you as a country take in immigrants, and deny them the right to work? Just to look good internationally?

Oh no, they don't starve, or anything, and have a roof over their heads. But the restrictions set on them are humiliating. For them, and for us if we have a grain of sense.

And then I get so fucking angry with my government, I boil inside.

Racism comes in so many forms, and it isn't restricted to the Africans here. It comes in so many flavours you could open up an ice cream parlour.

And that was my so-called 'Deep Thought of the Day'.... as Atrios would say......

You go by, register what is going on, and your inner organs begin to retract, and you clench your teeth, and just keep going.

I just can't stand seeing people being treated like that.

I TOLD Peter yesterday that this is what the Pope really meant....

When did they invade the condom making factories? Thanks to Joe.My.God for my laugh of the day.

Today is the beginning of Spring.... What IS this shit?

I get so bloody grouchy when the crocuses are just coming up and then we can get this stuff, although we haven't had snow this late in a very long time. And being a freshly minted pensioner, I go about grinch-like, muttering, 'I didn't come four thousand miles for THIS.' Oh yes, the housepe(s)t turned up again. He is in the photo on the left in the leather jacket. Just call me Lucky Luke.

Update on Fritzl.... I was correct... unfortunately...

He was sentenced to life. Which means 2o years, and he is 79. But in a prison for the psychologically disturbed. I am so not ok with that. Normally I am not for the death penalty, but in a case like that.... I'd say 'oh yes, and very slowly and painfully.'

This was on German tee-vee last night at 3 a.m.

And I thought tastelessness couldn't get any lower. They didn't do this with Clinton as far as I know.... Despite Monica, cigars, and the blue dress.

This is head-shakingly, so not wanting to believe it, bad. And NSFW.

And I thought Peter was getting Alzheimer's when he told me about it....

Missing!

A housepe(s)t. Male, 50, not much hair, and partly balding. Sorta scarred, quiet, with green-brown eyes. Five foot ten, approximately. Slim but wiry and very strong. Quiet demeanor. Doesn't like being touched. So I didn't pet it. Sometimes it needs reading glasses. It is trusting, sometimes naive, and never aggressive.

I only had it a week, and fed it sometimes.

It liked to camp out on my floor on the sofa cushions.

Was just getting used to hearing it breathe in the night.... regular in and out breaths, but sometimes it snored. A bit. (I should talk, hey...) And when it dreamed, its leg would go all funny and twitch on its' 'bed'.

And now, just after midnight, it is gone.... And am so worried. My housepe(s)t isn't all that bright, but has a good heart. Woke up and missed those sounds near to me....

So if you see it, let me know.

I knew I wasn't a good person for housepe(s)ts. Let alone a dog or a cat.

And no, I didn't do anything that I know of to make that happen.

But am a terrible person.

Today has been sort of odd....

All this week so far, the news is full of the trial of the guy who took his 18 year old daughter into captivity in a bunker he built below his house and held her captive for 24 years, and sired seven children with her. And only got discovered 'by accident', although his wife and other children were living in the house above....

Even Al Jazeera is reporting on this.....

It is an international media circus.

And the trial was mostly closed to the press to protect the victims, which has raised criticism, as the press always need to feed.... like crocodiles.

His daughter was able to give an eleven hour video testimony, as she just couldn't take the pressure. (small wonder)

And her father pleaded guilty on most of the charges, except for murdering her new-born son by not getting medical help for him after his birth.

Well, turns out she got sneaked into the courtroom today, away from the prying eyes of the press, and he pleaded guilty to absolutely everything.

Brilliant on the part of the defense. Disgusting for anyone with half an ounce of decent feeling in them. That way, he gets put away for life in a psychiatric ward, and not life imprisonment, where the inmates are reportedly out for skinning him alive, among other things, and they have to pay a lot of money to protect him.

Is this 'How to save money in a recession'? Or what?

If there was one thing that set my mother off, it was men like him.

And she would yell, 'They should hang him by the BALLS till he is dead.' I am not sure if that really works, and the science behind it.... But approve the sentiment. Drawn and quartered, hey....

The verdict is tomorrow, and I am already being Gollum about the defense guy, 'Tricksy, Sneaky, Thieves!'

I want him in a normal prison, hopes he drops the soap in the shower and gets so skewered....

Yech. But righteous.

There is a horrendous link in the title.

On the other hand.....

My housepest showed me a video about what they do to such people in Afrika.

Impalement.

It is so horrific....

Yes, that would be ok.

My mother was so mild....

Happy St. Patrick's Day....

I wished everyone that last year as well.

Haven't had a good day.

But some nice memories.

Like getting the goose of DEATH from Terry (Theresa), who so surprised me I jumped and fell down on my ass on Elm Street.

Everyone went hysterical. Tja.

Have fun, play safe.

And green beer always sort of creeped me out....

If you are feeling really hungry.... read this beforehand.

And drink a glass of water......

I see that Jim Cramer actually had the nuts to go on the Daily Show...l

The site is down at present, but I am going to have such a Volksfest watching Jon Stewart rip him a new one. I really am. For those who do not know... Jim Cramer runs an advice show on MSNBC, and advised people what to invest in and was wrong, wrong, WRONG.

Stewart called him out on it, and after a second of fright that lasted nearly a week, Cramer took the challenge and got flattened. Stewart also called out all the other 'experts', but Cramer was the only one who had the audacity to actually take some responsibility.....

Kudos.

Update: The vid of this was up last night our time. Get thouselves to http://www.thedailyshow.com/
and watch Jon Stewart wreak havoc on him. And be sure to make popcorn, you will need that to really enjoy it. Click on the full episodes tab, click on the one for yesterday, lean back and have a wonderful time. That wasn't satire. It was almost REAL reporting.

Ooooo I have a U-Boot and we're hiding out from 'La Puppe'

Sometimes things get very action film and fun. A U-Boot is a submarine, and can also mean someone who hides out in the unlikeliest place.

La Puppe is my landlady, who is still doll-like the way she dresses and makes herself up, with a gravel voice that even Ethel Merman would have envied. And can hit the back row up in the upper tier of any theater in the world.

So I have a U-Boot. And can entertain it while we hide out from Chucky's Bride.

This means I am having 'fun' at the moment, but what the hell, it is St. Patrick's Day four days from now....

Today is the tenth anniversary of the death of my step-mother

Who was my mother.

I was sort of surprised at how fast time passes by.....

But for me she is not dead. I carry her in my heart, and will always be so grateful for everything she ever did and felt for me and my family.

For me, she was the number one for sensibility, .... oh fuck, just Everything.

I didn't mark the day till now, because she was all-encompising. And still alive in my heart and my soul. But I guess it is a date to remember....

Except... as long as I live, she isn't gone. Because I can tell people, and they carry it on.

So you carry them in your heart. And TELL people.

And sometimes you 'live' for generations.

And Lillian? You were the very best anyone could ever have wished for.

Fuck Donna Reed. My mother was perfect.

I have to make something very clear here....

If I speak of 'Americans' in a negative way, and sometimes I do.... it is NOT about the people I love over there. It is about the others who ruin their reputation in the rest of the world.

And THEY are very 'bad fingers', as we say in slang.

The ones who ruin it for everyone else.

So is that clear now?

Am really gonna haveta find a new word for them.

Any suggestions?

My Dad-----

When he turned ninety, he passed his test for a lengthening of his driver's license, bought a new car.... NEW car.... and said what the hell, by the time the license was going to run out, the car would be paid for and he wouldn't renew it.

And I thought, 'hokay, that is a relief'....

Yesterday he proudly told me he passed the test again. Got his glasses adjusted, put on his veteran's cap, and took the test. I didn't know he HAD one, and never saw him wear one, EVER. (He was of the opinion that every little bit helps.... and that the guy who tested him was a Viet Nam vet.)

He has never been involved in an accident. (knock on wood)

But he is the only one of two persons in the world whose driving style fucking scared me. Slam it to the floor, and brake hard at stop lights. (The other was so reckless, he landed me in a brook. Obviously I lived to tell the tale....)

So, yes Dad, am very proud of you, and sorta kinda glad you passed your latest test. I know how hard it is over there if you don't have your own wheels. And I hope you changed your driving style along the years.... And no, I never told you, but it made me very nervous.

And Dad? I KNOW you read this, so let me tell you one thing. I went out onto the square today and bragged. It's true, I did. Until now, you were a hero. Today, you have become a fucking MYTH.

Millie, my flower vendor who remembers you from your visits here nearly wet herself when I told her. Of course I told her about it in my own style, without exaggerating.... She found that extraordinary, funny, and said you must be a very clever person indeed.

Still, I have some concerns.

Take good care on the road, ok?

Why the hell do I t get into these odd situations???

Shoot me.

My neighbor W got into an all-out war with the house owner, the ass-hole former janitor and his wife, who kept stealing from him. It has been going on for months. They turned off his hot water, they cut off his electricity, and when he complained to the owner they turned it back on before she could ascertain that he wasn't lying.

And on and on.

Now W really wants to rent the old apt. from Peter if he moves out. And he really has to find a solution soon. Upon which we all three got an intestinal flu for the last week, which has really slowed us down....

And then W's electric got cut off for good, and he came over a few days to watch tee-vee.

Upon which I felt sorry for him, and said ok. And came to realise that I have been living alone so long, I have come to love silence in my house. W. is a news junkie, loves any kind of documentuary, and a bit deaf in one ear from having actually fought real wars without earplugs and it got loud. The shooting.... I love tee-vee, but only watch if there is something on that I really want to see. Or turn on the dvds. And concentrate.

So I let him watch, and tried to do some surfing on the notebook, but the tee-vee was so distracting, I couldn't do much. And he hung around, and Hung around, and I also realised, I like many hours in the day when I have my privacy. And silence. (Yes, I know, in America something in the house is always making noise and distracting, but I kicked the habit decades ago.)

Whatever, his flu hit the high point yesterday, and he asked me if he could 'penn' in my apt. To penn is to sleep, or be a bum and crashed out on my floor on my couch cushions, because between the throwing up and the diahhrea, he was in a bad way. So I said ok. And that he had to clean up any mess he made, because I am fucking tired of cleaning up after people.

He spent a half-way quiet night, and didn't snore, which he claims he does.

So ok.... Except I DIDN'T sleep half the night.... It was so weird having someone in my room whom I do not know in the biblical sense and never want to know that way....

Ever....

He was just afraid of getting so ill, he would be alone and not know whom to call for help.

So I said ok.....

So how about THAT picture.... me hardly sleeping, and W in his little camping place on the floor...?

It is no WONDER I got an invalidity pension. There has to be something wrong with me. Has to be.

Someone gave me an empathy gene that I cannot suppress.

And you show ME someone in America, who is gay, or vice versa, and take in a vice versa, and let them crash on their floor.

Oh.... yes, someone just came to mind.

I don't want to embarrass him on the nets.....

As to W. Well... his fear of gays has gotten better over the past 18 months. He trusts me enough, so as not to kill me for anything I can think of....

And know enough to know that he is 'decent', and his heart is in the right place, even if he is misguided, and came out with a Catholic predjudice today that nearly made me throw him out of the house because it came out of left field, and angered me.

Bipartisanship, darlin's, it can sometimes work....

But why the fuck do I even bother?

I think I should get a cat or a dog.

All right.... That is fucking ENOUGH....

I can't find the You Tube he found about what went down in San Francisco on Polk Street yesterday, but can say just one thing.

After seeing that.....

I wouldn't want to put one TOE on that continent, let alone a foot.

That country so sucks on so many levels.... and am talking about how it was RUN the last twenty or so years, not the wonderful people who live there and had no influence.

I couldn't disembed Joe's YouTube find.

And he works fast.

So you scroll down and look at March Sixth about what he found called Christian Faces.
http://www.joemygod.blogspot.com/

There are people who say I need to go 'home'. Home.... Where the fuck WAS that? That was never my home, and never my people. Judging from this clip......

I experiened mild agression from my childhood on, and some physical violence as well, because I was 'different'.

I think the best was being flicked hardly on the ear in home room, and being called a faggot, but later there were rumours that he raped a guy in the locker room who was on his own football team....

And don't we love us some fucking hormone-raging young football players. NOT.

It got shushed, seemingly.

I am SO glad that he has a car dealership and will maybe go broke, that fucking bastard from hell...

But this video Joe had today... from Polk Street in San Francisco, concentrating on the haters was so horrible, the people were so awful....

That isn't and wasn't my 'home'.

It was the fucking place I escaped from and counted myself lucky to be able to do so.

And again, I really love some people there.... but I would never expose myself again to such hate and violence.

You make your home where people accept you for who you are, and try to forget the rest.

The link is in the title.

oh.... I love me some pop culture...

Have seen three of five episodes of the fifth season of Desperate Housewives, and have to say, nothing ever goes stale.

And suspensful. They zoomed this season ahead five years, which gives them a lot of room to manouver, dealt with mid-life crises, and this episode had a young kid who impregnates an older neighbor unhappily married, his mother on a rage bender, marital abuse, the kid homicidally motivated, and an out and out murder by a psychopath whom only one person in the neighborhood sees him for what he really is, arson in a night club, most people barely escaping....

It really pushed the envelope without being unbelieveable.

Great stuff. And the writing team that that show has is so absolutely talented, and the cast so good.... you NEVER see what is coming. And Marcia Cross had a moment of reveletion this evening. I have been waiting for five fucking seasons to finally find out why her character is so verklemmt. And want an answer.

Gale Harold as the new lover of 'Susan' is a disappointment. So far. He is so fixed in my head as the absolute star, the one you could absolutely love and hate in 'Queer as Folk', he somehow seems odd to me in this one.

I hope he finds his stride.

And yes it is a soap opera. But one of the best I have ever seen. And funny. And suspenseful.

So just let me have my fun and blather. This episode was jaw-dropping.

Ummm I just received my notice.....

I AM NOW A BLOODY PENSIONER, BACK-DATED TO JANUARY FIRST!

(Imagine Stephen Colbert running through his studio triumphantly...)

Ok, I have some problems with this and only had a half hour to digest this reality.

And haven't really had the time to tell anyone about it, or read the pages of fine print and what it involves.

I was so overjoyed, the first person I told was my neigbor Sarah. Logical.. From the post box to the door, and say, 'Oh, LOOK!' (Jon Stewart style..) And she kissed me on both cheeks in congratulation, and smelled so nice.....

That is sort of worrying, people.... What the hell is happening to me?

I'll figure it out in time. But till then, just want to carry on.

Deep thought....

I have learned terms lately that I am not ready to digest....

Really.

How can you speak of women's breasts as 'airbags' if you are gay and feel intimidated by them....

Huh....

And where do people get off when they can talk about a diabetic who has become impotent, and can only get off....

Am afraid to say this....

'polishing women's headlights.'

What the fuck is THIS Shit, hey?

When I grew up, ladies were to be rspected. With a capital R.

Not some kinda object....

Language is becoming coarse.

Rats and Whores...

This is just private stuff.

Seemingly, the Gang of Four descended from Vienna into Graz a day or so ago.

And were the wrath of God.

Seemingly..... seemingly.... they still haven't caught on to the fact that we are in a global financial meltdown.

And because the no-tell ho-tel is so wonderfully placed, it is impossible that it won't take in the revenues they expect and DEMAND. Their take on it....

(Yes a few of them are way audacious....)

I had stopped by the other day, and learned they were about to descend.

Which never means anything good, as a rule. You never know...

I haven't any details yet.

But.... those folks were totally always on the brink of illegality. All of our pc's were installed with PC anywhere, so they could ALWAYS see what you were doing at the moment, and the house program had a protocall thingy, where you could see EXACTLY what anyone at any given time was actually DOING.

I never really minded it. I did my work, but there were a lot of times nothing was going on and I turned on the internets and read news.

And thought, 'FUCK you, I can't go outside and take people hostage and make them take a room, for fuck's sake.'

And as far as I know... spying on your workers like that is actually..... illegal.

I should have gone to the worker's guild when I realised it, and filed a complaint.

Now it seems, and I have to emphasise the word 'seems' that they bloody landed on my former boss about phone calls.....

Phone calls! Instead of selling beds.... And being there fourteen hours a day, she made private phone calls....

That IS illegal. I mean 'them'. Checking on who you call and where and why. On their part, not hers. I never experienced that she called anyone abroad unnecessarily unless there was a family crisis, and that should have been ok.

And that is how they get you.

Rats and whores, they fucking rule the world.

When in Rome...

The link in the title is interesting enough, but doesn't go far enough. Still, it is a good guide for not what to do where...

I have been falling in love......

Baby Fu lets me see da guys, Colbert and Jon Stewart, who make me laugh.

But there is a goddess out there. Rachel Maddow. She can be ironic, but is so incisive, and so interesting.... if I were hetero, I would want to marry her... Which would be tragic, because she is not. I admire her to hell and back.

Ok, what is the story here???? To whomever keeps looking at a certain part of my blog....

Somebody is checking out the Manchester stuff that I wrote very long ago when I was young, and naive, and some people even thought I was funny.

I really do not mind, or I wouldn't have posted it.

But since you are a repeat visitor....

And KNOW you are from Manchester....

Shit, that's all I know....

You shouldn't be afraid to leave a message.

If you wish to talk, my e-mail is in my profile.

If you are uncertain, and frightened, you can talk to me. I used to be back then too, and got all bravado.

But if you are some HATE person, then get the fuck off of my blog.

If you are not... Talk.

Uh-huh.... I only have three to five more days.....

Till I get the official decision that I get an invalidity pension.

This means I'm gonna be what some people call a Scheiß-Pensionist. You know the type, the grinch pensioners who run around crabbed up all the time and are grinch-like, have no understanding for 'younger generations', and elbow their way in front of you at supermarket counters 'because they have no time'.

Impolite, rudest.... It is gonna be fucking terrible.

So.... I have three to five days, and then this blog is gonna turn into a nightmare....

Or something similar to one.

Yesterday, I got a letter from the government telling me no more money, go to the unemployment people, or apply again for a pension.

Which was sorta kinda odd, because the pension people hadn't sent me a decision yet.

I flipped the fuck out. (Some of my former colleagues have seen when I do that, and used to start singing the signation to the old series Flipper. It was meant nicely, but immediately made me calm down a little. And it was always embarrassing in retrospect.)

Lucky for you all I decided to sleep on it and see what the hell was happening.

So this morning I got up, and then threw up, because when I get upset, that is what happens... And went to the pension place, and asked what the hell I was supposed to do.

I had visions of being thrown out of my house and sleeping under bridges, and don't even have a sleeping bag any more.

Whatever, what the social security number is to Americans, the health card number is to you for everything here. An easy to remember four digit number, and then your date of birth.

It is a bit Orwellian..... yes.

But the lady typed it in, and said, 'Oh, you don't have to worry. It is still being worked on but has been approved. ' And that I should get the thing by the end of the week, and she would take care of the rest.

So I was in Flipper mode for naught.

What the hell, it only TOOK thirteen months.....

Still, it was a weight off of my mind, believe me.

And no, I never wanted this at this time of my life, nor wish for it, and am hurt and disappointed.

But you take what life dishes out, you know?

Whatever... I only have a few days to be nice till I get the official notice.

And then, just watch out. Pensioners are Poisonous. Maybe I will start a group, like the KKK. Poisonous Pensioners....

Who the fuck knows?

And that really was tongue in cheek.... Some people don't understand my sarcasm.

Tja, Paul Harvey died at nintey two days ago....

The AP story in the link above is horrible. Paul Harvey was so much more.

I could grind my teeth about some of his more sentimental pieces, and so on, and actually, I never heard him 'sell' anything.... But he was so much more that what the AP put out.

I first heard him in the early Seventies, and could receive Armed Forces Network on the radio out of Munich when I was in Salzburg. He had a very distinctive voice. He was never really grating on the nerves. And his mix of what he wanted to deliver for news always had something off-the-wall for moving, or funny, not a horror story, and humane.

I was never a huge fan, but found him a bit fascinating. Which sort of cancelled out some of the slant on other opinions he would give.

He was legendary, not just in the US, but also world-wide. Seems to have lived a very fulfilled life, so that must have been very nice for him.

Larry King pulled out an interview in tribute to his passing, one from 2003 when Harvey was 84. And he looked so fit and fantastic, and was so lucid, and could tell a story like few people can.... I even watched the full hour with all the fucking commercials. And learned that Larry King seemingly isn't named that. Andrew Ziegler. That story was fantastic, and I didn't see the zinger coming. About a young broadcaster vegetating in Fla. and he gets a call from someone named Boom-boom, and an order to speak for some young Italians, a charitable event. And it was sort of weird, but he did, and after, Boom-boom wanted to give him a huge wad of money, and Ziegler said, 'No, don't want it...' And Boom-boom asked him what he did want, and Ziegler asked 'What can you offer', and the guy says, 'Someone you don't like, maybe??'

And turned it into a compliment on King's interview style. So yes, he wasn't just a news reporter. He turned it into art. And had a wonderful, original 'voice'.

RIP.

CPAC...

You HAVE to click this link and see the video of 'Konrad Ziegler'.

If you want a short version of the insanity and illogical tortured reasoning of Rethugs the last eight years, Max Blumenthal's interview got him so wild, it was actually comical... if such wingnuts hadn't been steering the US ship of State into a mess of quicksand the last eight years.

Sad, sad, sad.... and still kinda funny....

Update: That last line in the film slipped under my radar. 'The only true film about the US Marines was '300'. Ummmm.... that geek wasn't aware that it was about Spartans in Greece about ten years after the Baptists believe the world began.

Max deserves a medal of bravery for even talking to those people.

And just for the record.... I was on my fucking phone when the BBC decided to show that lying piece of shit pseudo documentary 'The Path to 911' and told them to PULL it. Talking to the BBC. The operator was obviously unnerved, and I wasn't impolite. The guy in the clip above was the producer, seemingly....

Obviously, some of us stopped the lies, so every bit helps.

Think about it next time something like this comes up. It just takes a phone call....