You'll probably think I am very selfish from the post below

Or that 'love' conquers all, and for better and for worse and all that.....

I'd still take the 'till death do us part' vow in it... and boy, I've done the 'in sickness and health' to the very best of my ability.

There is a difference between taking 'love' to such an extreme you lose everything and land on the sreeets so never bought the 'for richer or poorer'.

I don't mean in the sense that he got poor so I dumped him... nothing further from the truth. We were poor at the beginning. And for a while he was rich. I didn't like the rich part. It drove a huge wedge into our relationship, and he wasn't to be restrained. But then again, he thought he only had seven years to live, thanks to the media. So I didn't like that part. Except for maybe making a few people I love happy..

So not really.... too much to worry about.

I liked the middle part where we were getting along famously, and there was 'just enough'.

Relationships are so fragile. Horrendous things like illness really change you both in a relationship. One the patient, one the care-giver.

To love and to cherish? Well, gawwd knows, whoever she is, the love part was never a problem.

It's so easy if you 'fit'. The 'cherish' part? That is a bit more difficult.

We so often do not live up to one another's expectations, and then you can't really 'cherish' them... You want to send them to the Blue Blazes.

Everyone has their relationships, is what I'm trying to say, I guess. They get more complicated the longer you have one.

'To have and to hold'?

Oh that is the easiest part of all....

And I still wouldn't have gotten married, which is possible here for a year or so now.

It would have meant having unlimited trust. Maybe they should put THAT in marriage vows... and I wouldn't have been able to do it. Then, when things were good... Or now.

And it was never about economics. It was about basic honesty about EVERYTHING.

Oh good Gawwd.... gay marriage? So NOT! Or ANY marriage! You never know what horrible things will happen!

The telephone rang.

I thought it was one of those calls from the IFES Institut where they ask you about your buying habits, or if you feel 'secure' where you live, and was in the mood to 'talk'.

Uh-uh, Preciousses... it was local gubmint. Regarding Peter.

I freaked out, because I thought he was in hospital yet again, but it was worse.

Juliana at his home sicced a lady on me. Juliana's the main person in the admin office. Me being the only person to talk to regarding Peter. And the lady on the phone was 'gubmint'.

It was about being his Sachverwalter. Someone who manages people's 'things'. And I said, 'What 'things' am I supposed to manage when there is nothing there?'

She wanted to know what bank he had, which I told her. And she said they would transfer it to Gamlitz, and I said 'Ok, but it won't do you much good... they were crazy enough to give him a three thousand Euro overdraw limit, and he always kept it right at the max. Meanwhile the overdraft is 'probably' a third of that.'

Would I OVERTAKE THE RESPONSIBILITY for his debt?

And I said, 'Listen, we were together for thirty five years, but we were NEVER married. I have only 70 per cent of my pension and barely get by, but pay my bills. THAT would be impossible!' I have no responsibility for his fuck-ups, and don'tcha just lurrrv you some banks....

There was lots more... lots. Whether he was really in 'demenz'. Uhhhh... go figure? I did a thumbnail sketch, beginning with three amputations on one leg, the stroke in the supermarket, the two heart attacks...' And the secrecy, and that I NEVER got any honesty from him when it came to his financial situation. And that he suddenly didn't know he was talking to ME last time I saw him. 'Oh, it was diabetes?'

I admire the amount of restraint I've developed over three decades, really... Because twenty years ago, I'd have turned the air PURPLE. She knew... She definitely knew. And I gave her 'Saures'. Which means sour and bitter... Couched in 'polite' terms.

I could always have talked to the four walls about his finances and gotten more answers.... That sickness is so insidious, it defies description.

Otherwise.... I hope I didn't fuck up.

Gawwd... some days you can reminisce and feel all warm and fuzzy...

Well then reality BITES, as they say.

This is the nicest interview...... Betty White at 89

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As much as I detest 'Morning Joe'. Can we say 'impressive'???? Rewatching... I thought it telling when Mika asked about gender issues in 1949. Her answer is so TELLING... 'You had a job and did it, and didn't think about that.'

Tomorrow is Evacuation Day...

It may have been on The Daily Show, but is historically accurate. So forget Black Friday, and think about Evacuation Day. I can only link, not embed...

But you can see it here.


And btw... it was funny as hell. And why didn't I learn about it in school? Just wonderin'....

Am gonna have a turkey leg... ooooo And laughing

over Ed going after 'the Mittster'....

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And Lawrence O'Donnell on the ninth Commandment... fun. I love it when he gets riled. And the end of the clip is just great....

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#

Hopefully the turkey is done soon.... before I lose my appetite.

I don't have much contact with people any more...

Since I never leave the house...

But first thing in the morning I see my tobacconist, just when she opens.

We've talked about lots of things. Cooking, of course. I just gave her one of my favourite recipes today... for the first time.

But generally, what's goin' on, and general things...

I don't know HOW we got on the subject, but she said she had stopped dying her hair, because she has a condition where her hair would fall out if she continued.

HER hair is grey for about four months now.

And I didn't put my foot in it. I said it suited her, and I didn't think that dying one's hair did any good whatever, it never suits one's teint... mostly..

And yeah, I dyed my hair... twice... I looked like a ghost. Da Ven... well I don't even want to think about Grecian Formula.. His is now fine as it is, full and lovely.

And I said if the cut is good, women with grey hair can look damned elegant. And it was true, I do think that.

And then we had a 'moment'. When someone confides something to you about their life.

When she was young, she wanted to dye her hair, and wear pants, and her parents were very conservative... the lady is now about sixty. And when she went into apprentenceship, the first thing she did with her pay was get her hair dyed and get some kick-ass pants. And I said, 'oooo.... Rebel!'

And laughed. So I told her my 'rebellion' story.

In the Fifties, men and young boys had pants that were cut so wide, you could put helium up them and just blow away. That WIIIIDE... And 'pegged pants' came out. And I was always unhappy with the flappy floppy ones I had... With my first money, I bought a pair, earned it running errands.

So I went to my beloved cousin's all proud that I'd earned and bought it for myself... I used to take care of her kids, she was from New Yawwk so was 'hip', you see. And I went into another room and changed, and came out... and my Mom was there.

If you wanna see pursed lips of disapproval, you have to go to New England, believe me.

And I asked, 'Whaddaya think?' Very pleased with myself.

And my Mom said, 'You're not going out like that!.'

'Why?'

'Because you can see everything... even the crack!' She meant my tush.

And then came the classic 'Go to your room and change.'

So I said today, 'Y'see? Different cultures... but basically the same.' And she laughed.

And that last line became a signature anytime anyone of us was getting ready to go somewhere, and I'd tell Peter... 'Hey! Go to your room and change!' If it wasn't appropriate. And he'd give it to me occasionally.. It never died out. So I passed it on.

I don't see people much any more. But sometimes you connect, and it's nice.

Greetings from Pumpkin Land

Yeah, it's that time of year again... Thanksgiving in the US... I have a love-hate relationship with that day, used to love it.

Where I live is pumpkin land, just realised. It's a very important crop in our region.

I spent one foggy November day in the late 70's, sitting in a field, splitting pumpkins open, and harvesting the seeds. The rest of them were mostly left to rot. Or mulch, or whatever you want to call it. It was the seeds... 'Styrian Gold', they call it. It was clammy cold, and so on, but there was this group, and everyone was telling side-splitting jokes, and we just DID it. And in the end, it was fun.

So why were the seeds so important, and still are? They get dried, and pressed, and then you have a wonderful oil. It is dark green, looks like something you'd want to use to grease machinery with. It is used on salads, like rapunzel with bits of potato and onion. And it is expensive, because it takes a lot of pumpkins to turn up enough seeds to get a liter out of them.

There is an international group out there, I kid you not, and they swear on how healthy it is... especially for prostate problems, and since it affects men, got attention. They had a convention where I lived. A liter bottle here was going for about 100-120 Austrian schillings, which was about ten to twelve dollars. In New Yawwk... which was one of the places it was available, it was going for 130 dollars a half-liter. Nice profit margin, and good on 'em if they were able to bilk them for it.

I, of course, was amazed... 'Why waste all that good pumpkin? We do all sorts of things to cook it, it seems sad...'

Well, over the decades, they did learn, and squash, which had been theretofore on a menu and fairly bland became a hit. And pumpkin? There were a lot of people who cooked it. Poverty food, ya know, after the war. I learned it from the mother of a co-worker. And it is so basic totally Austrian cooking and so delicious, it was always a staple on my menu.

Oddly, there isn't any distinction in the word for squash and pumpkin here. All the same name.

And obviously, big differences.

Ive been a very.... VERY subversive influence here in one family. Because they thought it was unthinkable.... I made a pumpkin pie for people I knew. Most of them didn't care for it. Not really, it seemed 'unnatural' to them somehow. And it was really good, mind you.

However... the son in this family 'lurrved' it. And for many birfdays after did he want cake? Nope. He wanted a pumpkin pie, gawwd love him... His mother made me give her the recipe.

And I grinned. Oooo... subversive, ewww!

So Happy... but Annti's card... think about it...

ohhhh, hey man! And how things change...

I spent a bit of time digging doday about the woman below... because I was fairly certain that she was originally from Austria. I've known a Dorle and a Dorli in my life, so it seemed to be a logical conclusion that that diminutive form of Dorothea or Doris is from my part of the woods.

Dorle is dead, and Dorli is very much alive. So we talked....

Those diminutives are only specific to Austria... yay for us.

Trying the Google... well... I was AMAZED at the hate.

Of COURSE it was all a set-up, and of COURSE they smeared something on her so that it LOOKED like she got pepper-sprayed, and she's a well known agitator, and an otherwise disgusting person who is not credible.

Really... Really?

There are some people who wouldn't recognise a turd on their doorstep if they step in itö.

Since when are octegenarians fair game to smear?

I would think they know more than the ASS.hats who have nothing better to do than tear them down.

Sounds like someone's getting 'skeered', oh yes.

I really haven't talked in weeks... to anyone...

Except tonite I had this urge to communicate, so ) called Peter.

Yup, he still knows who I am. Praise whomever. And I said, 'Hey, I found the PERFECT counterpart for your Aunt Hildegard.'

SHE was your proverbial piece of work, Nazi to the core, a shame to the family, and she NEVER gave up. In her mid-Seventies travelling to New Yawk to mix it up with radical Black groups, and later in Florida... she was a terror. Hearing about her escapades left me spitless, but had to laugh... she was amazingly 'bad'.

And I said... this woman HAS to have come from here. The zingers are really telling, she grew up here. 'What am I supposed to do, sit in front of the tee-vee and eat bon-bons?' (Boom!) There were so many, I thought... 'oh, I KNOW this kinda tone....'

Peter laughed so hard... even he had seen stuff about the Occupy movement, but was sketchy on the whys and wherefores. I tried to explain it to him.

We ended on a good note, so it wasn't a sad phone call.

I will get there soon.

And then I called the living Dorli... as an excuse to ask her if it were really only an Austrian diminutive name... but she had been in my head for a few weeks now, she worries me. It was a good excuse, in other words....

I only got voice mail, so left it at that, but she called back... she's your basic 'handy' addict. She more or less confirmed what I thought. Her news left me somewhat discoursaged... yet again.

I keep hoping and hoping that things will get better... but as in my own case... well I don't suppose they will.

They finally gave up their rented house in the suburbs and moved into the lot they bought from Peter more than a decade ago, and she said she hoped I would visit.
'
Riiigghhht... like I would ever darken that door again.

'Don't ask me to do that, ok? Because even today, I think I would become violent if I had to see 'MAGENTA AND RIFF-RAFF'...' That is what the OTHER neighbors call them.. from 'The Rocky Horror Show'. My terminoligy would be more on the lines of Gollum, 'The theives, the thieves! The dirty little theives! Tricksy! Naswty! False!'

(yeah, I'm just a bourne of good will if it comes to that... not.)

Well, Magenta was sorta freaked that they were moving in to what was their property. And went all slimy, and her first question? Would I be visiting? Really... She has reason to be afraid,

(And I'm deleting expletives so fast in my head it makes me diszzy, because I have NEVER met anyone like that paragon of disingenuousness. I will NEVER forget the day Peter had his stroke, and I rushed him to get to the telephone, and that bitch played down the weakness in his arm in the hoüpe that he would DIE that night, if they didn't take him away to hospital. And will never forgive her for it. And I'n supposed to go over there and make nice? She is 'evil bitch' personified, basta. I don't use that word often, but if anyone has deserved it... she does.. and a thief. And everything horrible you want to think of.)

Whatever, I got her up to speed on her new neighbors. If you came out of the door from the inside, on the right were the Fishers. Nowadays, there is only Mrs. Fischer. Mr. Fischer died of an untimely heart attack.

When we first moved in, there was much to do on the house. The chimbleys had to be restored, but no one thoght about the roof.

We had a severe winter, lots of snow. And Peter and I had only been there a few months. And the snow collected... and we had a roof avalanche. That sounds so harmless. Our housed have steeply sloped roofs, you see, and when a bit of plus degrees come, well, the snow sorta melts and turns the bottom layer to ice sheets, and then it slides off them to the ground. People have been struck dead in my lifetime being hit by one.

So one fine day, thaw weather... the doorbell rang... and it was Mrs. Fischer. We'd had an avalancche slide off of our roof in such a disastrous way.... it crashed through their roof landed in their living room.

I was SPEECHLESS, Peter was ill, so I went over to view the damage. It's a small two-story house, a 'two-generational' one. His nmother had the ground floor, thy had the top floor. Mr. Fischer's mother was near ninety at the time.

The avalanche fairly wrecked their living room and I was glad that no one got physically hurt. So I told them he had insurance, and it would be taken care of asap. Which it was.

(This is NOT a good way to meet new neighbors, btw....)

Shortly thereafter, Mr. Fisher died. His mother followed not long after. As far as I know... their son and his wife and children occupy the ground floor, and she is still on what we call the first floor. This is still a common thing here... multi-generational housing....

On the right, as you came out, was 'watch it!' The L. fambly. I have no idea how Mr. L is doing. Last I heard, he had an inoperable brain tumour. But he was the bane of my existence. He hated trees, and leaves especially. And was fond of litigation. He had an orchard in his back yard, and his only joy was pruning them into stumps... because he didn't like leaves.

Let's face it, leaves shed in the autumn, and land on the ground. It's nature. Mr. L was the most bizarre Tartar against Nature I have ever encountered. He brutalised his magnificent cherry tree to the point where it didn't bear fruit any more for five years. (I counted.)

He hated, HATED our Plantain tree next to the house and sicced the authorities on us saying it was sick. But it wasn't. Nothing pleased him more than the sound of a chain saw cutting down his enemies... trees. Maybe his brain tumour was developing then, and no one knew what was wrong with the man.

One of our other neighbors got to be big-headed, and told us to rake... because, literally, 'he suffers under the leaves'. Which brought out so much hilarity, we still talk about it today... I had this perverse image of him in a pile of leaves, whining and moaning... It loses in the translation, but believe me, it was stellar.

Their son and doaugher shared the upper floor. Son got married, had a daughter, the daughter is single still... and the only nice one in the house.

Her window looked out onto our garden, and I have heard how she misses what I did there, and the sound of our laughter when we sat out summer evenings.

Well, I miss it too... very very much. I laid down a patio myself. And got some garden furniture, and we'd be out evenings. And have to smile... on one of them an Igel ran through to hide in my mulch pile. It's a sort of hedgehog. My cousins were there, and there was no stopping the panic, because they thought it was a rat.

I wish they could have seen the weasels mating in the yard behind ours. Creepy creatures, and such a racket. I thought cats were loud...

Whatever, that's the thumbnail profile on what used to be our surroundings.

I miss it and I do not. The ones not in the house bemused me totally.

So it is all 'aprpos nothing'.

And Dorli Rainey is still awesome.

You could fall in love with this woman....

Wonderful lady. Generation gap my ass!

Nice Rant....

Bloomberg? Oy...

So whaddaya gonna drink, hey?

Frack the damned frackers... Problems? If you can light your tap water on fire, it probably isn't safe to drink.

I never knew that rivers in America actually caught fire. The photo on this blog is our 'river on fire', but it was just a traditional thing... scuba divers from the fire dept. with phosphorous flares swimming in the river. I think it was preferable....

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Generational Wedge?

Spent a weekend mostly with 'zocken'... playing. My on-line game programmers called it a double 'event'. Two days of getting 50% more points on everything. Plus they held two free-range 'battles'. I didn't try the latter, my characters are still too low-level, but I did get them to advance two each, which is nice. Yay for the knight and the conjuror.... and so on.

But Sunday I did take a break to watch Saturday's broadcast of UP, with Chris Hayes. He came up with a stunning 'story of the week'. You can see it here. He describes how über-conservatives, who desperately want to dismantle social security, medicaid, and medicare are sneakily trying to disaffect the young twenty-to-thirty somethings and woo the so-called elderly 55 and up by telling the latter they needn't worry, because they are going to get their benefits, but they have to make changes hey 'to save the grandchildren'. And the young 2o-30 somethings? Well hey, they are gonna have to re-think their futures... As the unemployment rate in that age group is somewhere between 20-23%, depending on which poll you hear, the ploy is a dangerous wedge aimed at getting generations at loggerheads with and resenting one another.

And it's being done so slyly, so underhandedly, am willing to bet that the Rethugs behind it would be incensed if confronted with what they are doing, and indignantly deny all such claims. It was something 'out there', but I'd never seen it in that light before.

The ensuing discussion still has me sort of upset inside, although it was an excellent discussion. I especially like that his guests are mostly 'new' faces from the publishing world and government, and not the fatuous faces full of self-importance you see everywhere else. And most of them have a lot of interesting things to say.

Whoever has a Tivo should tape it, as he's only on at gawwd-awful early morning hours. Or tune in per internet.

And oh yeah... I think my dragon is turning black. Which pleased me.

It's an upside-down world......

When the person you love most sends more than enough money for your birthday that you can afford a new between-times jacket and new pair of shoes. (And not have to lie to anyone who shivers looking at you in a sweater while they are already in winter jackets, of which I have tw0, but it is waay too early.)

As to the shoes... well, they're sneakers I got as a present seventeen years ago, only wore them occasionally for a while, but for the past three-four years... well, they're sort of falling apart. Well, not even sort of... They wouldn't survive even the most delicate fine-wash cycle in the washing machine, so they aren't very nice to look at... and I do have other shoes... except most of the time my feet are swollen, and have a hard time getting into them. Like taking five minutes and cursing like Cinderella's stepsisters all the way... nope, the sneaks are comfortable enough... but falling apart.

It's an upside-down world in that I should be the one sending a goodly sum to help someone be comfortable in advanced age, and can only feel guilty about it all because I can't.

And I know that if I say anything, I'm only gonna hear he 'won' it... ummm.... errr.. somehow. It feels wrong.

And it feels like an upside-down world when I see in the snail-mail box that I got mail from my best friend. And I haven't mentioned this here, I don't think, but having been depressed this year, I hadn't even opened the mail-box from February till October, so 'someone' decided to just dismantle the door to the post-box, and it disappeared, so now I HAVE to look, 'just-in-case'.

(I'm fairly certain that that 'vandalism' is my neighbor Rudi-Doody's work... it has his signature all over it. Not broken into... the door just removed! I think he thought I'd lost the key, or something, but there IS such a thing as asking.... and of COURSE he denys knowing anything about it. Post-box doors do NOT dismantle themselves...)

It's an upside-down world when that very best friend spends over a dollar for a stamp and money for a birf-day card when she is so strapped, that money might have made the difference between getting a pack of cigarettes, or something decent to eat.

And it's an upside-down world that she finally gets back to where she had wanted to be and lands at an address that sort of sounds like 'enjoyment street', but there is no 'enjoyment' to be seen far and wide, and it becomes a mockery of what she had so yearned for. And as much as I love her, I so wish she had used the money for herself, and sent me a crazy free-of-charge e-mail.

That isn't criticism. I wish for a lot of things, and knowing what it cost her also makes me feel guilty, because I'm so not worth that sort of attention.

I wish I had the funds to send her something that would rock her world, and there never seems to be a red-cent left over come end of the month, try as I may.

And, of course, it isn't my birfday, we have a couple-three weeks yet. And I haven't ever really celebrated it except my fiftieth, where I pulled out all the stops for an entire week.

No, I didn't hold orgies, or go on a mind-bending spree. I celebrated with friends... two to three at a time, and held lavish dinner parties. All of them began with my favourite recipe at the time. Stuffed oysters creole style, with three sorts of fillings. Peter had gotten me a metal chain glove to work on the 'ersters' after I'd cut myself the first time, and a special knife to open them, so I sort of looked like Michael Jackson doing crazy work on seafood. One of my guests gave me a very expensive chopping knife with my initials and the date engraved on it, which was a lavish gift coming from someone more on Peter's side of acquaintances.

That was my favourite birf-day of all time, because I was the one giving something that I was good at, and there was champagne, and laughter, and wonderful conversation, and it was all 'good'.

The only other I enjoyed was shortly after 'da Ven' married my step-mother. I turned eight, and her sister, my late aunt made me the most elaborate cake I had ever seen, it was a carousel. I was just overwhelmed. And never forgot it. It was 'acceptance', and being part of a new 'fambly'...

Otherwise... 'birf-days' never rattled me much at all.

But it IS an upside-down world for me being a recipient of kindnesses, and humbling, and sort of embarassing.

I won't open the card till 'da day'. It will be the only thing to look forward to. And go shopping... which I absolutely hate.

There are days, like this one, where I don't feel I deserve any of that. You basic Protestant work ethic... I wasn't 'successful' in the end, so I can't be a 'good' person. The rest of the year, I don't mind being 'bad'.

There's always been a lot of 'jumping the gun' regarding my non-horriday. My bio-Mom was the worst... I would get combo-birfday-Christmas cards in September, she didn't want them to be late. A bank transfer takes three to five days even in this electronic age, because it goes through several stations, and they all 'sit' on it to get some interest. An airmail card from the US takes five to seven days, depending on whether there is a week-end or horriday in between.

The crassest thing I ever got was the usual combo birf-day Xmas card one September from my bio-Mom.

After she had been dead for over a year. First reaction? I gave my work nick-name Flipper a whole new dimension. Until I saw that the date was over a year old. It probably got lost somewhere, but that was the most horribly uncanny thing I ever experienced. Even from the grave, I thought, she never lets go, and the hand-written stuff in it was... manipulative as only she could do it.

Yeah... upside-down...

To both of youse guys... I love you. And thank you humbly.

Spitless...

This is too weird to be believed. And this for a guy with his hands on the reigns of the Western World. I happened to have a mouthfull of popcorn... and blew it all over the keyboard.

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Regulations... sometimes work, sometimes not. I had chicken over the weekend, a huuuge chicken booby

Yup, sounds ridiculous in the extreme.

And the term comes from a cousin who was about five or so and screamed over the balconies in our block to a Scottish gentleman... 'HEY, Mr. P!.. Come on over, we're having chicken boobies!'

By which she meant chicken breasts.

I thought my neighbor was gonna piss himself laughing, was a witness to the 'indiscretion'.

(smile)

So big deal, I had chicken over the weekend. It's something you would put on Facebook...

Except there is more to it.

For over a year, thanks to being clinically depressed, I just go to the supermarket next door, and twice got a bit of chicken which in local jargon would be described as a 'rubber eagle', which sums up the texture and flavourlessness of the product.

So I didn't buy any for a long time.

And had a hankering for the good old days, so I went to the market, which is about 100 yards further down the square, which is about three football fields long. And of course, I went to the people I KNOW have the best chicken EVAH. I eat very little nowadays, so I only wanted a bit.

I believe the lady who was out there every weekend has passed on. She must have been stunningly beautiful when young, but was strikingly beautiful in age. It came from within. Now one of her sons is there.

And he pulled out a chicken booby that was breath-taking. They come from the Sulmtal. And are free-range, and fed correctly. So I roasted it. It was a full pound. And I had an orgasmic experience in my mouf. I'd fully forgotten what good chicken tastes like.

And had more than enough for the entire weekend.

So yeah, I can hear you say, what's RenB going ON about, good for him, he had a nice two meals.

The people at the market are real farmers... they sell their produce, and if there isn't enough for a weeks demand... you are so out of luck. The EU regulates the conditions under which they can produce their products, and are extremely strict. What you get in the supermarket is mostly under the radar... passable, but not quality. And the price is about the same.

So for all the tea-party people... government regulations often provide much quality and safety in what is sold for you to eat. And not be poisoned.

I used to have laughing fits over terms newly coined, like Bodenhaltung. Which means free-range chickens. But if you take the word literally, it means, 'holding on the ground', which brought up hilarious images in my sick head of farmers flinging themselves about and holding their chickens on the ground. I used to have Thurberesque 'flights of fancy' in my noggin...

Which brings me back to buying at the market. Fresh produce from people who work their ass off year in and out to make something so good, you will only buy it from them. And are out there in all sorts of weather day in, day out.

And it works, on principle. If Gawwd had wanted us to have strawberries in December, they probably would have grown then. I think there is a reason why certain foods grow at the time they do, and will be good for you. I do not think that it is sane to buy things that are not grown where you live, or in season, just because it gets imported and it's there. I never did that.

And THAT is what preserves are for. I got to be really good at it. Peter buying junk crap stuff at a huge percent upgrade, because, boy... diabetics really get screwed for prices for 'safe' compote, or jam, or cookies or gawwwd knows what else.

I put a stop to it. I learned how to put up glasses of preserves without the dire additives and at a third of the cost. The farmers did their thing, I did mine. Beginning in Spring. Fruits, vegetables, sauces.... by late Fall, there were over one hundred glasses waiting to be opened.

I had to hide a couple of the cherry ones so I could do the Easter ham. I made a KILLER cherry relish for baked ham... made some friends of Peter's speechless.

I would not touch produce from a supermarket. For Peter.

Lately, haven't cared what I eat.

But the chicken? It reminded me of what can really be good. And it is because of regulations, and a memory. My cousins visiting yet again. I served chicken from the Sulmtal. I can't remember what recipe.

But there was a 'sotto voce' comment from L. to her husband: 'WHY can't we GET chicken like this any more?'

Deregulation. People cut corners, sell shit.

Because no one is looking over their shoulder. And you get tasteless rubber eagles.

And the whole problem begins with that sort of thing.

General strike and historical context

I love when history is actually respected and tied in to what happens in our day.

oh.... good stuff....

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It's a horriday here....

All Soul's Day. You go to the cemetery. It's what everyone does. A cemetery today looks like the most beautiful garden you can imagine. So people remember and honour the dead.

Actually, it should have been yesterday, All Souls Day... never seemed logical to me to have it on November first.

And I would have gone, I suppose, I was in the mood for it. Exept... I know I wouldn't have been able to find either of the two I wanted to visit. Peter's mothers, and Jane's. When Peter's finances and his mind went south, the Church was after him for costs of 'maintainance', which is a joke... people tend to the graves themselves. And wanted 10,000 Euros for a ten year 'upkeep', uh-huh.

Charlotte was upset and confused that she couldn't find her sister's grave, so I guess they just did a turnover and someone else is in there now. I really don't know how that works. Except... forever isn't forever, you know?

And I wanted to see Gisela's grave, finally, and leave some roses. Gawd that was tragic. 'Gisi', as Peter's aunt called her, or Giselle, as we called her, was her old school friend, through thick and thin. And the war was pretty thin. She had a son out of wedlock, Horst. And she was Peter and my preferred dinner guest several times a year. The first time she came to dinner, I nearly blew it. She being advanced in years, I served a mild coffee... not knowing that she was your TOTAL caffeine addict. The dinner was great, she said, but the coffee offended her muchly.

Well no one had told me before-hand, demmit... The second time, I had my weapon ready. Peter found a place that sold cuban coffee. You know how they say one that's strong puts hair on your chest? That one would have turned you into a werewolf. Heart-stoppingly strong. And she said, 'Now THAT'S more like it!'

She would only eat chicken or fowl. Or as I once wrote a cousin, 'anything that flies', and she replied, 'even a Boeing 747?' ---which completely cracked me up.

And since she was only fixated on fowl... man, I had my work cut out for me. I had a new variant every time which she had never had before. Indian, Thai, so many variations I can't even recall them all. I'd gotten Lazarus, my first pc, so I got busy and printed out menu cards for the place settings, or in her case, sent one per mail as an invite. Sorta, 'we're having chicken, wanna come over?' Went all formal, place settings, the works. Martha Stewart would have been proud of me. Hell, Emily Post would have done a Snoopy dance.

I remember I did pheasant once, which she lurrrved. But the real highlight was inviting her to a 'real' American Thanksgiving dinner. I got the smallest turkey I could find, because she ate like a bird. But it still was very big. And we had just been in Venice, and there was this porcelain shop on the corner up from the hotel, and there was a tureen... it was a turkey. Peter and I took one look at one another and burst out laughing, and he went and bought it, just for Thanksgiving. Gawwd... I don't even know whatever happened to it.

It was hilarious to look at.

So the soup course was in that.

And I trotted out all the trimmings, and the damned turkey was so big, and unwieldy, well, we had this rolling bar on wheels, cleared off the top, and wheeled it in... and I will NEVER forget the look on her face. Gawd, I was such a star.... once.

And by the way, I think I was a very good cook. Once... People at the market would get samples, and demanded, demanded that I give them recipes. Coming from a people who really appreciate cuisine, that was high praise indeed, so am not being overbearingly conceited.

Giselle would watch us like a hawk, curious as to how we interacted, and she found us very funny and entertaining. But there was a back-story to that. Her son Horst. We always thought he must be gay, lived in Vienna with 'someone', but we never knew who... and to me at least, it was as if she were imagining how her son was living there. He came home every weekend to take care of her. Alone. Just imagine...

So he was sort of a ghost.

If Peter's aunt and uncle visited, it was a different story, and could get embarrassing. Giselle would always brag.... about me. It started with the fact that Peter's aunt and uncle liked seafood, so I made a salad for after the soup, seafood. (Yeah, I did four courses...) But I knew Giselle wouldn't touch it, so I made her a small plate of chicken salad.

And the one-upmanship began. 'He made that extra just for me.' 'I've seen every Christmas tree and Easter tree since they moved in, and they are wonderful.' Sort of nyah nyah, you're just pedestrian visitors....

Embarassed the hell out of me. So on one occasion, she pushed too hard, and his aunt said, 'Want me to tell them about your son in Frankfurt?' Dead silence.

(She'd been ragging on them about their obsession with using public transportation. And Peter had spoiled her, going out by taxi to pick her up, and take her home. In that, he was a gentleman. Plus he took her to visit them in Germany twice, where they had many adventures, the worst of which was her taking his small bag through security when leaving, and Peter's insulin needle was in there. That took some explaining, but she'd never HAD an adventure before, so she relived it and reminisced often.)

I last saw her two and a half years ago. She had been ill for a long time, so was spared the decline and fall of the Mühlgasse, thank whomever. But I was with his aunt and his cousins, so we didn't get to talk all that much... I felt it was their time. So I went into the garden to smoke. And there came the ghostly Horst. A pudgy, middle-aged man who somehow struck me as looking a bit pasty and not well. We made small talk, and am sure he was as curious about me as I was about him.

The only thing we knew about the 'scandal' involving him was that as a young man, he stayed with Peter's aunt and uncle in Frankfurt, and got into big trouble, and they bailed him out. Whatever it was happened in the Bahnhof (train station) district. I've been there... in Frankfurt... it was like 42nd street in the 70's, gritty, lots of vice, lots of sleaze, lots of prostitutes of all genders. For some reason we think he picked up a guy. And it was illegal in his youth. That's all we'll ever know.

Everything else was connecting the dots from snippets of conversation, and pure speculation.

Whatever, about three weeks after I was out at her house in the suburbs, her son had been home more, caring for her, was reading the morning paper, and Horst fell off his chair immediately dead. Stroke AND a heart attack. I always wondered what happened to his long-time Viennese 'companion'. Giselle had him buried so fast, I doubt he would have been notified.

Three weeks after that... Giselle died. A year later Peter's aunt came to visit her grave... and couldn't find it. 'It's just LIKE her... making secrets out of nothing.' (a-HA!)

Y'know, the Soaps always preach that secrets always come out. In this case? äääähhhh. Wrong.

It doesn't matter. I've long learned that what you 'think' is the truth always gets a spin that leaves you saying 'WHAAA?'

So that's a day of the dead memory I wished to share today. Because my memories are fond ones and make me smile, and to honour a remarkable lady. heh, I remember thinking I'd found a sapling of the apricot tree on the side of the house and had planted it in front of the kitchen window. She looked down, and had a laughing fit. 'Son, I don't know what that is, but it is NOT an apricot tree, believe me.' (she had a fantastic garden). Of course it turned out to be a walnut tree.... blush. She laughed so hard... 'don't you know that birds drop seeds on the ground and sometimes they take hold? Just because it was at the foot of the tree doesn't mean it's an apricot tree.'

Nope... never learned about that side of the birds and the bees, unfortunately.

And unfortunately... there are also memories of an awful lot of other people long passed on, but they are the painful ones. People who died way too early, people who were ill from youth and succumbed, people very special to me.

One of them had diabetes from an early age. And I was fortunate enough to visit with her for a few hours when I was last in NH. Her thing from teenager on was having picnics in cemeterys... 'because we're all going to end up here, you know....' Yeah, sounds macabre, but it seemed to give her some sort of comfort.

So it was a day of remembering here, and honouring past people whom one loved. Which is nice. I don't ever remember anything like that growing up. People died, you went to the cemetery and see them buried, end of story. Here there is a hypocritical side to it... see and be seen. Outdoing someone else in floral arrangements. Which is petty.

So I didn't get to any of the cemeteries today. But thought about and honoured them in my own way.

Rick Perry rocks NH???

Jon Stewart really had fun with this. What was he ON??? Can we say 'crash and burn'? It would be funny, if it weren't tragic... But better now to find out he is really screwed up.

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Update to the story below

Turns out the boy was only suspended for one day. It was the principal who was the whistle-blower. He was horrified.

And now the best part. He was returned to the custody of his 'mother'.

Gawwd, I could have projectile vomited on the spot.

Seemingly he has a gran who cares muchly for him.

But that is really just trouble in the making.

I could go ON... but better hold my tongue. Am too reminded of another 'mother' who was a destructive force for evil too close to home for me.

Personhood

My father, aka 'the Venerable' sent me an e-mail the other day which was unusual, in that it was longer than a few sentences...

He told me a really vile tale about someone he knows of in his vicinity. A woman who had a child she didn't want. So she spent his first and formative years telling him she hated him, and she was only keeping him on for the added money on her welfare check. (yeah, a real hum-dinger of a 'woman')

She indulged her revulsion of this child she seemingly never wanted by beating on him. Police were called in, but she was clever, nothing could be proven, and social services' collective hands were tied, seemingly. (Have I got this all correct so far, Dad?)

Well the kid acted out, what could you expect, hey? Got forbidden to ride the bus to school, and then the school expelled him... which doesn't say much for the teachers in it... But they are probably too overworked to think... 'what's going on with this child?' And his mummy dearest beat him and left marks, and FINALLY, the child was taken into the social system which is gonna be even worse for him, from what I've read and seen per tee-vee.

It's a horrible and disgusting story, and unfortunately, I know it happens a lot in 'Murka, the bad version of it.

So what does this have to do with the clip below?

The Rethugs have a proposed law on the ballot in Mississippi to proclaim that the minute an egg is fertilised it is a person. It goes way beyond what has heretofore been proposed.... because it isn't just about abortion.

I can never figure out why that 'less government' crowd has the nasty habit of wanting to get into people's bedrooms in general, and regulate women's reproductive systems in particular. They can really creep me out with this shit.

So leaving all the moral and usual arguments aside, what does the one story have to do with what they are trying to do to women in Mississippi, and soon to try in other states?

The Rethugs just LURRV the idea of babies. They love them so much they would like to strike the child labour laws. To work cheap in coporation factories, or something. (Check out what they did in the Mariana Islands on Google... it is mind-blowing. Slave labour and forcing them to prostitute themselves, way to go, the Rethugs are very sick people in their heads...)

Now leaving all the other and usual questions aside... what do you think will happen to the child whose mother was raped and was impregnated and has to look at that child if she is forced to carry it to term? What do you think will happen to the children who were not wished for but forced by law to carry to term?

I see resentment at best, and abuse in every sort of variation at worst. And there would be a lot of 'mothers' like the one who obviously has upset 'the Ven'.

But hey, it's their vision, forcing themselves into the most private part of peoples lives, and all, but they are so against the government regulating anything. Hypocrisy reigns among those people.

Why aren't they creating jobs? Oh yeah, that's what they ran on, but the only thing they've done so far is trying to curb people's reproductive rights. They creep me out with their horrid fascinations.

As to jobs? Oh yeah, they said they were gonna strangle the economy so that Obama would be a one-term president. And they have. Fact is, they will do as much damage as possible, and if people get hurt? Well they don't care.

So when I saw this clip... it raised those issues in my mind. What is left of it...

Listen carefully.

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Just a bit of mind-surfing on the keyboard....

Y'know... one of those 2 a.m. things when sleep won't come.

For three days now, it is clear we are entering what I call 'the tunnel'. It's the weather, and lack of light.

It gets light later and later, and twilight earlier and earlier... and then all you get are days of twilight, and it won't get any better before January, mostly... with an odd day of sun here and there to break the monotony.

It didn't use to bother me, but of late, it is opressive. Weighs one down.

I crossed paths with my landlady today. She was friendly, even gracious. Out in the court. Which was odd. I thought she was really pissed off at me.

We were polite. She asked about my 'partner'. Which was purely greedy inquisitiveness on her part. (shrug) Didn't really matter to me one way or the other. I told her. I have this 'thing' about telling the truth.

I know her husband is in a similar state. And she said, 'Hey, sometimes you have to see the humour in it.'

I think my funny bone got shot off in the war against diabetes somewhere along the line. Never knowing when the next crisis would come.

So I slept part of the day, and now am up at the god awful night-time hour of 2 a.m. Just having the thoughts running through my mind... and Peter is always a constant.

Y'know... It is so difficult being so cut off from him after 35 years. In all that time, I think there were about four different weeks we weren't together every day, even if the time was short some days... we worked hard, and took that seriously too.
'
It is so disconcerting that we can take a relationship so for granted that we can also be neglectful, because, 'oh, there's a crisis here', or 'have to fix that.' And 'there'll be time later on'. And we miss the important part of the entire venture. To savour one another's company as much as possible. Because one day, you won't have that any more.

I feel like something has been amputated out of me. So often in the day, my first reaction to something is, 'oh, wouldn't Peter love that', or 'wait till I tell him this',

Except I can't and I won't be able to.

Gawwd, how I miss him, despite all his faults, but he sure overlooked mine...

Which evens things out. More or less.

And I think, whether gay or straight, if you get through three decades without wanting to kill one another and only have mostly good feelings... well it was probably 'lurvvv'.

What I miss most right now? Falling asleep with him holding me, and waking up to find him watching me. I felt safe and loved. And yeah, he used to love watching me sleeping in his arms.

How extraordinarily pornographic.

If we'd filmed it, people would have fallen asleep watching it. Maybe there is a market for it somewhere in this dumb world.

Not being able to visit regurlarly and being so strapped is making me feel neglectful. And guilty. But the last time... it was such a strain on him, and my allotted time was so long, it wore him out.

If I call, five minutes is all he can take.

It's tragic.

I really wanted to become very old with him and scare a lot of horses.

I guess as a couple, we were pretty disgusting. Finished one another's sentences, laughed at the same things, sometimes so much it was side-stiching.

Odd thought... one of the first times we were alone, he was gong ON about a new Peggy Lee album. He'd seen her in Copenhagen in a bar, and she was so drunk she fell off the bar stool. She was singing, by the by...

He loved the version of 'Is That All There Is' on it.

Tja, Is that REALLY all there is? Depressing.

And on that note...

historical context

interesting...

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Trick or Treat.....

The programmers of the game I play in Berlin are always inventive. Every Tuesday they turn off their servers for a few hours and fix bugs, or add something new or make an 'event' , as they call it. Some of them are lame, some are interesting. Yesterday they took longer than usual, and had to wait for a huuuuge patch to install itself once they were back up.

The theme of the week is: Halloween! Yay...

They really went all out this time. You always begin in the same place, the town square in an idyllic realm's largest village. And I learned per special notice that there were empty baskets all over the place. And if you got one, you were to go to the 'Halloween Narr (fool)' and you would receive 'candy'. The Halloween Narr is an effigy scarecrow on a crossbar with a pumpkin head and flaming eyes.

Trick or treat in other words. Normally if you have to find things they are few and far between, but not this time. You are generously given all sorts of candy, and I guess there are six sorts.

As is appropriate, the candy is Halloween 'creepy'. Frogs on a stick, dead eye-ball chewing gum, sugar skeleton bones, pumpkin drops, moldy lollipops, candied worms, and so on.

Normally in the game, if you are given 'sweets', they are to be used in the dungeons, and enhance your life force or abilities somehow. So instead of telling you what the candy does, all you get is, 'you have to taste it to find out'. So I tried 'em out.

Takes 'Trick' or 'Treat' to a whole new level. Activate one and it can say 'eeeewwww, horrible'... and you suddenly have minus 20% of your attacking force for two minutes, which isn't good if you're in a fight. Or 'ooh, delicious', and you get a 50% life force increase for five minutes, which is a real 'treat'.

And even within one sort, they aren't uniformly the same effects. Each one is different. Won't go on, just giving you the idea of how it works. I think this is the best Halloween in a long time. Very clever, and I get a week of trick or treating. Who else can say that, right?

Whoever thought this 'event' up really put a lot of work into it, and I think it is as funny as hell. Whoever it was, they must have Halloween as the top 'horriday' of the year.

Apropos Horriday... today is our national one, come around again. You're supposed to go out hiking and take in the beauty of the country. Except the weather is dreary, and there's a fine mist, so will be in-doors. Because we all know what 'mist' means now, right?

Happy trick or treating when the day comes.

And oh, the selfishness....

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And after the War on Christmas... now Halloween

Ahhhh Faux News.... ya gotta hand it to them...

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Oil... in another context, i.e. Iraq

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The elephant in the room

Ghaddafi is dead, which is the 'best new thing in decades'.... for the Libyans...

But there is a huge black elephant in the room which, in all the reporting only got one mention, and that in a dramatic whisper... by Jon Stewart. '....and oil, they have lots of oil...' He was the only one to mention the elephant.

And so it is more than disingenuous for even good reporters to profess 'wonder' and a sort of surprise that Dumbya had tried to rehabilitate Ghaddafi in the international community, which enranged the relatives and friends of the victims of Lockerbie and many other people.

There were enough reports at the time that Libya sits on a HUGE reserve of oil, and conglomerates in England, France, Germany, the US and China were just dying to get licenses for drilling rights. So Ghaddafi played them, and they were all just fine with it. Anything to get a toe-hold and drill there.

There were enough reports about it at the time in the MSM, so.... why the confusion and wonder now? The dictator got what he wanted, and he limited what they could do. He may have been weird, and ruthless and crazy, but he wasn't dumb.

The present administration took a different view of things, and the uprising of the Libyans gave them the really unique opportunity of getting what they really want obliquely. So they 'helped' the people throw over the dictator and Ghaddafi lost... everything, including his life. If you gamble long enough you hit a losing streak.

That isn't to say I regret his demise. I'm sure he's rotting in some sort of hell...

I'm just irritated by the way things were presented in the media... as if it were all a mystery, or something. Do they really think that in our fast-moving world we have the attention span of two-year-olds, and no long-term memory retention?

It was brilliant on the part of the West. They keep their own troops out of it, the Libyans are grateful, and the corporations are finally going to get everything they've always wanted. One should never underestimate them.

In comparison, no one has ever given a flying fuck about Somalia and all the death there. Do we see an international effort? Course not. Call me cynical.

(Talk about rhetorical questions, hey....)

Nope, Jon Stewart was the only one to mention it... in a whisper. He sees the elephant in the room.

Firefighters get screwed... again...

Ohio... Jeebus.

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I've always found John Kasic deplorable, but thought it was because I really don't like Slavs, having been duped by them so often.

oh my... Cain? Really?

The guy is a nut job.

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Unsung heroes....

For every movement there is an antecedent. People think that the gay rights movement just spontaneously ignited the night of the Stonewall riots. There were people who were pushing for their rights waaaay before that.

Magnus Hirschfeld, for instance, who was a doctor and psychologist in pre-30's Berlin and died under the Hitler regime. The incredibly gifted Christopher Isherwood, whose books influenced me, especially the autobiographies, and who led an amazing life. The poet W. H. Auden. Even Walt Whitman in a way. They and so many others were influential, and knew EVERYONE who was anyone. They built a foundation for what came later.

In America, there was Harry Hay, who formed the Mattachine Society to better conditions for gays in the US. One of his members and an activist all his life was Frank Kameny. Mr. Kameny just passed on at age 86.

In MY corner of the world, when I was a kid and teen and young adult, the local rag and the only daily 'newpaper' in the state, vilified the Mattachine S0ciety as a bunch of pedophiles. (It's always the easiest thing to do, isn't it?) They weren't. They fought for equality. They said, 'this isn't right.' And they fought.

If you were to ask any young gay or lesbian person today, they would tell you the gay rights movement came about like... oh god, brain fart... some god springing out of Jupiter or Zeus' head. Or cite Harvey Milk, who was assassinated, and I don't even want to get INTO the Twinkie defense, that absolute low-life Dan White.

People laid the groundwork. People were jailed. People were killed for what they believed was right. People suffered and were still able to fight.

And THAT, my Precioussessssss... is what is needed now in a very different context. Vote next time. Examine your conscience. It won't be about gay rights. It will be about your reproductive rights, and many other things.

Rachel gave a fitting tribute to Mr. Kameny. It's to the point.

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Am not sure, but I think when I embed these there are commercials from Mobil Exxon and Goldman Sachs first, which drive me totally crazy.

Especially Mobil Exxon, and that pock-marked Eric Oswald and his 'reassuring' message on fracking... (all praise HD) and saying it is so safe, well, I usually yell 'Tell THAT to the people who can take a Bic and light their tap water on fire, you git!' But that's just me... Everything has a price, doesn't it...

Oh my.... New Hampsha gets Rachel upset!

She has a point... New Hampsha always gets picked on... I think it was the Daily Show where the line fell... New Hampshire is so white, they think snow is camouflage.

The lead was good, but it's about what Rethugs have been doing instead of creating jobs, and all about 'the other', and abortion. But she's right... shortening the actual legislative period is getting out of hand. And I agree with that...

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And I was crushed.... yes crushed, when The Old Man of the Mountain collapsed in 1993. It seemed to be something amazing, lasting. It should have told me something. On the other hand, maybe they should switch the trademark to Indian Head. It would be fitting, maybe.... (for those who don't know, it's a similar natural rock formation.) And for young people now... I would still recommend the short story about the Old Man by Nathanial Hawthorne. It is beautiful.

Words again....

I swear I'm going to get certified one of these days... was thinking about this entry as I went to get my cigarettes and 'groceries'. And there was a very fine mist, not really rain, you know?

And then it hit me, and I busted out laughing in the middle of the intersection.

In German, the word 'Mist' means garbage, or when used as an expletive, as in 'Ach, MIST!' it means, 'oh crap!' It only borders on the vulgar...

This after we have had five weeks of the finest Fall weather I have seen in years, not that I go out much. But warm, sunny, just beautiful. It finally broke last Saturday with a thunderstorm, and it cooled down enough that people turned on their heat a little for the first time this year, but only in the evening to take off a bit of a chill.

Mon-Weds it was cool nights and in the mornings, but comfortable throughout the daytime.

Whatever, I used my little 'joke' on the tobacconist and the cashier at the snoopermarket, so-called because everyone checks out whatever everyone else is buying.

It got some smiles and a laugh. 'Is that really true?' one girl asked. 'Honest, it is...'

Well--- over the weekend, I found that my take on Apple was sort of well-founded, but it was worse than I had thought. I'd assumed that their products were purely American-made. Turns out they aren't and the German press is still lamenting the late St. Steve Jobs, gawwd love 'em, the vultures....

Chris Hayes had a very interesting guest on his show UP over the weekend. Guy named Mike Daisey. He has a one-man show called 'The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs'. Hayes played a short clip and it looked quite funny... about the planned obsolescence aspect of the products. Biting satire...

But Daisey once posed as a businessman in order to tour the factory producing I-phones, and Tablets, and what-not------ in CHINA. (He was researching his show..)

Tha's right, only the designs and the know-how originate in the US. And factories in China produce them for a song.

The working conditions are horrific. Twelve hour shifts on an assembly line... and no breaks, if you please. The company had to put up netting along the roof because they had several cases of people jumping off of it and killing themselves. (gee, I wonder why...) And there was something a bit murky about minerals used in the products which can only be obtained from the Congo, but they really didn't go into that.

And of course, China doesn't have EPA regulations, so they can pollute as much as they please. This guy talked to people who had sent their children to school in other provinces because theirs had become a 'cancer cluster'. But anything to make a living, right?

The discussion made a lasting impression, and others kept asking, 'why is this coming out NOW?' Hmmm, I dunno, maybe because the company loves to litigate?

So when I think of all those shiny, pretty things which the company made people think are so indispensible in their lives, and the vast amounts of profit they made with their astronomical prices for the consumer... it sort of makes me throw up in my mouf.

Let's see, what else in new? Herman Cane (Cain? have never seen it written and too lazy to check...) is a real hum-dinger example of what I meant below about if you're poor, it's your own damned fault.

He's bought it hook-line and sinker, all right. Telling some asshat on a Sunday show that they should stop wanting to take from the rich and word-for-word gave the Rethug manifesto... if you fail, it's your own fault.

Bill Maher was more than disturbed with his comments, it really got him.. To paraphrase, he said he tells jokes, someone can play ball well and get paid obscene amounts of money, but teachers, police and firepeople aren't 'worthy' of being paid better? He got very agitated. That was on Rachel Maddow's show.

And have been turning an eye to my own backyard this week. It's as I thought... the financial crisis is gonna blow up nationalistic animosities and fuck everyone over.

Our own rabble-rousing 'newspaper', and I use the term loosely, had screaming headlines because the mess we're in is because of the 'lazy Greeks'. (errm, hey guys, ever heard of Goldman Sachs?) The Czechs are accusing the Germans of Großdeutsche ambitions... sort of like, wanting to take over Europe and the word has Nazi subtext to it. Slovakia's government just toppled because they couldn't agree on a bail-out plan, and no one ever writes anything about who is really the catalyst in the whole mess. (Schlamassel, I love that word, sounds like what it means....)

If the animosities bubble up to the surface... well, a house divided will weaken the Euro, and the US would 'lurrv' that. But there are other dangers involved.

And I see they want to reinstate customs at borders again... mostly to stop illegal immigration, because the countries on the outlying areas 'aren't doing enough' to stem the tide. Sound familiar?

As my beloved Mom used to say, 'I tell ya and tell ya... do ya listen? NO.'

(Her 'sayings' are still in my head to this day... and they were smart and for every occasion you can think of.)

It's always 'give 'em what they wanna hear', or to quote Billy Flynn in 'Chicago' 'Razzle-dazzle them, and they'll never catch wise...'

In other words, and it's the word for it... it's 'show-biz'. It's MIST in the German sense of the word.

Peter update

I called, finally.....

He knew who I was. That was good....

No one's been to visit. That is bad.

I told him G. and D. are moving into the Mühlgasse, the unit they bought years ago.

He advised me not to go there. I told him not to worry about it.

Said he misses me muchly, and worries about me. (Now?)

I think most of what I told him left him 'vague'.

Broke my heart all over again.

I really have to get myself together and go down there.

And eat sardines for three days...

Sad? Yes.

But have nothing much more to say on the subject. He said he loves me. And I know he does, and did in his weird way. The horrible thing? I still love him as well. It didn't do me a lot of good, that call.

It was the first time he got tired quick and said, 'We'd better stop, this is costing you money.'

Floored me.

I'm gonna teach you a new word today....

because there isn't one in English.

Leichenfledderei.

Sort of --- robbing from the dead, but REALLY taking everything usable or of value.

It's a very negative word.

Yahoo German news reports a HUGE pre-sale and orders for the new I-Phone, even though it is only a bit faster, and has minimal things that are 'better'.

But hey, Steve Jobs died, and what better way to make a buck, hey?

Sour grapes? Probably.

I was always 'sour' because even in my best earning days... I couldn't afford a non-crashable Apple product, and had to make do with Microshit. It wasn't for 'poor' people, in other words.

It was for 'elites'.

It's not surprising they are gonna make one helluva profit on his death.

Which is Leichenfledderei.

Interesting how the media can play into a group's hands

as unwittingly and as ignorant as they sometimes can be. Which, in this case, is a good thing. I thought the occupy Wall Street demo would be a flash in the pan, but things seem to be taking hold nicely.

But the main stream media was all, 'dirty fucking hippies', and 'whadda they want?' They finally answered. I thought it was ok. Good list of grievances, but waiting to see what they propose as solutions... Countdown has been covering it heavily. And the same grievances can be heard here as well. It is, after all, the global corporations' doing.

Tja.... Saturdays's news wasn't worth commenting on, but

I spent a great deal of time this morning seeing how 'Lambchop' has been doing.

Am speaking of Chris Hayes, editor at the magazine 'The Nation' and an economic whiz, and I believe he is a good friend and protogé of Rachel Maddow... she's graced the beginnings of his own show. The 'Lambchop' thing happened one of the first times he was on Rachel's show, and he was nervous and said, 'Hey, Mad!' Then excused himself. And she said, 'It's ok, Lambchop.' The rest is history.

He did some guest hosting when she was on vacation, got good ratings... so now he has his own show. Only early mornings on weekends for now....

But am very much liking what I see. He's still nervous and a bit giddy, and there are glitches in his production team... like not smoothly putting up a clip when he needs them, but it's endearing, somewhow to watch something coming together.

The show is called UP... and I still don't know why, but hey, why not?

It is a much-needed counter-balance to MSNBC'S insidious Morning Joe, where pompous bloviating and self-aggrandisement are the order of the day.

UP is immensely 'watchable'. And informative. It's sort of an informal round-table discussion with the sort of people I would love to join in and have discussions with. Geeky and charming. And Hayes has the audacity to have on conservatives... real ones... who make the discussion lively by injecting actual ideas rather than 'talking points'. I guess they are the disaffected middle who have been disowned by the right-wing. That in itself is refreshing. Everyone is polite, no one cross-talks or interrupts, and there is a lot of back and forth where people can concede that the others have a point and aren't basically wrong.

It used to be called polite discussion... way back in the mists of time before everything polarised.

It's a breath of fresh air, hey....

There is a lot of emphasis on economics, because that is what Chris Hayes really knows best, and I hear you yawn.. But it isn't like that at all. Everything is explained in layman's terms, and it is all easy to follow. And actually entertaining.

It's like being in college, or young, and in on a clique, and they throw ideas around... And there are interviews. He had one on yesterday who wants to ban Planned Parenthood... and was way too polite. That woman was a horror. The only thing missing was a string of pearls at four a.m. as she was in San Francisco and was on the 7 a.m. segment eastern time. He was way too polite. Only faux pas so far. He could have really gone at her, although he did have the facts to refute her allegations.

He just didn't state them strongly enough.

That was the only jarring note this past month. Yeah, I watched a month's worth.

So... if you're up early on a weekend, I'd recommend watching that other than the pompous idjits on the weekends who think they run the world.

Am interested in how the show will develop.

When I pulled up my browser?

Top search of the moment on German Yahoo was depression, and I don't think it was about the financial crisis. I didn't wanna look. I'm sure my dearest friend would agree. She just lost her long-time pet companion, Boy, a beautiful, beautiful black cat.

It's gonna half kill her.

And am so sorry for that.

Best news of the day?

No one was drunkenly singing in the courtyard. They gotta work tomorra...

Tja.