December 30, 2004

between heavy showers and depressing newsflash from Indonesia, I drove 33 miles up highway 1 to Ana Nuevo State Reserve to look for elephant-seals. Most access ways to the beach had been closed because of the winterstorms, so I stood most of the time glazing and nauseous from the vastness and size of the Pacific. The sea was still but black only scattered dots of gold from the sun trying to break through the clouds queing up for another attack. It almost looked as if the sea said "I`m sorry, I`m ashamed...", but then I remembered that I heard a telltale: That in some parts of Mexico, the locals calls the Pacific for the "sea without memory", and therefore: it would never be ashame, I mean ofcourse it wouldn`t, but the telltale: The precision was sickening, it takes the lives of 125000 people, and then forget about it! And another thing hit me: the title of an Manfred Mann album: The Roaring Silence. This was it. Never had I felt the silence so...righteous, because what can you say? But then again the outcry, the aftermath should be an awakening.
Looking for shelter and a discret place to smoke a cigarette, I found a path leading to the beach. Crossing an abandoned old bridged, once a part of highway one, down some slippery steps, was the beach, and there - behind a dune, a 2 ton elephnat seal. At first I thought it was dead, but it soon started yawning and scracthing it`s belly: so layed back, so out of touch. A creek divided the strip of beach in two. I repaired hole in a dam some boys had been building, using seaweed and debris. I closed the hole. Found some strange looking rocks in the creek. The patterns, the line in the stones looks like somebody dripping paint on them, resembling the Jackson Pollock routines. The elephnatseal, the creek, the dam, the rocks: small things that made sense, a feeble attempt, but...sense: it is so much your own doing, because sometimes the world is just to big to give a shit about you. The forces, the determination. The curse of intelligence, it is none of our doing.

December 29, 2004

a day of silence in an attempt to grasp the tsunami disaster and excuse me for being corny: If 9.11 kicked off the international war against terror could these apocalyptic days be the closing argument to lift-off the long-awaited international war on poverty?

but hush...

December 28, 2004

December 27, 2004

At the movies:

another opening i`m gonna be missing out on. Now its up to you in-crowders to do the scandal, to attract the attention of the papparazzi. i expect at least one shot in the local tabloids...

December 26, 2004

a ride to Pinnacles National Park. Escape forward in divided flocks...23 million year old rocks does that to you. Your minds wander off, the earth and space stands open, just one step to oblivion.

feeling educational. klikken sie hier:

the day xmas came and went, I went up to three mile creek to watch the surf. A beautiful swell, the waves came in in set of threes, the pelican racing the winds in front of the break, dolphins cutting the surface, the sun and sand warm enough to lie back and meditate on the endings of all things.

December 25, 2004


Thought I might contribute to our quiz:
Name of third world national leader who was at war with a major western power (plenty to choose from...) and said:

"You will kill 10 of our men, and we will kill 1 of yours, and in the end it will be you who tire of it"

(Hint: the philosophy points to a part of the world where the individual is of less importance...)

December 24, 2004

Its gotta be said, so here`s a sample:
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kind Kwanzaa, Rockin' Ramaadan, Delightful Diwali, Super Spring Festival, Wonderful Winter Solstice and Saturnalia, and then the best in the new year, which would be respectively, 2005 (birth of JC), 5765 (beginning of creation), 142 (emancipation proclamation), 1383 (Mohammad moves to Medina), 5107 (Krishna dies), 4702 (Yellow Emperor starts ruling), 2758 (Romulus founds Rome). Happy Mary Fucking Everything.

Oh no not the gun-issue,
and fuck that because I can’t do the math, it’s going to be short and scattered – it exempts my logistic abilities. But, here`s my dilemma: What makes a war a war?
Firstly: The course for which it is fought, and secondly the number of fatalities that keeps the reasoning at hand, and thirdly an excessive presence of arms and related industries.
The piece of math I couldn`t do would have consisted some of the following set factors: The death toll of American GI`s in the Iraq-war – which today reached 1321, and the death toll of dead Americans killed by guns on domestic American soil, which statistics marks at 30.000 per year (including suicides, lawful protection or accidents)

The unknown factors would be:

An argument for going to war in Iraq was to eradicate the Baath-party, though single-handedly ruled by Sadaam Hussein, non the less constituting a system that over the last two decades has killed in the neighbourhood of 250,000 people, some same up to a million or more…Fair enough. The bully had to go, one way or the other.

Any potential US engagement in any foreign country taking the lives of 30.000 Americans per year would create a national and international rampage. Most definitely such an engagement would be called a war, and would – besides the sorrows and yellow ribbons and a fully erect military industrial complex – be taken seriously, that is: grab the evil by the root, smoke it out of the cave.

But: with 30.000 Americans dead by means of weapons on domestic American soil, 90.000 since 9.11 2001, 600.000 in the same two decades that Hussein rocked the boat in Iraq, do we hear anybody claiming that America is at war with America? Not blaming the system only, but not ruling it out either, the ideal America is imposing is battered beyond beyond.
Its old news, its sad but true, its pure math. I love you but I have to kill you.

December 23, 2004

while I`m busy guiding family through the vicinity and sights of SC an busy collecting facts on a piece of math which is absolutely not my stronghold, but nontheless, an important issue in the ..., and maybe the posting you have been waiting for, namely: when is he gonna write about the american gun-craze? Hold your horses, I`m coming, but while waiting, this little note from a local freebee newspaper:

MALL WALKING: Walk for health, fitness and fun in a safe environment. Ongoing Mon-fri 9-10:30 a.m Capitola Mall.

December 22, 2004


Again, we have a winner. Lennard Grahn takes first but sure win in "ASK THE BRAIN" part 4: The correct answer was Charles Darwin, and not Sai Baba, Buddha, Jason Priestly or Jens August Schade, but funky old evolutionist: Darwin, the guy with the Apes.

And now I`m at it. I`ve been asked: “what`s with the quiz, isn`t that just too plain stupid and oldschool…? I just google the question and get the answer…”

Well, it`s oldschool, but educational, and its true to the all American hearsay: First to come, first served.
But moreover: The quiz is also an acknowledgement of the true competitive spirit of homo sapiens, and an attempt, while in the States, to integrate another all-american fact of life in the general structure of my thinking: When in Rome, act like the Romans.

December 21, 2004

enough talk. Let`s shop!

December 20, 2004

beat and the most interesting accomplishment will be driving to the german butcher Ditmer in Mountainview and pick 5 kilograms of pork for the loving spirit of christmas time, then hit the 101 to San Bruno and San Francisco International Airport just in time to pick up 5 family offsprings.
So if silence hits notes of a second rate poet over the next three weeks it`s due to overconsumption...

But however: We launch part 4 of the Flottenheimer Quiz "ASK THE BRAIN". Here we go. Who said:

It is difficult to believe in the dreadul but quiet war of organic beings going on in the peaceful woods and smiling fields....

the prize this time is a a pack of "I love my Penis" chewing gum, and the "Gaybreath" lipstick that got declined by the winner of "ASK THE BRAIN" part 3. Post your answer as a comment. If you are new to this site and quiz, remember to leave your email adress or snailmail adress.

I`ll be damned,
busy danish writer takes second win in The Flottenheimer Quiz "Ask The Brain".

The answer was correctly John Forsythe who played Blake Carrington in "DYNASTY".

December 19, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 31:

As this is posting number 31 in the on-going I found it necessary to line up the foundation, the wider perspective of my heartfelt hate. I know its late, but is should never be too late. When you hit 30 and more is my piss point, you got to make sense:

The apparent goal of international trade negotiations is to safeguard multinational corporate investments by eliminating regulatory control by nation/states and local governments. They call it: MAI: The Multilateral Agreement on Investment (MAI) and are plans to set in place a vast series of protections for foreign investment. It would threaten national sovereignty by giving corporations – BIG BUSINESS – nearly equal rights to those of nations. MAI delegates from an estimated 30 of the world’s richest nations have been meeting in France for the last decade. A draft of their work surfaced I 1997. More wide reaching than NAFTA or GATT, MAI would thrust the world economy much closer to a transnational laissez-faire system where international corporate capital would hold free reign over the democratic wishes and sociecnomic needs of people, not The People, but people!
Pushed by, in particular the International Chamber of Commerce and US Council on International Business, the major goal of MAI is to safeguard direct foreign investments, defines broadly as encompassing any assets: factories, products, services, currency, stocks, etc., -which may be located in one country but owned by another. US direct foreign investments have more than doubled within the last decade.
Foreign investments often involve enormous risks, mostly in developing countries where the social, political and economic climate is not always as conductive to foreign investments as the corporations would like. Governments have commonly a tax system at hand, tariffs and subsidies favouring the home economy. These provision shrink foreign profit and reduce the dollar amount can haul out of the host country.
The MAI agreement requires a national treatment for all foreign investors. National governments will no longer be able to treat domestic firms more favourably than foreign firms. It will be illegal to implement restrictions on what foreign firms can own. Subsidy programs focused on assisting and developing domestic industries will be eliminated. Host nations will also be liable and can be sued by corporations for lost competitiveness and profits.
Moreover the MAI could also have devastating impact on different nations legal, environmental and cultural sovereignty. It could force nations to relax(!) and nullify human, environmental and labour protection in order to attract investments. Necessary measures such as food subsidies, control of land speculation, agricultural reforms, the implementation of health and environmental standards can be challenged as “illegal” under the MAI. This same illegality is extended to community control of forests, local bans of pesticides and hormineinduced foods, clean air standards, limits on mineral, gas and oil extraction, and bans on toxic dumping.
In general: The MAI will undermine the capacity of local communities and governments to govern sustainly and according to the democratic tradition.

In his book “The five mysteries of Capital” (2000) Hernando de Soto writes as a comment to the MAI negotiations and the parallel riots in Seattle and Washington DC, 1999:
“…many has begun recalling the economic historian Karl Polanyi`s warnings that the free market ultimately can collide with society and lead to fascism (…..) These whispers of alarm, disturbing though they are, have thus far only prompted American and European leaders to repeat to the rest of the world the same wearisome lectures: Stabilize your economy, hang tough, ignore the food riots, and wait patiently for the foreign investors to return.”
In other words: Work harder, run faster, buy more stuff!! The mercy of Big Business or just the Mercy Seat?

This and other postings in the on-going… is inspired by the following:

The Republican Noisemachine: David Brock (2004)
The Five Mysteries of Capital: Hernado de Soto (200)
Lead Us into Temptation: James B. Twitchell (1999)
I Want That: Thomas Hine (2002)
Steeling Innocence: Henry A. Giroux (2000)
RAMPAGE, The social roots of school shootings in America: Katherine S. Newman (2002)
Globalisation: Zygmunt Bauman (2001)
San Francisco Chronicle:
And various website hits. Google this (!): Multilateral Agreement on Investment (670.000 hits)

more to come...


Which American actor played the detective Alvin Dewey, closing the case on the two mindless drifters in the 1967 Richard Brooks movie “In Cold Blood” (based on Truman Capote’s novel), and was later to become world famous for his part as an patriarch in a 1980s state of the art soap-opera?

The prize this time is a pack of “Instant Afro Chewing Gum” and a “Gaybreath” lipstick as a compensation for the Leary-stickers, which was out of stock.

post your answers as comments.

I also learned a new word. Put into a linguistic context - see if you can spot it- a sentece could go:

114 days into my stay here I`m at a nadir in terms of social encounters. Where The Beatles in "Come Together" sang of "hair down to my toes" or was it "between my toes"; well, I`ve got them both, only it`s my tits.

tomorrow: a new quiz and more serious stuff in the on-going...

December 18, 2004

for the inescapable social determinism of christmas and all you parents outthere, this quatation from Consumer Union Education Services: If notning new, then another elaboration, a cum-shot, a facial and an anal:

School is the ideal time to influence attitudes, build long-term loyalties, introduce new products, test markets, promote sampling and trial usage and - above all - to generate immediate sales.

Do I have to say that this posting goes out as part 30 in the on-going soap called WHY THIS second rate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS. But there, I said it, didn`t I?

December 17, 2004

a comment to Lennard, because his log do not have a comment function:
reality? that`s why we have drugs!
As a friend of mine once said: reality is just a crutch for those who can`t cope on drugs.

December 16, 2004

Some scattered attempts to make sense out it all. Firstly, the FLOTTENHEIMER QUIZ “ASK THE BRAIN” part 2, was won by none. The answer to the question was: Michel Crozier. If you are not familiar with him look him up. It’s worth the effort. This weeks prize is thus included in the bundle of joy you can win if you participate in the next round of “ASK THE BRAIN…” Info on that one will be coming shortly.

Secondly: If you an illiterate, klikken sie hier: , and when you have done that and learned to read and write, read the novel “NORDKRAFT” by danish writer Jakob Ejersbo, kick back and await the opening of the movie und klikken sie hier:

Thirdly: Some good news from the world of BIG BUSINESS, which makes this feeble posting number 29 in the on-going soap called WHY THIS second rate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS, which coincide with my buddy Lennard equivalent called “ART IN BUSINESS SPÀCES…”
Thomas Kinked, aka “The painter of light” have scorched American taste over the last decade with his reproductions, is experiencing a setback. Thomas Kinkade Gallery’s have so far, as any mainstream franchise-million dollar business, popped up nationwide.
Oscar Wilde once said that “there is only good art, and there is bad art”, thus in my humble opinion pointing out that taste entirely an individual thing to judge, and therefore I feel absolutely free to say that Thomas Kincaide`s – I wouldn’t even called it art – but e art the most hideous production ever to have surfaced. I am then strongly opposed by the millions of people who have purchased his art. I am strongly opposed by the fact, that outside San Francisco, near Vallejo, a full town is being built in his image. I am strongly opposed by the fact that he during a one-hour appearance on TV-shop sold for more than a million dollars worth
My hate though is strongly fuelled by the fact that he is a born again Christian, a loudmouth supporter of El Presidente: He is in my opinion what you very well could call an art-predator, an art-molester.
Why I mention this: Because the local Thomas Kinkade Galley in Santa Cruz is closing down, the demand is diminishing. That`s the good news

don`t explain, aber klikken sie hier:

December 15, 2004

the very day the bodycount of dead American GI´s reached 1301, George Tenet, the longtime director of central intelligence, who built the case for going to war is awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, this nations highest civilian honor, as did General Tommy Franks, the overall commander of the invasion of Iraq, and Paul Brenner, the chief civilian administrator of the US occupation of the country.

As vulgar as it seems to honor someone for something, that is perceived El Presidentes strongest doing - to honor the success of a war, whose outcome is still a question, is as easy it would be, if I stated that the 1301 dead Americans would post as 1301 good reasons WHY THIS second rate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS, which would have taken the number of postings through the roof to a staggering part 1328.
But honoring the dead GI`s I`ll leave this posting as counting for one, thus taking the actually number of postings to part 28 in the never ending story

is he dead and forgotten?:


I was working on a list of books I`ve used writing these postings, when I fell upon this quote which I for a day or more will leave on the blog in danish, untill the translation (and the list) is done to uphold my ambivalent ambition of getting through to an international market: And for those of you who didnt get a chance of answering yesterdays competition, won by Jakob Ejersbo, take a wild guess on who said this:

I ethvert struktureret og organiseret kollektiv tilhører førerpositionen de enheder, som slører deres egen situation og gør deres transaktioner uigennemskuelige for udenforstående – samtidig med at de holder hinanden informerede – ingen blinde pletter og ingen overraskelser. Strategien for enhver eksisterende eller kommende sektor i hele den moderne verdens bureaukratier består altid og konsekvent i bestræbelsen på at frigøre egne hænder og pression for at indføre strenge og nøjeregnende regler for alle andres opførsel inden for organisationen. Størst indflydelse får den sektor, som formår at gøre sin egen adfærd til den ubekendte i de ligninger, som andre sektorer opstiller for at foretage deres valg – mens den med held holder de andre sektorers adfærd konstant, regulær, og forudsigelig. Med andre ord, de enheder der formår at holde andre enheder i usikkerhed, udøver den største magt. Håndteringen af usikkerhed er essensen og den væsentligste faktor i kampen for magt og indflydelse.

The prize this time is a sticker with Timothy Leary`s famous words: Tune in, turn on, drop out. Post your answer as a comment to this posting.

December 14, 2004

Some second rate notes on incidents that relate to an earlier posting (november 24th, part 12) in the on-going soap called WHY THIS second rate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS, this one being part 27:

Around Thanksgiving I was poor, and as I posted it then, that is a very good reason not to be head over heels in love with Big Business. I was poor and poverty is embarrassing and paralyzing. I was poor and I was out of cigarettes. Two things that is not a sociological surprise in The States; being poor and a passionate smoker, but nonetheless: I needed my smokes, and I’ll be damned not to get them.
I had about 3 dollar and 75 cents in coins, that’s about 140 coins because I was down to counting one-cent and five-cent pieces, and 2 dollar 16 cent, sitting on my debit-card. I took the car down to the local Seven Eleven Foodstore(!), on the mercy of big business reluctant to shop there, but that was as far as the car would take me, running really low on fuel. When you are poor, it’s hard to uphold your principles.
Once in the shop not wanting to disclose my poverty to the afro-American woman at the register, I asked for a pack of American Spirit Lights, and ran my card through the slit.
And no surprise to me: the display says: “Declined”.
“Let me just try again” I told her, and I did, and it did. The card was declined again. “I don’t understand. I’m awaiting a transfer from Europe, and it should have gone through…like…days ago” I lie in total self-denial. I’m ordering the transfer tomorrow, and only threw in the Europe fact to deroute the focus of my situation.
“You know what, let me just run to the ATM-machine on the other side of the street to see if it looks different.”
I actually did it, and I almost believed that it would look different, but I knew very well that it didn’t, I was in other word HOPING that it did, knowing that it WOULDN`T and it didn’t. No tengo dinero!
The three dollars and seventy-five cents I meticulously had counted before leaving and left in the car in a plastic bag, were just waiting to picked up and spend. And so it goes: I picked up the coins in the car, which I wouldn’t even call money, and went back into the shop.
“Well, the money hadn’t come, but if you would be very patient with me, I’ve got my parkometer coins here, and I think if I count them, it’ll pay a pack of smokes..”
“No problem” said the clerk, and I emptied the bag on the counter, just as about a group of people entered the shop, and lined up behind me. I had counted as long as 2 dollar 80 cents, and piled the coins up, when the sweat started to drip. I looked at the price tags under different pack of smokes and saw the cheapest, a pack of Gold Coast: 2,79.
“Allright, give me a pack of those” I said and pointed to the Gold Coasts.
“Which?” says the clerk, and brings out a pack of Chesterfield, 3,89 dollars, from the rack next to the Gold Coasts.
“No, no, the ones left…”
“Oh, the cheep ones…-of course…sorry” she says.
“No problem” I reply, as I get the pack and scrape the rest of the coins into the bag. I leave the shop stumbling, pushes the door instead of pulling, though it says PULL on a big sticker. Once outside I rip the pack open, not having smoked for hours. The smoke is good, but loose, and disappears in 6 drags. A one-minute fag to ease the long pain of being poor.

A week later when the money had finally come through I went back to the same shop to buy more smokes and in that sense expecting to prove my credibility to the same clerk: I`m not poor. It was a freak situation. But she wasn`t working.
Instead it was this incredibly fat, toothless woman, who almost took my craving for a glassy donut and a cup of coffee away. On the counter lay a laminated pricelist stating the many prices of different donuts, which I by accident push of the counter with my coffeecup. The woman then picks it up places it on the counter again and with a smile saying.
“Oh you guys! All you wanna do is to see me bend over….”

I havn`t shopped there since.

We have a winner! Congratulations. The right answer was Karl Marx.
A postcard is on its way.

December 13, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 26:

Back from a lazy, unproductive, drunk and shitfaced weekend, we at Flottenheimer are back, and dare you - whoever - with a little competetion to sparkle up a good start on your week. Who said the following on the ways of development?.

"The bourgeoisie, by rapid improvement of all instruments of production, by the immensely facilitated means of communication, draws all, even the most barbarian nations into civilazation. The cheap prices of its commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters down all Chinese walls...It compels all nations, on pain of extinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of production; it compels them to introduce what it calls civilization into their midst, to become bourgeois themselves. In one word, it creates a world after its own image."

You answers can be posted as comments and the winner will be rewarded with a postcard from America!

December 12, 2004

Paper, gunpowder, rice and now this.... Though in the past China holds the future.

I was running through the paper to find out which movie I should go see today, instead of wanking off in front of the computer. Weekends are quality-time, ¨meaning family and soloactivities. Though I hate the concept per se, it is an unescaple part of the post nuclear family thing. Well, I wanted to go se Christian Bale in "The Machinist" - I liked his performance in "American Psycho", - but it hadn`t opened yet in any of the local cinemas. Then I noticed something odd. Going through the reviews, I saw that every one ended with a little advisory about the language and other issues in the films, among them ofcourse sex.
About OCEANS TWELVE the advisory goes: This film contains sexual situations and adult language.
About BEAR CLUB: This film contains sexual situations.
About SHORTCUT TO NIRVANA: This films contains nudity.
About: WWD (Weapons of mass destruction): There are graphic images of wounded childen.

I didn´t go. I liked to be surprised by sex and dirty language. I don`t want to be FUCKING warned. But I would like to know why so many FUCKING issues in the country is about religion, sex and race?
It is, by far, one of the most surpressed sexual cultures. It`s really strange as the sex-drive here, the pursuit for perfection is so strong. But maybe that`s it. Sex is too natural, body make-overs, plasticsurgery aren`t. Religion, well as I concluded, has sold it`s soul to Big Business. Race: I don`t know. On that one I will not yet burn my bridges so I leave it there, unattended...oop does that ring a bell? Oh FUCK YES!

So now, tonight I stay at home: Anybody outthere wants to FUCK a pale european with a heart and soul not as white as it looks, a total lack of faith, and a dirty tongue with which he can tie a knot on a cherry-top?

December 10, 2004

A few years back the Santa Cruz City Council had an ambition to clean the streets, parks, parking lots and of homeless, drunks, punks, freaks and what not. Over the years Santa Cruz have become a safe haven for such, due to the fact the City one of the few places in the states having something that resembles a social consciousness, a definite remnant of the 60ties. The campaign failed, and was met by a protest campaign called “Keep Santa Cruz weird”. And it was kept weird. Here are some of the day to day types you bump into asking for a bit of your time and money:

The militant Pan-flute-player, the ultimate juxtaposition:
All dressed up in camouflage-gear he plays an aggressive speed-pan flute with leg-coreographi as Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull. He doesn’t get my money, and I didn`t get his picture. But heres someone who looks almost like him, the pose that is - not the outfit.

“The umbrella man” or the “Slow walker”; aint no sunshine when he’s gone, I want some of his LSD! He must be the friendliest man on earth. Twice a day he walks up and down Pacific Road, the mainstreet of this here city, in a never-seen-before persistent slowpace - step by step. He`s up against the highspeed world he says, and he is being noticed: At Halloween, noless than 15 people in the streetparade had dressed up like him. 5 dollars.

the 6 pack halfnude toothless viet-vet: just plain fucked up and intimidating. Gave him 50 cents in a thrift store if that can keep his pants up, and thats where the fun stops there: no picture pleaaaaaaase. You don`t wanna see it..

The Cadillac Blonde:

She is all tits, we are talking D-sized-no-implants breed-on-fat, but the tattoo saying “Cadillac” across them, visible because she wears lowcut sweaters or open shirts. 20 years old, she dosnt get my money. It`s not too late for a mc-job, because tattoos are the norm more than not, so that’s not an excuse. Sorry no photo. Wasn`t up for the beating.

The Ghost of Cobain: Fashion! Turn to the right! 1 dollar for the snapshot.

The Mexican Fiddler: a dollar for even trying.

And that’s just scratching the surface….

December 09, 2004

One more go on religion and I will kick back and relax as recommended - in an attempt to enjoy the ambience of the true christmas spirit, in this city of Santa Cruz, which for the last three years have won the national race for being the most lit-up-city-by-outdoor-christmas-decorations. Seeing is believing.

Why is religion currently to be identified with economy?
There are 3 significant features.
1: With the free market religion has changed and is now anchored in three specific capitalist characteristics: competition between religion and churches, commodification and choice. This makes it a part of market economy.
2: Religious ethics makes people choose economics, that is, religion determines economic decisions.
3: The sacredness of religion is applied to the understanding of economy.

And this concludes part 25 of WHY THIS second rate poet DOESN`T LOVE BIG BUSINESS.

I`d rather be the devil than creeping to the cross...

WHY THIS second rate poet DOESN`T LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 24:

The on-going soap was fuelled by this short announcement in San Jose Mecury News today:

Fremont police will shop today with 20 children, who will be given a 100 dollars to buy gifts for themselvess and their families at a Target store.
The first annual Shop with a Cop event is sponsored by the Police Officers Association, the Mission San Jose Rotary and Target.
The children, ranging in age from 8 to 13 will be chauffeured to the store in police cars. Present will be gift-wrapped. Everyone will be served lunch courtesy of McDonald`s. Police dogs, motorcycle officers and a visit from Santa Claus are a few of the other attractions for the children.

conflation? it goes without saying.

December 08, 2004

It was with great pleasure I read todays posting at "Don´t ask me I just work here". Thank you Lennard for the comment if it was headed it this direction, and: that`s what I`ve been getting at: The selling of Christianity.
It is not so much the individual doing the christian thing, as it is christianity putting itself up for sale as any commodity. Result: Religion fills the same void as shopping, hence the 64 congregations, the 326 phonenumers I mentioned some days back, and what not.

The road home goes through the church or the Mall to the sizzling BBQ. Either way, the sudden smell of burning flesh...

December 07, 2004

the mindset of a religious shop-a-holic:

you have questions about politics
you have question about your eligibility
you need to report vandalism
you are having an ongoing problem with your neighbour
you want to go to the playing field but you are too old
you want an apartment waitlist application
you are having problems meeting society`s requirements
you are not sure of community resources
you need to talk to someone who understands
you lose your keys
you need a rental payment plan
you need to see The Manager
you want a pet
you are having a pest control problem
you want to make a change
you need your fire extinguisher replaced
you need to report laundry room flaws
you notice suspicious persons
you are locked out of your apartment
you have an emergency

due to constructionwork todays posting is prosponed till tomorrow. in the meantime, check the similarities between these two words: vejarbejde : wirebiter

December 06, 2004

New Boots and Panties.

Hello all, a small message from the administrator (Lennard) about some new stuff here at the blog:

1) - Nope, there was nothing wrong with the mushrooms you bought from that Estonian guy, the title of this blog HAS changed to : Notes of s second rate poet.

2) - "You talking to me?!?"
have something to say about what's written here on the blog?
well, why don't you just use the brand new "comments" link right there under each posting, and don't forget to leave your e-mail so we can direct tons of spam and hate-mail to your mailbox
(tip: leave your work e-mail and let your employer pay for the anti-virus software and spam filters)

December 05, 2004

I forgot that I, among at least 1000 people and a 1000 reasons, pointed out the conflation between state and church, was in fact a fact, the conflation between state and big business is in fact a fact called liberal democracy, therefore on this lazy sunday the last three posting are hereby announced to be parts 20 - 23 in the on-going soap called: WHY THIS secondrate poet DOES`T LOVE BIG BUSINESS.

let your pencil do the talking, baby! klikken sie hier

I guess what I getting at is really this: Fuck Hope! It`s so in the future. It`s so numb, paralyzing. It so out of your hands, it is stigmatizing. It`s wanting it but not actually expecting it to happen or doing anything to make it happen. It`s the pillow of religion, the prayers, the destiny, the determination, the guilttrips. Could that be what caused such a segmentation I mentioned earlier today. If your hopes doesn`t cash in at one God, or Church you go find another? And another? The more churches the less room for other beliefs with in a beilef? I think so, so fuck it. I do not underestimate the results and help that individuals through the cause of time have gained from believing or hoping or praying, I`m accusing religion of being an impossible task, I`m saying unity is a fucking illusion, I`m saying it`s all about food. Eating is the root of religion nd democracy, and you got to keep your congregation full to keep them hoping and praying - and that sucks.

December 04, 2004

I’d been working up a serious pain in my back, maybe due to the fact that I stated in an earlier posting, that I have become a net junkie. Or maybe because I seriously, or just plain pathetic, strained my ankle in a tennis-workout about two months ago, and it never really healed, which a chiropractor told me was the most likely reason, trying to convince me from her stand at “alternative day” at campus. She did, she convinced me. I got her card which I later lost, why I a couple of days ago was going through the yellow pages in the local phonebook to see if I could somehow recognize her name. I couldn’t, and I soon forgot about my business, as from the chiropractor-section, naturally and in alphabetical order, my eyes slipped into the church section.
5 pages in the phonebook covering Santa Cruz County, which means: Aptos, Ben Lomond, Boulder Creek, Capitola, Felton, Scotts Valley and Watsonville. 5 pages, from pages 214 – 219. 326 phone numbers to different churches divided between no less than 64 different congregations to cover the needs for a population off approximately 175000 people:

Advent Christian, Anglican, Apolistic, Assemblies of God, Assemblies of God (cont`d), Assemblies of God (Independent), Ba-ha`i, Baptist, Baptist (cont`d), Baptist American, Baptist Conservative, Baptist Independent Fundamental, Baptist Missionary, Baptist Southern, Bible, Bible (cont`d), Buddhist, Calvary Chapel, Calvary Chapel (cont`d), Catholic Roman, Catholic Roman (cont`d), Charismatic, Charismatic (cont`d), Christian, Christian (cont`d), Christian Evangelistic, Christian & Missionary Alliance, Christian Science, Christian Science (cont`d),Church of Christ, Church of God, Church of God In Christ, Church of God In Christ (cont`d), Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Community, Community of Christ, Congretional, Covenant Community, Episcopal, Episcopal (cont`d), Evangelical, Evangelical & Reformed, Free Methodist, Greek Orthodox, Interdenominational, Jehovas Witnesses, Lutheran, Non Denominational, Eastern Orthodox, Pagan, Pentecostal, Pentecostal Church of God, Pentecostal United, Presbyterian Korean, Presbyterian American, Presbyterian American (cont`d), Religious Science Church, Rescue Mission, Salvation Army, Scientology, Seventh-Day Adventist, Unitarian Universalist, United Church of Christ, Unites Methodist, Unity.

I’m trying to emphasize the segmentation of, not as much religion as Christianity, which leaves me with serious doubts if this outspoken plurality on longer terms will survive the core of the written word and the common interpretation of: love, forgiveness and understanding.
Sure, it’s a lot of people hoping and praying for it, and if you add it up to a national scale, it’s even more congregations and more people. But it is also, and more than anything else it is a frightening amount of people not being able to agree on anything, even though they are on the same surf. And surfer lingo here in surf city goes: first man on the wave has the right of way!
The consequence ultimately could be devasting, parallel to the accomplishment of the stated purpose, with which I mean the on-going global war on terror. Success is a random factor fraternizing the religious ghost.

I said I would issue a go at religion. Well, I have been working on it, but it`ll take more than a wink of the eye. In the meantime I watched the whatever news at a friends house last night. News on US troops coming and going in the Phillippines. The Pihillipines? Oh yea right? I forgot about that, I guess a lot did, with focus on another front. But the news wasn`t so much about the troops per se as it was about sex. The booming phillipinian sex-industry however kept very much alive by loving american GI`s, among these one GI filmed outside a base wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a philippine woman and a text saying:
Little Brown Fuckingmachine Powered By Rice.

Now thats culture, that defense, thats compassionate foreignpolicy, thats as anti-terror as it gets!

December 02, 2004

I`m just too messed up and tired to do any serious posting. Been up all night finishing my 2nd last exam ever(!) with all it takes of computer fuck-ups, doubts yellow and ugly, loneliness, longing, secondthoughts, dreams, smokes, beers, coffee, food, music that couldnt match the moment, boredom: I wanna go to Lennards opening and flash my tits and rub my nipples, but I remain....just remain here. Stone.
Maybe I`ll go hug a tree. They do that here you know. They hug trees. They hug trees and put stickers on theirs cars saying: I`m a tree-hugger. They give birth to their babies at home and put stickers on their cars saying: my child was born at home. They put their kids in school and they put stickers on their cars saying: My child shines at Westlake High. They go to church more than ever and put stickers on their cars saying: God put my Son in Iraq. They endorse the right to own a gun and put stickers on the cars saying: When guns get outlawed only outlaws will have guns. This is - if nothing else - car country, it is that.

Tomorrow, I´ll ditch religion.

December 01, 2004

December. For the sake of my own sanity, and the little word "peace" I`ve however come to doubt - who is this world can truly be a pacifist - but nontheless, I wont be posting any hatefull outcries at Big Business today. I think I`ve made a point, which on the other hand doesn`t mean it stops here.

November 30, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DOESN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 19:

I have in earlier posting tried to conclude the connection or alignment of the concepts big business and politics, as to which I even think my effort has been groundless. I mean: Who can doubt it? I admit it, I`m feeding on hate, the kiss of death - an underestimated feeling.
I`ve also stated that religion, the religious right, played a major part in securing the Republicans and George Bush a second go at messing up El Mundo, and on this background I no longer see the seperation between state, religion and business which I find is absolutely neccesary to nurse the remaining terms of the oh-so celebrated democracy.
So thats that, but as I`m new to America, it never ceases to surprise. Todays headline in the San Francisco Chronicle goes:
More and more schools are to mandate the teaching of "intelligent design" putting it on the front line of growing national debate over the role of religion in public life.
The impetus by consevative evangelical Christians of bringing religion back into public schools are massive. Emboldened by their contribution to Bush`s re-election, conservative religious activists are using "intelligent design/creationism" of attacking evolution without mentioning God.
The results are frigthening: In Texas, the nations second biggest school textbook market, The State Board of Education approved health textbooks that defined abstinence (not getting any), as the only form of contraception and changed the description of marriage between "two people" to a "lifelong union between a husband and a wife".

Well, thats evolution for you, I rest in tears....check out this new religious craze und klikken sie hier:

WHY THIS secondrate poet DOSN´T LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 18:

Corporations are racing to stake their claim on the consumer group formerly known as children, and what was once a previeww of a few entertainment and toy companies has now escsalated into a gargantuan multitentacled enterprise with a combined marketing budget estimated at 15 billion dollars annually (2004: US figures) about 2,5 times more than was spent i 1992. Children are the darlings of Corporate America: a new kind of paedophila.

November 29, 2004

I just came home from the movies, where I as my friend Lennard on the other side of this blog at Don`t ask me I just work here, enjoyed THE INCREDIBLES: but however what annoyed me the most was the tune they played over and over again before the commercials and the movie called: All I want is A soldier to Come home for Christmas.

Here we go - the spin off industry at full throtlle and the 17th posting of this secondrate poet on why he DOESN`T LOVE BIG BUSINESS.

November 28, 2004

Today I rest mý case with an apology for my poor english grammar. I recieved a mail from a friend in Denmark which said that the headline:
should correctly be called:
I stand corrected.
And he wondered why the term secondrate poet is written with font size 6. Well I think it looks good and emphasises the frase secondrate. So it stays.
But it also should be considered as a frase to point out the fact that this secondrate poet is in fact secondrate: theres is more hat than cattle so to speak. And before even trying to be anything remotely resembling a poet, I hope im so much more.

As opposed to the pictures I stumled across on this webpage (sorry Knuddi), but whats the deal? A paradise of poets? What do I have to do to get there? Wrap my self in C4 explosives and drive into this this fucker?
Get real.
I don`t remember who said this: "What an artist owes the world is his work, not his way of living" but it kind of sums it up dosen`t it?

November 27, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 16:

Between 1990 and 2000 the global trade in oil increased by 9,5 billion barrels. Half of that was accounted for by the rise in US imports. America is consuming more because it is growing more - but also because over the last decades, it has become much less efficient in its use of gasoline, being the only major industrial country to slide backward. The reason is simple: three letters: SUV.
In 1990 sport utiliy vehicles made up 5 percent of America`s cars. Today they make up 55 percent. They violate all energy efficiency standards because of an absurd loophole in the law that allows them to be classified as trucks. Blaiming the Arabs these days are easy, controlling our own wastefullness is a different ballgame, though it should be clear to everyone as to which one would make the difference.
Consider the irony: One of the Bush administrations reasons for going to war in Iraq was to reduce the dependence on Saudi oil. A reasonable idea. But having fucked up the invasion, with Iraqi oil more insecure now than before the war, America is more depend on Saudi oil than ever before!
And imagine: If theres trouble anywhere the shock and rize in oilprizes (oilprizes are today at the highest level ever) will be devastating and outshadow the burp in 1973, think of the possible instability in countries like: Venuzuela, Nigeria, Indonesia, Libya....
Last year the market could absorb the loss of iraqi oil, this year and next year it cant. IRAQ HAS TO STAY ONLINE!
And there you have it: If you in DK/Europe stated that the war is all about oil, and nothing else, chances were you would be called a "paranoid conspiracist", others would just hush the discussion and wave the flag, the terrorthreat and so forth. Here, in the US: Oil is not a topic. Its the Topic, its the reason to go war, and a damned good one too: Of course its about oil. We need the oil, we go get the oil.

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 15:

One of the cheasiest campaignslogans I encountered promoting president Bushs during the rally for the White House stated as follows: GIVE GOD WHAT´S RIGHT NOT WHATS LEFT
thus claiming a patent for God as a rightwing enthusiast fraternising at His will Corperate America.

November 26, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 14:

Three letters folks: SUV.
I`ll get back on that one, but don`t blame the Arabs for the mess.

November 25, 2004

So the very day I ditched Salina Valleys for its slave like laboring conditions it gets hit by an 4.4 EQ - earthquake - more excact: November 23 at 18:08:13. An EQ powerful enough to shake and destroy the ramshackle housing and trailer parks of the abovementioned working-force, thus mirroring the saddening and depressing fact that EQ`s by far has a more devastating impact in rural and developing areas and countries than EQ`s have in developed countries.
The Bam 6.6 EQ 26.12 2003 in Iran killed an estimated 32000 people, where as the 7.1 17.10 1989 Loma Prieta EQ in the heavily populated Bay Area near Santa Cruz and San Francisco, California only took out 62 lives, which again – if seen as a mere consequence of economic globalization, demographic issues and the reluctance to share basic breadwinning ideas – gives this second-rate poet another reason not to love big business, which again would be part 13.
All in all facts that lead me to the psychotic wonderland: Am I a Jinks? Did I jinks The Salinas Valley EQ?
Question nr. 1 has been racing through my head like a truck since the summer of 1976 when I attended the opening of the alleged Hærvejsmarchen in my hometown Viborg, Denmark.
I never attended the actual march which I always found stupid: most people actually walking the 90 kilometers was soldiers, scouts, dogclubs, germans and dutch, a few local and so forth. And this particular summer was the time I almost gave up playing soccer and got busy smoking. The soccer I dropped the following year, not the smokes so walking was never an issue.

The reason I was there was my dad. He was the a reporter at the local newspaper which granted me access to numerous events like this one, but also I had my fair share of liberal upbringing, and I think I was the only 12 year boy in the crowd attending, who also at a regular basic attended theater, art-shows and other cultural highlights. Although I found these only remotely interesting, it was nothing compared to when he also covered police related material, and we went out to fires, carcrashes, robbery-scenes and such. As I remember those, they always happened at night and as my mother worked nights, he had no choice but to drag me along, giving me a flavour for the nightbreed.
Bu there was I: the opening of the Hærvejsmarch, alone among 8000 spectators. My dad had dosed of to hang with some buddies from work – I didn’t mind – because what I really had great expectations for at this opening was the parasuiters

“Now look to the sky” the stadium speaker announced, as the brass-band stopped playing the out-of-tune marches as an emphasis of the hole concept and I cramped my way from the crowd at the hotdog vendor and found a free spot at the south tribune.
“6 brave daredevils will try to hit the circle at the center of the field, the hole thing sponsored by…” – names I don’t remember but one: The Sodastream.
With smokebombs attached to their legs the jumpers finally left the plane coloring the sky in blue, pink, orange, red, blue, green trying to draw a pattern but didn’t succeed although I found the random pattern similar to some of the artworks dad had presented to me.
One after one the jumpers landed to the cheers of the crowd, and for each one down I breathed easier, surprised how these jumps could spark my explicit vertigo-phobia so fierce.
With 5 jumpers out of the plane and on the ground everybody was waiting for the grande finale. Again the stadium speaker tried to catch the spectator’s attention but the minute he began to speak we all looked to the sky, and the speaker continuously rapped of different sponsors of this here event. The hotdog and the weird coke-taste of the Sodastream mixture were at unrest. The 70ties were at unrest between all and nothing.
Like Superman in the first flix with Christopher Reeve personalizing the Man of Steel saving and restoring order in and around the White House World securing that Stars and Stripes remained spotless throughout the movie, this last jumper carried The Dannebrog – our dynamite national flag, looking like a mix of an oversized boy scout impersonating the myth about how Dannebrog during a battle somewhere in Baltikum 1205 fell from the sky.
As the anthem burst from the lousy stadium speakers it very quickly became clear that the jumper was in serious trouble. He hurled to the ground, jumping from low altitude his suit should have opened crucial seconds ago. Everyone could see it. Everyone could see him twist and turn trying to get the flagpole loose of his whatever strings in his suit that could keep him alive. The stadium speaker overacting his part started commenting on the mishap in an upbeat fresh commenting style, but he was beat by a feedback he couldn’t control; then scattered screams among the audience bursted as the jumper succeeded getting free off the flag which then plummeted into some nearby trees but his parasuit though did not unfold and the jumper accelerated to the ground and the inevitably mortal impact.
Then he disappeared behind some highrise buildings. Silence. Silence then became murmur and murmur became a roar as thousands of spectators rushed to the nearest exit and ran into the streets. And I ran too.
The hunger, the panic, the stroke was complete: Traffic jammed as mobs crisscrossed the roads, jaywalking, ran through gardens, jumped fences to look for the body. Then the sirens, the police, the fire trucks, the ambulances with loud horns, people shouting, explaining, exaggerating to numb bystanders, then the dogs barking if they know whats going on but never do, the commotion.
A car honked aggressively behind me, and somebody called out my name.
“Have you seen stuff? Where is he, do you know?” It was one the photographers from dads newspaper, he apparently recognized me. Without thinking really I jumped into his car and said: “Go. I know he is over here. Go – go”. He set off without questioning me and we drove easily from the now scattered crowd and around to the direction I knew saw the jumper disappear. We hit the street just as a police car blocked the road, but let us through. “I`ll be damned” said the photographer and looked at me spooked: I was right. He was here. A little crowd and an ambulance in front of a house told it off.
“I`ll be damned” said the photographer again, “how did you know?” He stopped in front of the house and pushed me on my way.
“Shoot you little jinks. No more today”, and like the sniffing dog I felt, down the road I pissed my pants.

November 24, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 12:

Because I am poor.

The beautiful electric drum is wired for your pleasure

November 23, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 11

US agricultural business now produces about 3800 calories of food a day for every American - about 500 more calories than it produced 30 years ago - and at least a 1000 calories more than most of us need to consume daily. And how did big business deal with the probem of oversupply?
By persuading us to eat more and culture letting it become culture.

Driving home from a shitfaced weekend in LA (2), a friend and I took Highway 5, which cuts through the belly and the foodchamber of California. 350 miles of cottonfields, orangegroves, cornfields, oil-fields, resovoirs, ranches, and what not - all in which help to constitute the Californian economy as the 5th largest economy in the world.
The drive also took us through Salinas Valley, the birthplace and roam for the american novelist John Steinbeck, whose novels as "Grapes Of Wrath", "Of Mice and Men", "Cannery Row" has a central theme which deals with "down and out" characters struggling to survive the aftermath of The Great Depression, among those a lot of mexicans.
Today mexicans still are the working backbone of Californian agriculture, securing 1/3 of the californian economy, on terms that havn`t changed much since the 1930ties, thus The grinding of two cultures becomes The convinience of the Fatland.

lidt bio - klikken sie hier

November 22, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 10

At the pharmacist yesterday: The bigger the pain the broader her smile.

as America reverts to the Dark Age, some tunes to fit the tapestry.

"...kom skal du se min tapetsamling jeg lover dig ingen skandaler men jeg kan fortælle dig hvad klokken er når vi hænger halvt udover klippekanten og ser tilbage på tiden fra før vi flyttede os..."

klikken sie hier (goto: i love little pussy)

November 21, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 9:

in the absence of tv and the social network of home, the bilingual tiresome everyday routines, this secondrate poet admit to have become an internet junkie thus his outlook is at the mercy of big business: Eat! Do not think!

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 8:

Many culinary and cultural traditions, especially including the Euro-American and Chinese, esteem the flesh and fat of pigs. A state of total community between man and pig, while the presence of pigs threatens the human status of muslims and jews, in the amibience of pig-love at The FoodPark one cannot truly be human except in the company of pigs.

smell the bacon und klikken sie hier:

November 19, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 7:

Maybe it would be a lot easier to avoid the aggresive pessism that endulges and feeds this secondrate poet and just fall head over heal in love with Capitalism. Imagine the ease of waking up every morning in America with your heart and lungs full of praise, shouting from my patio to the rising sun over Monterey Bay "Thank God for Capitalism! I will Run Faster, I will Work Harder, I Will BuyAnd I Will Consume More Stuff" and then go about with your big business with boyish charm and a winning smile. Imigaine to believe that the enormous benefits America has gained from economical an technological progress over the years are just The Beginning, The Wakening of a Kingdom: and that progress could be dwarfed by the even greater possibilities that new technology and global economy can offer The American and to most of the world in the 21st century.

gik det pludselig op for mig, at jeg har mødt en længe savnet ven. af flere hundrdetusinde hits var det tætteste jeg kunne komme på noget officelt.

klikken sie hier

November 18, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 6.

Leaving a shitfaced weekend in LA, I brought the local freebie papers along for the ride home. Out of the 183 pages in this weeks LA Weekly, I counted approximatly 60 pages of adds for bodywork-over.
One plastic-surgeon states in the book "Branded - The buying and selling of teenagers" by Alissa Quart, that their teenage clientel has increased significantly in recent years. He routinely sees two generations of breast implants, and three generations is not at all uncommon.
In the year 2000, 3,2 million americans had plastic surgery. The individual most fit the organisation. Remember Ray Kroc?
There are 4,1 million native americans living in reservations and scattered around the states.

The new St. Valentines Day craze was a breastimplants for your loved ones. A manager of one specific company, after a succesfull year in big business, gave his secretary, his wife and his mistress a present including a breastimplant.

klikken sie hier (you wont see any tits though)

Its not that I dont like tits...

to nyheder som knytter sig til

Those who see the White House in Arnold Schwarzeneggers future have taken to the airwaves and the internet to generate support for a constitutional amendment to make it possible. A multimedia campaign looking to clear the way for the Republican guvenor to run for president is drawing surprising support from people across the States. A web-side backing the constitutional amendment that would let the austrian-born Schwarzenegger compete for the nations top job has recieved tens og thounsands of e-mails since a 30 second TV spot touting the idea began running monday, said Lissa Morgenthaler-Jones, the woman who has put together the effort.
"They`re coming in from freaking everywhere" she says, we`ve had 4 millions hits on the web-site the last three days."

klikken sie hier:

dagens bodycount: 1214.

vil jeg lige skrive hvad jeg glemte igår, som hører beskrivelsen til fra...igår.

Centralt i Santa Cruz, på Front Street ligger et gammel hus i spansk kolonialist-stil, hvidmalet, teglsstentag, balkoner, et tårn i det ene hjørne af huset der tjener som Veterans Hall. Et halvoffentligt kontor for veteraner fra den sidste Golf-krig og så fra den der Vietnam-krig. Veterans Hallen ligger ligger lige ved siden af vores bank - så jeg kommer tit forbi, har givet en del dollars og cents men især masser af cigaretter til de veteraner som siver ud og ind af stedet, og som indtil fornylig sad foran hall`en på et par bænke og slappede af, hyggede sig, var meget beskridte og hjemløse-agtige, meget krigs-veteran-agtige, men også rolige og ikke intimiderende, tiggere.
En dag mens valgkampen rasede, havde jeg været i banken, og da jeg kom ud kunne jeg se at var en hel del uro ovre ved hall`en. Jeg gik derover for at følge med på afstand. Nogen havde i løbet af natten fjernet de to bænke de plejede at sidde på. En medarbejder fra hall`en stod og trak på skuldrene og prøvede at berolige de af veteranerne der var dukket op. De var ikke desperate, de var bare lange i ansigterne.
Uroen lagde sig hurtig og jeg sneg forbi med en cigaret strategisk tændt. Jeg ville høre hvad der var sket.
"Argh. Its nothing" sagde en af veteranerne, pegede på min cigaret og fik en, "they just took away the benches...If they think thats gonna stop us from sitting down...i dont know, i guess its more like: Get the old veterans of the streets, the new ones are coming home..."

November 17, 2004

er det godt tre måneder siden vi kom til USA, en måned før præsidentvalget. I de dage havde det amerikanske bodycount i forbindelse med krigen i Irak lige rundet 1000, og var et varmt emne i valgkampen og blandt folk på gaderne. Der stod mennesker ved indfaldvejene til byen med store papskilte hvor der stod "1000 and counting...", mennesker med billeder at deres dræbte sønner og døtre, mænd i jakkesæt midt på en motorvej med skilte som "Bring them home", "Oil is Death" etc.
Men de mennesker forsvandt fra gadebilledet, som valget nærmede sig, og tallene forsvandt fra debatten, som meningsmålingerne viste et mere og mere dead race, måtte demokraterne nedskalere aggresiviteten i debatten, mens republikanerne halede i land på moralsk blegede budskaber. Og moralen vandt. Det er konklusionen på valget. De moralske værdier, som knytter sig til Bush-ologien vandt. Det kristne. Det genfødte kristne. Den kristusfigur som bider sig fat i knæskallerne og ikke vil slippe. Den kristus der brækker begge dine arme, og bagefter spørger om han skal give en hånd med i genoptræningen. Den omvendte Lazarus.

Idag er debatten, efterrationalisringene på valget nærmest ikke-eksisterende, i hvertfald i de trykte medier. Jeg har opgivet at se TV. Det er umuligt. Man får ingen rene oplysninger, man får konstant flere, og i længden opløser det substansen, så de kan sige hvad som helst, fordi ingenting betyder noget. TV-mediet er en lukket virkelighed.
Med idag lyder bodycounten på 1198. 1198 døde amerikanske soldater, og lad os bare sige 1200 for inden dagen er ovre er mindst 2 blevet dræbt.
Ingen aviser nævner noget om civile ofre. De diskuterer muligheden for at antallet af døde irakere meget vel kan ligge mellem 13000 og 100.000. Men de er nævnt nøgtern, uden navne og yellow ribbons, et rødt tal på bundlinjen, balancen i regnskabet i krigen mellem de gode terrorister og de onde terrorister.
Men: 200 døde amerikanerne på under 2 måneder. Det begynder at ligne en krig ikke. Det begynder at ligne et sundt militært industrikompleks. Det ligner mindst 11 Hollywood-produktioner om kringen inden for de næste 5 år.
Det begynder at ligne historien der skriver sig selv igen og igen. Krig er ikke fra krig til krig, krig er konstant.

November 16, 2004

mens vi venter på at de ondskabsfulde kapitalister, det fri markeds Førere, må lide en skæbne værre end den de efterlader os uskyldige ofre i, kan jeg anbefale at bruge ventetiden på følgende film:

klikken sie hier

bliver til igår. Fuglen er fløjet. Sådan er det blevet nu. Du har ikke helt forladt landet før den sidste sms er sendt, telefonen slukket, en omfavnelse og nogle forståeslseproblemer, kaffe, en åben dør: transit. Det er på sin vis altid rart at følge nogen til lufthavnen, men for det meste bedre at være den der bliver fulgt derud.

"nu har jeg f.eks aldrig været ude af Europa og jeg har tit taget fejl af hvor langt der egentlig er til Høje Taastrup men har da alligevel fået smag for internationalisme..."

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 5:

As stated by Francis Fukuyama in The End og History and the Last Man(1995), the myth about the end of history assumes that liberal democracy has achieved its ultimate victory and that the twin ideologies of the market and the reprensative democracy now constitute, with few exceptions, the universal values in the global village. Within this myth, liberal culture becomes synonymous with market culture, and the celebrated freedoms of The Consumer are bought at the expense of the freedoms of The Citizen. Little public recognition is given to either the limits that democracies must place on marketpower or how corporate culture - big business - and its narraow definition of freedom as a private good may very well threaten the wellbeing of democracy itself.
The marriage between market and democracy has is short cancelled the tension between market moralities and those values of civil society that cannot be measured in strictly commercial terms but that are critic to democratic public life

November 15, 2004

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 4:

Girls can now log on to, where they interact with the Barbie and build fantasies about the luxury party at least five years in adance, as the comercial exploitation of the latino cultural milestone - el quinceanera - has become the latest cater of the tween-industry.

WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 2:

"We have found out that we cannot trust some people who are non-conformists. We will make conformists out of them in a hurry. The organization cannot trust the individual; the individual must trust the organization."

Ray Kroc, medstifter, McDonalds.

WHY...part 3:

Amerikanerne (borgerne) bruger nu flere penge på fast-food end på uddannelse, pc`ere, software eller nye biler. De bruger flere penge på fast-food end på at gå i biografen, købe bøger, magasiner, aviser, video/dvder og cd-udgivelser - tilsammen.

November 14, 2004



efter en hurtig smuttur til san francisco idag med indlagt kaffe i haight-ashbury og et løft over golden gate broen kørte jeg hjem i et gevaldigt retro-humør...

klikken sie hier

November 13, 2004

consider if the thrill is coming going or gone

November 12, 2004

more notes from a secondrate poet:

while America reverts to the Dark Ages.....I'm surreptitiously inflating my floatation device while the ship slowly sinks, unbeknownst to the deck swabbers.

trænger do også til en polarisering? klikken sie hier
BLP71107_1.jpg BLP711

flere nye billeder fra republikken amerika. efter oplysnigerne igår, der fastlog at amerika rasler ned af den sociale rangstige, kunne spørgsmålet lyde, om de er ved at afvikle demokratiet i deres homeland for at kunne forsøge at sælge et skrøbeligt demokrati andre steder. at amerika på den måde bliver amerikas største fjende, at landet imploderer...rådner op indefra?

klikken sie hier:

"so it goes...", sagt med kurt vonnetguts ord.

klikken sie hier

November 11, 2004

idag flere

notes of a secondrate poet

writing by the light of the fullmoon
makes your hair grow longer
the apples taste better and the cigarets questionable
the only sense you know
till the full limit
is waiting

nothing more than utenzils and lost purposes
no longer fits the room
and becomes an icon

The Righteous and The Choice

idag kører jeg til Monterey og ser på den hvide haj der overlevet længst i fangenskab, 19 dage indtil videre. Hurrafor hipster menneskeheden!

afprøver bloggenheimer et nyt indslag: notes of a secondrate poet som fremover vil være prosa, nu på engelsk.

dark is dark and dark is fun
pure entertainment
the movies above is called the stars and leaning my head back i understand much better I suffocate in multitude
the novel The Pacific
The Mess is the major turnover
constant and progressing
the bottomline holds no answers¨
no considaration
the game is concentration no regrets and no hesitation

the frontier must be science
the repeats an open wound

dark is dark and dark is fun

November 10, 2004

kom anmeldelserne af jakob ejersbo`s "nordkraft" i den svenske oversættelse, mens det mislykkedes mig at blive forelsket i storkapitalen. mere herom senere.

klikken sie hier

må jeg se at få fart på assimileringen, stoppe bekymringen og lære at elske big business. det er et spørgsmål om overlevelse.

så pyt da - her et link alligevel. en skål for de historiske vilkår. amerika. du holder aldrig op med at overraske.

klikken sie hier

pip så jeg mener det. forstår du det?

November 09, 2004

lidt nye billeder fra republikken amerika

klikken sie hier:

drømte jeg om El Predidente Bush. Scenen var sat var under hans indsættelse her til januar. El Presidente ligger sin venstre hånd på biblen og løfter den højre og siger:


Its the individual who is not interested in his fellow men who has the greatest difficulties in life and provides the greatest injury to others. It is from among such individuals that all human failure springs.

Alfred Adler.

no links today. pause for a second and think.

November 08, 2004

kan jeg simpelthen ikke regne den ud. amerika. dit store løg.
u make me wanna cry

har du også problemer med matematikken? klikken sie hier: (goto: pocketcalculator)

vil jeg først lige undskylde de sidste dages mange stavefejl - hvis der er nogen derude der læser - så lover jeg at jeg fremover bruger anal stavekontrol.
jeg er træt som et gammelt pumpeorgel. turen tilbage fra LA var som at køre på et løbebånd. 400 km ligeud gennem Californiens fødekammer, fladt, fladt, fladt, siden mørkt, mørkt, mørkt. der kommer billeder senere. imellemtiden: nyd den her side:

eller tjek Guvenør Arnold som stjerne i japanske reklamefilm:

for those sleepless who never loose valuable shoppingtime!

November 05, 2004

synes jeg at mobiltet eller muligheden for samme, at være mobil må betragtes som den mest attraktive vare på det globale marked. mest attraktive men også den vare der tydeligst understreger at globaliseringen ikke er en skid global, eller rettere: man kan flytte pengene hurtigere og ligge lokalområder ængstelige, brunstige, tørre og drømmeløse hen, men de samme områder kan ikke flytte sig. globalisering er et spørgsmål om midler, og er en afspejling af tingene som de altid har set ud. globalisering stratifikerer. globaliseringen raffinerer en ny topkultur. den feder overklassen.

og idag kører jeg til LA med Jakob og Johan er i London og Bobo har lige været i Himalaya fordi Kristian bor i New Delhi og Kartsen har fået job i LA hvor jeg lige kom hjem fra og tæller hele tiden dagene til næste liftoff eller touchdown fordi det er det eneste der holder gang i hele komplekset Helge har lige været i Afghanistan og når ikke at møde Philip der går lige inden Helge kommer for at flyve til Paktistan og mens vi spiser spørger jeg Helge om han kender Listbeth der arbejder i Kabul og jo han gør og bliver helt stille måske fordi patentet på Afghanistan er strøget og et andet flag hejst men vi snakkker mere om geografi fordi vi er sammen og sålænge vi er sammen skal der ikke ske os noget og siger jamen vi flytter til Santa Cruz, Californien: og jeg tænker det må jeg også huske at sige til Putte men han er i Tyrkiet og svarer aldrig på hans mails vi er kun forpligtet af en insisteren på at sprog er kommunikation og vi er aldrig bange for at blive ensomme for Kris bor i LA og Pia bor i LA, men kender ikke Karsten, men jeg tror han kender Ulrik i New York men ikke Pernille der er flyttet til Berlin og Claus og Kamilla tager til Thailand hvor Kristian også lige har været inden han fløj til København og siden Hvide Sande og Sigurd har fanget en kongeål ved Trondheim og ringer nu fra Nr. Voropør med vestenvinden larmende i mobilen men han er glad for at være hvor han er og Jonas er flyttet to Søderkøping fordi Vasaloepsvagen i surbuban Stockholm kun var et snærende borgeridyl nu er Søderkøping med Gøtakanalen i baghaven hele drømmen med alle hullerne og vi kravler op på bjerget med cognacglas, cigaretter og fyrfadslys og bekender vores synder og tilbageskridt fordi vi kan se så langt og Donald er flyttet tilbage til New Zealand efter 14 år i en rygsæk og Cathy til Tasminien og Viggo i Pyrenæerne og Naja til Barcelona og Mirna i Osijek og Heidi på Island hvor hun ikke mødte Martin, men det beviser ikke at han ikke har været der og Jakob i Tanzania msungu vender hjem og Allis på Grønland og Kris i Kina og Gerner på den transibiriske og Erik i Napoli