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

November 04, 2004

og iforgårs og i fire år til vil amerika ikke flytte sig. moralen er stigmatiseret. vi er nu under det kristne højres forgodtbefindende.

wanna feel the earth shake allthough. klikken sie hier:

vil jeg først og fremmest anbefale Dale Carnegies bog "How to win friend and influence people"....
Som han skriver: "Der er altid plads på toppen når du først ved hvordan du vinder venner og påvirker folk...."
Første gang udgivet i 1936, har den solgt 15 millioner eksemplarer, og er en DIY-klassiker i marketingskredse.
Igår var jeg på bar med Jakob. RedRoom. Idag vågner jeg op ser stemplet på mit højre håndled de gav os i døren...der står "ok". Jeg har simpelthen fået stemplet OK. I USA. Det er da en start. Efter i forgårs.

kan jeg kun forstå møder med anderledeshed som en udfording der sætter os på prøve men
idag opstår fristelsen til at reducere forskellen med magt

November 03, 2004

har jeg ikke tændt for tv-et endnu. Igår var verdens vigtigste dag, jeg gik og fløjtede scorpions gamle klassikker "winds of change" hele dagen. nu er verdens vigtigste dag slut, business as usuall......jeg behøves ikke nyheder. Det sidder i maven. Skyerne trækker ind over Monterey Bay. Satan vandrer frit i bakkerne det og pisser i det.....

What the fuck is wrong with this country?
America> Fuck Yea!

November 02, 2004

Sjovt du nævner Wayne/ Jayne Country And The Elctric Chairs, jeg husker dem faktisk og jeg skrev deres navn på min læderjakke da jeg var punk-roker, men dengang skulle der jo helst stå "Allotria" eller noget andet kamp-i-gaderne-sejt...

der er lidt bio hér

får jeg også besøg af jakob som har været på en mindre tour de force i canada efter at hans bog er blevet oversat til engelsk. læs anmeldelse her:

måske skulle jeg også som min kammerat lennard på den anden side af denne blog, konsekvent skrive på engelsk: vi satser over en kam på det internationale marked. jeg tænker over det, jeg tænker, at jeg er træt i hovedet af at snakke engelsk ude i den amerikanske virkelighed, og den her lille postnukleare enhed er et ormehul tilbage min oprindelse.

er verdens vigtigtste dag

et passende soundtrack ville være det fuldkomment oversete band: Wayne/Jayne County And The Electric Chaírs og albummet: Storm At The Gates Of Heaven

vil jeg se om jeg også kan nå det. min kammarat lennard på den anden side af denne blog (don`t ask me, I just work here) har sat standarden: 2 indlæg om dagen ellers er det slut som kontorbud i flottenheimer-familien.
for vi stiller krav. du er med ellers også er du ikke med.

vi har tiden og det er den ultimative luksus. og tiden flyver når man er et svin.

November 01, 2004

i østen stiger solen op

i disse dage er det gået op for mig at heller ikke statistisk og demografisk kan USA længere bryste sig af at være verdens største demokrati. indien har stjålet førstepladsen. men betyder det noget når det vil være en svært dokumenterbar påstand at bevise at USA i det hele taget er et demokratisk land?