hmmmmmmmm....a ladder step to fascism?

Captain One Eyed Jack is jumping exillerated up and down on his pirate-cruiser Ship Of Fools headed to the fierce and turbulent waters of the East:

"Ohoy shipmates" he shouts from the bridge, "only those with arms gets a piece of the cake..."


http://www.dr.dk/Nyheder/Udland/2006/09/29/034115.htm?nyheder

really clever comparesment. wellchosen metaphore. stunning brainfart. it just adds to the picture of a very concious and persistant, almost stifffrozen and stigmtized debate. Freeze, noboby move!

Imagine...if we moved on.

But then again, why should we? We are so rich we could buy the fucking world.

http://politiken.dk/indland/article178900.ece

new pixs on flickr:
wrapping up yet another apartment I found the missing memorycard with some of the last pictures from thailand...

"We are so rich we could buy the world", said danish minster of finance, Thor Pedersen, recently.
I`ll leave the flickering image of pure stupidity or just humanity, hanging...

photo: courtesy of L. Grahn/ viborg, winter 2006.

"...I once knew these people..." (opening line, Travis (Harry Dean Stanton), in Wim Wenders 1984-movie "Paris/Texas").


Me, I phone people. I talk to people and I see people, I make people and I am people.

But it is old news: stress. What is it with stress that has made it an almost modern qualifiing condition? Stress that I phone, stress, I fucking talk to it, I make it, and I am stress.

What is it about the modern historic conditions that almost states, that if you are not stressed, you are morally corrupt? What is this work-buy-die mantra? Its old news, but what is the blindfold made off, that makes it so fucking dark?

Stress is the foremost symptom diagnosed on youngsters with physcic issues between 13 and 18 years of age, states WHO is newly published report. A link? No, believe the hype.

A shipwreck. The naked propella whipping up dirt from the muddy banks.
Fucked up travel-destinations. Voodoo in the swamps.

today,
an arabic joke in danish, send to me by Ricardo Torres:

En gammel araber har boet i New York i over 40 år. Han vil gerne plante kartofler i sin have, men han er alene, gammel og svag. Hans søn er i Paris, så den gamle mand sender en mail til ham, hvor han klager sin nød:
"Kære søn, jeg er meget nedtrykt, for jeg kan ikke plante kartofler i min have. Jeg er sikker på, at hvis bare du var her, så ville du hjælpe mig. Hilsen din far"
Den følgende dag, modtager han et svar fra sin søn:
"Kære far, hold dig venligst fra haven. Det er der, jeg har gemt du-ved-nok! Hilsen, din søn."

Klokken 4 om morgenen kommer den amerikanske hær, Marines, FBI, CIA og specialstyrkerne til den gamle mands hus. De går straks i gang med at grave hele haven op, endevender hver eneste kvadratcentimeter, men finder intet. Skuffede forlader de hans ejendom.

Næste dag modtager den gamle mand en ny mail fra sin søn:
"Kære far, jeg håber at din have nu er gravet op, så du kan plante dine kartofler. Det var alt, hvad jeg kunne gøre herfra.
Hilsen Ahmed"

nightbreed. escaperoom. time is the ultimate luxury.

I erge you to go see this piece by theatrical wunderkind Signa Sørensen:

Seven Tails of Misery.
http://www.seventalesofmisery.com/enter.htm

Strange how these days go by. After having received the phonecall from Nuuk about Rajuls accident on Tuesday, new of the coup de etate in Thailand started coming in. The first thing I read was that every bank in Thailand had been granted a day off, while the remains of governance was recuperating from the shock and facing devalution. The 1200 danish kroner we send Tuesday morning was by Wednesday worth 200 dkr less.
The only good news in all this is that Rajul is getting much better. He was on the verge of a severe bloodpoisening, at the doctors at Nong Bun Mak had been considering amputating his leg, but had managed to stop a serious infection, so, for now, the worst is over and we are in no desperate need of contributions. But don’t be surprised if you get a phonecall from yours truly one of these days. Rajul will not be able to work for at least two months.

The coup: What can you say? Allthough coups rarely are a promise of better times, there is no doubt that thai-primeminister Thaksin is a higly dodgy character, and foremost a bonafinde hardcore oldschool capitalist. However, at the mercy of globalized economy, Thai economy have since 1997 been booming and have without question bettered the lives of as many as it has ruined.
WTO defines Thailand, not as a third world country, but as an emerging developing country. The question now is, how the free market logistic will react to the coup. Will the international investors pull their dicks out as quickly as they stuffed it there? There is enough open and willingly markets in Southeast Asia, and if theres one thing you can say about global economy, it is this: Fuck feelings! The rules of engagement are way different. You pay not to have feelings, obligations or in anyway be visually and physically connected to the different regions in question.

On the other side of the pond, in the US, I read in danish newspaper Information, that a private PR company are hired by the US government to do productplacement accordingly to pure commercial principles aimed in particular at US citizeins, among which there is a rising opposition against the war.
20 million dollars has so far been posted into the project, acknowledging the fact the the war is way over due and quickly on the way to hell. But what really gets to me, I mean that’s just too fucking democratic isn’t it: They don’t claim anything else. They openly admit there is a massive need for PROPOGANDA, and they by all means are doing the nessecary to manipulate, control, register and what not, to keep a constant wave of positive news flowing from Camp Victory in Baghdad, wher the communicationcentral for starters will wee placed.
In our own pond, Denmark, primeminister Fogh Rasmussen, is sorry that of of his low-profiled ministers, Helge Sander, have appeared in a commercial for Tehcnological Institute. I just wonder how he relates to the abovementioned.

A couple of words:
THERE IS NO FREE FUCKING LUNCH. SUCK IT UP FUCKBALLS.

from the world of strange coincedences:
today, doing more work in the apartment I tore the last door of off the fittings. Clearing the dust and different materials they used decades ago, I found stuffed in the wall a newspaper, or more exact, Politiken, from september 19, 1949. Alas, the paper had been stuffed there I could presume, exactly 57 years ago. Even in those days Systemet Politiken had its way with our minds and ways.