where else but to the liars can you look to find the lies of other liars...
"Bush said Iraq's instability 'is the legacy of Saddam -- a tyrant who exacerbated ethnic divisions to keep himself in power.'"But where did he (Saddam) get his power, and planes, and guns, and helicopters, and missiles, and means to produce sarin? HMMM?!!? Take a flying stab...(hint: it wasn't Guam). Ensure that mid-stab or lunge you don't fall in the memory hole....you'll find Henry Kissinger's curriculum vitae (or should I say mortae) along with Universal Healthcare and the bird-shit like remainders of trickle-down Reaganomics.
Irony: Reagan's physiology became a series of trickles and drips too, didn't it?
(....too soon?)
Bush is only the turtle head of a post-kebab enslaught and even then only a micron of the vile precipitate that's fallen out of the supersaturation of assholes in solution (which is to me, beyond insolvent) that composes our supposed democracy and its process. I do think 'we' have one, but it isn't advertised, nor is it bolstered by firepower...it's old fashioned....and makes for poor ratings.
I think they're just making things up...but yeah, don't quote me on that...it's not, you know.....beyond evident. There's a word for that.....a priori? no....axiomatic? no.....oh, both!
So...
Hey Iran, whaddya gon' do?
Oh yeah, the nuclear thing....hey, it worked in N Korea, and...Israel, India, Pakistan, China, Russia....
I guess you can't say Bush is
wholly inept. There
is a singular massive doctrine I can say with surety that has been widespread by the US -
(which is quizzically, both on us and not us [get it US...and then then the ONUS of what's on us...christ]...maybe someday we'll be able to say, hey China, Iran....Iraq, Phillipines, Japan, Korea, Guatemala, anyone else we force fed fire or death or gangrene, so I guess, hey WORLD....*blink* *smirk*.....so, uh, hey, um, how's that uh, over there, hmmm, you got enough water and soylent green hmmm? so, hey, about that thing, you know, the pogrom after pogram for gas for cars that don't run because there's no oxygen left.....hey.....no hard feelings? no-n-n-no no put away the leftover bamboo and hot pokers.....NO NONOOOOO!!! NO! FREEDOM!!! LOVE!!! JOHN LENNON FUCKERS!!!!!)
- it isn't democracy...it's the ploy that unless you want to die under our boot heel, you need to strap up your tootsies with the megatonnage, and be obstinate about giving it up or even hiding it....because if you hide it OH!, we'll find it bitches....sand isn't hard to sift man...also preferably you need to look peculiar and wear many-fashion-seasons-ago glasses and/or Michael-Jackson-in-sovereignty sorts of pseudo-military accoutrements and bling. Also have a very non-white name....and include bin or al and always end your last name in a vowel or the letter q. And don't alliterate. Allah and Jesus are both anti-alliteration....they were simple men.
Finally, I vote (but hey who am I?) that we just drop Kirstie Alley and one (unless in an Hiroshiman defiance [those {as Truman implied} armed to the teeth bastards!] do they resist TWO, that's BOTH) of Pam Andersons breasts on the coast....I mean, hello! Oil floats on water, right?
3M has the patent on that machine....the oil-from-seawater sifter thing....buy up.
Google is probably in on something too. Maybe they know where the WMDs are....they assisted me in the semi-utile discovery that the reason Diabetes Mellitus is called such is due to the nature and flavor of one afflicted with said disorder and its tendency to have a sweet and pleasant tasting micturation.
We're caught in the middle of an inter-lockerbank jock pisssing duel and well...unless diabetes is the order of the day, or jellyfish stings are the new pandemic (and with the wayward giga-mammary that probably just flooded the four reaches of the Atlantic, that's now pretty likely) our best interest is to rise up, and slap their soft parts into the nearest available rusted, metallic substrate and I do mean shamelessly.
Show me the X, I want that job.
In Cod We Tryst.
Christopher "Thufir" Howe
Photos des Tages
Zirka 00.45 Uhr: The usual shenanigans ensue this weekend in Wien. What isn't usual is that we spot an oasis mitten im Haburgischen Reich: Tannenzäpfle 1000 km away from the Tiefhochschwarzwald.
Zirka 08.15: Leaving the bar in a state of mental confusion and locomotive instability. Morgengrau. Said condition causes consequent indecision and perplexity.
Zirka 11.25: Copulation in the Eisbär paddock. Bilingual commentary provided by Arne Sattler (in the presence of several Kinder born after the Jahrhundertwende).
Döner and a Movie
It's gonna be damn hard to top a good ol' St. Paul gunpoint mugging, but I guess I'll strike back with the story of what has become a European staple. The Döner Kebap, which I have learned is translated literally (and fittingly) as 'roasted rotating meat' (well, the meat part isn't so fitting in some cases), is a Turkish dish that originates in the Turkish town of Erzurum, Turkey. Now, we all know the Döner Kebap (or Yufka) from Germany and Austria: some greasy-ass meat served in a pita-like bread or wrap with veggies and sauce. The original Döner would have been from a horizontal Spieß and served like the German Döner Teller, without the bread. What's interesting is that the Döner as we know it today actually originated in Berlin in the 80's (I knew something useful must have come out of that decade).
History aside, the Döner is here to stay, and it is no doubt the definition of greasy deliciousness. In a mere 24 hours, the Germans slide 200-300 metric tons of Döner into their gullets. On many weekends I think I've accounted for at least 3 of those. One wonders how the whole morbid obesity problem hasn't snuck into Europe via the Döner route, but I guess since most people actually
walk to and from the Döner shop they avoid this fate and are thus just overweight. But anyway, what I find funny about my current situation - living in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere in Austria - is that whenever I venture out of the Ennstal to bigger and dirtier places, I literally have what one could call a 'Dönerwochenende'. Sure, we plan activities like museum tours, boozing, shopping, or movies, but I'll be honest, the real reason I go is to inhale multiple Döners for multiple consecutive days in a sickeningly short amount of aggregate time. The funny part is that there's a restaurant in Stainach where I can
besorg a Kebap without leaving my cozy little valley, but for some reason I opt for saving myself up for one big binge in Vienna, Graz, or Munich...
On Friday, the 18th of March, Patty's Day, we strolled out of the Hauptbahnhof and scanned left and right. We had already walked past one Döner stand, but since a certain story told by a certain someone..
.something something Munich train station, something something bacteria-infested train bathroom, something something depositing innards all over the tracks...well, it suffices to say I avoid the dreaded Bahnhof Döner. It's a risk one doesn't have to take; namely, because oddly enough, some of the best damn Döners I've ever had are actually visible from the main entrance of every major train station in central Europe. Graz is no exception. As we scanned left and right, we spotted what could only have been Turkish writing kitty corner from the Bahnhof. I feel like at this point in time I could spot one of these signs from 4 blocks away. As we neared the small establishment, its dirtiness became more and more apparent. What looked like a perfectly good sign was cracked and covered in
staub, and some of the clientele exiting the establishment were less than savory. Contrary to the belief of the Döner-Anfänger, this should not deter any potential Döner-Fresser. In fact, I've found that in many cases,
schmutz = tasty goodness. In other words live farm animals sauntering aimlessly across a dirty linoleum floor and overflowing garbage bins probably means you'll be in for the Döner to end all Döners.
That said, we should talk about alternatives to the small, dirty, former run-down-shoe-repair-shop type of Laden. Some ultra-modern Döner shops have gone the McDonald's route, with obnoxious color schemes, spotless pleather booths and new-fangled methods for Döner-efficiency. This archetype is also usually accompanied by some sort of clever slogan like "Döner for two" or "Kebap Kraziness". This is a red flag for a shit Döner. They have forgone the whole process of perfecting the Döner-making-process, and spent all of their precious time doing unnecessary things like kitsching up the place, cleaning the floor, and providing disposal bins for garbage. Take it from me, you might be sitting comfortably at a clean orange and yellow table, but you'll be eating spongy-ass bread with a mysterious meat-like substance and one lonely microscopically-sized stem-end-piece of a tomato. That's right. Not worth your hard-earned 2 Euros. You've been had, and all you've got to show for it is some wicked gut-rot.
So now that I've convinced you to 'go dirty', we can discuss about cultural experience that is the Döner shop. Many times I have come across the Döner shop/Minority Hangout. In other words, the place where all the owners' buddies hang out, smoke hookahs, and are notably
not consuming Döners. You'll also find that at these places you are often confronted first with English, then German. Also, much like the typical Parthenon experience in Madison, your food is actually ordered for you. As you walk in, you don't hear 'Tag', or 'Servus', or 'hello', but 'Kebap mit allem!' (note the abscence of a question mark). The German is also usually far from perfect (I think I have heard every possible variation of the phrase
mit allem, mit alles, mit alle, mit allen, u.s.w.), but I think we can give the Döner-artist some credit and say that they're at least making an attempt. To further pat the backs of Döner-artists everywhere, I h
ave encountered some of the most talkative and interesting 'Germans' in Döner shops.
Now that you've got your Döner in hand, you're ready to brush your teeth with it. Döners are not enjoyed, they are devoured. Yufkas aren't savored, they're demolished. And if you're cool like Jon and I, you say 'fuck it' and do it in a Sakko. I praise the Döner - shit, I bow down to the Döner as both the best drunk food and the best hangover food in the world,
and I beseech the EU to let in the Turks, if only to get rid of the few surviving shitty shnitzel stands that are occupying potential Döner space. Long live the Kebap!
St. Patrick's Day: Ein Rückblick
I've never been to Chicago, New York, Boston or Savannah for St. Patrick's Day, but I have spent more than a dozen on the Emerald Isle itself and I can honestly say I've never seen anything like St. Paddy's in St. Paul. Maybe the "saint" in the city's name should have tipped me off, but even knowing that St. Paul is an "Irish" city, I really had no idea how totally mental people here go on March 17th. Lissi works at the Liffey downtown and she spent 11 hours there yesterday peddling booze among the hyper-dense crushloads of revellers. Every Irish pub in the city (and there are dozens) had added capacity with enormous tents but no amount of pre-planning prepared them for the crowds that magically materialized on Friday morning. Yeah, that's right,
Friday morning. Lissi said that not only was her bar full, but people actually chanted a countdown to 8:00am when alcohol sales can legally start for the day.
We spent the night at the Muddy Pig since as I mentioned, every Irish pub in town was shitpacked. The truly defining event of the day for us however, occurred en route to said bar.
It's not far from our place, which is clutch, since no driving was necessary - or so we thought. With hindsight maybe it would have been a good idea. We set out on our two block trek just after 8:30pm and we didn't get more than a block before we were mugged at gunpoint. Neat, eh? Nice to know the neighborhood is thriving. Our two young assailants relieved us of about $115 in cash, but thankfully had little interest in our wallets, usw. What was remarkable about the whole thing was the calmness that pervaded the transaction. They were obviously young, although I couldn't see their faces because of their puffy jackets, pulled up sweatshirts and enormous hoods, but I did see the gun. Neither Lissi or I were particularly phased by the encounter, which I attribute to our muggers' relatively non-threatening physiques and to the amount of whiskey we'd previously consumed. Long story short, we continued to the bar where Joey was nice enough to buy us drinks and we had quite the story to tell. I reported the incident this morning and none of the officers could seem to figure out why we hadn't reported an aggravated robbery until 18 hours after it happened. I guess they don't understand how seriously people take their St. Paddy's partying in St. Paul.
On a separate note, I was semi-amused to see that
Sinn Fein figurehead Gerry Adams didn't make it to a talk he was supposed to make yesterday in Buffalo, NY because
he was detained when his name showed up on a "secondary screening" list at the airport. Mr. Adams, while acknowledging the "need for vigilance," felt that "Sinn Fein members are the victims of an unacceptable and unfair administrative practice." Interesting how the leader of the political wing of a terrorist organization feels unfairly targeted by anti-terrorist security measures. He is pretty notorious for his Gerry-centric viewpoints I suppose.
I don't really have anything worth saying about Taoiseach Bertie Ahern's annual St. Patrick's Day visit to the White House, but I really wanted to include the picture of him giving Bush a pot of shamrocks. Between Bertie and Gerry, it seems that everyone who's anyone in Ireland ends up in Washington for St. Paddy's. Too bad that's the only day of the year Bush has any time for Irish politics, but judging from the look on his face, I'm guessing the discussion doesn't get much further than green beer.
Quadrupedia: The Who?
This just in - a family in Turkey has come to the world's attention because of their proclivity for quadrupedalism, meaning of course that they walk on all fours.
I'm totally not making this up. Apparently there's a potential genetic reason for their idiosyncratically
über-old-school locomotion. The people in question are five siblings who use their palms like heels, which is apparently different enough from how chimps walk to allow them to retain the use of their fine motor skills. Chimps are notoriously bad at crochet, but the women in this family can darn a sock in no time, which is probably a good thing, since they're going to need twice as many as most people. There's
video of one of the women here.
"Two daughters and a son have only ever walked on two palms and two feet, with their extended legs, while another daughter and son occasionally manage a form of two-footed walking. The five can stand up, but only for a short time, with both knees and head flexed."I don't know how one goes about flexing one's head, but naturally this has scientists everywhere
getting all puffed up about the possible consequences of a bipedal gene (that is presumably defective in this case) and a whole host of other crack-pot theories, including some from our friends over at the Max Planck Institute. The family will feature in a documentary on BBC Two on Friday March 17 at 21:00 GMT, but since that Friday also happens to be St. Paddy's Day, it's unlikely anyone who reads this blog will catch it.
What I THINK...
I’ve had plenty of time to brood, to ponder, to muse and to mull. I’ve deliberated and considered, reasoned and reflected. The more time I invested, the more effort I spent, left me less and less certain, what exactly I meant. In the end it was all for naught: I put elbow to knee, fist to chin, and just simply thought:
I think Austria’s grandiose celebrations of MOZART’S 250th birthday are getting way outta hand. I also think his BALLS are highly overrated. In fact, I think BACH was the best classical composer of all time. I think John LENNON was the most gifted Beatle, and I think RINGO Starr was a joke. I think the U.S. is going to have to undergo some serious CATHARSIS before it removes itself from its descent into decadence and moral depravity. I think that MORALITY is relative. I think I CAN, I think I CAN. I think ROCKS, given their docile temperament, can make particularly good pets. I think the AXIS OF EVIL is more of a whole sphere of evil, and we’re all in it. I think the OLYMPIC GAMES are very gradually losing their luster. I think the RECIPE FOR RAP is to string a handful of proverbs together and loop them with the cocking of a large-bore firearm: ‘Put your money where your mouth is.’ I think eating three DÖNERS in one sitting is mighty tasty, but in the end and in more ways than one, a disgusting and ill-advised plan of action. I think the ANTICHRIST should just make himself known to us so we can get on with this whole ‘end of days’ thing (that’s your cue, Mr. Cheney). I think I’m feeling a bit LIGHT HEADED. COGITO ergo sum. Amen, good luck, and gute Nacht.
