'cep 'timber!'

Fruchtstr & Stalinallee 1960

Hover over Foto:

Straße der Pariser Kommune & Karl-Marx-Allee '25 

 

Peer't through to the be side

Rounding a corner with The Professor is like sharing cheese with a ghost. The guilt trip's your own pleasure.

He'd barely glanced at the sign, if at all, when he muttered disbelief at the modern day marking of the streets of the city after a person who'd inspired so much death and destruction, to which I said dude's no more responsible for the gulags than that edgy objectivistesse for the brutality of United Fruit. Not everyone named Chiquita is a brand-marked terrorist enabler. He thought on this long enough to see my point about the perversion of good intentions, which for Pratt was the duration of the tick before the tock, and said the analogy bordered on no true Scotsman, something he liked to drop in wherever he thought it fit, his analog kidded quarter-proof Scotch himself.

 

I complained the fallacy camouflages a scary creature of dry stalks of cereal plants, and he said at least the chaff's removed, which I think might've been a comment on the potential misreckoning inherent to the citing of a fallacy and the confusion that abounds whenever someone makes inexplicit a construction or the recognition of one, an observation or an accusation.

 

It's perfectly fine, even exemplary, to be a master of filling a composition with nuance of raw power yet not be able to swing from a rope even were it hung from the heavens by the coach of creation. No amount of the big money can afford that wily watchmaker’s wares, let alone grasp what one’s reward whispers not to. Still, the beat was always solid and the words were moving pictures.

 

Knowing of his aversion to in-his-face sentimentality, I apologized when I told him I’d probably feel a heart-crossing shadow upon the news of his passing. Without thinking, he reassured me that was perfectly fine as long as I was aware it wasn't him I was missing.

 

Fin.

rhymin' pun is meant

to be in hock step:
| alms ending and bomb spending |

Let's check the markets.

Der Parkbank Pinkler Kapitel XXXVIII: durch die Tore

        Du bist dran.
            —das Alltribunal

XXXVIII.

 

Jenny de la Torre Castro

 

 __

xxxvii. << -- >> Kapitel ??

Fr. Ewetoob or: How I learned to loathe the collapse of the wave function

With a chip-chip here and a chip-chip there.

—AI!  AI? Oh.

__

 

Thoughts that only seem random (or so they'd have you believe ;):

Where resolved you're a helpless observer of determined fate, where observation too's only apparent by trick of imagined intuition, where imagination is only imagined.

 

Don't be bothered by the sneaking suspicion that this attitude benefits those who stand above it, and you. That "they", by knowing know better, or, hey!, even if they don't know: like... because they don't have access to this incredibly advanced knowledge are immune to the pitfalls of being under its control. Like, free to behave as if they have free will. Very liar's paradox, don't you think?

Keep buying that schtick, you, and you're hardly other than Deepak Oprah haboring hawking the latest willful conflation of all into everything: "In fact quantum physics tells us the Buddha is our master, everything is as it is and all you can do is go with the flow, this is The Key to happiness, bringing your consciousness in tune with that of the universe to manifest your heart's desires by wanting what you get." 

;):

 

Say you wanna build a perpmo machine. Forget about the perp for the moment, perpetually bleeding energy, and focus on the mo.

 

If you're pedalling left right left right, the harder the left, the less needed the right, the harder the right, the less needed the left. Pushing as hard down on the pedal with the left leg can indeed make the right leg have to work less hard, but it'd be silly to think you could ride with one leg simply going through the motions; if the right leg pushes all the harder, the same should go for the left. Keep that up. Where do we get the energy for that?

 

mo  -  ti  -  va  -  tion

 

Grüngubener

As usual with this series, hover your cursor over and off the image to compare it to 2025, or just click on it.

  Grünberger- & Gubener, Friedrichshain-Berlin 1955 | (hover/click 2025)