Tuesday, 30 June 2015

Fasc. of the Titans: a barely bilingual crossover zwischen The Image Nation und Der Parkbank Pinkler

Where the composite term Realitätenhändler (realtor(s) does not exist as a standard in Germany as it does in Austria, its two nouns, Realitäten (realities) and Händler (dealer(s) do.

This is submitted to bring to the attention of the reader that the very lost phoneme that distinguishes realty from reality does dually endure in the tongue of a once great cousin once removed. Consequently, characterized exclusively contextually are her variant arts of immovable properties.

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Der Parkbank Pinkler - The Park Bench Pisser
Chapter 11: Realitätenhändler - Mongers of Reality


XI.

It was the Munich massacre, which... when you think about it, that was a conflict involving mere mortals and Olympians. Now these Olympians, of course, turned out to be mortals. Everybody already knew that. But when you ask a lot of people who're old enough, they imagine the Olympians dominating: Mark Spitz and Olga Korbut. Karin Janz, für die Ossis.

What lasts in reality, though – that's the effect of the massacre. Or so they say. Prior to that, people'd say it was unthinkable only thirty years after the war that your people'd start fittin' police with SWAT shit. It had to've looked like the definition of an ironic twist of fate that murdered Israelis on the German watch led to it. I mean, one day, it's who'd let Krauts brandish commando gear after the Holocaust an' shit, and the next day they're planning how and when to storm whatever barricades. Fuh-kin' 'ell.

Read a bit the other day in the Spiegel at the Bibliothek. From a few years ago. About how the Neo-anderthals had their hands all up in that shit like demigods at the twentieth Olympiad. You know they were called The fuckin Happy Games?

When you think about how... still today the enabling class is too chickenshit to admit how much free infiltration room they've been giving informants and their handlers, or whoever the fuck, the Zwickau situation sheds brighter light on "the assistance from right-wing extremists" in '72 I was reading about. That story came out right about when the talk of a Zwickau conspiracy was heating up. I swear they're fuckin with us. Like Taxi Driver. "Make your move." There's no greater centrifugal force than fascism spreading every which way.

Fuck all that South America and underground Antarctic bases shit! Show me a fucker in a black flack jacket and ski mask and I'll tell you who the Nazis are. People make fun of American Civil War re-enactors, but for serious, there's those every year in Arkansas doing what whose acronym should sound like Scooby fuckin Doo barking: Mock Real Ultimate Fighting. MRUF!

Nah, serious, though, one time Deutschland's own GSG-9 won every friggin category at that thing. What is it, everybody all over the world with this 9 shit? I guess nothing anti-terrorizes like when you hear the Nine are after you.

Hey, speakin o acronyms and Alemanni irony — and if you didn't know from my language that it was an overused word, you sure as fuck should know from yours. That Deutschland has some Ossi chemist holding the IMF debt candle and dripping hot wax all over the origin of democracy should at least raise the eyebrows of a few people who recall reading about the bitter calm between last century's global shakedowns one and two.

That's gotta be irony right? I'm not sure there're any other options.

But, anyway, you know how the Neos 're all into this ancient symbology and whatever? Well, that kind of obsession turns up everywhere – from unoriginal dickheaded movie ideas to names the nerds give every new blip on their science-y radar of new & improved scientific realities.

I'll tell you something, they won't be done with the franchise what came out of the Titans reboot until they've used every title variation from the Planet of the Apes saga. Fuh-kin 'ell.  I can just hear the parents: "How many goddamn lunch boxes we gotta buy anyway?"

And that's nothin. What I'm tryin to say is, everywhere these western allies fiddle, the new eastern terrorists turn up like clockwork and then the media is at the ready with their whole complicated history and shit. The narrative is always, like, you know, 9/11, so we gotta do something.

Everybody knows what the fucking Yanks did. Well, y'know. Mostly. But the EU puts together this ATLAS network. These are like thirty or somethin' of these full-on military police armies from every corner of Europe, you know, sharing expertise and what. All of 'em with their attention grabbing ALLCAPS acronyms and crazy ass coats of arms with their own version of some kind of flesh-eating bird in profile, or a snake fuckin an upside-down cross. Fuhh-kiin 'ehll.

It sounds like a joke but it's not. Even if every weapons producer in the world wadn't makin serious clay hawkin to everybody bar none – and to the barred twice as much, if not on quantity, then the return on the convoluted consignment – and even if black ops didn't spend chunks training terrorists, terrorists would still be drawn to counter-terrorists, real or imagined. They're friggin magnets, man! And the only time they're turned to repel is when they're rappelling Batman-style down some skyscraper to fuck some Sheik in the ass with some other Sheik's dick.

The narrative's all, "We need to do something to prevent this from happening in the future." But the reality is they're doing something to ensure it'll be necessary. So, yeah it's not cause and effect, it's effect & cause.

Of course the banks wants defaults. Friggin peons get high an' mighty when it smells like somebody across the beautiful warm lagoon where they got their holiday planned might be fatter and lazier than they are. And the goddamn crocodiles that represent both them and the banks, hell. Half of them think the shit's for real! But it's effect & cause. 'Cause the lender knows where his money's comin from. Ha! Effektengeschäft. Makes stock broking sound like what it is: the business of causing effects.

Manno man, die deutsche Sprache. That shit says it all.

It's like how you fuckers, whenever somebody asks you somethin like, what would happen if you had done this extraordinary thing, you always answer with some kind of excuse, like, "If I had eaten so much as that, wow, I would have been hungry." Except in this case you'd get the point of the exercise and have been clever on purpose. Relax! Ist nur ein Scherz!

But here's one I don't get: Wandelanleihe. What the fuck is that about? Sounds like a tele advert where you're lollygaggin' through the Volkspark and the low interest money's just faaalling from the trees! But the reality is, one minute you and your family are all safe an' secure, next minute you're at a picnic and the grass is suckin' your pockets clean.

That's one case where the English version sounds less deliberately ambiguous. Convertible bond. Resonates adventure with the top down. But you know there's double danger to your budget when the number begins with two zeros and there's this lucky number seven just caaalling you to clean up at the roulette wheel.

You read the paper today? When Deutschjournos declare, "Im Falle einem neuen Weltkrieg, die Deutschen würden gegen Russland kämpfen", I can only say, some things never change, innit? It's almost hilarious watching jackoff Kraut pols foursquare aligned in opposition along with the transatlantic partners in crime, when you can just see their post-polit career eyeballs twitching cuz they can't help telegraphing their hungry hedging heart's wandering the other direction where they think all their money'll be made.

Seriously, that thing with the eagle on every shield? Says all you need to know about who aspires to represent the facade of the acropolis.

Seems the threats are immer more vague until absolutely necessary. I'm not saying there aren't real people who would do massive damage without the assistance of the ones who benefit from it. Just empirically it seems far less likely, if you ask me.

Haste das Neueste gehört? Fuckin Henkel wants to load up the Berliner bobbies with hybrid tanks and machine guns and shit. He talks like it's because of what happened at Charlie Hebdo, but we all know he's milkin' the homey tourists' bitin' the dust in Tunisia.

Like, seriously, have you seen these guys cruising around in their lorries in riot gear? More and more every goddamn day. Does anybody in their right shit-stained mind want neo-anderthals who stomp on protesters' heads to be able to put down dozens of 'em before they know what's happenin? Fuh. Kin. Hell.

Ja, aber! says the peon. I tell you, man. It's not like I gotta. You know what fear is. Just like I do. Here we sit. Haben ein Schiss. Shit-scared to sleep outside in the fuckin summer! That's fear. But I seriously doubt some pig is going around on his nights off smashin our skulls in. Gotta be some sick psycho, for sure, though. The string pullers may be the spawn of Hades but as far as I'm concerned the Pinkler is the devil himself.

Fuck terrorism! They don't know the meaning of the first two syllables to be puttin' their goddamn ism on it.

I'm not so sure the pees that be need to use people's fear against 'em. Power can do pretty much anything it wants and proves it at regular intervals. But at the same time, people insist the scare tactics drive the bus. I figure they... y'know, the people, are just making excuses, using their own fear against themselves so that deep down they can pretend they were for this bullshit, all along.

Scheiße. That's not dealin' with reality. That's havin' reality dealt with you, weißte?

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Kapitel X << -- >> Kapitel ??

Monday, 29 June 2015

The Implausible Plausibility of Harry Mudd

This article from The New Yorker is a good example of comparatively good reportage gone flawed in how, even with an unsavory presentation of its host country's affairs, it implicitly frames its motives in a better light than it deserves, demonstrating the ways of the unwitting accomplice in the manufacture of plausible consent.

This is more than a fair assessment, maybe too fair. For one, calling the reportage comparatively good entirely ignores the opening sentence wherein it is claimed that there is "historic nuclear diplomacy taking place in Vienna’s elegant Coburg Palace". But for now I would like to avoid close-reading the party-line that underlies establishment media.

Saturday, 27 June 2015

Superfecta of Yes We Canonize



Taking the tweet in sequence:

—Not only not universal, the Affordable Care Act is a crony-capitalist scheme that squeezes the marginal to feed first & foremost the wealthiest with whom you'll never be able to swim. A deductible so high that you won't overcome it until you're on life support, but is what you buy to avoid a penalty, is not coverage. As a matter of fact, it's anti-coverage.

Monday, 22 June 2015

Der Parkbank Pinkler
Kapitel X: Dank sei dem großen Gehirn

Aus all dieser Dateien
kommt es manchmal vor,
nähert sich uns ein Stück
und spuckt uns ins Ohr.

Ein Stück Wahrheit, ein Stück Klarheit,
können wir es nicht sagen,
nur dessen Kloben zum Kliff ins
Zutrau'n zur Hoffnung wagen.

Ein Teil aus dem endlosen All, alles
eine Stimme, die uns sagt, „So soll es.“

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

His & Hers

And now that you know you don't exist, who'll stop the turning of the earth?
—Bakit Masakit
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It was inevitable that she would end up with him. He had come on annoyingly strong from their first encounter and, as odd as this may sound to some, there is this culture in which it is much less difficult for a sweet soul like hers to go along to get along.

Thursday, 11 June 2015

Christopher Lee is Dead

As is Ornette Coleman <Go to that link. There's a video of a beautiful performance feat. another personally treasured — James Blood Ulmer.

Sunday, 7 June 2015

Der Parkbank Pinkler
Kapitel IX: nicht in der Lage

IX.

Als sie ihm ihre melancholische Grundstimmung meldete, änderte sich die Besuchsgrundstimmung. Also gerade in dem Moment, als sie behauptete, seit vor-letztens eine melancholische Grundstimmung gepflegt zu haben. Na ja, das Vor-silbe ist eher eine Projektion, vielleicht von mir, vielleicht von dem Typ, der ihr gerade nach mehreren Minuten mitten im angenehmen Dialog die „Wie gehts DIR, eigentlich?“ Frage stellen musste, vielleicht aber nicht nur, meine ich: Was die Chancen sind, eine Grundstimmung von Melancholie erst in letzter Zeit angefangen hat?