dass man auf der offiziellen Seite der Bundesregierung www.bundesregierung.de die Nationalhymne hören kann?
Saturday, November 26, 2005, 18:39
Sunday, November 20, 2005, 23:11
Hätte Zar Nicolaus II. ein Handy gehabt, es wäre ihm viel erspart geblieben.
Man stelle sich vor: Ein kalter, einsamer Abend im Winterpalast, die kaiserliche Familie am Kamin,
Die Zarenfamilie
die Zarin stickt ein wenig, die Töchter werfen sich ausgelassen juwelenbesetzte Ostereier zu, plötzlich ein Klingeln in der Brustgegend des Herrschers, gleich unter dem Wassily-Großkreuz. Man hält inne, man schweigt, der Zar klappt sein Motorola auf und sagt: “Ja, hier das Oberhaupt aller Russen?” “Tag, Hoheit, hier Wladimir Iljitsch, Sie erinnern sich vielleicht nicht, aber ich bin gerade in Genf, ein Ferngespräch, könnten Sie mich zurückrufen, ich hätte da ein paar Vorschläge.” Man ruft zurück, man redet von Aristokrat zu Revolutionär, man einigt sich: “Ja, ganz recht, konstitutionelle Monarchie, wie bei Viktoria, o.k. o.k., danke, Herr Uljanow, und meine Empfehlung an die Genossin Gattin.” So etwa, und den Gulag hätte es nie gegeben.
Dabei hatten sie den Dreh mit der Erreichbarkeit schon raus, die Romanows, nur mit der Technik haperte es noch: Eine Wache am Telefon ließen die Verwandten zur Geburtsstunde des Zarewitsch im Jahre 1904 zurück, auf daß die frohe Kunde sie im weitläufigen Park zu Peterhof rechtzeitig und zuverlässig erreiche. Diesen vielleicht ersten aller Anrufbeantworter, einen Kosaken in weißer Marineuniform, erinnert kein Geringerer als Prinz Roman Romanow in seinen Memoiren, die auf vielen Seiten in der Sprache des 19. Jahrhunderts von dem handeln, was das zwanzigste ausmacht: von der Erreichbarkeit.
Allein die Pose beim Telefonieren scheint die Zeiten zu überdauern: Sieht man heute jemanden ein Handy ans Ohr pressen, dann häufig mit der Miene, als sei Napoleon kurz vor Moskau. Nicht selten schreien die Angerufenen, als ob sie gar keines Telefons bedürften, und lassen nebst Anrufer alle Umstehenden mit taub werden: “Ich bin hier vorm Kranzler!” Das sehen wir doch, und leider hören wir es nun auch. Damit aber die Handy-Revolution nicht ähnliche Unpäßlichkeiten bereitet, wie sie die Romanows erleiden mußten, hier ein paar leicht erlernbare Grundregeln:
1. Unerreichbare sind begehrter. Wer immer Zeit hat, hat zu viel Zeit.
2. Lebende Gesprächspartner sind immer, immer, immer wichtiger als Anrufer. Und gebührenfrei.
3. Im Auto, Restaurant und an der Straßenecke telefonieren nur Luden, Staubsaugervertreter und Politiker.
Momentchen, mein Handy klingelt. Ich glaube, das ist Anastasias Nummer. Da wird doch nichts passiert sein?
Sunday, November 20, 2005, 22:56
Der Mann ist, man darf es sagen, Texaner.
georgie als true blue
In erster Generation allerdings, Papa George Bush kam nämlich erst nach dem Krieg nach Houston, um dort einige Millionen zu machen. Und so ist es wohl eher ihm zu verdanken, wenn er auf die Kleidung des Sohnes Acht gab: Wenn Dabbelju, wie man ihn in den USA nennt, vor die Kameras tritt, will er Vorbild sein: Blau in Blau, oder ein “true blue” — mit weißem Hemd und roter Krawatte wird er zu einer wandelnden Stars- and-Stripes-Flagge, ein Statement des Patriotismus. Durch widrige Umstände Präsident eines Volkes, das sich nicht gerade durch überragende Dress-Codes auszeichnet, will er wohl auch die Amtszeit des Jeans- und Turnschuh-Trägers Clinton vergessen machen.Beim Stapellauf des Flugzeugträgers “USS Ronald Reagan” etwa, einem stolzen Moment für den republikanischen obersten Kriegsherrn, stand er im blauen Mantel mit blauer Krawatte neben Nancy Reagan (Ronald hatte den Termin vergessen). Die Symbolsprache ist einfach: Wenn Bush als Zivilist schon keine Uniform anhat, so will er zumindest Nähe zum Militär demonstrieren, im Blaurock. Sein Vater bombte sich seinerzeit ins Gedächtnis seiner Wähler, indem er bei der Operation Wüstensturm als ehemaliges Fliegerass Truppenmotivation betrieb: Beim Besuch der Soldaten an der Grenze zu Kuwait trug er eine hellbraune Pilotenjacke und sah darin aus wie Tom Cruise in “Top Gun”. Nur ein wenig gealtert, natürlich. Kein Wunder also, wenn der Sohn den Gang zur Wahlurne im lässigen Blouson antrat, Marke Weatherproof, der meistverkauften Amerikas — soll heißen: “Ich schlendere mal eben kurz ins Wahllokal und wähle mich selbst, ihr braucht gar nicht lange nachzählen!” Das amerikanische Internet-Herrenmagazin Askmen.com vermeldet erleichtert: “Wenigstens setzt er uns nicht dem Anblick seiner weißen Beine beim Jogging aus.” Vor einem wirklichen Problem, so konstatiert die Zeitung “USA Today”, steht dagegen First Lady Laura: “Wie soll sie sich elegant anziehen, ohne die Leute zu verschrecken, die ihren Mann gewählt haben?” Bislang gibt es da wohl keinen Grund zur Besorgnis
Wednesday, November 16, 2005, 17:45
in order to make any comment on the fashion scene of a city, and especially that of hamburg, there are two interesting facts to know:
1: hamburg fashion does not exist in the common sense of the word.
2: it is, in this perhaps most arrogant of european cities, the fashion to be without fashion.
there seems, as a common rule, to be a fashionable agreement in hamburg not to be to flashy in everything you do, say, or wear since the beginning of the city as a free port. a visit to the worthy rathaus will surely be a revelation on how these proud burghers have seen themselves over the centuries - basically as proud burghers, and not much else.
it can, if you freshly move to the city, cost you an immense amount of time to be accepted into society as such, easily more than ten years, and even then it is rather uncommon to be really sure of the hamburgers respect and a certain human relation (not to speak of any relationships, mind you) - there is this barrier that is rather seldom overcome that any hamburger has against the outer world as such and against other people in especial. it might help, in order to be admitted to the closer circles here, to obey certain rules, of which i will document the following (NOTE: if you are younger than thirty, these rules are also to be trusted, apart from certain quarters in town where a certain look of “I-am working-or-intend-to-work-in-a-PR-agency-am-also-an-artist/student/creative/looser” is le dernier cri. in that case you are allowed to wear the normal and grungy heroin-chic that seems to has grasped youth culture in all cities over the world. but if you are no only child of a rich wool merchant of the hanse, a rock-star or an aspiring actor - aren´t they all? - and you want to have a certain future in hamburg, read the next passages carefully, to guarantee a smooth passage into hanse-circles. if you do not plan to be a social success, ignore them - but do not say you haven´t be warned!)
Here they are: THE GOLDEN RULES OF HAMBURG
A: even if you follow the following rules, success is not guaranteed.
B: forget munich, düsseldorf or berlin fashionwise. certain bright colours, usually being worn at the premieres of the bavarian state opera, i.e. bright green, escada yellow, velvety violet or even red are NEVER (in numbers: 0) worn in public in the near vicinity of the river elbe. it seems sometimes that the hamburger is colour blind. the only colour that is allowed is night blue (being really extravagant), powder blue,
a powder blue jacket, rather daringly worn!
darker blue and black blue, not to speak of the blue that is black.
perhaps even grey:
a grey polo ralph lauren ensemble
there is a saying in the fashion circles of berlin that i overheard in a berlin boutique stating that “the hamburger does not mind colours, as long as they verge on the black”.
C: do not even dream to try other colours. the aforementioned burghers are, and as prove you will find many of them on the rathaus paintings, usually wearing black. the official robe of the burgomaster
burgomaster mönckeberg
and the senate is black to this day, although the traditional robes have not been in use since the days of the last visit of the german kaiser, or as evening wear to the last persian schah´s dinner in honour. if you really want to try other colours, go back to A and try again.
D: a lady of standing, regardless of her age, wears nothing other than a blue complet (a jacket and a skirt in matching colours) if at all - or jil sander.
jil sander in typical outfit
the latter´s huge success was safely founded on the fact that the lady hamburger heavily relies on her social standing as being absolutely minimalistic in her taste. there never has been a sander piece being overwhelmingly colourful, and whereas in munich as a lady you are always allowed to wear at least a chanel twin set or one of the typical chanel bouclé outfits in rose,
the latest chanel
white/black
typical vintage chanel
or other, in hamburg even chanel is considered nouveau riche.
F: Never appear nouveau riche. anyone overdressed in better society is easily rumoured to be a speculant, a dealer or dealer´s wife in shady proceedings, of lesser descent or even lesser decency - or simply colour blind.
G: always wear pearl earrings and a matching necklace (not the men, stupid!). you cannot fail in the crème de la crème with these simple accesoires (mind my meaning: ac-ce-soir in parisian french means access-all-areas in hamburg german). without them, you are lost.
H: always wear a blazer.
gold buttons on dark blue (see C) are the only safe way to acces all areas in hamburg. they are a reminder of the cities tradition as a port town and are a remainder of it´s long history in good relations to the british.
I: if you have a screamingly coloured tie, burn it.
J: if you have a wonderful eighties or nineties suit, and you are not a fashion journalist, boutique owner or hereditary aristocrat, give them away to someone in munich. they will be happy.
K: if you are nothing of the latter mentioned, destroy any yellow cashmere pullovers.
L: if you disobey these rules, go buy yourself one of the yellow armbands with three black dots on it and WEAR IT AT ALL TIMES! it is your only chance, trust me.
M: if all else fails, move to manhattan. start a new life. obey these rules.
N: if you fail in manhattan, move to london.
O: if you fail in london, obeying these rules, don´t move to hamburg again. rest assured: HAMBURG FORGETS NOTHING! NOT IN SO MANY YEARS! NEVER!
P: your last chance, if you have to move back, is the following: PRETEND TO BE A TOURIST! ALWAYS! then and only then, hamburg will forgive you. utter remarks under your breath of how beautiful and stylish this city is. and they will love you for it.
Ok, dear friends, now you are safe. i am off, to iron my blue blazer.
Thursday, November 10, 2005, 18:34
it is with some funny feelings that i heard the complaint of a friend of mine that this weblog does not contain an essay every day - and he was right: but an essay needs some inspiration, and it is not easy for a writer to come up with a theme every day when everytime he opens a newspaper he can only report bad news in it, is it? so bear with me, i shall have an idea in no time at all, and be it only the news today that tyra banks left the runway forever - i interviewed her once, and she was very nice, i can tell you. so i am a bit sad that she gives up modelling forever. also if you, dear reader, have a special wish to be written about, feel free to let me know in the comments-field - my productivity knows no bounds!
Tuesday, November 08, 2005, 12:52
only yesterday i thought that the french riots would spread into germany in no time, the amount of desperate youth uncared for by government and hopelessly jobless being about the same - and what happens tonight? berlin, bremen and chemnitz follow suit. i am somewhat proud on the rioters, as i would have been on the barricaders of 1848 in berlin and dresden. i do not know whether the protests will change anything, but at least some political will, be it riotous or not, seems to be alive still. i thought - and both government and society, too - that people would put up with anything. well obviously they do not, thank god.
it is surely debatable, whether violence breeds violence, but on the other hand i deem that france is getting the bill for her behaviour during colonial rule. and i believe germany could get a bill for the handling of reunification and the utter negligence of greater parts of society. wait and see.
Saturday, November 05, 2005, 13:22
in lubeck, the crown jewel of hanse cities, i found myself with the adorable karsten and my finnish friend timo valtonnen in the presence of several scandinavian ambassadors at the opening in one of the renaissance churches - the premiere film was as depressive as danish stories can get: totschlag, the story of a teacher who protects his younger and loved female pupil, who sadly turns out to be a terrorist, from prosecution, loses his job, his wife and family and his reputation - and, who would have thought, after losing his terror-lover, he loses his mind.
if you were looking for something more uplifting, i have three words for you: hahaha. the lars von trier manderley was so bad, that even my adorable karsten uttered something of never seeing another trier-movie again, while i went outside and vowed the same. oh happy hollywood - i confess that i want to be amused in cinema. so sorry indeed!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005, 14:28
i seem to be at war with the postal system. whereas the really important things, like my income papers, obviously never reached the bureau of finances, and i now am in need of retrieving all of them or fill them in all over again, i yesterday made the mistake of opening two letters and found myself on the watchlist of my health insurance, ominously stating that i would not get any more insurance money, since i had not paid the necessary fees to the artists social cassa - all the way i wondered, why no one had informed me in time, at all or in error.
it comes even better: it seems now, that i have to take money, on credit, from my bank, in order to pay the artists insurance, so that they pay health insurance, so that they pay my sickness money, which again covers than my bank credit. if you do not believe it, read again.
that is germany. and of course, i will do as i am told. i´ll feed this circle, trying not to breathe. fun, is it?
i get the impression that any authority can just send you any letter with any sum, that you usually owe, and you do not have the slightest idea why you should owe them, but you have to pay them alright. it is this a phenomenon that leaves me wondering on the efficiency of some of the insurance businesses indeed. they seem never to pay, and so why should i pay them? why, indeed? i know.
it seems to be the only prove that i exist. four institutions, feeding themselves. i seem to disturb tham a bit. i think it is really better to dissapear altogether. is i not? perhaps, if i would never have been born, these institutions would not be able to exist. cogito ergo sum? no: i pay, therefore i am.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005, 16:49
i shudder at the thought of having forgotten during a long emotional ice age most nerves in my body that seem to have slept in a long, long winter. i happened to encounter a new lover in rather unexpected a fashion, and i swear that i had not the slightest intention of getting into any situation, and suddenly i was kissed on the mouth in a subway-car as farewell and there i sat and nearly fainted with sudden desire and the instant relevation that obviously in spite of seven years of my last relationship i had completely forgotten how it was to be kissed in public, not to speak of being SEDUCED (in numbers: 6!) in private somewhat later.
perhaps i should repeat what i stated only a second ago: i have been seduced. artfully, reasonably, romantically, casanova-like. it was heaven, it was a relevation, it was paradise. and it was rather sporty, i must say.
it is interesting to note, that the seduced in the best case does not even realize what is happening to him. he sits perhaps on a sofa, drinks a glass of white wine, and all of a sudden asks himself why he stares into the others green eyes out of the blue, as if nothing else ever mattered.
a sofa is VITAL for the art of seduction, since it gives the ideal opportunity to get nearer to each other in no time and in rather reasonable time. DO NOT APPROACH THE VICTIM TOO FAST! it might flee, or retreat, or even worse, relent at once, and then the fun of seduction is totally spoiled.
be a good kisser! approach carefully, look into your counterparts eyes, smile serenely and make soothing noises. then kiss.
a good kisser never stops
DO NOT OPEN THE MOUTH! not at the first kiss at least. french kissing is a high art form, only mastered by some very rare people. like me, for example. one tip: try to kiss a mirror, as if you were kissing yourself. when after one hour you have slobbered against cold glass enough and you have sexually aroused your reflection (and WITHOUT USING YOUR TONGUE!) you may proceed to step two.
Step TWO: forget it. there is no rule for step two. either there is a bolt of lighting hitting both of you, you entangle your limbs into a trembling and sighing vortex, a maelstrom of mutual meetings, on and on, again and again, blissful, tender, right - or there isn´t. if there isn´t start again with the couch, the white wine, the staring, the compliments, the approaching and the KISS.
after three failed times abort the mission, burn ships, delete your memory and pray for the best.
with me it was an instant success (of course) and i can happily report that i seem again to be on the circuit, eagerly awaiting new attempts of seduction by anyone who might tempt me and might be tempted. being both a prussian protestant´s and a hungarian catholic´s only son, i delight in seduction, since my morals would not allow my senses to yield, and my senses are in themselves without morale, being, as they are, senselessly sensible. i do declare that to overcome this paradox i have no other chance than to be seduced. and if, in my case, i seduce someone myself whith the simple secret weapon of signalling that I would like to be seduced - here it gets tricky, i know - nothing can go wrong. i assure you. and if not, sue me. or better, seduce me.