Archive for January, 2009

New worldly bravery

Posted in the mind wanders... on January 24, 2009 by Bruno

I’m normally against the death penalty, but in these cases… A sentence I’ve heard one too many times since yesterday. It’s like saying you will play by the rules, but when you’re three goals down, with a quarter to play, you abolish the off-side rule. It’s saying you’re an agnosticist, you just don’t know. Yes you do, think fecking harder! Face the consequences of the position you take. That left wing goody-two-shoes-weather-vanism makes me sick. Anyone who says that everybody should wear an Arafath scarf deserves that death penalty they are so adamant against in most cases. The flaws in your logic are so obvious that any half wit intelligent designer can reason you into never ending self doubt.

I am against the death penalty in all cases. You know why? Because you don’t know who the killer is, EVER. In this case it may seem like it’s Heath Ledger. Maybe we can exhume him and kill him all over again? The newest theory is that the killer likes Gothic music. Well, beware, so do I! Maybe we should burn all Lacrimosa-albums? Or reprimand kids listening Tuxedomoon? Hell, let’s burn Robert Smith on the stake! You know who the killer is? Society at large. That’s who’s to blame. A cold, impersonal society, that banked and consumed itself to the edge of the abyss and still hasn’t noticed. When the individual feels, the community reels. No child left behind, mon oeil. And society at large is YOU, yes, and YOU and YOU over there. It sometimes is even me. These are unpleasant facts; I know it. But then most historical facts are unpleasant.

It’s the altius, citius, fortius mentality. That’s the Latin Olympic credo which is only a paraphrase of Homo homini lupus est. Our world is not the same as Othello’s world. You can’t make flivvers without steel-and you can’t make tragedies without social instability. The world’s stable now. People are happy; they get what they want, and they never want what they can’t get. Rat’s start biting each other when put in a rat race. Quod erat demonstrandum. We’re a rat people, at any moment ready to bite the other one’s throat. We’re defaulted by default. Some bit of hardware is missing. We need an upgrade, a Human Race 2.0. A race that will not let people slide into a Joker world. A people that understands this planet is on loan from the children of our childrens kids. A people that understands that this is not such a Brave New World. A people who couldn’t care less what imaginary friend you believe in, who couldn’t care less about the pigmentation of your exoderm. And I’m afraid it will take more than a black guy chanting “Change” over and over again to fix that…

Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west; then paused, and, after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east.


Posted in the mind wanders... on January 21, 2009 by Bruno

She’s been there for as long as I can remember. A trusted friend for life, scarred since birth. She was shallow at first, but has recently grown to new, exciting depths of mystery. Visited by some, but not as regularly as she would like. Played with, tickeled, kissed. Likes to get wet in the shower and wishes she’d see more sunshine during summer. Some were quite taken aback when they first saw her. Granted, she might be a bit hairier than expected. And it’s amazing how deep you can stick your finger into her! And the amount of fluff to be found stuffed inside her…

I really love my belly button.

No snacks today…

Posted in Song lyrics on January 20, 2009 by Bruno

Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t post song lyrics. Shut your piehole, will you. This is my blog and I’m a lazy bastard, okay? And what’s more, I’ve been playing this song over and over (and over) again. In anticipation of the new Andrew Bird album (stream it on his Myspace… Or Hisspace?), I’ve been listening to his previous two albums. My all time favorite is probably ‘Scythian Empires’… The rise and fall of -let us not kid ourselves- the US of A. But this one, ‘Tables and chairs’ drives the nail even deeper in the coffin of today’s society. Emailed this to a few analysts some months ago, who critiqued (as per usual) my exagerated pathos and sense of impending doom. The critique has numbed, the smiles have turned to grins, the milk has gone sour. We’re in it now, and don’t tell me I didn’t warn you… Not just me, but some clever folks as well:

Oh, and even Andy knew what was coming, so lets listen to what the bard has to say to us…

If we can call them friends then we can call them on their telephones
and they won’t pretend that they’re too busy or that they’re not alone
and if we can call them friends then we can call,
holler at them down these hallowed halls
just don’t let the human factor fail to be a factor, at all

Don’t, don’t you worry, about the atmosphere
or any sudden pressure change
cause I know, that it’s starting to get warm in here
and things are starting to get strange

And did you, did you see how all of our friends were there
and they’re drinking roses from the can?
and how, how I wish I, I had talked to them,
and I wish they fit into the plan

and we were tired of being mild
we were so tired of being mild
and we were tired…

I know we’re going to meet some day
in the crumbled financial institutions of this land
there will be tables and chairs
there’ll be pony rides and dancing bears
there’ll even be a band
cause listen, after the fall there will be no more countries
no currencies at all, we’re gonna live on our wits
we’re gonna throw away survival kits,
trade butterfly-knives for adderal
and that’s not all
ooh-ooh, there will be snacks there will
there will be snacks, there will be snacks.

and we were tired of being mild,
we were so tired of being mild,
and we were (we were so) tired…

so don’t you,
don’t you worry
about the atmosphere.


Posted in the mind wanders... on January 13, 2009 by Bruno

Okay, so people expect me to come up with something mildly funny about twice a week. And granted, your young and dynamic servant would have easily filled those shoes a few years ago. With a mind as wired as the average musulman in Abu Ghraib, crooked flashes of genius were fired in all directions faster then you could say ‘urticaria pigmentosa’.

Not so of late, I’m afraid. The years seem to be getting to me. Sure, I still find this little blue ball as messed up as I used to, but now that constatation generally just generates a submissive sigh. I can’t get worked up about another Israeli-Palestinian war anymore. Of course jews are going to wage war. They have part of their dick cut off when they’re one week old. I can’t get worked up about the lack of political courage in this country anymore. L’onion a fait la farce, ever since 1830. I’m even inclined not to have Bert Anciaux-voters decapitated on the Grand Place in Brussels these days, feeling that a lobotomy might suffice (if we can train enough micro-surgeons to perform the procedures). I can’t get worked up about the financial crisis anymore. This planet has a problem, which is this: most of the people living on it are unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions have been suggested for this problem, but most of these are largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it isn’t the small green pieces of paper that are unhappy.

How can I presume to be the voice that thunders over the masses? Not even “Ye Ole Faithful” is heard these days (nor is “Ole Blue Eyes”, even if that Celtic Eejit wrote a column on him in the NY Times). He’s been belching and farting for weeks now (Ye Ole Faithful, not Bono per se), but nobody seems to care. We’re all clinging by the skin of our yellow teeth to this wafer thin layer of varnish we like to call civilisation. And so we forget our place in this grand scheme, we’ve baptised existence. We’re an ant race (in a rat race…) that can be stepped out of being by a Monty Phytonesque cosmological footstep at any time. Nobody would even notice. What are we humans other than a colony of annoying gnats that can be swiped of universes back without any effort? For what is this little blue ball other than a fluke in the great game of snooker in the sky? For what is Yellowstone but a little zit on the enchanting face of the universe? What is a lifespan other than an out of tone half note in the opera of Wagnerian duration that is the space-time continuüm? What if all the people alive today, stood up and shouted one deafening ‘Hello’ into space? Space would not even dignify it with an echo, let alone would there be someone to answer us. Our ‘Hello’ would hoover out there for a brief moment and would then disappear, not even leaving a footprint in the sands of time… So maybe, just maybe, we should take ourselves a little less serious.

Back by popular demand…

Posted in the mind wanders... on January 7, 2009 by Bruno

Yours truly’s vast fanbase has been complaining of late. Less song lyrics, more rants… As I am not to be bossed around, let me combine both arts into one chef d’oeuvre of songlyricly rant, if you’ll indulge me.

Ironic… One will hardly debate that I know a fair bit about irony. Some would even find me sarcastic at times (the best of times, the worst of times). But of course some ill-informed pop wannabe had to venture into the realm of English linguistics and prove to the world that she’s a regular cunt. You know the nails on the blackboard of whom I speak: Alanis Morissette… “It’s not fair…” You whinging cow, no wonder he left you…

And there is nothing ironic whatsoever in that song of hers. Most things are just unfortunate. That’s what she should have called the song: Unfortunate… The only thing ironic about the song is that it’s called Ironic and that it’s written by a woman who obviously hasn’t got a clue on what irony is. THAT is ironic, really.

A traffic jam when you’re already late

That’s not ironic, that’s just a pain in the hole. Unless of course (and maybe this is implied and I should cut the girl some slack), you were a town planner on his way to a meeting to discuss how he solved the problem of traffic congestion with his new circulation plan…

It’s like rain on your wedding day.

That’s not ironic, now, isn’t it? That’s just bad luck. Unless , unless, you were marrying a weatherman and he picked the date, THAT would be ironic.

A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break

That’s just inconsidered office-management, that’s what that is. A non-smoking sing in a cigarette factory: IRONY! You reading this, Alanis?

But the real belter of course is: It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife

That’s not ironic, that’s just fecking stupid. How big is your kitchen sink, girl? Who has ten thousand spoons? And what do you need the knife for? To stab the bloke who keeps leaving spoons all over your house? But lets, in our immense goodness, give her the benefit of the doubt: Imagine you needed a knife but couldn’t find one, ’cause all you found were ten thousand spoons and so you couldn’t do whatever it was you were supposed to do with the knife. But then the next day, it turns out… a spoon would have done… Ironic. “Wanted to pop the lid of this pot… Damn, could have used a spoon for that…”

The ‘American Society for the preservation of good English’ condemned Alanis for her misuse of the word ironic. They said that America already has a bad rep around the world for not knowing what irony is and Alanis wasn’t helping. Quite ironic, if you remember that Alanis is Canadian…

Let me tell you what’s ironic. Ironic is two tribes that are disputing a piece of land because the first tribes imaginary friend promised them that land a few thousand years ago and the second tribes imaginary friend tells them to slay all people who have another imaginary friend. The irony is in the fact that the first tribes imaginary friend had a sex change and became the imaginary friend of a third tribe. They celebrate the birth of their imaginary friends son around this time. All he ever said that made sense was: peace on earth. Seems ironic to blow that piece of land to kingdom come this time of the year…

In case you were wondering (Part II: Il est trop petit)

Posted in Song lyrics with tags on January 5, 2009 by Bruno

Soufé yara magni de
Niya sebe man dafa
N’ko bandiya mangni fesse fesse
Horonya lé gnongon tessan

Opération coup de poing
Opération coup de poing
Opération coup de poing yeh!!
Opération coup de poing

Néko wohouho woyo yohi
Brigadier Sabari
Néko Aïe Aïe Aïe Aïe
Brigadier Sabari
Néko koutoubou sakidi!!!
Brigadier Sabari
Néko Pati sanganan!!!
Niyongon téné sorotougou
Brigand ya mangni de de N’Téri
Horonya lé gnongon tessan
Soufé yara mangni fesse fesse
Nyia sebe man dafa

Opération coup de poing
Opération coup de poing
Opération coup de poing
Opération coup de poing

Néko wohouho woyo yoni
Brigadier Sabari
Néko Aïe Aïe Aïe Aïe
Brigadier Sabari
Néko koutoubou sakidi!!!
Brigadier Sabari
Néko Pati sanganan!!!
Niyongon téné sorotougou

In case you were wondering

Posted in Song lyrics with tags on January 5, 2009 by Bruno

Recall the day, remember the place,
betraying a girl is easy (or so I thought).
Untamed you keep me hanging on,
bewitched the love I feel for LENA.

Girl since you whispered your name,
it just keeps hanging in my brain.
I tried to ignore for too many years,
all those times it echoes in my ears.

Wohoyoho Lena, feel this melody,
wohoyoho Lena, hear that voice in me.

A name of a girl is made for a song,
a song is hanging on the name of a girl.
Only for you I have broken this chain,
hope before I die it will be fixed again.

Wohoyoho Lena, feel this melody,
wohoyoho Lena hear that voice in me.

Schöne Alfenfee, zwei Sterren in der Nacht.
Zwisschen Bergen über Strömen ich höre dein lachen.
Umkranste Edelweiss, drei Blumen in das Feld.
Du bist mein Kerker und mein Himmelreich !

Wohoyoho Lena, feel this melody,
wohoyoho Lena hear that voice in me.