You know by now that I am taking part in a blog roll, called Punkt, Punkt, Punkt – or three dots – as a sign for an ellipsis.
Each week we insert a new theme. Last Sunday it was my turn to come up with a theme – I chose illumination.
I planned for a nice photo I took at a cemetary in Prerow with the sun pouring down through fog … and then my computer crashed and I still don’t know if I got this photo somewhere. So I looked at what I knew I still had, a photo from our local botanical garden. Sun illuminating a leaf – and leaving the others alone.
This post was followed by a post about my postcard number 1500 registered on Postcrossing – and how I feel about certain groups of members. For example all those vegetarians and vegans who have the need to tell me in the first 5 sentences their food choice. Uhm – yeah, why should I care? I send you a card lady (most are female), I am not inviting you to dinner.
There are several other groups I am not too delighted with, stamp collectors who make it all about stamps – hey, it is a project where you send postcards and get postcards. NO CHOOSING OF CARDS, NO CHOOSING OF STAMPS … *sigh*
Or those postcrossers who think they are entitled to DEMAND a certain type of card – hint: THEY ARE NOT.
If it wasn’t about the children on there who are polite and easily delighted and the members who write: Just send what you would like to receive yourself and the others, who very, very politely ask for a few not too difficult to fulfill wishes – I would be going. But then you get all those good ones and the assholes, too. I try to stay polite even when reading some elaborate nonsense, by ignoring said nonsense and write something uncontroversial … but sometimes not even that is enough. I had a mormon who tried to proselytize me …
Next post was about a German law that forces mothers to tell the nominal father who the real father is, when asked – so that the nominal father can sue the other for money. I just pointed out that a law which you cannot really enforce should not be made. You can never say if a woman is lying when she claims she forgot the name of the one-night-stand, can you?
That was followed by one of my pet peeves – people not keeping to the rules on the street. I am not talking about scenarios where hardly anybody else is around, but on a busy street pedestrians discussing whatever – blocking bike lane and pavement … Cars being parked right under a traffic light – where people are supposed to walk along … and finally, my most hated group: bikers who think they may drive wherever they want. No, you may not. KEEP TO THE BIKE LANE OR USE THE EFFING STREET!
Here in Germany it’s forbidden by law (even by constitution) to open your shop on a Sunday. You may for a very limited number of Sundays, or if you are in a town which is a huge tourist destination, but a town like Hannover may not. We are limited to four Sunday afternoons – not per shop – per city. And the merchants from outside the city center now lament that they cannot choose freely and have to go along with the Sundays of the city center – the city center attracts the shopping crowds, who do not shop outside the center then. While they moan that too much is regulated they now want a regulation that keeps their more successful rivals at bay … honi soit qui mal y pense.
Finally today’s contribution to the blog parade:
Lunch package … Pausenbrot – literally translated as bread (or sandwich) eaten during a break.
I chose not another picture of a German Butter-Brot .. (buttered bread – sandwich) – I dug out a song from the late 70s of last century, which is around a while longer yet, it once was a soldiers-song during World War I – yes, you read that correctly. The lyrics it is known by now were added after that, by organised students, which even today are known for their conservative world view.
It sounds so harmless, Out we go to the far side
with butter, bread and bacon
this is something that we really like
nobody’s going to take it
and if someone tries
for it we’re gonna fight
we won’t accept defeat
until he bleeds
Or something like that. – Rough translation.
Problem is, not only was it a song sung by soldiers of the losing side of the First World War, this very lyrics, which were sung at school outings when I was kid in the 7os, have a hint back to a region of France, where they eat Flammkuchen mit Speck – a specialty – and that together with the words nobody’s going to take it it is nationalism and revanchism.
So much for a simple sarnie.