Why do we kill people who are killing people to show that killing people is wrong?
Holly Near
Saturday, April 30, 2011
John F. Kennedy on war
War will exist until that distant day when the conscientious objector enjoys the same reputation and prestige that the warrior does today.
Plato on war
It is only the dead who have seen the end of war.
Plato
"There is no pattern to who lives or dies in war...
In war people die because they do.
There is nothing more to it than that."
Friday, April 29, 2011
Love is like a sin, my love,
Paradise Circus - Massive Attack (Breakage's Tight Rope Remix)
It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm
We can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable
Oh well, the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we're spinning in his grip
Love is like a sin, my love,
For the ones that feel it the most
Look at her with her eyes like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you again
It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm
We can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable
Oh well, the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we're spinning in his grip
Love is like a sin, my love,
For the one that feels it the most
Look at her with a smile like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you again
and here the more house mix by CJ Winterman:
Massive Attack & Gui Boratto - Paradise Circus [DJ Winterman Remix] 2011
In a nutshell
Alice in Chains - Nutshell
We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find
And yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel better dead
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
We face the path of time
And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find
And yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel better dead
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
Sexuality
What did a colleague say today during our lunch break? When you have sex with someone, you give a piece of your soul away.
So you better make pretty sure, that the other person does take care of it.....
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Bird of prey...
Fatboy Slim - Bird of prey
haette schon so seine vorteile, dann waere die ganze show echt schnell vorbei....
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Inside into Dublin Social Life
Everybody’s Drinkin’
April 26, 2011 by jaycarax
Andy Quirke, uber rich boy with loads of times on his hands, brings out a surprisingly catchy and well made spoof music video looking at the two extremes of Dublin social life.
11,000 views in just under a fortnight so far but with last night’s showing on the Republic of Telly, I’ll reckon it’s going to be a big one.
Treasure from the Bog
Watch while (and where) you can!!!
Treasure from the Bog
A psalter from the 9th century found in a Tipperary bog hinting towards a link of early irish christian monks to the coptic community in the north of egypt.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Be Mine
from David Gray's follow up record of the "White Ladder" Record the 2002 album "A new day at Midnight". Not bad but not as good.... still waiting for a record that continues where White Ladder left off....
The Touch of the Master's Hand
It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"
But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."
And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.
Myra Brooks Welch
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"
But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."
And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.
Myra Brooks Welch
Faith
Quotes from the movie "Legion" (With Paul Bettany as Archanegl Michael):
Michael to Jeep: When God chose your kind as the object of His love, I was the first in all of heaven to bow down before you. My love, my hope for mankind was no less than His. But I have watched you trample that gift. I have watched you kill each other over race and greed... waging war over dust and rubble and the words in old books. And yet, in the midst of all this darkness, I see some people who will not be bowed. I see some people who will not give up, even when they know all hope is lost. Some people, who realize being lost is so close to being found. I see you, Jeep. Fifteen years old, your mother leaves. Your father withdraws from the world and you spend the next five years of your young life helping him find his way home. You love a woman who bears the child of another and you love her with no thought of yourself, even though you know she may never love you the way you love her. You, Jeep... you are the reason I still have faith.
Percy: When I was a kid, my father would sit by my bed every night before I went to sleep. And he's say to me, "Percy, if you don't wake up tomorrow, if it turns out that today is your last day on earth. Will you be proud of what you've done in this life? Because if you ain't, you better start getting square."
Michael: I knew he'd send you Gabriel, you were always so eager to please him.
Gabriel: Unlike you.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sodom und Gomorrha
aus eher archaeologischer Sicht....
(und mein Herz schlaegt hoeher.... :)
Eine der Hauptthesen der Dokumentation: Das Bronzezeitalter hat nicht nur den Gebrauch von Metallen hervorgebracht, sondern auch die Stadt als solches hervorgebracht. Ein wenig allgemein gehalten, aber macht kausalattribuitiv sinn. Aber: Erstens hat es mit Kupfer angefangen und erst spaeter entwickelte sich die Bronze als 2. Schritt (1. Schritt: gewinnung und verarbeitung von Kupfer und dann LEGIERUNGEN sprich metalle zu mischen. Im Falle von Bronze: Kupfer und Zinn). Wie dem auch sei, die Doku unterstuetzt meine These, dass die Menschheit spaetestens ab dem Aufbrechen der Erde, um Metall zu gewinnen, sich im Niedergang befindet......
Pothead - Fifty years
Pothead - Fifty years
Well in the name of Jango and of Jesus Christ To all the people so sad and unlucky in life So it's comin' on down but it don't really show in the middle where we're at you can't really know,hey Some people got the sugar piled high like sand but you can't really say when a poor man ask a man From the reign of St.Peter to Mohammed Ali And the G.I.beret Beaver's brother Walley There's a time and a reason you just go to know it's a bag of sugar that make us go The old people say young people don't know When I was a kid,true suffering was the norm. And the neight of the world on the nasted bohemian and the fall of the red star,check,to the beer of che And the old man who says youn people don' know only fifty years since the second worl war To the people that say that they don't really care they can't really know cause they ain't really there The general had died a few years ago his attitude was gone when he lost the war Well,what did it cost us?It cost us much | |
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Boss nails it.....
Bruce Springsteen - Devils & Dust
I got my finger on the trigger
But I don't know who to trust
When I look into your eyes
There's just devils and dust
We're a long, long way from home, Bobbie
Home's a long, long way from us
I feel a dirty wind blowing
Devils and dust
I got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
And fill it with devils and dust
Well I dreamed of you last night
In a field of blood and stone
The blood began to dry
The smell began to rise
Well I dreamed of you last night, Bobbie
In a field of mud and bone
Your blood began to dry
And the smell began to rise
We've got God on our side
We're just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
[Harmonica solo]
Now every woman and every man
They wanna take a righteous stand
Find the love that God wills
And the faith that He commands
I've got my finger on the trigger
And tonight faith just ain't enough
When I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust
Well I've got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a dangerous thing
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
Yeah it'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
[Harmonica solo]
I got my finger on the trigger
But I don't know who to trust
When I look into your eyes
There's just devils and dust
We're a long, long way from home, Bobbie
Home's a long, long way from us
I feel a dirty wind blowing
Devils and dust
I got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
And fill it with devils and dust
Well I dreamed of you last night
In a field of blood and stone
The blood began to dry
The smell began to rise
Well I dreamed of you last night, Bobbie
In a field of mud and bone
Your blood began to dry
And the smell began to rise
We've got God on our side
We're just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
[Harmonica solo]
Now every woman and every man
They wanna take a righteous stand
Find the love that God wills
And the faith that He commands
I've got my finger on the trigger
And tonight faith just ain't enough
When I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust
Well I've got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a dangerous thing
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
Yeah it'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
[Harmonica solo]
Jonny Cash for Easter
Jonny Cash - Spiritual
Jesus I don't wanna die alone Jesus oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
My love wasn't true Now all I have is you
Jesus oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
Jesus If you hear my last breath
Don't leave me here Left to die a lonely death I know I have sinned but Lord I'm suffering
Jesus Oh Jesus If you hear my last breath
Jesus I don't wanna die alone Jesus oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
My love wasn't true Now all I have is you
Jesus Oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
Jesus Jesus All my troubles All My pain Will leave me Once again
All my troubles All my pain Will leave me once again
My love wasn't true Now all I have is you
Jesus oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
Jesus If you hear my last breath
Don't leave me here Left to die a lonely death I know I have sinned but Lord I'm suffering
Jesus Oh Jesus If you hear my last breath
Jesus I don't wanna die alone Jesus oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
My love wasn't true Now all I have is you
Jesus Oh Jesus I don't wanna die alone
Jesus Jesus All my troubles All My pain Will leave me Once again
All my troubles All my pain Will leave me once again
All my troubles All my pain Will leave me once again Once again
schade, dass das so wenige verstehen. Und man koennte meinen Jesus ist umsonst am Kreuz gestorben..... oder?????
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Other views of Wales Trip
Ein Wunder
Es ist doch ein schieres Wunder, wie ich es trotz meines zu vertrauenswuerdigen und naiven Wesens bis 40 geschafft habe. Mir fehlt zwar noch ein gutes Stueck bis zur Menschwerdung und auch wenn das verschiedene Leute bezweifeln ich das noch in meiner Zeit noch schaffe, ist mir egal. Und darueber zu verbittern, den Gefallen ich tue ich denen, die das wuenschen oder brauchen schon mal gar nicht.
Unglaublich...
...das hat meine Schwester abends immer mit mir durch die geoeffnete tuer zwischen unseren Zimmern gesungen, Sie war 10 und ich war 5.... :)
und die einzige Uebersetzung, die ich auf youtube gefunden habe, ist ins Spanische!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Louis Armstrong
Louis Armstrong covering La vie en Rose (written by Edith Piaf)
Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
When you kiss me heaven sighs
And tho I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak...angels sing from above
Everyday words seem...to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
Also wenn ich koennte, haette ich das Lied gerne zur Hand wenn am Horizont die Pilze am Himmel stehen....
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
When you kiss me heaven sighs
And tho I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak...angels sing from above
Everyday words seem...to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
Also wenn ich koennte, haette ich das Lied gerne zur Hand wenn am Horizont die Pilze am Himmel stehen....
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Achilles' heel
For one man its money, for another its a woman...
An Achilles’ heel is a deadly weakness in spite of overall strength, that can actually or potentially lead to downfall. While the mythological origin refers to a physical vulnerability, metaphorical references to other attributes or qualities that can lead to downfall are common.
here the article: Achilles heel in deutsch: Achillesferse
And Led Zeppelins contribution: Achilles Last Stand
Oh The mighty arms of Atlas,
Hold the heavens from the earth
Hold the heavens from the earth
It wasn't even morning when they told us we should go
And as I turned to you, you smiled at me, how could we say no?
With all the fun to have, to live the dreams we always had
With all the songs to sing, when we at last return again
Sending off a glancing kiss, to those who claim they know
Below the streets that steam and hiss, the devil's in his hole
Oh to sail away, To sandy lands and other days
Oh to trust the dream, Hides inside and never seen.
Into the sun the south the north, at last the birds have flown
The shackles of commitment fell, in pieces on the ground
Oh to ride the wind, To tread the air above the din
Oh to laugh aloud, With dancing eyes we caught the crowds, yeah
To seek the man whose pointing hand, The giant step unfolds
To guide us from the curving path, That churns up into stone
If one bell should ring, in celebration for a king
So fast the heart should beat, As proud the head with heavy feet, yeah
Days went by when you and I, bathed in eternal summers glow
As far away and distant, Our mutual child did grow
Oh the sweet refrain, Soothes the soul and calms the pain
Oh Albion remains, sleeping now to rise again
Wandering and wanderings, What place to rest the search
The mighty arms of Atlas, Hold the heavens from the earth
Oh The mighty arms of Atlas,
Hold the heavens from the earth
From the earth... Earth…
I know the way, know the way, know the way, know the way
I know the way, know the way, know the way, know the way
Oh the mighty arms of Atlas Hold the heavens from the earth.
From the earth.
And as I turned to you, you smiled at me, how could we say no?
With all the fun to have, to live the dreams we always had
With all the songs to sing, when we at last return again
Sending off a glancing kiss, to those who claim they know
Below the streets that steam and hiss, the devil's in his hole
Oh to sail away, To sandy lands and other days
Oh to trust the dream, Hides inside and never seen.
Into the sun the south the north, at last the birds have flown
The shackles of commitment fell, in pieces on the ground
Oh to ride the wind, To tread the air above the din
Oh to laugh aloud, With dancing eyes we caught the crowds, yeah
To seek the man whose pointing hand, The giant step unfolds
To guide us from the curving path, That churns up into stone
If one bell should ring, in celebration for a king
So fast the heart should beat, As proud the head with heavy feet, yeah
Days went by when you and I, bathed in eternal summers glow
As far away and distant, Our mutual child did grow
Oh the sweet refrain, Soothes the soul and calms the pain
Oh Albion remains, sleeping now to rise again
Wandering and wanderings, What place to rest the search
The mighty arms of Atlas, Hold the heavens from the earth
Oh The mighty arms of Atlas,
Hold the heavens from the earth
From the earth... Earth…
I know the way, know the way, know the way, know the way
I know the way, know the way, know the way, know the way
Oh the mighty arms of Atlas Hold the heavens from the earth.
From the earth.
Rainbow - Tearing out my heart
Rainbow - Tearing out my heart
First time I saw your face
By your side was the place
That I would wanna be
Sometimes and I don’t know why
Love can come or it can pass you by
Now you take all the love you gave to me
(you take it from me)
You’re tearin’ out my heart
Oh -
Never thought I’d see the day
You would throw my love away
And oh...it’s killing me
One thing you’ll never know
How it hurts to let you go
As you turn and walk away from me..
(walk away)
You’re tearin out my heart
Feel like I been ripped apart..
You’re tearin out my heart...
Daybreaks I try to be free
But your memory is haunting me
Oh - there’s nothing I can do
All alone in the candlelight
I see your face again tonight
And I feel all the emptiness without you
(without you) tearin’ out my heart
Oh, I feel like I been ripped apart...
Tearin’ out my heart...
First time I saw your face
By your side was the place
That I would wanna be
Sometimes and I don’t know why
Love can come or it can pass you by
Now you take all the love you gave to me
(you take it from me)
You’re tearin’ out my heart
Oh -
Never thought I’d see the day
You would throw my love away
And oh...it’s killing me
One thing you’ll never know
How it hurts to let you go
As you turn and walk away from me..
(walk away)
You’re tearin out my heart
Feel like I been ripped apart..
You’re tearin out my heart...
Daybreaks I try to be free
But your memory is haunting me
Oh - there’s nothing I can do
All alone in the candlelight
I see your face again tonight
And I feel all the emptiness without you
(without you) tearin’ out my heart
Oh, I feel like I been ripped apart...
Tearin’ out my heart...
The New Radicals - Someday we'll know
The New Radicals - Someday we'll know
90 miles outside chicago
Can't stop driving
I don't know why
So many questions
I need an answer
Two years later you're still on my mind
Whatever happened to Emelia Earhart
Who holds the stars up in the sky
Is true love once in a lifetime
Did the captain of the titanic cry
Someday we'll know
If love can move a mountain
Someday we'll know
Why the sky is blue
Someday we'll know
Why I wasn't meant for you
Does anybody know the way to Atlantis
Or what the wind says when she cries
I'm speeding by the place that I met you
For the 97th time tonight
Someday we'll know
If love can move a mountain
Someday we'll know
Why the sky is blue
Someday we'll know
Why I wasn't meant for you
Someday we'll know
Why Samson loved Delilah
One day I'll go
Dancing on the moon
Someday you'll know
That I was the one for you
I bought a ticket to the end of the rainbow
I watched the stars crash in the sea
If I could ask god just one question
Why aren't you here with me
Someday we'll know
If love can move a mountain
Someday we'll know
Why the sky is blue
Someday we'll know
Why I wasn't meant for you
Someday we'll know
Why Samson loved Delilah
One day I'll go
Dancing on the moon
Someday you'll know
That I was the One for you
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday morning
Delirium - Silence
more kind of like a note to myself. (bear with me, i have no sound and cant check quality until this evening)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Ein totes Pferd reiten
Eine Weisheit der Dakota Indianer besagt: „Wenn Du entdeckst, dass Du ein totes Pferd reitest, steig ab!”
Hört sich doch so simpel an, oder? Aber statt vom toten Pferd abzusteigen wurden in unserem beruflichen Leben viele Methoden und Strategien - zum Teil bis zur Perfektion - entwickelt, um dem Unausweichlichen doch ausweichen zu können. Kommt Dir die eine oder andere der folgenden Strategien vielleicht bekannt vor?
- Wir besorgen uns eine stärkere Peitsche.
- Wir sagen: „So haben wir das Pferd schon immer geritten”.
- Wir gründen einen Arbeitskreis, um das Pferd zu analysieren.
- Wir besuchen andere Orte, um zu sehen, wie man dort tote Pferde reitet.
- Wir erhöhen die Qualitätsstandards für den Beritt toter Pferde.
- Wir bilden eine Task-Force, um das Pferd wiederzubeleben.
- Wir kaufen Leute von außerhalb ein, die angeblich tote Pferde reiten können.
- Wir schieben eine Trainingseinheit ein um besser reiten zu können.
- Wir stellen Vergleiche unterschiedlicher toter Pferde an.
- Wir ändern die Kriterien, die besagen, dass ein Pferd tot ist.
- Wir schirren mehrere tote Pferde gemeinsam an, damit wir schneller werden.
- Wir erklären: „Kein Pferd kann so tot sein, das wir es nicht mehr reiten können.”
- Wir machen eine Studie, um zu sehen, ob es bessere oder billigere Pferde gibt.
- Wir erklären, dass unser Pferd besser, schneller und billiger tot ist als andere Pferde.
- Wir bilden einen Qualitätszirkel, um eine Verwendung von toten Pferden zu finden.
- Wir richten eine unabhängige Kostenstelle für tote Pferde ein.
- Wir vergrößern den Verantwortungsbereich für tote Pferde.
- Wir entwickeln ein Motivationsprogramm für tote Pferde.
- Wir erstellen eine Präsentation in der wir aufzeigen, was das Pferd könnte, wenn es noch leben würde.
- Wir strukturieren um damit ein anderer Bereich das tote Pferd bekommt.
- Wir senden jemandem das tote Pferd als Geschenk. Und Geschenke darf man nicht zurücksenden.
Quelle: [leider unbekannt]
Nur so als Gedanke ueber Arbeiten an Plaetzen, die, aeh, wie tote Pferde aussehen. ~Oder sich anfuehlen. Oder es einfach sind......
How to ride a dead horse
The tribal wisdom of the Dakota Indians, passed on from one generation to the next, says that when you discover that you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount.
But in modern business (and education and government), because heavy investment factors are taken into consideration, other strategies are often tried with dead horses, including the following:
- Buying a stronger whip.
- Changing riders.
- Threatening the horse with termination.
- Appointing a committee to study the horse.
- Arranging to visit other sites to see how they ride dead horses.
- Lowering the standards so that dead horses can be included.
- Reclassifying the dead horse as "living-impaired".
- Hiring outside contractors to ride the dead horse.
- Harnessing several dead horses together to increase speed.
- Providing additional funding and/or training to increase the dead horse's performance.
- Doing a productivity study to see if lighter riders would improve the dead horse's performance.Declaring that the dead horse carries lower overhead and therefore contributes more to the bottom line than some other horses.
- Rewriting the expected performance requirements for all horses.
- Promoting the dead horse to a supervisory position.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Wenn ich Gott waere...
Wenn ich Gott wäre, könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie Neugeborene verhungern.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie kleine Kinder misshandelt werden.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie Männer ihre Frauen foltern.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie einige wenige im Land alle anderen ausbeuten.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie die Armen der Welt immer ärmer und die Reichen immer noch satter werden.
... könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie immer mehr Geld für Rüstung ausgegeben wird.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie kleine Kinder misshandelt werden.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie Männer ihre Frauen foltern.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie einige wenige im Land alle anderen ausbeuten.
...könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie die Armen der Welt immer ärmer und die Reichen immer noch satter werden.
... könnte ich nicht zusehen, wie immer mehr Geld für Rüstung ausgegeben wird.
Wenn ich Gott wäre? Nicht einer würde mehr verhungern, misshandelt, gefoltert oder ausgebeutet,
wenn wir Menschen wirklich Menschen wären!
Friday, April 15, 2011
Die Internationale (Hannes Wader)
... mit einer netten Praesentation mit Bildern von Georg Seyfried.
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern (FJ Degenhardt)
heute fuehl ich mich so schmuddelig....
aber nach Kaninchenstall riech ich noch nicht........
aber nach Kaninchenstall riech ich noch nicht........
Franz Josef Degenhardt - Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
So sprach die Mutter, sprach der Vater, lehrte der Pastor.
Er schlich aber immer wieder durch das Gartentor
und in die Kaninchenställe,
wo sie Sechsundsechzig spielten
um Tabak und Rattenfelle,
Mädchen unter Röcke schielten,
wo auf alten Bretterkisten
Katzen in der Sonne dösten,
wo man, wenn der Regen rauschte,
Engelbert, dem Blöden, lauschte,
der auf einen Haarkamm biß,
Rattenfängerlieder blies.
Abends, am Familientisch, nach dem Gebet zum Mahl,
hieß es dann: Du riechst schon wieder nach Kaninchenstall.
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
Sie trieben ihn in eine Schule in der Oberstadt,
kämmten ihm die Haare und die krause Sprache glatt.
Lernte Rumpf und Wörter beugen.
Und statt Rattenfängerweisen
mußte er das Largo geigen
und vor dürren Tantengreisen
unter roten Rattenwimpern
par coeur Kinderszenen klimpern
und, verklemmt in Viererreihen,
Knochen morsch und morscher schreien,
zwischen Fahnen aufgestellt brüllen, daß man Freundschaft hält.
Schlich er manchmal abends zum Kaninchenstall davon,
hockten da die Schmuddelkinder, sangen voller Hohn:
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
Aus Rache ist er reich geworden. In der Oberstadt
hat er sich ein Haus gebaut, nahm jeden Tag ein Bad.
Roch, wie bessre Leute riechen,
lachte fett, wenn alle Ratten
ängstlich in die Gullys wichen,
weil sie ihn gerochen hatten.
Und Kaninchenställe riß er
ab. An ihre Stelle ließ er
Gärten für die Kinder bauen.
Liebte hochgestellte Frauen, schnelle Wagen und Musik,
blond und laut und honigdick.
Kam sein Sohn, der Nägelbeißer, abends spät zum Mahl,
roch er an ihm, schlug ihn, schrie: Stinkst nach Kaninchenstall.
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
Und eines Tages hat er eine Kurve glatt verfehlt.
Man hat ihn aus einem Ei von Schrott herausgepellt.
Als er später durch die Straßen
hinkte, sah man ihn an Tagen
auf nem Haarkamm Lieder blasen,
Rattenfell am Kragen tragen.
Hinkte hüpfend hinter Kindern,
wollte sie am Schulgang hindern
und schlich um Kaninchenställe.
Eines Tags in aller Helle
hat er dann ein Kind betört
und in einen Stall gezerrt.
Seine Leiche fand man, die im Rattenteich rumschwamm.
Drum herum die Schmuddelkinder bliesen auf dem Kamm:
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindem,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder!
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
So sprach die Mutter, sprach der Vater, lehrte der Pastor.
Er schlich aber immer wieder durch das Gartentor
und in die Kaninchenställe,
wo sie Sechsundsechzig spielten
um Tabak und Rattenfelle,
Mädchen unter Röcke schielten,
wo auf alten Bretterkisten
Katzen in der Sonne dösten,
wo man, wenn der Regen rauschte,
Engelbert, dem Blöden, lauschte,
der auf einen Haarkamm biß,
Rattenfängerlieder blies.
Abends, am Familientisch, nach dem Gebet zum Mahl,
hieß es dann: Du riechst schon wieder nach Kaninchenstall.
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
Sie trieben ihn in eine Schule in der Oberstadt,
kämmten ihm die Haare und die krause Sprache glatt.
Lernte Rumpf und Wörter beugen.
Und statt Rattenfängerweisen
mußte er das Largo geigen
und vor dürren Tantengreisen
unter roten Rattenwimpern
par coeur Kinderszenen klimpern
und, verklemmt in Viererreihen,
Knochen morsch und morscher schreien,
zwischen Fahnen aufgestellt brüllen, daß man Freundschaft hält.
Schlich er manchmal abends zum Kaninchenstall davon,
hockten da die Schmuddelkinder, sangen voller Hohn:
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
Aus Rache ist er reich geworden. In der Oberstadt
hat er sich ein Haus gebaut, nahm jeden Tag ein Bad.
Roch, wie bessre Leute riechen,
lachte fett, wenn alle Ratten
ängstlich in die Gullys wichen,
weil sie ihn gerochen hatten.
Und Kaninchenställe riß er
ab. An ihre Stelle ließ er
Gärten für die Kinder bauen.
Liebte hochgestellte Frauen, schnelle Wagen und Musik,
blond und laut und honigdick.
Kam sein Sohn, der Nägelbeißer, abends spät zum Mahl,
roch er an ihm, schlug ihn, schrie: Stinkst nach Kaninchenstall.
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder.
Und eines Tages hat er eine Kurve glatt verfehlt.
Man hat ihn aus einem Ei von Schrott herausgepellt.
Als er später durch die Straßen
hinkte, sah man ihn an Tagen
auf nem Haarkamm Lieder blasen,
Rattenfell am Kragen tragen.
Hinkte hüpfend hinter Kindern,
wollte sie am Schulgang hindern
und schlich um Kaninchenställe.
Eines Tags in aller Helle
hat er dann ein Kind betört
und in einen Stall gezerrt.
Seine Leiche fand man, die im Rattenteich rumschwamm.
Drum herum die Schmuddelkinder bliesen auf dem Kamm:
Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindem,
sing nicht ihre Lieder.
Geh doch in die Oberstadt,
machs wie deine Brüder!
Of course is Archaeology treasure hunting...
... to a certain degree.
Hier geht es zur Spiegel.de Fotostrecke: Archaeologen untersuchen Schlachtfeld vom 30jaehrigen Krieg (1618-1648) bei Luetzen
 |
| Spuren einer Schlacht: Der schwedische Archäologe Bo Knarrström zeigt eine Gewehrkugel, die bei Lützen auf dem Gelände der Hauptschlacht des Dreißigjährigen Krieges (1618-1648) gefunden wurde. |
 |
| Außergewöhnlicher Fund: Der bei Lützen entdeckte bronzene Löwenkopf symbolisiert König Gustav II. Adolf (1594 bis 1632) als Verteidiger des Protestantismus. Seine katholischen Feinde sind als Schlange dargestellt, die sich im Maul des Löwen windet. |
 |
| Suche nach Relikten: Die Forscher haben bisher mehr als 10.000 Gegenstände entdeckt, die mit der Schlacht bei Lützen im Zusammenhang stehen. |
 |
| Kleinarbeit: Der britische Archäologe Timothy Sutherland untersucht eine Bodenprobe. |
 |
| Bronzene figürliche Hakenverschlüsse: Sie sind Zeugnisse der sogenannten Nürnberger Rotschmiedearbeit. Wenige Monate vor der Schlacht bei Lützen hatten sich Wallenstein und Gustav II. Adolf vor Nürnberg bereits gegenübergestanden. |
 |
| Archäologe mit Metalldetektor und Spaten: Eine Untersuchung des gesamten Schlachtfeldes wird nicht möglich sein - die Forscher hiffen, die Hälfte oder zwei Drittel zu schaffen. Die restliche Fläche ist bebaut oder von Wäldern bedeckt. |
Hier geht es zur Spiegel.de Fotostrecke: Archaeologen untersuchen Schlachtfeld vom 30jaehrigen Krieg (1618-1648) bei Luetzen
Walk the Dinosaur
how real they got.... whats next???? Wie werden wir in der Zukunft in der Lage sein, das Reale vom anderen zu unterscheiden? Wenn z.B. Luzifer wie der schoenste Engel erscheinen wird, wie kann ich das als Trugbild erkennen???????
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Earth, Wind & Fire: September
its April it feels somehow more like September....
Der April, der April, der macht was er will....
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
In einem anderen Leben
und einem anderen Zeitalter (also noch in Deutschland des 20. Jahrhunderts und VOR dem Internet), als ich noch Journalist war, hatte ich ein Foto gemacht von der Band "Die Schröders" mit dem niedersaechsischen Ministerpraesidenten Gerhard Schröder bei einem Festival in Salzgitter. In guter Archaeologenmanier habe ich die abzuege gut vergraben. Hoere gerade den total genialen Song Silver Surfer, den ich hier spaeter posten werde (Lyrics ab 8:40 Minuten: Warum legst du dich nicht auf die Strasse und pennst....).
ICH SITZE HIER AUF MEINER FENSTERBANK
WACHE AUF DIE WELT DOCH DER GESTANK ER MACHT MICH KRANK
ICH BIN DER RETTER DES UNIVERSUMS
IM ANGESICHT DER EWIGKEIT DIE HOFFNUNG MEINER ZEIT
MEINE KRÄFTE ÜBERMÄCHTIG
GALAKTISCH-MEGA-ZOOM-TORPEDO-HEFTIG
DIE ERDE IST EIN STRAFPLANET AUF DEM´S DEN MEISTEN DRECKIG GEHT
FÜR WUNDER IST ES NIE ZU SPÄT - KENNT IHR MEINEN NAMEN
SILVER SURFER
DIE ERDE IST EIN STRAFPLANET AUF DEM´S DEN MEISTEN DRECKIG GEHT
BEVOR DIE WELT ZUGRUNDE GEHT - RUFT EINFACH MEINEN NAMEN
Und 8.40- 9.20
Stimme 1: Ja, ich stehe auf den Surfer
Stimme 2: Ich finde er ist ein Arsch
Stimme 1: Nein, Nein, mann, er ist ein Held. Er ist ein Held. Er rettet die welt vor Galactus, was dagegen?
Stimme 2: Er ist verrueckt. Er koennte doch jederzeit abhauen, er hat die kosmische kraft!
Stimme 1: Weisst du wieso er es nicht tut? weil es ihm auf der Erde gefaellt. Er will den Leuten eben helfen.
Stimme 2: Ja, aber die wollen keine Hilfe. Die sind staendig hinter ihm her. Die Bullen, die Marines. Er ist ein Arschloch.
Stimme 1: Eyh, Warum legst du dich nicht auf die Strasse und pennst?
Vaclac Havel on Hope
Hoffnung ist nicht Überzeugung, dass etwas gut ausgeht, sondern die Gewissheit, dass etwas Sinn hat, egal wie es ausgeht.
Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
or this version:
Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
i like these ones from him too:
Hope is a feeling that life and work have meaning. You either have it or you don't, regardless of the state of the world that surrounds you.
Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good.
Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
or this version:
Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
i like these ones from him too:
Hope is a feeling that life and work have meaning. You either have it or you don't, regardless of the state of the world that surrounds you.
Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good.
With every heartbeat
that was 4 years ago. seems like an eternity ago.
Robyn - With every heartbeat
Robyn - With every heartbeat
Maybe we could make it all right
We could make it better sometime
Maybe we could make it happen baby
We could keep trying but things will never change
So I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take
But I don't look back
Just a little
Little bit better
Good enough to waste some time
Tell me would it make you happy baby
We could keep trying but things will never change
So I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take
But I don't look back
Mmm
We could keep trying but things will never change
So I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take
But I don't look back
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
We could make it better sometime
Maybe we could make it happen baby
We could keep trying but things will never change
So I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take
But I don't look back
Just a little
Little bit better
Good enough to waste some time
Tell me would it make you happy baby
We could keep trying but things will never change
So I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take
But I don't look back
Mmm
We could keep trying but things will never change
So I don't look back
Still I'm dying with every step I take
But I don't look back
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
And it hurts with every heartbeat
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Die Pille gegen Fukushima und andere Unpaesslichkeiten
Sorry, Sternenstaub, den muss ich hier auch einmal posten
All you need is Love
The lads from Liverpool said it more than 40 years ago:
and by the way: FC Liverpool far from written off
Blind and deaf
I was blinded by the light, uhm, love. And I was deaf to what you said. Dont know if i ever will understand but I am deeply grateful. For knowing you, the dream of being with you, the unanswered prayers of not being with you, the friends who listened and still do and so much more.
May you be happy and find what you are looking for. And now back to study...
Monday, April 11, 2011
The most downloaded Album
of ALL times, according to Amazon.co.uk is, no not Michael Jackson, but a 21 year old girl named Adele (Someone like you)
Even though I have no idea whatsoever she is singing about... :)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Crossroads
Tracy Chapman - Crossroads
today the third day in Wales looking at castles. After a gorgeous day yesterday today promises to be even better. Spring has arrived. And what other place to be than in the magnificient countryside of Wales?
Stressed out?
the only answer:
and why women never will figure out men...
and yet, this is how you will eventually deal with eventual suitors to eventual daughters:
Rudeness
While Ralph Waldo Emerson states that "Good manners are made up of petty sacrifices" it is in my opinion Eric Hoffer who nails it: "Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength."
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Ghandi?
Ein Sieg der durch Gewalt errungen wurde ist mit einer Niederlage gleichgültig...denn er ist nur vorübergehend!!
Rewriting your story
Ein bisschen licht und liebe (ich hatte zwei glass wein....) - Rewriting your story by Ann Mehl
Gina slumped into the chair in my office and unloaded all the things that were bothering her - things she wanted us to work on. It was not a short list either. Her boss had overlooked her for promotion several times. At 45, she felt there was an age bias toward younger employees in the company that she that been with for 15 years. She was, she told me, "too old" to go back for an MBA. New neighbors had recently moved into the apartment above hers and every night sounded like they were rehearsing for Riverdance. On top of all this, the dating pool for a single over 40 year-old woman in Manhattan was slim. All the good men were either married, gay, or only interested in 20 year-old hotties.
The breezy manner in which this was delivered suggested a degree of familiarity with the story from previous telling and re-telling, almost a gleeful relishing of the unfortunate details that she wore proudly like a badge of honor. Finally, after 50 minutes I asked simply: "Gina, do you feel like you're in charge of your life?" She looked at me quizzically, as though I hadn't been listening. "Well, obviously not," she shot back. "Or I wouldn't be here talking to you."
Story Fondling
Children often enjoy hearing the same stories, or watching the same movies over and over - because there is great comfort in knowing the outcome. Familiar stories help us to organize a frightening world into a comprehensible framework. Stories make sense. Stories create order out of chaos.
As adults, we are equally adept at revisiting old story patterns. In coaching parlance, the term we sometimes use is "story fondling". The word fondling implies a loving embrace, or a warm caress. The problem with many of our stories is that they are not loving, and very often built around a faulty premise. Sentences that begin with "I've always been a...Everyone in our family is...I've never been really good at...My whole entire life..." may indicate that a story is being told. Sure it may be comforting and familiar, perhaps even funny, but it is also severely limiting. Stories told often enough become self-fulfilling prophecies.
What's Your Story?
We all have them. I'm a product of divorce. All my relationships end in tears. I don't like change. I'm not really good with people. The details and how we spin them into a narrative largely determine how we see our lives, and consequently - our experience of living. Whether it's a painful family drama, a tragedy or a comedic farce - the choice is all in how we frame it. The very first step in reclaiming your power is recognizing that everything in your life - how you feel, how you react, how you live, where you work - is a choice. I'm not suggesting that people actively choose illness, or poverty or disability. Of course they don't. But more important than the actual circumstance of your life, is the story that you are telling yourself about it. If the story is not serving you, then maybe it's time to try another one?
As a coach, I am privy to a lot of peoples' stories. It's often tempting to want to "fix" their circumstances rather than examining their imprisoning beliefs. Don't think your thoughts are holding you back? Try this: No one will hire me because I'm too old. I'll never find love. This is not the life I imagined for myself starting out. I thought once I made partner, I would feel different. Everybody's moved on but me, I think I may have missed my chance.
Never Too Late
Whatever your particular story - it's vitally important that you remain an active protagonist rather than a hapless victim of circumstance. You want to be the kind of hero who doesn't listen to naysayers and enjoys beating the odds. And it's never too late to begin. For every Mark Zuckerberg who gets off to an early start, there are thousands of others who do remarkable things well into their middle and twilight years.
Julia Child didn't learn to cook until she was 40. Didn't launch her masterpiece cookbook till she was nearly fifty. Frank McCourt worked all his life as a teacher in New York City's public schools. He was 66 when he published his memoir Angela's Ashes . If ever there was an example of reframing a story, this is it. He took what should have been a devastating childhood, and with honesty and humor, spun it into pure narrative gold - and the Pulitzer Prize.
At this years' Academy Awards, you may have seen David Seidler, the 73-year-old former stutterer winning his first Oscar for writing The King's Speech. Or how about Kimani Maruge, who had to wait 80 years for the right to go to school. When free primary education was finally introduced in his native Kenya, Maruge knew it was his last chance to learn how to read and write. At the ripe old age of 84, he enrolled in the first grade at his local school. In 2005, Maruge addressed the United Nations in New York on the importance of free primary education. This year will see the release of a new movie about his life, entitled The First Grader.
If the life you are living is smaller than the one you once imagined, take a good look at how you are telling your story - to yourself, to your spouse, to the world at large. Make sure the narrative is serving you, and not the other way around. In a world of infinite freedom and choice, it is never too late to rewrite your autobiography.
The past is prologue. The rest is still unwritten.
The breezy manner in which this was delivered suggested a degree of familiarity with the story from previous telling and re-telling, almost a gleeful relishing of the unfortunate details that she wore proudly like a badge of honor. Finally, after 50 minutes I asked simply: "Gina, do you feel like you're in charge of your life?" She looked at me quizzically, as though I hadn't been listening. "Well, obviously not," she shot back. "Or I wouldn't be here talking to you."
Story Fondling
Children often enjoy hearing the same stories, or watching the same movies over and over - because there is great comfort in knowing the outcome. Familiar stories help us to organize a frightening world into a comprehensible framework. Stories make sense. Stories create order out of chaos.
As adults, we are equally adept at revisiting old story patterns. In coaching parlance, the term we sometimes use is "story fondling". The word fondling implies a loving embrace, or a warm caress. The problem with many of our stories is that they are not loving, and very often built around a faulty premise. Sentences that begin with "I've always been a...Everyone in our family is...I've never been really good at...My whole entire life..." may indicate that a story is being told. Sure it may be comforting and familiar, perhaps even funny, but it is also severely limiting. Stories told often enough become self-fulfilling prophecies.
What's Your Story?
We all have them. I'm a product of divorce. All my relationships end in tears. I don't like change. I'm not really good with people. The details and how we spin them into a narrative largely determine how we see our lives, and consequently - our experience of living. Whether it's a painful family drama, a tragedy or a comedic farce - the choice is all in how we frame it. The very first step in reclaiming your power is recognizing that everything in your life - how you feel, how you react, how you live, where you work - is a choice. I'm not suggesting that people actively choose illness, or poverty or disability. Of course they don't. But more important than the actual circumstance of your life, is the story that you are telling yourself about it. If the story is not serving you, then maybe it's time to try another one?
As a coach, I am privy to a lot of peoples' stories. It's often tempting to want to "fix" their circumstances rather than examining their imprisoning beliefs. Don't think your thoughts are holding you back? Try this: No one will hire me because I'm too old. I'll never find love. This is not the life I imagined for myself starting out. I thought once I made partner, I would feel different. Everybody's moved on but me, I think I may have missed my chance.
Never Too Late
Whatever your particular story - it's vitally important that you remain an active protagonist rather than a hapless victim of circumstance. You want to be the kind of hero who doesn't listen to naysayers and enjoys beating the odds. And it's never too late to begin. For every Mark Zuckerberg who gets off to an early start, there are thousands of others who do remarkable things well into their middle and twilight years.
Julia Child didn't learn to cook until she was 40. Didn't launch her masterpiece cookbook till she was nearly fifty. Frank McCourt worked all his life as a teacher in New York City's public schools. He was 66 when he published his memoir Angela's Ashes . If ever there was an example of reframing a story, this is it. He took what should have been a devastating childhood, and with honesty and humor, spun it into pure narrative gold - and the Pulitzer Prize.
At this years' Academy Awards, you may have seen David Seidler, the 73-year-old former stutterer winning his first Oscar for writing The King's Speech. Or how about Kimani Maruge, who had to wait 80 years for the right to go to school. When free primary education was finally introduced in his native Kenya, Maruge knew it was his last chance to learn how to read and write. At the ripe old age of 84, he enrolled in the first grade at his local school. In 2005, Maruge addressed the United Nations in New York on the importance of free primary education. This year will see the release of a new movie about his life, entitled The First Grader.
If the life you are living is smaller than the one you once imagined, take a good look at how you are telling your story - to yourself, to your spouse, to the world at large. Make sure the narrative is serving you, and not the other way around. In a world of infinite freedom and choice, it is never too late to rewrite your autobiography.
The past is prologue. The rest is still unwritten.
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