Summer Games - Job Edition

Work is a cornucopia of silliness, and thus can be blogged about again and again and again. This time: Those odd little mini-games we play at work. Your office is no place for fun and/or games? Think again.

The Greeting Game

This one is more fun the larger your office complex is and the more strangers there are. Depending on your countries, but more importantly, the "culture" in your workplace, greeting customs can be quite different.

Greeting your direct coworkers usually involves some more intimate greeting:

• waving towards the office/cubicle area, with a "(Hi/Mornin'/ 'Ello!)"
• shaking everyone's hand, girls first, short eye-to-eye and smile
• shaking everyone's hand, no eye-contact, because you're already talking to someone else (going-through-the-motions)
• short pat on the others arm or shoulders

If you encounter strangers / indirect coworkers somewhere, such as in the hallway, it's more like this:

• eye-contact, short smile and a greeting (Hello/G'd aft'noon)
• eye-contact, smile and a curt nod
• eye-contact and a curt nod without the smile
• avoiding eye-contact by pretending to be in thought/reading paper/smart-phone diddling

I found it fascinating to note that those customs can vary wildly from company to company, or even between different departments of the same company.

The fun part comes later - since you're usually not tied to your desk all day, you encounter those people several times each day. Greeting them the same as before? They'll think you're some kind of amnesiac or just plain vapid. So, after a few years in the office, your brain devotes a non-negligible part of its awareness to a moving database whether or not you've seen That Cute Girl With Those Ugly Buck Teeth, Man With Obvious Wig, or Frazzled Dude With The Same Stupid Tie Every Thursday.

Thank God we're not doing anything important with our brains all day, huh?


The Small-Talk Game

Let's face it. Most of your coworkers wouldn't have anything to do with you if you met them in "real life", so to speak. And you'd do likewise, because people just tend to be different. But since you're all squeezed into more or less vacuous cubicles, office rooms or what-have-you, you have to communicate with them somehow, or risk becoming an antisocial jerk.

This situation probably goes back into prehistoric times. Once upon a time, Oog and Zog were trapped inside a tiny cave for several hours because of a nasty case of Tyrannosaurs outside. What can Oog and Zog possibly talk about, Oog thought?

- Talk about shiny stone? But what if Zog not like shiny stone?
- Talk about dino outside? No. Zog surely not want talk about dinos. Oog and Zog run from Dinos every ugh-ing day!
- Talk about worshipping bear-totem? No, no, no! Last religion war only month ago! Bad Oog!
- Talk about woman with big gazongas, down by river? Not good. Oog not want Zog to want gazonga-woman too! Or more bad, what if Zog not like gazonga-women, but other Oog-Men? This would even mean the Awkward.

Then, a lightbu...err, bonfire went up over Oog's head.
Oog: So, errm - nice weather, huh?

Ever since then, people have talked about the weather, in order to pass a simple 30-second pause in the conversation. Because silence surely can't mean people are simply doing their job or don't have anything of interest to utter. This behaviour seems so ingrained in office culture, or culture in general, that I postulate: If ever a nuclear war or a giant meteorite happens to wipe out everone but a few pockets of life, buried deep underground, people will still have conversations like this:
Moleman One: Wow...sky sure is, erm. Rocky today.
Moleman Two: Yeah, tell me about it. And this artificial climate control, that keeps the same exact conditions down here - way too warm and wet, if ye're asking me.
Moleman One: Yeah, I know what you mean. Too warm, totally.
Moleman Two: But it's not the heat. It's the humidity.

And if I live to see that future, the next seconds involve MoleTeshik bludgeoning those two into greasy spots in the cave floor, now that those pesky ethical restrictions about killing stupid people are gone. Because, seriously? I like talking about the weather, one, or twice. But not all the fucking time.

The Information A-Bomb Game

Bosses positively LOVE this game. It involves one person arriving in a hurry at the desk of the other person.
Offender: "Hi there did you know what (random department or company) has done now?I'll tell you: they totally changed (some kind of their modus operandi)! Isn't that (good/bad/awesome/green with yellow stripes)? Yeah that's what I thought. Listen, since you're the one here who has (some vague connection with the topic/ little to no knowledge about it) because (of your study paper ten years back / you worked in the same office with that guy for two weeks / your name rhymes with the topics anagram), I think you're the perfect (guy/gal) for the job! It only involves (a shitload of work you won't realize until it's too late). And since you're only (totally overworked) and want to (make the carreer move / get a raise / keep your job). It would be impolite to refuse, since (I'm your boss / I'm your bosses' boss / I play golf with your boss / I can blackmail you). Thanks for your enthusiasm! See you later!!"  
He/She then hurries out, to avoid questions or resistance.
The Offended: *blinks* Oh Fuck-a-doodle.

The Toilet Game

Sorry girls, this one's for men only. The Pissoir in the Men's bathroom saves space and quite frankly, negates the necessity of sitting down on what may or may not be a surface laced with strange, disgusting and infected bodily fluids of undetermined origins. And I'm generally thankful of that, because, I don't know about the ladies, but in the men's bathroom, men usually are pigs.
In the office, people tend to behave better than in the average disco, so it isn't that nessecary to have a Pissoir. Every self-respecting loo still has one or several, for some odd civilizational reason I can't comprehend right now.
But it also gives anyone in the general vicinity a very thorough view of body parts everyone usually keeps hidden under at least two layers of clothing during office hours. Well, unless you have a very lax dress code on your Casual Friday, or you're saving your underwear for more important stuff. (In which case: I don't even wanna know). And do you want to see those body parts of your same-sex boss or coworker while he shakes of the last little drops of pee off his dick? Well, I don't.

Future's gonna suck

You know when sometimes, you wake up, and some sudden thought gets stuck into your head? Yes, this just happened. And when it's even more bizarre since I happened to think about future economic apocalypse.

As many of us are already, painfully aware - Capitalism without brakes is just like Communism by force was - a nice theory, but sucks ass in practice. The so called Information Age adds another layer onto that - many jobs that were necessary in the Industrial / Modern Age (which only ended about 15 years or so ago) will be (or are already) utterly obsolete. Such as, the typewriter. Or the data typist. Or really, many jobs centered around repetitive computer input/output. Statistical analysis? We have a tool for that. Software Development of basic functions? Most of these are already around by the hundreds. Even those Service jobs at call centres mostly reduce the poor slobs working at it to "reading the screen to the customer, and hoping he does not ask something out of category".

Now, in the idealistic capitalistic world of Adam Smith, those people will migrate elsewhere. Problem is? They are just like the ice bears when it comes to global warming - they have nowhere else to migrate to, since we already automated everything else.  Consumer industry? There's a machine that can do everything you do, better, and faster, and it doesn't complain when it gets replaced when its back, knee and shoulders are inevitably going kaputt. Farming? Pshh, yeah, same story. And when we, the customers, turned to Amazon, eBay and the giant internet machine? We deliberately turned our inner cities into barren wastelands - why buy a book for 13.99 when it's on sale for 2 bucks lower, and I don't even have to leave the house for it? Or have to deal with the stupid sales clerk?

Problem is, the same mechanism has a not so unexpected downside - we are not only the customers, sometimes, we ARE that stupid sales clerk. Who suddenly finds he/she/it got blown out of business, and nowadays picks packets in a nameless logistics centre - for about half the wage as before. And it's only a matter of years when that process will be, ultimately, mercilessly, automatized as well.

Of course, there will always be necessary jobs that can't be made obsolete. But there will be less than you think. For example: take, on an average day, a sample of a Google News page. Take one random article (Sports is especially noticable, but any general story will do). Compare the articles on one story, by different newspapers. Notice similarities? As in, word-for-word copies? Yes, most stories are made once and then sold to different distributers. That happended before too, of course, but Google News or other content aggregators make it transparent for us readers. The clincher: not only is this story being written only once and copied a thousand times, it is, more and more, written by software programs. (I've just taken a random article about it I found on the go. You'll find more, I promise.)

So, even jobs thought challenging on a mental level are going to be replaced. That leaves us with several categories of people:

• The Rich - Hey, if you're one of the 1 per cent, you can afford to care less about the rest of this shitty planet. Also, to manage your portfolio, you'll have prioritized access to a staff consisting of...
• The Intelligent - Those who are creative and brilliant enough to understand this world of increasingly complex interactions, processes, and technology - or at least the part needed for their jobs. A future remnant of the ever-diminishing upper-middle-class, those are the people creating the machines for ....
• The Slot-Fillers - as long as the automation of everything is not complete, you have people who read off the screen to give you your insurance information and recommendations (which are really generated by the programs behind it), or pick items in Amazon's gargantuan warehouse bellies (until someone replaces those as well). Those people will be increasingly pushed on the sides, the metaphorical polar bears. Since automatization or rationalization means you will only need a fraction of past labour in the future at steady or increasing output, chances are, everytime your job is gone, you will join the leagues of...
• The Underqualified Unemployed - Adam Smith invisible hand promises that supply and demand will magically heal the landscape until the economy makes our lives aaaaallll better. Unfortunately, there are flaws in this theory thingy, because people are not rational, or the system is not as eternal and self-healing as originally believed (which is one of the major reasons we still can't quite grasp climate change despite the fact that it's been here for over a decade now, but I digress). The problem here is that childrens television lied to us - not everyone will be a rocket scientist, even if (s)he really, really wants to. And that sales clerk that got shifted first to picking books, is probably not the next Nobel Prize winner, his/her other qualities notwithstanding. Have I mentioned business decisions such as hiring/firing'll come out of a data warehouses then? Which simply do not care if you're a nice person if you fail the ever-rising quota?

Now, if we look at those categories, we see where the next problem lies: the Underqualified will grow in proportion, and in return, the demand lowers dramatically (Bums won't buy Bugattis). This raises the competition for the companies, since the available market shrinks down because people can't afford stuff anymore. This in turn raises unemployment again,... yeah, you know where this is going.

At the moment, there is one major distraction from outright economic collapse - almost every state that's not named Greece has opened their budgetary floodgates to "jumpstart the economy". This has been the case, since, oh, 2008 or so? Peculiar, this, no? Especially since this dramatic flow of money more and more fails to bring the desired results, since Money won't solve the problem anymore if no-one dares to spend it. And even powerhouses like China are showing signs that no matter how much money you'll pump into it, the endpoint has been reached for quite a while now.

The most terrifying thing of all this, however, seems to be the fact that no one, on this entire planet, seems to have worked out how to defuse this economic time-bomb. Not the US, nor the EU, or China or Russia or Argentina or I-dont-know have come forward with something different.

And NOW we're gonna combine this time-bomb no one knows how to defuse with the fact that we need to stop turning our planet into a scorched wasteland, preferably in the next decades before it's too late. And we're not talking lower emissions, we're talking zero or negative emissions until 2100 to even stop further warming.

Welp. Good to know we're utterly, thoroughly fucked.

(Not) A Funny Story

Okay, it happened. I am now officially one of those guys. Y'know, telling people of my story so that they won't end like me, *oooOOOOOoooh* *eeeeaaaatYoooouuurVeeeeegetableeeeesss* 

So yeah. My blog's been abandoned for like, over three years. Where the fuck have I been, my loyal readership of zero? Have I been eaten by dingos? Was I abducted by aliens? Have I even - GASP - gotten a life? Fear not, my nonexistant fans, for both the dingos and aliens are safe from me for now. I just happened to be mentally ill.

After finally remembering ye olde passworde for this little slice of the blogosphere, I first looked back to the last post (in 2010) about real life issues, and immediately cringe. Not only was this post all about me neglecting my internet persona, it also has this funny aneurysm moment right there:

...To be honest, I'm not surprised I left this blog unguarded, so to speak. But I am quite shocked that in the last twelve months, I haven't been able to write more than one blog post, and about a dozen half-assed attempts still rotting in my blog post buffer. No fanfiction. No programming project (for fun, I mean). No short story. No nothing.
Which is strange, because: I really like writing. I do. It's my creative outlet. More importantly, it's my source of stress relief. And I really could use that at the moment...

Euuurgh. This has "warning signs" all friggin' over it. Buuut, I managed to get through 2010. And I kind of survived 2011. Then came 2012, and I simply keeled over one day. Have A Nervous Breakdown, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Receive 200 Bucks.

My work had been stressful from the beginning, but I had always shrugged it off with "well, it IS a highly-paid job", so I tried to be a good trooper and march on. Because I did not want to be weak. And "everyone else" seemed to go with it too, so why should I be different? Even as my doc told me my symptoms do sound like a depressive episode, I refused to listen, because, why do you tell me that, I only have these neck pains, and could I get some more prescriptions for massages and pain pills, pretty please? And soldiered on for another three months, wenn suddenly one morning, I simply could not get out of bed anymore. So when I've finally mustered enough strength to get to our family doctor, he gave me a "told-you-so"-speech that barely even registered with me, because I didn't even feel anything anymore. Just fix me, Doc, I wanted to say. He prescribed me nice little Anti Depressants, and because he is a good doctor, he made sure two things made a dent in my mind: 1) Make sure someone watches you in the next days, and 2) Those things will actually feel WORSE before it gets better. And BOY, was that second part true.

Back then, I was going around like a Zombie. No real emotions but an overwhelming sadness would register, I'd just feel numb all the time. Until those Happy Pills kicked in. Let's just imagine, for a moment, all your emotions you feel over a year. Happiness, Frustration, Anger, Fear, Sadness. Now, let's compress those feelings into a neat little air balloon, waiting to burst. See, the thing with those Happy Pills is, they don't actually make you feel happy. They just prick the bubble, so you can't distance you from all those pesky emotions, like you did before. Now, imagine your very personal emotional Rollercoaster from Hell.

After a few weeks, the rollercoaster was kind of managable, and I could get back to work. And yeah, getting back was hella uncomfortable and awkward. I mean, do YOU want to tell everyone at your workplace that you basically ticked out? That you wept for hours, without an end, for no reason at all? That you could simply not do the simplest things, like picking up an used hanky from the floor? That I had to force myself to eat once a day? Hell, I've lived through that and and I still have a hard time believing it.

So, why am I writing this now, when this episode was back in 2012? Because the damn black dog is back with a vengeance. I did not only manage to work myself into a depressive episode, I managed to be one of those who get chronical dysthymia. Hooray. Currently, I'm in the midst of what is called a "moderate episode", which means roughly:

1.  I have good and bad days.
2. On Good Days, I can get out of bed.
3. On Bad Days, I just want to sleep. All day. Every day. 
4. On Good Days, I shower, get dressed, and have breakfast.
5. On Bad Days, I could not care less wheather I'm in my jimmies all day.
6. On Good Days, I make the housework. 
7. On Bad Days, I beat myself up because I won't do the housework.
8. On Good Days, I am an actually decent person who happens to have depression.
9. On Bad Days, I believe I am a fraud and the worst person who ever lived.
10. On Good Days, I can actually think rationally.
11. On Bad Days, I can't even read a single paragraph in a newspaper.
12. On Good Days, I am thankful that depression can be treated.
13. On Bad Days, I curse the medication and believe the pills make things even worse.

Today, I feel like an actual human being. Today is Good.

Drinking Game: Stargate Atlantis

So, I've just watched the entire series. So much for "I'll only watch an episode or so" a while back.

Although the series is good, the Television Without Pity education rears its snarky head every time I watch a series by now. Which inevitably leads to me discovering certain, amusing, patterns. Thus, the drinking game. No, I don't drink. It's still funny. So, without further ado:

Spoilers for the series, DUH!

Drink a shot everytime:

• the Atlantis crew dooms the entire galaxy by their stupidity or to save their few piddling people
• Rodney shows his massive ego
• Rodney's ego is causing shit to explode
• Ford has a line
• Ford's line could be cut entirely, and nobody would notice
• the team is waking up in a Wraith holding cell
• Weir: "I cannot allow that to happen."
• the Athosians and/or Teyla are accused of something
• the Athosians and/or Teyla are proven totally innocent later
• Rodney hacks into a computer/network/replicator/whatever
• Rodney: "j-just---give me a minute!!"
• Rodney: "W-wh-wh-whoa-whoa-wait!!"
• Rodney states something is utterly impossible in a given time frame
• double if he achieves it anyways
• there is an explosion in the control room
• Teyla: "blah blah - my people!"
• Teyla has nightmares
• Teyla and Wraith mind-control each other
• Teyla is left in charge, even though there should be a coordinated command structure
• the A plot is caused by someone blundering into yet another secret lab of the Ancients
• the danger in the A plot is entirely Rodney's fault
• Ronon uses his gun
• double if it's in the nick of time, just as a team member's about to get killed
• Ronon is captured or kidnapped, and miraculously gets his gun back afterwards
• Sheppard is totally ignoring his orders
• double if Weir secretly couldn't care less
• Teyla is blatantly running around with her offspring, just to show that the brat's hasn't been eaten by dingos yet
• the team temporarily allies with the Wraith
• the team is totally surprised when the evil zombie vampire aliens who eat humans decide to screw them over
• double shot if Todd's doing the allying and screwing over
• the Pegasus Nazis - pardon, Genii - make an appearance
• double if Kolya's involved
• triple if Sheppard swears he's going to kill him next time for sure
• Mr Woolsey is inept
• Mr Woolsey is socially inept
• Rodney is socially inept, but gets what he wants anyway
• the gal of the episode is totally into Sheppard
• double if he's oblivious until it's pointed out
• a Stargate SG-1 member appears
• double if the SG-1 member is at odds with his Atlantis counterpart
• triple if they value each other by the end of the episode
• if SG-1 already encountered the same (plot) device previously
• nobody in the goddamn stargate universe remembers that Earth has zillions of livestock animals that could be used to feed the goddamn Wraith

Enjoy. All over-intoxications, hangovers and/or waking up next to strangers will be your own damn fault, however.

Language musings

My work is stressful. Usually, when I get home, the first thing on my mind is "everything but thinking". Which invariably ends with me parking my ass on the couch to watch the telly.

It seems, last friday, my brain did not appreciate this kind of "switch brain on, switch brain off" behaviour. Plus, the stuff in the tv was even more brain-cell-killing than usual, so I guess my brain started working in pure self-defense.

It started off as one of those musings about "yeah. I wanna learn new languages someday." You know, one of these half-assed things you tell yourself you'll do once you have "the time", "the money"? Like rock climbing, doing sports, calling your great-aunt? Yeah, if you're anything like me, you'll never do any of those things.

I lazily surfed the web for some good vocabulary trainer. byki seemed like a good idea, what with the shared lists and stuff. Then I found Rosetta Stone software, which I found awesome - until I saw the price tag attached, that is. Because as much as I like to learn Spanish in a very natural way, I'm not paying 699 US $ for it. Because for 699 $, I fully expect this software not only to teach me foreign languages, but also to shine my shoes, wash my car, and do my taxes.

Conclusion: I'm either too cheap or too poor to learn languages. Plus, I'm lazy. Time to reevaluate my assets. How about a quick-and-dirty-method? You're a programmer. Not a particularly good one, but it's enough to draft together a little app to teach yourself. By combining the list idea of byki and the "learn-by-show-and-tell", and some easy vocabulary lists, some stuff that means the same in every language. Can't be THAT hard.

Yeah, that's the point where the linguists in my readership probably burst out laughing. You know, if there actually were linguists in my readership. Or if I HAD a readership, but anyway.

The thing is, I wanted some basics, to make yourself comprehensible in a foreign country, a kind of Pidgin, if you will. For example, "[Ich-sehen-rot-Auto-vorn-links]" (=[I-see-red-car-front-left]) is not correct German, since you lose all the conjugations and stuff (It would be something like "Ich sehe ein rotes Auto (da) vorne links"), but people would be at least able to communicate simple concepts, such as "Can you point me to the airport", or "help, I need to find a police officer!". Or at the very least, "Where's the bathroom?" - because, do you really wanna take a dump in the middle of the Champs-Élysées just because you can't figure out how to get people to point at the nearest loo? I mean, tourists have a bad enough image as it is.

The problems, however, start at the very core of the language, with such as words as "to be". Because, "I am in the garden"/[I-be-in-garden] translates easily into German as "Ich bin im Garten"/[Ich-sein-in-Garten].
But: "yo soy en el jardin"/[yo-ser-in-jardin] won't work, since to a native spanish this would imply "I am the garden." So unless you don't want some Spanish to think you're trying to invent a new verse to a certain Simon & Garfunkel song, you have to use the correct verb "estar".

So, essentially, to get a list of common simple words that won't have a double meaning. Well, that's a necessary database approach. This bloats your entries however. Plus, you lose stuff, since if you don't learn that "be" means both "estar" and "ser", you won't use it, and get confused if the natives do. So you'd need links. This all combined with the original idea of using simple pictograms so you'll learn the word naturally instead of simply translating it. And this is not even counting pitfalls like double meaning or false friends....This might need a teensy bit more work than I thought it would.

Meh. Now my head hurts. See, kids? This is what thinking will get you.

Procrastination Alert: Stargate Atlantis

I have many, many things to do. But, at the moment, I'm not in the mood to do any of them. And in order to avoid a "Teshik finally snaps and finds himself a cosy clocktower" mishap, I took out a DVD I hadn't watched since I bought it two years ago, Stargate: Atlantis, Season 1. Back then, I just kinda forgot I had said DVD set, mostly because the series start was kinda meh (as are most series', before they find the right tone) and the German dub wasn't helping matters. So I watched the pilot again, this time in English, and because I want to tear my mind away from semantic webs and knowledge representation, I'll write a recap about it now.

If you haven't seen it by now, watch out for spoilers below, because DUH! But considering the series came out in 2005 or even earlier, you probably know more about those characters and stories as I do. Think of it as a TwoP-recap, or probably, a not-so-good facsimile thereof (Dear Sars: Please don't sue me. Also: something or other about imitation and flattery and shit.)

So: we start out with a Whoosh of a little alien shuttle over a giant ice landscape, which reaches a giant star-shaped city. According to the caption, the city is called "Several million years ago". Good to know they don't want viewers who haven't watched SG-1 knowing where the hell the context is.
Down in Several-Million-Years-Ago City central, a man and a woman stare at each other INTENSELY. I wonder if this would be explained if I'd've watched SG-1 Season 9 and 10, which I haven't yet. Partly because: if I watch an ep of SG:A, I watch an episode. If I start watching the remaining eps of SG-1, I wake up weeks later, because I watched the entire series.
Anyway, after the man breaks the STARE and leaves, the woman (who I kind of think is going to be the Ancient lady SG-1 dug out of the Antarctic snow and revived with oh-so-convenient aphasia a while back) stares at him as if he will never come back. Seems like that, since he takes the entire friggin' city up in the air and leaves (cool shot, by the way). Will they see each other again? I mean, they are two important characters, right? And more importantly, where exactly do you find a large enough parking space for a city?

Guess not. We're now in Antarctica, present day, and there's a science station reaching far underground. The international and ethnically represented science crew (read: there is at least one black person in establishing group shots, and probably some asians), Dr. Weir, our intrepid heroine starship captain, pardon, leader of the Atlantis mission, passes around an Indian (maybe?) guy investigating a dog-sized booger...sperm...tentacle thing that will be important in a few seconds, and heads towards two guys bickering over a chair like some old married couple. One of them has one of those Scotty-accents, which to my non-native ear sounds as if someone takes the vowels in normal english speech, and twists them at a 45 degree angle. That's our medical guy, Beckett, and he's miffed about having to sit in the chair all the time. Since that thing isn't cushioned, and we're talking about a mostly metal chair in an Antarctic underground base where it's probably freezing, I empathize. Frozen tongues against a pole are one thing. Your frozen nuts on a chair? Quite another.
As his canadian husband explains, this is because he has some genetic anomaly that allows him to access Ancient technology, so if they want to study it, he has to sit in it, as Canadian Guy (Rodney McKay) was born with run of the mill homo sapien genes. Poor man. There's some teasing around that genetic fact, but thankfully Dr. Jackson (current status: not dead, but it's still early) interrupts them to tell them where Atlantis is. You see, they've searched Stargate combinations in this galaxy so far, but it seems the Ancients really wanted to get out of the neighbourhood, which means : different galaxy.

McKay is ordering his man-wife to the chair again, who's all "I'm a doctor, not a chair-sitter" in this accent of his. The good news? He gets the chair glowy. The bad news? That booger-tentacle thing goes glowy too, but this wrecks some expensive equipment before zooming to the surface.

Meanwhile, O'Neill and a pilot called John Shepherd are flying across the antarctic with a helicopter with strained small-talk. I'm rechristening Mr. Shepherd "Mr. DeeDee" here, by the way, because of reasons soon becoming obvious. Both are getting a real topic to talk about when they get word that Booger Thing is heading right for them, and they should land ASAP. Too late though, and evasive flying along the Canadian, err, I mean Antarctic mountains occurs.

"Ah tœld yer Ah was the wrang perrsann" Becket whines. Weir orders him to concentrate on shutting off the weapon, like, good they have her because they won't think of that on their own. I already pity the galaxy they end up in.

More dramatic flying. Finally they lose the thing for a few seconds enough to land and shut down the engines, but the thing goes after them, they jump out - and the booger titters out exactly one feet before O'Neill. (In Beckett's words: "Ah thænk Ah dæddeitt!?"). DeeDee is all "what the hell just happened?", but O'Neill is all like "Yeah, giant alien boogers trying to kill me. Must be Tuesday."

Token Black Semi-Regular Without Character Or Backstory reports the guys safety. Hi Token! Bye Token! Jack and Daniel meet up soon after, while letting DeeDee roam freely in the ÜberSuperSecretSpaceBase, like: Security concerns, anyone? You'd think a goverment organization who deals with mind-controlling aliens would have thought about some procedures in order to limit exposure, or if they're cleared, as Jack does with a handwave, to limit the culture shock and the "Ooh, can I touch the dangerous radioactive substance"-problems. And you'd think wrong. Maybe it's just their kind of social Darwinism approach. "If yer too stupid, you die - or yer Daniel Jackson, then you'll be back after awhile anyway." The SG-1 mains leave, and DeeDee stands in the middle of gawking background scientists. You see, they have the impression that DeeDee is not so bright. I share that impression.
Why, you ask? Because while Daniel briefs Jack on the whole "I'm sorry Mario, but your Lost City is in another galaxy" part, DeeDee wanders with such a purpose towards the Chair Controlling The Giant Death Boogers that I'm surprised I can't actually hear the Dexter theme song. Of course they need him to show he's genetically speshul, but this is just dumb.
DeeDee growls at Beckett, who whines like the man-wife he is, but he's the one guy who's smart enough to ask him for security clearance, so, points to Beckett. After Ancient Whooooo? and Stargate Whaaaa? for a bit, DeeDee sits down, and of course, he doesn't even have to think about stuff to light everything up. Whatever you do, don't think of picking your nose, DeeDee!

After that bit, Weir (the main character gal. Remember her?) wants DeeDee on the mission. Shepherd however has declined, and so it's up to Jack to pep-talk the guy, who's understandably a bit confused, what with the subterranean alien light show chairs that shoot glowing death sperm and stuff. But Jack misinterpretes "pep-talk" with "threatening to fire the guy who just saved his life if he won't go", and if I were DeeDee, that'd have been the signal to cut my losses and run. I mean, he doesn't know he's a main character, he could as well be the guy who gets eaten by zombie vampire aliens in the first episode, right? Better safe than sorry.

Ah, it's time to flesh out the characters. Weir is on the telly, telling her boytoy that actually, she's doing spacetravel and stuff, and they won't see each other for a while, because the reception from Pegasus Galaxy to Earth is less-than-stellar. (ba-dum-tch!) Her exposition monologue is intercut with our main characters (and Token Black's) good-bye waving to their respective loved ones. Boytoy wants to phone her, but she's unreachable.

Cheyenne Mountain! Establishing shot again with internationality. I mean, there's a spanish guy talking to a british guy! In Spanish! For a whole sentence! There's also a guy unable to understand some other guys, and really, when you go on a military mission, could you at least agree on one language first? Jesus, these guys are so doomed.

DeeDee obviously wasn't smart enough to stay at home, and wanders through the Bennetton commercial, I mean mission team (they also have two Russians! And a German guy! Who I bet won't ever be seen again!). Weir gives a passionate pep-talk (an actual one), saying everyone here is the smartest, and the bravest, for volunteering for this. Except for DeeDee, who was bullied into it. They only have one shot because of the immense power a GalaxyJump takes, so they send in the robot, check if there's oxygen and stuff, and everyone follows, no power to get back (they hope to find power over there, so it won't be a definite Journey Without Return, but the possibility is there).
She gives the team one last chance to pussy out, like, when in the history of TV has anyone ever done that, and they begin dialing. If you never watched Stargate, imagine one of those old analog phone with a dial wheel. only larger, and with a hole in the middle. Before they start, DeeDee shows his incredible intellect yet again by antagonizing his superior officer, like, way to go, genius, and whoosh, it opens. It's dark over there, since the Stargate on the other side is in a room. Boy, I hope they ordered the thing around a bit in some deleted scenes. Could you imagine, all those people going over there and find out the room has no exit? That would be so awkward.

Weir and Military Guy go through, Token and Deedee follow, after the former tries the latter that Stargate rides are like hell. If that's supposed to endear him to me, it's not working.

The room on the other side is huge and quite satisfyingly SciFi, which is good because they're going to spend a lot of time on that set. Along the way, they discover a) Spaceships and b) the whole city is under water. What did I tell you about not getting out? Awkward. At least the parking space riddle is solved, but the coastal neighbors complaining about the tsunamis every time you land the city would be so very annoying.
It gets better: The reason the Ancients are not here? Well, they went here, colonized a few thousand worlds, but an enemy came and conquered them all. So the Ancients drowned their own city, returning to Earth, spreading the Atlantis myth in the process, because Pegasus galaxy was obviously a Very Bad Idea. Nice to find that out NOW. This tells us a nice Woman in a Hologram, using Power like nobodys business. McKay orders that stopped, because he found out, the city is not only under water, its batteries are also almost dead and parts of the city are already flooded, more to come in a matter of days or hours, depending on the energy usage. Can they go back to Earth? Nope, wouldn't be a series if they could. But Wormholes in this galaxy are possible. So they do just that.

It's night on the first planet. They pan out and find suspicious creatures lurking in the dark - children! Shoot'em! Okay, they don't. Their dad, who has let them loose in the middle of the night, appears too, asking if DeeDee and Guys are traders. Yeah, let's go with that. The natives bring them to their village, where obviously another major character awaits, Token Alien Team Member. This one's female, and is even called Taela. Were they even trying? That's like Teal'C with boobs. She's named Teal'ca for the rest of this episode then. Teal'ca isn't much for trading, because unlike AlienDad, she knows big dangerous weapons when she sees them, and since those three are still holding them like they wanna swiss-cheese everyone, I won't blame her. In fact, in underlines she's one of the few smart people so far. DeeDee makes sure I won't forget he's stupid by blabbing about ferris wheels, so I ignore him for the moment.
The next morning, they notice a Big Honking Space City right on the other side of the lake, even though the natives live in tents. As if that wouldn't clue anyone in that this city is actually A Very Bad Idea, they want to investigate. Teal'ca warns them that the Wraith will come. The Who? Teal'ca is confused, since every single world in the galaxy knows and fears them. (Good, that means this series will probably have less "Burn The Witch" episodes if everyone knows the Gate system). And if you go to Z'Ha'Dum, you will wake the Wraith. Or something.

So, the team naturally explores the deadly ruins. Except for Token, who has to bring a status report back to Weir. Cheer up, Token, at least that means the black guy isn't the first guy to die horribly.

Weir and McKay establish if they won't evacuate, they will drown quite soon. Scene.

Teal'ca shows DeeDee a nice cave they hid in during the last Wraith season, and revealing they're not as backwards as they seem, lighting a torch with a laser-y device. There is a moment of Unresolved Sexual Tension, but quickly estinguished by exposition: Seems the Wraith are more or less the Morlocks to Teal'ca's Eloi, waiting for a time until the planets in the galaxy repopulate, then cull the herd. Nice. And true enough, three needle-ships turn up to complete the Time Machine picture, only they have teleporters beaming people up instead of drawing their victims underground. Ooh, and turns out, they can also create illusions to cause fear. Have I mentioned how doomed these people are?

They actually manage to take out one of the ships (I hope there weren't too many civilians already beamed aboard, because ouch), but Dad, Military Guy, and Teal'ca are soon whisked away.

Weir and McKay are just giving the evacuation order as DeeDee returns with Token - and the surviving villagers. This even though he knows the city is going to flood in the near future. You know, I think he may not be all that bright. But before anyone can slap sense into the guy, the shield collapses, rocks fall, and everyone dies. Kidding. The Atlantis AI seems to decide in order to save those people from drowning, it has to go back up - and so it does, spectacularly.

But even though they have balconies now to marvel at the ocean - they still have to rescue two of their regulars (at least Teal'ca is - Military guy's probably the Redshirt of the episode). Weir doesn't like the idea of barging in and sending everyone to their doom, and DeeDee predictably doesn't want to leave the one woman behind who shows cleavage on this show - oh, and Military guy too, I guess.

Meanwhile, in Morlock Central Hub, things are looking bad. The Wraith, as I've said before, are not only eeeevil aliens, but eeeevil zombie vampire aliens. Take that, Goa'ulds. They take a Random Redshirt Villager and zoom out. Both Teal'ca and MiliGuy try to assert they're the leader, but only the latter is taken serious. Teal'ca pouts - because now, she has more time to get eaten? Alien cultures are weird sometimes.

Oooh, cool part. After establishing the gate of the place the Wraith come from is floating in space, they get the little shuttles working, which can also cloak, and go after them. Zoom! Space-y!

Turns out the Zombie Alien guy isn't the leader, but a green-skinned and red-haired alien woman is. If you're thinking "Orion slave girl" right now, you're kinda right. But also very, very wrong. She establishes what we already know (they eat people), and furthermore, she can also force people to do stuff, like MiliGuy spurting out there's an Earth, and it's filled with not thousands, but Billions of nice and tasty little Homo Sapien frolicking around, waiting to get the karmic revenge on the whole eating-animals thing. Not only they are doomed, but we are now as well. That's just peachy.

DeeDee manages to find the prisoners, and by way of screaming MiliGuy, finds the Morlock Dining Room as well. Unfortunately, MiliGuy has just time to die before Deedee starts to shoot the Bad Gal. Bad Gal recovers, though, by eating MiliGuy some more, and he dies. Man, I'm so glad I didn't bother learning the characters name.
DeeDee, after being captured for a tiny bit, gets rescued by Token and skewers Bad Gal with a...thing. I dunno. It kinda glows. Bad Gal is dying, but she gets the last laugh: She's only a caretaker, and when she dies, the Wraith awaken. ALL WRAITH. So, we have established, Atlantis crew is doomed, the whole Pegasus galaxy is doomed, Earth is doomed, and by the way, the Wraith population has just risen by 100.000 per cent. Well, at least the stakes aren't too low.

By the way: I was kidding about the Zombie Vampire Aliens. Do they have to take me so seriously?

Innyway, they make it out of the ship, and towards the shuttle, although I have to say, if DeeDee is the only frickin' person who can fly the damn thing, you'd think he'd take cover and get his ass into the ship as soon as possible. Or at least, his colleagues would shove him inside for reasons of self-preservation. And yet, he stands out in the open and fires his machine gun. This is getting ridiculous. Does "Ancient Genetic Marker" actually stands as a euphemism for "mental retardation"? Maybe the Ancients just died out because they randomly wandered over the edges of cliffs.

Anyway, the Wraith have taken quite a few of their needle ships and positioned them outside the stargate. Meaning, cloak or not, as soon as the gate activates, all they have to do is shooting blindly and thus hitting DeeDee and crew. Plus, you should remind yourselves that one side of the gate is floating in space, and is probably targeted at a very high velocity, what with all the bullet the Wraith are shooting and whatnot. The other side of the gate is kind of a very small room in which to hit the brakes. (The ships enter the gate room through the ceiling, which actually looks very cool). What is a DeeDee to do? He shoots flying Alien Boogers, of course. He doesn't have munition for all of them, but he manages not only to hit the gate at that speed, but also braking without damaging the room or his passengers (but you can fanwank that the Ancients knew about basic safety protocols and installed a dampening field or somesuch).

One major, MAJOR gripe though: They only found the Wraith because Token looked at the chevron combination. What is taking them from just finding the coordinates and going after them, wave after wave after wave? And why taking the risk of this in the first place? Fly back to where you came from (Teal'ca's planet), and open another wormhole as soon as you're through that one, so nobody follows you!! God, this is dumb.

But oh well, we end this with Weir congratulating DeeDee, Teal'ca ensuring her regular character position by almost snuggling with him (almost. We probably have to live through several seasons before Teal'ca gets some, if other TV shows are any indication), and McKay and Beckett bickering like a good husband and husband. I hope they have more scenes like this together, solo McKay tends to grate on my nerves.

By the way, Weir isn't exactly the leader type here. She gets yanked around by McKay and DeeDee, and has to ask O'Neill for help when people actually say no. I guess we can rule out another Janeway here, but Lady needs to put down her foot, or they'll just walk all over her. But this could just be a buildup to a future coming-of-age-episode of sorts.

So, if we take the four-person-theme from Stargate, we have Weir as the non-authoritative peacenick, a Daniel substitute. Let's see how often she dies. Then, DeeDee is the obvious O'Neill guy. We don't have to bother with Teal'ca, and McKay is kind of the unsympathetic monster equivalent of Carter, just like in the evil parallel universes.

Whaddaya mean, I forgot about AlienDad, and Beckett? AlienDad is some sort of Bratac, or Selmac, and Beckett's a phonetically challenged version of Dr. Fraiser. And Token, meh, why do you think I call him Token Black Character? All in all, the cast has promise provided the writings not that full of holes like parts of the pilot, but it's no SG-1. Yet.

...

.....

...goddammit. Now I'm gonna have to watch Stargate SG-1 for the next few weeks.

Errr....I'm....back? Maybe...

*yawn* *smack, smack* Ah, what a delightful little nap. I wonder what time it is. Oh. Sunday. In May? In Two-thousand-fucking-ten?!? Wasn't it just November a minute ago? I feel cheated. Oh well.

Time to log on into ye Olde PC of mine...wonder whats on the email. Hm. Spam... spam...spam - ooh, "enlardge you're mennly provess!"[sic] - special spam, spam, spam, online game whining i've been off for several weeks, spam, spam, same o-game deleting my account due to inactivity...eh. whatever. Not important, anyway. Hm. I've forgotten something. Is it my laundry? No. I mean, yes, there is a big huge fucking heap of laundry in my bathroom gaining sentience right now, but that's not it. Man, that's gonna bother me all day. Is it something at work? No, cell phone would have gone off two hours ago, at least. I vaguely associate shame and guilt with that feeling. Hm. What could it be...*looks down* Nope, wearing pants, nope, no underwear on my head. ...This time.

Dammit. this can't be anything important, can it? Have I payed all my bills? Yes. Watered the plants? Ehhh...at least sometime this decade. Fed the birds? *watches bird poop onto his own waterbowl* - well, certain output requires certain input. *sigh* Check. Dentist appointment? No, I'm forgetting that on purpose. Hm. It'll come to me eventually. I'll just pass the time cleaning up my internet favorites. *sniff, sniff* eww, what's reeking like rotten fish in here? Oh. My blog - and that little internet forum where I'm still moderator...

Oops.

Err.

Hello, My name is Teshik Nakatani. You may remember me from films like "Burn, deutsche Telekom, burn", "I am totally going to finish that fanfic this year, honest", and the instant classic "Whine, my life sucks, waaah". And I think I just recovered from a near death experience of my web persona.

Web persona death are quite common, due to the anonymous and, let's face it, flimsy nature of the internet. People in forums post quite often at first, then more and more infrequent, and after a while they simply fade into the background, never to be heard of, again. I'm willing to bet that 80 per cent of the entire blogosphere is made of blogs containing 5 posts or less, abandoned at least several month ago. Web pages, social networks, you name it. All of them are susceptible to the dreaded Real-Life-Desease.

The Reasons are numerous. You got a new girl - or boyfriend, or broke up with him/her. You may realize that posting vids of yourself on YouTube might be hazardous to your carreer. You get a new job, start or finish college, the person collaborating with you on that web project quits, you simply run out of money for your hobby, nobody reads your beautiful webcomic/blog/whathaveyou, yadda yadda blah.

Real-Life-Disease is deadly for your Internet avatar. Worse - the longer you stay away from the web, the lower the chance you go back to it. To avoid the where-have-you-been-questions, because do you really want to talk about that awful breakup with your partner you just barely weathered? Or because whatever drew you into that particular web corner isn't just so interesting anymore. Admit it. The novelty's worn off, and you're bored.

Never say this will never happen to you, because it will. And probably, it has. Think back to the webpages you used to check regularly one year ago. Two years ago. Five years ago.

To be honest, I'm not surprised I left this blog unguarded, so to speak. But I am quite shocked that in the last twelve months, I haven't been able to write more than one blog post, and about a dozen half-assed attempts still rotting in my blog post buffer. No fanfiction. No programming project (for fun, I mean). No short story. No nothing.
Which is strange, because: I really like writing. I do. It's my creative outlet. More importantly, it's my source of stress relief. And I really could use that at the moment, considering:

• I've finally managed, after seven fucking long years, to acquire my diploma in Computer Science and Business, (BOOYA, MOTHERFUCKER!)
• and I'm now employed as a system analyst and make, in my opinion, a real cool amount of money every month. At least, compared to the jobs I've had before, and the jobs my friends and relatives have at the moment.

So, I would have so many many reasons to bitch about work, uni, finishing uni, or the fact that the fucktards at the uni administration managed to lose my goddamn diploma certificate - TWICE - but for some reason, I didn't feel like posting about it. It isn't even that I don't have the time left to write something, I just didn't. Weird.

Is that what happens if you turn thirty? All the Creativity and Fun gets sucked out of you, and whats left is the perfect work drone for your employer? *shudder* I hope not. Let that be a lesson to you kids - don't let THEM ever talk you into accepting that you're older than sixteen, or you could end up like meeeeeeee! *zombie shuffle* *people fleeing in terror*


So what's the point of this blog post you ask, dear reader? Bah, since when do I need a point? Oh yeah, this time. I wanna thank WyattChris, Storygirl83, tim and chrishalliwellfan for administering CPR to my web persona by congratulating me on my birthday - which was a frickin' month ago, and I didn't even notice. Thanks guys - you got me thinking.

Cultural Memory

“Wir sind zu Ihnen gekommen, um Ihnen mitzuteilen, dass heute Ihre Ausreise…”

"...das tritt nach meiner Kenntnis...ist das sofort, err... unverzüglich."

There are a few sentences, a few pictures, that are so ingrained in the brain that you'd probably remember them even after a concentrated gamma ray burst, applied directly to your forehead.
There are probably international, and national versions of cultural memory. First off, some international ones that should be known all over the world, assuming you do have a TV. (which means, about 4 billion people are excused, as well as some Amish).

Run, Kim Phuc, Run

By the end of this decade

Road Blocker

Convention? Bah, Geneva, Shmeveva

...And Y'all Knew This One Was Coming, Too.
Jesus Fuckin' Christ, indeed.

One of my exactly two readers: "Baaah. History. That's so fuckin' boring. Tell us funny stories, Teshik, if I was interested in old stuff, I wouldn't be skipping school right now."
Teshik: (socks him/her in the face) Then don't read my friggin' blog, loser.

Then, there's stuff I presume every American will surely recognize:

The Turtle's always right
The cheery "deedle-dum-dum" music is especially surreal giving the context.

Do Solemny Swear
...and the...errr...kind of graphic footage that comes just a few hours before, of course.

And You Think YOU Hate Going To School

If you look at German cultural memory, there are two very prominent themes. One of them regards history before 1945, and for obvious reasons, they are making us feel very queasy, embarrassed and vaguely guilty even though almost all people responsible have been dead for decades.
It's really hard to describe this collective feeling of awkwardness. Imagine a person who, at the local sports stadium during a major event where he was supposed to sing the national anthem. But instead of singing, he dropped down his pants, urinated over the guests of honor in the front row, threw feces at the athletes, and proceeded to run around naked screaming about how much he likes to fuck children.
NOW imagine you're the father or mother of said person, and EACH and EVERYONE in the stadium knows that. No one could directly hold you responsible for that horrible incident, buuuut....
And now you know why Germans still have major issues with their own self-image - and why they probably won't get a permanent seat in the UN security council, even though we...err, definitely know the importance of getting the right singer for the anthem, metaphorically speaking.

The other major part of German cultural memory is directly linked to the aftermath of that unfortunate incident. To stay in the increasingly strained metaphor, after the anthem singer was taken into custody, the policemen disagreed what to do with them: put him into an asylum for rehabilitation, or let him rot in prison as a punishment? In the end, they settled on simply doing both. Oh, and spend the next decades arguing about which way is better.

And so, since Germans really, really didn't want to think of the incident, they concentrated on the bullshit their wardens came up with. Which, let's face it, even though they saved our ass from the stadium mob, became more and more retarded. As in, everyone just carry around big huge-ass bombs, just in case the other warden had a cranky day. Hell, let's even put bombs in the prison cells of the Germans, and other inmates! Because giving people who are considered justifiable insane by all participants, REALLY should have bombs available!
The German singer didn't protest (much). From his perspective of things, he just woke up with a massive hangover, and suspects he might have done something he really, really regrets - and now he realizes: both of his wardens are batshit insane. Or would you say that the theory "he won't attack me, because then we'll ALL die in flames & fire, even the innocent bystanders" really is a surefire way to all-over SECURITY?

Okay, we can't blame everything on Soviets or Americans (Although we really really like to sometimes. Having someone to hate simply makes life easier, I guess). In fact, one of the biggest lies every German knows comes from one of our own, former-Soviet-marionette Number One Walter Ulbricht:
"Niemand hat die Absicht eine Mauer zu errichten." and I already told a nice little fairy-tale without happy end about that one. But I didn't include the pictures. Photos can be found here. (the second one is the one generally better known.)
Iconic pictures also include this one here, this should also be known across our borders, since it's one of the most iconic in the whole Cold War issue. Another film clip everyone over the age of 25 knows is of the woman escaping East Berlin by jumping out of a building:
(she appears around 3:15, I couldn't find a shorter one with the scene in it)

Eight years prior to the building of the Berlin Wall, these scenes had happened.
One thing that always strikes me as incredible is the part where the people start throwing rocks, even though their opponents have fucking tanks, which can turn you into human mincemeat in about five seconds. (This also goes for the unknown chinese guy above)

Another important picture is of former Bundeskanzler Willy Brandt, kneeling. Why is this one important? Well, this answer's complex. First of all, let's look at this map.
I kinda did lie when I said Germany was divided in two, because, see, actually, there are four sections: West Germany, East Germany, Western Poland, and a little bit of Soviet Union. Western Poland fell to Poland after the War because
1) Germany had to be punished (fair enough),
2) Poland had lost its own eastern part to the Soviets just a few years back, and
3) the Soviets ain't giving anything back, nuh-uh!
So, a shitload of Soviets were carted over into Ex-Poland, and a shitload of Germans in turn were carted into rest-Germany. The refugees wanted their stuff back, however. So acknowledging that Poland finally could hold on to their national territory for a few decades, would make many people - voters - unhappy. Especially since over there, they're bad bad communists.

Plus, the even bigger issue here, which I have been tiptoeing around for half the post (in typical German manner, I might add): How does one apologize for inciting two world wars, and the systematized mass murder of millions of people? Especially considering
a) you, as a person, are innocent,
b) the people who are totally guilty are either dead, or hiding in Argentina etc.,
c) you, as a chancellor, represent millions of people who kinda were guilty, in aiding and abedding the bad guys, but shit, even admitting that to themselves would require years of psychotherapy each?

Well, Mr. Brandts answer was way, way less verbose than mine. To wit:
http://www.topfoto.co.uk/gallery/Germany1963_1988/ppages/ppage21.html
Not perfect, but this was impossible from the beginning.

Now, before I depress you into tears, let's lighten the mood at least a little. For example, does anyone recognize this guy on the right? Hint: Twenty years prior, he threw rocks at policemen for not being communist and hippie enough. Twenty years after this picture, he retired from his post as German foreign minister and vice chancellor. Besides causing uproar by appearing at a formal oath in sneakers, he also got popular with the sentence: "Mit Verlaub, Herr Präsident, Sie sind ein Arschloch" (With all due respect, Mr. President (of the Bundestag), you are an asshole.)

And now, we finally get back to those two German sentences I left untranslated above. The first is from another foreign minister, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, of the then-West-Germany, spoken in the German Embassy in Prague. People from the GDR had left the country towards Czechoslovakia in thousands, climbed the fence of the embassy ground, and were technically on West German ground - so no GDR official could get them to go back. They camped in and around the embassy for weeks, simply because they wanted out of East Germany.
On September 30th, Genscher went to Prague to deliver his message. The reaction can be found here.

Interesting to note: You can't actually hear if he's saying yes or no, because it totally drowns in the emotional outburst.

The second quote occured one-and-a-half months later. During a press conference, Günther Schabowski of the GDR essentially tells the stumped journalists, that yes, every GDR citizen is now free to leave the country, no strings attached, if they so choose. A few weeks before, this was a total exception, and only months before, people still were shot at for crossing the border.

But: actually, this new travel policy should have been active the next day, on November 10th. Additionally: It was planned to publish this at 4 o'clock in the morning, when everyone was asleep - not at 19.00, when everyone and their grandma is sitting at the telly.

So, hundreds of GDR citizens called their neighbours and went to the Wall. The border police, of course, knew of nothing - they would've been informed the next morning, and remember, this was the end of the eighties, so no internet, and no cellphone to call your superiors, if suddenly hundreds of people tell you of a law that you never heard before. You have to give it to both the policemen and the civilians during that evening that no one panicked, no one was hurt, no shot had been fired. The events of that night, finally, in a video here.
(disregard the poor fashion choices, mullets and frizzy hair, please - remember, this is
a) the eighties,
b) those people actually had to stand in line for those clothes, for hours, and
c) this is the fucking Fall of the Berlin Wall, right over there. The first peaceful revolution the Germans have managed in the History of ...Forever, so be a little happy for us.

Rude Awakenings

I'm not a morning person. I've gotten used to it. But because I'm always accumulating bad karma, random deities like to screw up my sleeping patterns. I can handle stress pretty good by now, or workload, or just random strangers happening to share their live-stories with me(yes that happens, no, I don't like it), but if I don't get a minimum of six hours sleep at night, I'm a very hard customer.
Additionally, on Tuesdays, I have the day off from work, and really like to sleep in, because I'm much happier when I start the day on 8.30 than 5.45 a.m. Especially considering my Monday ends usually on Tuesday, 2.30 a.m. or so.

So, of course, this is the cue for:

Tuesday, three weeks ago. 7 a.m.
Doorbell: *bing-bong*
Teshik: *snore*
Doorbell: *bing-bong*
Teshik: *grunts* *rolls over*
Doorbell: *bing-bong*!
Teshik: (his face buried in the pillow) Die. Just...die.
Doorbell: Dude, totally: *Bing-Bong*!!
Teshik: (imaginative cursing). Fine. FINE!
I stumble out of bed, grab a pair of jeans, because, whoever it is I have to kill right now, I'm not doing that while in my skimmies. It's a matter of principle. I stagger down the stairs, and open the door. There's a man outside, smiling. The part of my brain that's older than humanoid evolution, and one of the few parts already available does a quick calculation. Conclusion: Target larger than me, ripping out his throat with my teeth is inadvisable. For now.
Guy that shouldn't be so cheerful at 7 a.m.: Good Morning!
Teshik: *wookie noise*
Mr. Cheerful: So, where's the basement door?
There is a pause as Teshik tries to restart his brain. A starting car engine is heard in the background. He fails.
Teshik: Ehhhhhhh....whyyyyyy?
Mr. Cheerful: The boiler?
The engine starter tries again. Teshik's brain tries to establish a factual baseline for the snippets "cheerful unknown man", "boiler", "men trying to enter home" and "god knows when in the morning".
Teshik's Brain: Oh whatthefuckEVER. Just go with it. Wake me if he's a serial killer with superpowers.
Teshik: Eh. Follow me. (leads him to the boiler room and goes back upstairs).
Mom: (from the downstairs bathroom) Teshik! Teshik! Teshik!
I go over to the bathroom and try to open the door. Said door is shut firmly and quickly, hitting my head.
Teshik: OW! Fuck, Mom!
Mom: Don't open the door, don't open the door! Is he in the basement?
Teshik: Yeah...Who exactly...?
Mom: The heating's broke in some rooms, and we called someone over.
Teshik: And why did he ring my bell?
Mom: Because he's half an hour early, and I was just toweling myself.
Teshik: And you didn't open because...
Mom: ...my clothes are in the bedroom, and I'm butt naked.
Teshik: Aaahh. I'll get'em.
Mom: (pause) Did I just hit you?
Teshik: Yep.
Mom: Sorry.
Teshik: Don't worry, I'll bitch about it when I'm awake.

--

Tuesday, two weeks ago. 7.15 a.m.
Teshik: No, Superman, don't do it, Bambi is leading you into a trap.
Superman: Don't worry, I have many origami skills that will save me. Also: *bing-bong*.
Teshik: Sorry, I didn't get that.
The giant stone statue of Princess Clara: *binnnng-bonnnng*
Teshik: Mrrrfnl? Oh. (innovative cursing suggesting the doorbell ringer's mother enganged in unlawful acts with a raccoon)
This time, it's a woman in a business suit.
Woman: Hello! It's Mrs Schneider. I'm here for the photos?
Meanwhile, in the scary recesses of Teshik's head:
Aggression: I say we kill'er.
Curiosity: Wait! There's some interesting story behind that. (pause) And probably quite some innuendo.
Common Sense: What person in her right mind would decide 7 a.m is the right time to ring at a random stranger's door and ask for photos?
Memory: Oh, stranger things have happened to us.
Common Sense: True.
Aggression: I still say we kill'er.
Id: Id agrees.
Curiosity: Do you think she wants photos of us, photos of her, or something different?
Super-ego: Murdering a human being, is, as of current legislation, considered a major crime and thus, should be avoided. I suggest asking her for the purpose of the proposed pictures.
Proofreading: Aaah, Alliteration! Awesome!
Aggression: (to Super-ego) Killjoy. (to Proofreading) Idiot.
Ego: What's all the racket up here? Aren't we supposed to be asleep? ...Who the hell is this woman and what does she mean with photos? *sigh* I'll better get back in the driver's seat.
Back in the outside world.
Mrs. Schneider: Err...
Teshik: *wookie noise*?
Mrs. Schneider: You know, the photos for the house? Is <Mrs Nakatani> at home too?
Teshik: I really hope so.
This time, my mother was awake, and fully clothed, but for some reason Mrs Schneider found it necessary and/or funny to ring at my door instead of my parents. Turns out she works for a local financing agency, and my parents had tried to change the loan for the house to a different bank for a while now (mostly because the interest rates weren't as cushy as they had been in the mid-eighties), and the new bank wanted some security that our house wasn't a total dump or local crack house. Hence, the photos. It's still no explanation why these pictures had to be taken at seven in the morning, or why she insisted on taking a picture of my bathroom, but not of my freshly renovated bedroom. Oh well. It all boils down to "we have to pay 100 € less each month for the house", so in the end, I won't complain. Much.

--

Tuesday, last week, 8.45 a.m. At last, a sensible time. Well, if I hadn't worked on my paper till four in the morning, that is, but that's kinda my own damn fault. This time, it's the phone ringing. Hooray for variance.

Teshik: *snore*
Phone: deee-dooh-de-de-der-dooh-de-dee-dum!
Teshik: Oh, fuck me.
Phone: deee-dooh-de-de-der-dooh-de-dee-dum!
Teshik: New Item on TODO-List: devise flesh-eating bacteria. Set flesh-eating bacteria loose on innocent population. Wait in Biohazard suit until Eurafrasia is completely depopulated. Live happily ever after.
He goes over to the living room and the phone.
Teshik: What?
Mom: Where is that thingy?
Teshik's analytical brain component: Semantic analysis in Progress. Voice analysis confirms caller is "Mom". Message: Location of "thingy" object needed. Searching recent memory memes for mention of "thingy", as to supply additional meaning and context. Search complete. "thingy" not found. Conclusion: Data insufficient. No hypothesis reached. Redo from start.
Teshik: What?
Mom: You know...for the tires? For the screws.
Teshik's analytical brain component: Context supplied. Attempting to recalculate. Tires means either bicycle or car. Since our bicycles have been uselessly rusting in our garage for years, car tires are the most likely objects meant. Mother wants a tool, probably a wrench or ratchet. Raising the question: Since Mom's technical expertise in cars is as low as mine, and the tires are almost half her size and weight, how, and why does she want to disassemble our vehicles? Especially considering Mom has a bad back?
Teshik: Please stay where you are until I am wearing pants and can help you.
Mom: No, no! Go back to sleep, just tell me where the thingy is.
Teshik's mind.
Common Sense: But, since we're already awake, and she's pursuing a thinly veiled passive-aggressive strategy, does she really think we would crawl back into bed, even if we could sleep?
Aggression: I say we kill'er.
Common Sense: Matricide without adequate reason? Is...unwise.
Aggression: We could...maim her a little?
Common Sense: Hmm...
Back outside.
Teshik: Just...don't touch anything, I'll be right there.

Okay, so Mom didn't want to do all the heavy work by herself, since Malady and her boytoy (Who I will name TheDick, just for a cheap laugh) were going to help her. But Mom was up early, and decided she could just "prepare a little". Only, that's kind of an "in motion" thing with her: She starts off looking for the tools, drives the first car into position, gets the car jack, decides one little tire isn't going to kill her, and the next thing you know, I find my Mom buried under a giant tire stack, a la Wicked Witch of the West and lil'DoroTeshik has to travel into Lollipop-Guild-controlled land to get his spleen back. And you know, since I'm just not the type for sparkly red high heels, this would've only ended very, very badly. Hee.
So, of course, I was the one getting the tires, explaining this to Mom, only leaving out the Wizard of Oz parts (I'm crazy, not stupid). And either because I'm a klutz or God loves a cheap laugh as much as the next guy, in the very next second, I lose grip of a tire and brain myself in the face with it. And then take the day off because of mild concussion afterwards. And let me tell you: nothing is better than your friends singing "the last Unicorn" instead of "happy birthday" three days later. Or more surreal.

So, what did we learn today? Not much, except that getting out of bed is dangerous.

In Conclusion: 2008 hated me.

But before I start dissing the new year, I have to give the old one a proper send-off. And by proper, I mean, "beat it until it's dead and then dump its corpse into a gigantic vat full of acid".

During the beginning of December, I was still overworked as hell (no surprise here), so that means, Christmas Shopping will have to wait. A little. Then a little more, and a little to the left, and whoops, somehow it's December 21st. Anyone of you ever been so incredibly stupid so you had to go out two days before Christmas to get all of your shopping done?

We all know, that, as soon as December 1st comes around, approximately 30 % of the general population turns on a secret switch in their brains, the ends of which are labled "Normal -- Batshit Crazy", respectively. People who normally aren't fazed by an earthquake rating 7.2 on the Richter scale, suddenly are dazzled, confused and panicked by simple concepts like traffic lights. Or won't think of the simplest solutions and precautions. Like winter tires, for example.

As we all know, or at least SHOULD know, winter tends to be cold. One could even assume that, since we have witnessed snow, and ice, in the past years, always in winter, that people can make the association between "winter" and "cold". Especially considering that everyone who is permitted to drive a car has at least a 16 to 18 years experience regarding winters, depending on the country you're in. And you'd be mistaken. Because every fucking year, as soon as the first snow comes around, I always seem to drive just behind one of four types of car drivers:

a) Ooooooohhh. Preeeetttyyyy. I will now slow down and park in the middle of the street to admire the beauty of nature.
b) Oh. Is that a snowflake? Oh my. And this in October/November/December/January? Who'd've thunk. But now I have summer tires on my car. What do I do? I better get an appointment at the nearest auto shop. I will take out my telephone book right now. In the middle of the Autobahn/highway/highly trafficed city street. Oh, those people are honking. Don't they know I'm incapable of driving right now? I have summer tires! As a compromise, I will slouch along at 5 kilometers per hour, and hope I will arrive safely.
c) OH MY GOD A SNOWFLAKE WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!! (steps on the brakes so hard the following two cars slam into him, creating a traffic jam)
d) I am so very very cool. I am so cool that I don't need no fucking winter tires. Because caution is for pussies. That's why I'm driving 200 kilometers per hour in an area where only 100 is permitted, and where the road is totally fucking iced. That's how cool I am. And even though my brakes are failing right now, I'm still the coolest of them ....AAAAAHH! (Crash! Boom! Fatality! *Ding* Congratulations! You have unlocked the "Darwin Award" achievement!)

Sadly, these four types can also be found during the Christmas Shopping Spree. Type A will simply stop at every goddamn mall window, admiring the Fuzzy Wuzzy Weebits or whatever; Type B is struck with indecision, running around aimlessly because, hell, this way, he/she will just hit the wanted store and present at some point; Type C will kill each and everything in his/her path because, Oh GOD, there are only 25 Paris-Hilton-Barbies-With-Sagging-Eyelid-Action left at this and every other damn store, so the chances of actually getting one are next to nothing, NOTHING I tells ya; and Type D provides us with the much needed domestic violence quota over the Holidays, gifting his girlfriend with either everything HE ever wanted, or everything nobody in the History of Mankind ever wanted, but is still made commercially. Well, someone has to help the economy with senseless consumerism I guess.

Now, take those four types, multiply each of them by 500, stuff them into the nearest mall, and put one sane person in the middle, follow them with a camera, and grab the popcorn as the poor fucker is driven insane and/or ripped into pieces.

Yeah. Note to self: Don't do that again, Idiot.

Also, dear Mall operating staff, or whatever you guys are called: Yes, Winter is cold. Thanks for acknowledging. But if you crank up the heating in the building up to eleven and beyond, all those people, who are already zooming through your halls like a live demonstration of the Brownian Motion, and are coated in at least seven layers of clothing each? Will start to sweat. Sweat, when amassed in large amounts, starts to stink like a dead buffalo. So, just a suggestion, don't turn the heating up to a FUCKIN' 30 DEGREES CELSIUS.

But in spite of stress, homicidal maniacs, and strange random people asking me which motivational coffee mug she should buy for Stefanie (She mistook me for someone. I hope), I managed to get out of it with all presents and only superficial mental scarring.

But of course, that's not the end of my year. On December 18th, our department at work made an afterwork party/X-mas precelebration or whatever these things are called. Anyway, after sitting in a restaurant of ridiculously overpriced food, and gaining the suspicion that actually, work hasn't ended yet (brought on by my boss, who "suggested" that we "voluntarily" take part in some exercises that were remarkably like those in those fuggin' team workshops), afterwards, we took off in the christmas market, and since I was still dressed for office, not for minus ten degrees, thank you, I came down with a nasty little cold virus that infested me until about christmas.

But fear not, I will not have the indignity of not being bothered this Christmas! For Lo, my sister had an even worse cold and more or less coughed all over our Christmas Dinner, so on December 26th, I was sick again.
Meanwhile, the PC I had bought this past June was showing signs of the Fucking Off And Dying, and after realizing the hard drive was in on it, I barely had time to save some really really important paper I had been working on since October, and then *puff* PC Death. and even better, all those pesky files that I had stored on said hard drive? Gone, too!
Including, but certainly not limited to, the entire source code I was programming for said paper. (it's called Studienarbeit. Before you're allowed to write your diploma paper, you have to write a Studienarbeit/study paper to prove that you're capable of writing scientific texts or some bullshit like that. Essentially, it's three months of work that won't even be graded, but is almost as time-consuming as the diploma paper itself.). So, without the source code, which was the program I developed in those three months, and which was the basis of my very theory in the paper, the paper itself? was completely worthless now. Yay! Let's spend yet another year in University, Teshik! It's not expensive or exhausting or anything!

So, between Christmas and New Years, I had time to contemplate how to salvage the situation, and going through all my backups to see if there was anything left. There was, the almost finished version of my program, that is, save for a few bugs. But: without the source code, you can't edit out those pesky bugs, and also, you can't prove that you didn't download the entire application from some shady internet source - not good for a "scientific paper".

But at least, I had something, because my hard disk decided to give me the finger again, and again, and proceeded to fuck with my mind even further, since: My hard disk was divided into four parts: windows, my games, my music, and my data (where the important parts are located). Now, considering all my music is ripped from my cd's, and are also backed up as mp3's somewhere, what do you think I'll get if I access the broken hard disk with disk repair software? That's right, everything but the data I need. Good thing Murphy's law is still in operation. Oh, and additionally? The graphics card I got from Scorpio for Christmas, was toasted too.

Also still in operation? Murphy's Second Law, If things are left to themselves, they will go from bad to worse. Remember that cold? Oh, that cold itself wasn't that bad. But it seemingly opened the door for several other interesting diseases. And so, on December 31st, my cousin, where I wanted to spend New Years Eve, received a call:

Scorpio: Hey. What up?
Teshik: Uhh. My dinner. It then proceeded to jump in the toilet.
Scorpio: (pause) You really hate to catch a break with your bad luck strain, don't you?
Teshik: Yeah, that'd just be like giving up on my great Goddess, the Mighty Misfortuna.

And so, yes, the Year 2008 ended for me, clutching my old friend The Toilet Bowl.

Ain't Life Grand?