The happy existentialist's book club
The Bouncy Castle is a novel by Franz Kafka. A rollicking comedy that extends to over 6000 pages, it concerns the exploits of B, an unemployed postman. B wanders all over the Thuringian countryside in search a mysterious long lost bouncy castle. On the way, B meets lots of people, such as the dancing janitor and the keeper of the bells. At first he's happy, but then he realises that all of the people he meets are not real people at all, but just metaphors. This makes him quite dizzy and he has to sit down and have a cup of tea. The bouncy castle itself proves elusive, thus operating simultaneously as a ridiculous narrative device and a symbol of the encroaching fuzziness of Western Kleptocraticism.
If you really want more of this drivel, you can see the whole damned thing I wrote here
April 27th, 2006. | 6:15 pm cet. | Thoughts: 2 | Phylum: Books | Permalink
A random series of bizarre events
Things did not congeal well today. I nearly got shot and I saw Stephen Segal. I'm not sure which experience was more disturbing.
Yesterday, in Romania, was an official holiday. It was official eggs, meat and cake day. The streets of the city were deserted because everyone was indoors eating eggs, meat and, yes, cake.
Tia's grandparents made me a delicious lamb ciorba - which is a soup. Her grandfather, sitting opposite me, was lashing into a bowl of the stuff. He lashed with such gusto that his overworked spoon turned up a jawbone complete with teeth. It floated to the surface and grinned at me. Everyone pointed and said "Look, Frank, teeth!". It didn't stop me eating though. Nothing does.
Today was official walk in the park day. Cismigiu park was heaving with dogs and people. I sat in the sun with Tia reading "Letter to a Priest" by Simone Weil - a hilarious comedy of about 6000 pages. Tia whiled away her time by happily spotting idiots.
I was reading "...this postulate does not do away with the link between such acts and the supernatural..." when Tia said "Hey, look at those idiots over there".
They were a man and a woman in their twenties (IQ and age). They were carrying large guns filled with pellets which they happily fired at each other, trees, the sky and passing children. A security guard watched them for about ten minutes before sauntering over and checking their id. They wandered off into some trees. I went back to my book.
It was indeed. He was surrounded by an entourage of mostly Chinese. He walked into the park like he owned it. People took his photograph. I shouted:
But he didn't listen. It was probably his day off.
Personally, I see an idiot.
April 24th, 2006. | 9:15 pm cet. | Thoughts: 11 | Phylum: Life in Romania | Permalink
Phlegmy Gobbets
Tags: pigs
Phlegmy Gobbets is history's first recorded stand up comedian. He mostly worked the pig farm circuit in Gloucester in the 14th century. Only one of his hand crafted jokes remains with us today:
Pigs love that kind of stuff. Anything that mentions demons. But they're a tough audience. Les Dennis was once heckled by a pig in Dorset and had to go into hiding for a year.
April 21st, 2006. | 8:30 am cet. | Thoughts: 2 | Phylum: Thnup | Permalink
I love what you do for me - Toyota
Tags: telephone romania Toyota
The phone rings. Never a good sign.
We didn't tell each other our actual telephone numbers, of course, for fear of attack by snipers.
The whole affair was a missed opportunity, for myself, for the stranger and indeed for Toyota Romania. The next time someone calls, I will be ready.
And so on... Personally, I can't wait. I haven't had this much excitement since Nixon visited China.
April 17th, 2006. | 10:50 pm cet. | Thoughts: 2 | Phylum: Life in Romania | Permalink
I.C. Suckers visits his local Underworld
Hi there. I'm I.C. Suckers. Who the heck are you?
Today's top brand is 'Cosmote', by those fun lovin' Greek dudes who just love to provide advanced yet friendly mobile telecommunications plus related wireless services: and who doesn't?
But guys, what's with the logo? "In touch with life"? What market segment are you trying to reach with that? The undead?
It's like Socrates said, man, he said that something that's in touch with life is, by definition, not actually life, or something. I forget what he actually said but it was something like that. Come to think of it, maybe it wasn't Socrates. Maybe it was Neil Diamond.
Anyway, your slogan implies that Cosmote belong to some shadowy other world, where secretaries, analysts and filing cabinets all float merrily down the river styx and into the pool of nothingness that is guarded by the keepers of the pitch and it's dark dark dark. You know the place. There's one in every kitchen.
Still, Nokia had some success in Finland with their "We are become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds" campaign so I guess it might work, dudes, but nobody takes any notice of these things anyway, so fuck it.
April 14th, 2006. | 9:30 pm cet. | Thoughts: 7 | Phylum: I.C. Suckers | Permalink
President Bush congratulates Bono on the discovery of a lost napkin
Reuters P.A.: President Bush today congratulated the legendary singer, Bono Vox after Mr. Vox found a lost napkin during a presidential lunch.
Bono was meeting the president as part of his recent "Send a Wok to Every Child in Finland" campaign. The duo were on the cusp of tucking into a large bowl of spaghetti when presidential aids noticed that Mr. Bush was without a napkin. Sources state that, on hearing the news, Bono dived under the table and began searching. Half an hour later, Bono still hadn't found what he was looking for.
It was only when President Bush fell to his knees and led the gathered news circle in spontaneous prayer that Bono emerged victorious, clutching the napkin, an old fork and a small portion of stale bread roll. Bush kept the napkin. The other items were donated to charity. President Bush later read out the following statement, live on television:
April 12th, 2006. | 12:00 pm cet. | Thoughts: 4 | Phylum: Thnup | Permalink
I.C. Suckers spots a horse!
Tags: business model emerging markets
Well I woke up this morning. I thought, the morning, the beginning of the day, it's like a new customer fresh off the bus. You've got to squeeze it for all the juice you can get. Some people don't like mornings. Not me. Heh heh.
I threw myself out of bed, jumped out the window and went for a Supremacy Stroll around Bucharest. OK, so the place is a little shabby - actually, I'd say well south of shabby - but the important thing is that EVERYONE has carrier bags. And they're using 'em too. Using 'em to carry stuff in. It got me thinking about the carrier bag mind-word-brand-concept, but I can't remember what I was thinking about now.
OK, so I'm out there and I see these guys with a horse and cart. One of them is shouting something. It sounds like "Fiaaaaarebleck Bleeeaaaaarooooh", and I'm curious. So I whip out my portable Geiger translator (I never go for a Supremacy Stroll without it) and it reads out that these guys are looking for iron. This is what they do: They go around the streets, with a horse, shouting out for iron.
Straight away, without losing one second, I thought: "What in the heck kind of business model is that?".
I mean, if, and I'm talking IF here, I happened to have some old lump of iron laying around the house, I don't think I'm going to wait for some guy with a horse to chance along and maybe take it from me. No, I'm just going to bury it in the garden. So these guys are loosing out because they haven't discovered my super dollop number 3: Pull Your Customer.
One word: Pamphlets. These guys need to get their act together and print up some pamphlets that say something like:
Am I wrong? Tell me, am I wrong?
April 11th, 2006. | 8:30 am cet. | Thoughts: 4 | Phylum: I.C. Suckers | Permalink
Romania: Kleptocracy or Plutocracy?
Tags: Romania kleptocracy plutocracy
Romania: kleptocracy or plutocracy?
In a recent interview on the subject, Toddy Jungfrau, Professor of International Relations at the University of Zurich stated that corruption in Romanian society has reached such levels that the state itself may be considered kleptocratic. Or at least he would have done if someone hadn't nicked his chair.
In a letter of response, Ghinion Spaga, a representative of the Romanian House of Reclamations stated that if anyone else suggested that he was a Kleptocrat, he'd have to challenge them to a fight, because this would be the same as if they'd insulted his mother or horse.
Later that week, Toddy and Ghinion squared off against each other in a field at the back of Ghinion's house. Everyone took bets on the fight which was broadcast live on national television in a special programme hosted by Stefan Banica. Ghinion won and got to dance the tango with Andreea Marin as a special reward. Toddy was thrown into a giant bowl of mamaliga. Everyone appluaded.
If I had to choose between a kleptocracy or a plutocracy, I'd definitely choose a kleptocracy. I mean, who wants to be ruled by Mickey Mouse's pet dog? He can hardly even string a sentence together, let alone run a complex fincancial transaction involving concerete and Mercedes Benz. Him and his cronies: Fifi the Peke, Dinah the Dachshund, and Ronnie the St. Bernard Puppy - they're just a gang of illiterate thieves. No one would want them in charge.
April 8th, 2006. | 8:42 am cet. | Thoughts: 4 | Phylum: Life in Romania | Permalink
The women, they will love you like drunken bears
Tags: Antonio Banderas Diavolo
Hi there! My name is Antonio Banderas and I want to talk to you about my bodily fluids. Too many men are ashamed of their fluids. They are right to be. I say to these men, you are weak, you are pathetic, just like your fluids. Is no surprise. But I can help you. You can buy my fluids for a special discount. Women will love you like crazy wild mice. Believe me.
Every morning, when I wake up, I have a group of virgins scrape off my fluids with a trowel. The resulting slime is put into a bag and sent to my big factory in a lorry. At the factory, it is processed and purified and distilled down to its pure essence of liquid magnetism. This is put into a bottles with some alcohol and tree bark and sent to chemists all over the world so that all men can enjoy my body’s emissions as much as I do. I enjoy the feeling of immense power this gives me. It is like holding so many little eggs in a bag, but the bag ... it is mine.
Some of you might be thinking that this Mr. Banderas must be a bendy kind of man to let other men cover their bodies in his fluids. Perhaps, you think there is something wrong with my brain? Perhaps you think I am some kind of slug? Huh? HUH? Well, let me tell you, Mr. Big shot, I am the one with all of the women in MY wardrobe, NOT you. You get the picture? Maybe I should just keep all my fluids to myself, no? I should just let cheap bastards like you rot, alone in your little rooms, huh?
Enough. This is no time for war. You buy my fluids and maybe I forgive you. We play a game of football some time and drink a little beer and then you can thank me for changing your life. Women will love you like drunken bears. Believe me.
April 6th, 2006. | 11:20 am cet. | Thoughts: 6 | Phylum: Thnup | Permalink
The Master and Margarita
Tags: The Master and Margarita Mikhail Bulgakov
If the devil were to take a holiday, he'd probably choose Moscow. That's the basic premise of Mikhail Bulgakov's book 'The Master and Margarita'.
One has to admire Bulgakov's book, not only because it works brilliantly on so many levels but because he wrote it in the Stalinist Moscow of the 1930's. At that time, doing anything other than sitting in a chair was highly dangerous and writing especially so. Bulgakov knew that the book would never be published in his lifetime, so he wrote whatever the hell he wanted to and generally got away with it.
The devil, as a character, has got to be interesting. It's not advisable to call the devil Graham and make him an accountant with an interest in hub caps, for example. The greatness of Bulgakhov's devil is that he's not just evil, he's ironic. If there was one thing that Stalin's Moscow couldn't take, it was a joke.
Unreason is always at war with the rational, and justly so, for if the war ceased then both would find their continued existence somewhat pointless. Bulgakov's book charts the battleground and is, unsurprisingly, biased towards the irrational. If you spent your life surrounded by filing cabinets, you would be too. So that's the book in a line: a smiley face drawn on a filing cabinet. Read it and sleep.
April 4th, 2006. | 9:30 pm cet. | Thoughts: 4 | Phylum: Books | Permalink