I Ain’t drunk, I’m Just Drinkin’

Oh, no, woman, I ain’t drunk… unk… hush, baby, le… let’s have another nip.


The Army of Losers

That’s a song. From Die Toten Hosen (The Dead Pants, a German punk band). A song about losers, about the fight against time. It’s a leftist song, about the fight against the “Fließband”. Against Ford. “Fließband”, what is that? The assembly line, the ultimate inhumanity. I thank Christ I never had to work on an assembly line.
On the other hand, my first job was as a baker in an organic bakery, with cool people and a loose atmosphere, but even there we were trying to make a sort of assembly line. We tried as best we could to make things efficient, make the beautiful, eatable things we produced (and they were delicious, I can assure you), as best we could. In the end it was about making money, but making money with somethng useful.
So that’s the thing, making money by producing things that other people need and want. That’s all well and good, and there’s nothing wrong with making those processes as efficient as they can possibly be. We wanted to produce what we made in the best way possible. Sure, it was about profit too, oh yeah, that’s the zest, that’s what makes it interesting.
The problem is when people who don’t care about making things that people need or want take control of these processes, people who are not interested in anything except their own profit. They don’t care about quality, they don’t care about use, they don’t care about anything except profit. They will fuck you in the ass if they can, and if they can’t, they’ll send their henchman to beat the living shit out of you. And if that doesn’t work, or if you’re in a country where the government acts like they don’t want that shit, they’ll send their lawyers to do it for them. How is an average person to deal with that? Well, honestly, they can’t, and that is why this society can not go on in its present form. There is no way that this system can go on. It can exist in a certain atmosphere for a certain time, but it is not truly viable.
The question is, how is the army of losers going to react? They will react, you can be sure of that. At some point the pressure will become to high, and they will react. Put pressure on things and they will explode at some point, that’s simple physics. It applies to society the same as it applies to material. Well, you might say, Hellstrøm, you jerk, you’re wrong. Society is not physics. Ooha. Well, I can simply laugh at that.
Why? Because society is physics. Society is algorithms, isn’t it? That’s what they are telling us these days. It’s all math. Yeah, baby, statistics, I can tell you what you will probably do. In all likelihood you will. You can’t help it. You’re on the assembly line of life, and you will do what is expected of you.
But, and any statistical expert will confirm this, there are statistical swings. It’s not all about the middle line. Every honest statistic should take that in to account, but they don’t. They’re all on the middle line, betting on it, the stupid motherfuckers, hoping for it, even though they know it isn’t true. Gamblers. It’s the human condition, we’re all gamblers.
We all know what happens to gamblers. They win, or they lose. But these gamblers are betting with our whole society. I’ll leave it to you to think about the consequences.
Yeah, flaming trees line the streets. Singing the Higgs-Boson blues. The army of losers are lining those streets too. They are probably (seen statistically) the ones who set the trees an fire. Totally surprising! No algorithm predicted it.
Don’t cry just because we’re in for interesting times. That’s life. Ah well, wotthehell, cry if you must, then at least Cry Tough, from Alton Ellis & The Flames.
Happy New Year.

Do Not Offend

One should not offend, except in the service of freedom. Where is the border there? Oh, I forgot, you may also offend in the service of satire. Whoa, baby, in the service of satire? What you say? Can one serve satire? Oh, yes, my little porcupines, one can. Satire is such a flexible little beast… almost anything is allowed in the name of satire. Even the most tasteless things.
But I try not to be tasteless. Mostly. I might make fun of God, whichever God you prefer… but probably not to your face, out of common civility (or out of fear of being punched). Faced with you and your beliefs, I will not ridicule them. I might spar with you a little, if I am bored, but otherwise I will leave you in peace with your beliefs.. Actually I find gods quite nice, in their quaint little way.
The funny thing is, I still say „Jesus!“ when something surprises me or „oh my God!“ when I am shocked, and so on. I’ve grown up an atheist, but nevertheless I am woven in to the Christian net.
My Son is an atheist as well, but his religion teacher says he knows more about the Bible than any of his classmates. Yeah, so why is that, you fucking Christians? Because the atheists tend to think about it all, for Christ’s sake. Because they know a little bit about what stands in the fucking Bible, because they actually (well, some of them at least) read the fucking Bible, because they have actually thought about God, and what the existence of God, true or not, actually could mean. My son’s classmates say: I believe in God. But they probably haven’t spent a single thought on the subject. My son knows about God. He knows about many gods, Christian, Greek, Roman, Norse… he hasn’t learned much about the Eastern gods yet, but he will. If he wants to believe in whatever, so be it. He is free to choose.
If I seem offensive to some people, that’s fine. All I am doing is exercising my freedom of thought and expression. There are times when one has to be offensive, in order to rattle people out of their preconceptions, and that is what satire is about. When your freedom to be offensively satirical is curtailed by threat of reprisal or death, that is bad news for you and your society as a whole. It’s all part of intolerance, of trying to dictate what people must believe. In the end, we have a simple equation: satire = freedom.
Listening to Helter Skelter from the Beatles.

A Morning Conversation in Mr. Hellstrøm’s Psyche

ego: Hey id, how’s things? Had any Dreams lately?
id: I dream constantly, idiot.
ego: No need to get personal.
id: Oh yes there is.
superego: Shut up, both of you, we have to go to work.
id: I don’t want to.
superego: Tough tits.
ego: Don’t argue boys. We’ll go in a minute… on the way we’ll buy some of that candy we like.
id: Oh yeah, I like candy. Candy! Now!
superego: It’s bad for us… we haven’t even had breakfast yet.
ego: No time… well, we can eat something good on the way as well.
id: Where’s my candy?
ego: Soon, be patient.
superego: No candy, please. Get a nice wholegrain sandwich or something. Muesli.
id: No! (cries)
superego: Dammit! (growls)
ego: Calm down boys! (sighs, thinks: Christ, I need a drink.)


Peanuts, Walnuts. Almonds. They taste wonderful with wine. But, okay, what I really wanted was to ruminate on the meaning of the word nuts, and why it has several meanings. I’m going nuts, for example. Or: nuts to you. What in hell does that mean?
Google yields: Confucius say, man who sticks penis in peanut butter jar is fucking nuts. Har har, very ‘fucking’ amusing. Well.
‘Nuts to you’ = fuck off, I suppose, the association being between men’s ‘nuts’ (balls, or testicles, if you want the scientific word for it) and fucking. I associate that with the German du kannst mich mal, which means, more or less, ‘you can do me.’ That is not, however, meant in a positive sense, but rather like saying ‘fuck you’ in English. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck it all . . . egads, slowly but surely I am losing any sense of the big picture here. There is no literal equivalent to ‘nuts to you’ in German, since the Germans call testicles Eier (eggs) in everyday language. There we get phrases like die Eier schaukeln lassen (to let the eggs swing), which means to take it easy or be lazy, or du gehst mir auf die Eier (you’re getting on my eggs), which means you’re a pain in the ass. Languages are hell.
I’m going nuts. You drive me nuts. You’re off your nut. How in hell do such phrases come in to being? Well, actually, it’s simple, I suppose. Your ‘nut’ is your head, a shell with a kernel: your brain, if you happen to have one. And, if it doesn’t function normally, like mine, people say you’re off your nut.
On the other hand we have the phrase, ‘it was all nuts to me.’ This does not mean that everything seemed crazy, but rather that everything was good, as in perfect, just the thing, yummy . . . like a bowl of nuts. And why, for Christ’s sake, are the nuts in ‘nuts and bolts’ called nuts?
By the by, listening to Raspizdyay, from Leningrad. That has nothing to do with nuts. At least I believe so… for all I know Raspizdyay is Russian for balls, eggs, nuts, what have you.