eenie meanie or ένας μια ενα

Some time ago, I recall reading a broad overview (not disjointed but just non-sequitur and sparse explanation, like a freak-show of strange foreign customs) on Christmas traditions. According to the article, some Greek households leave a colander out on the doorstep (unlike stockings hung over a heath or a boot on Sankt Nikolas Tag in Germany for gifts) to confound mischievous spirits and keep them from entering the home.

Like our friend from Sesame Street, Count von Count (Graf Zahl), imps and demons have a condition called arithmomania, the irresistible compulsion to count things and would be drawn to counting out the holes on the strainer. Incidentally, vampires in general tend to be distracted by disarray and would stop to fully account for a tossed handful of rice grains or something similar, should one need a second to escape from one. Did the Count’s character, I wonder, come from his mild version of the disorder or vice-versâ? Because of the demon’s infernal nature, however, it would only manage to count one, two before being cast back on the number three—three being the holy trinity. The spirit could rematerialize and try again but never make it past three. It’s a bit early (and maybe a bit too exotic) for Christmas but I think it might be a nice and maybe more effective gesture of solidarity for the Greek people to help them through these trying times (after all, the people of Iceland ousted their corrupt politicians by banging pots and pans), which none of us may be so charmed as to avoid.

forward

I heartily congratulate the American people and Barack Obama on his re-election. After debate, treatment, retouching and legislative gridlock, there would be more than a sliver of daylight’s difference in the outcomes for social programmes and diplomacy between him and his challenger. 

I believe, moreover, the opposition’s biggest hurdle (that they set up themselves as a stumbling block) was the inability—in fact and in argument, to convince voters that they were interested in being any more than the president of the 1%, the 99%, the 47% or the 53%, no matter how one cuts it, a whole swath of dissenters and people with different priorities and approaches would be disenfranchised. Sympathy and reform are not divisive, and while first terms are not dress-rehearsals, time, patience and experimentation are necessary to see innovation through, especially in the annals of government. Maybe not every hope and help was able to roll out after that carwash of debate, treatment, brinksmanship and infighting perfectly and true to the original vision and intent, and many decried the frustration and impositions of State as execution settled, but I think that at bottom inclusiveness proved to be an invitation to join in those aspirations and willingness to brave new directions, with open eyes and full knowledge that the roadblock of one person can become the safeguard of another. There is unfinished business to attend to.

droide astromeccanico

heebee jeebees

In a somewhat formulaic but still nightmare inducing and thought-provoking tradition of fake documentaries, in the spirit of the Blair Witch Project and revisited with the series Paranormal Activity, the same creative team has unleashed another lurid and worrisome monster in The Bay, apparently created out of a potion of pollution, agricultural run-off, steroids and nuclear waste. The inspiration, though not as aggressive in reality (though that maybe owing to the steroids and mutations), for these insidious and alien creatures, however, is not far removed from its portrayal.

An isopod (Asseln) is a kind of primitive crustacean with seven pairs of legs, and the most well-known representative of this family is probably the roly-poly, the pillbug (Kellerassel) but many other live in the water and have adopted scary, parasitic lifestyles. One species can grow to a half a meter in length and scuttles about on the cold, dark ocean floor like an insectoid tank, but the really terrifying one that makes the skin crawl (and the subject of the movie with some cross-overs) is a singular variety called Cymothoa exigua, the tongue-eating louse. A nymph invades the host fish, usually a Snapper (Barsch) through its gills, before latching onto the tip of its tongue. Growing to a substantial size, eventually the fish's tongue atrophies and falls off and the parasite then acts as a regular tongue. I do not quite buy the idea that the fish just has some ersatz, prosthetic tongue now and no further damage is done to the host, nor to people.  These creatures have an even more bizarre life-cycle, progressing to males from hermaphrodites when attached to the gills and growing into females in the fish's mouth.  True horror is knowing what is out there in nature and its scavenging, resourceful inventions.