bread & circuses

Almost nightly, I drive past the big tent set up in the Festplatz and I am just astounded by the giant, illuminated hemispheres, hoops, that are part of the support structure for the big top.  I wonder if such things as circuses and carnivals were not exactly left behind in terms of applying technology and generating aesthetical wonderment.  A grubby old disco with a decent sound-system and DJ can be as good as any fancy, sleek establishment, but there are definitely more accessible lighting and pyrotechnic options and arcade effects.  I wonder what progress has been made in the three-ring-arena.  I have not been to a circus in ages, satisfied that they are only good for tragic headlines, wild beasts going amok, and scary clown nightmare fuel, but maybe now there is something more dazzling to see.  I am nearly tempted to go and see the lion-tamer perform on the equivalent of a LED dancefloor.

netiquette or more cow bell

Sometimes I feel terrorized by directed and undirected chimes and ring-tones.  Every ubiquitous ping, ding and whistle, no matter what demanding electronic detritus it is attached to, comes in fast and intimate and nagging.  Are their established rules of form for when an SMS can be a substitute for an e-mail?  Is there a measure for urgency?  I feel quite old-fashioned sometimes, with my pay-as-you-go Handy with only a bald reserve of credit saved for a real emergency.  Cell phones, I think, are not for chatting or pillow-talk, unless there is no other viable alternative.  Waiting, sometimes, does not seem to be an option.  All the static and mystery, not immediately identifable or sourced, noises lose their meaning.  A calling-plan and perhaps a nicer Handy with an integrated touch-sensitive keyboard (and demonstrating a more expert range of sound-effects) for expediting dispatches might lend a sense of importance to my mental notes.

psychology of superstition

Alternet, which regularly posts some pretty engrossing articles, has a recent one by Anneli Rufus on the fadism surrounding conspiracy theories and belief in super-secret societies.  The argument that in times of crisis, people turn to the occult as a solace and an opiate.  While perhaps people are prone to abstract their problems onto a malevolent or benevolent overlord and search for blame or excuses, I do not think that is the whole story.  Paranormal facination has its following, more or less mainstreamed, year in and year out, and world governments, rife with error and missed-opportunities, do not exactly convey the united front that the true-believers are expecting.  If anything, a quagmire of conspiracies is rather disappointing.  Under a perfect regime, all the conspiracy theorists would have been rounded up and disappeared long ago for knowing what they know.  Obviously, that has not happened yet.  If anything, all the theater is masterful distraction, choreography, so one won't pay attention to the man behind the curtain, but I am not sure what other moves are orchestrated.  Belief in whatever mythology has traces of motivation in it; being able to discriminate among the talismen and charms might lead to the top.

a mark, a yen, a buck or a pound

The Guardian last week published a facinating article that details UN findings that financial watchdogs, at the height of the economic apocalypse, were exceedingly lax about discriminating between laundering and legitimate business operations (perhaps there is no day-light twixt the twain as it is).  This roughly one-third of a trillion dollars circulating in the international banking system for the past few months from the drug and weapons trade probably kept world markets from total collapse.  This turning a blind eye to things below board is another insult and demonstrates the poor planning on behalf of governments in liberally tossing out those stimulus funds to businesses too big to fail.  Perhaps the public should let the syndicate churn out swine-flu vaccine or execute a manned-mission to Mars, if they are not doing so already.  Above is an image of the corn field in the middle of Liechtenstein.  It seems quite strange to me that a country whose flat land is at such a premium, the biggest open space would be for this purpose.  I am convinced that this is where things go when they are disappeared, like with the little boy from the Twilight Zone who could send people "to the cornfield."  Maybe the stimulus funds are stashed in Vaduz.

past-perfect

Flickr artists Rétrofuturs (Hulk4598 and Stéphane Massa-Bidal) showcase their visions of websites in vintage paperback form.  Apparently one can purchase poster-sized prints.  I think these are great--it reminds me of illustrated literature that one finds in clinic waiting rooms, sort of the tortured stick figures that get every kind of social disease.  I think everything looks classier and truer in this format. 

hogan's heroes

Over the weekend, H and I visited the village of Colditz with its imposing castle.  During the war, it was used to house incorigible allied prisoners of war, since thinking the fortess impenetrable, those who had successfully escaped from other prisons could be kept secure and isolated.  Due to the nature of the prisoners with their established histories of escape, this place had one of the highest records of flight of any jail.  H told me a lot of the history about the village, but it's strange to think of such a monolithic place as this not really being known in its own right.  With tourism, the castle and the camp became sort of a parody of itself, a mash-up of a dozen different mythical places and intrigues.  Sometimes these places need to be rediscovered, and then can be awe-inspiring in their own rights.