vapid or cig-a-like

In the European Union, there is a hat-full of regulations regarding the legal status of electronic-cigarettes, regarding sales, taxation, possession and whether such devices and activity is to be classed with restrictions on tobacco-products or bans on smoking. The activity itself has been dubbed by word-smiths in the United States as vaping—from the vaporising chamber that the cig-a-like devices use to heat up a liquid mixture to deliver the nicotine and produce a little puff of odourless smoke for effect.
There is, I understand, a new e-cigarette lounge at Heathrow Airport, and though I have seen such devices for sale in Germany, I have not yet seen them yet being embraced by bars and clubs, which have seen a down-turn in patronage, supposed, over smoking restrictions. What do you think? Vaping surely is it a wholesome or value-added habit but certainly seems better and safer than other natural methods for satisfying a craving, be it physiological or psychological. I wonder if there will be two-tiered culture of addiction in the future, with vapeurs and synthahol-drinkers unable to abide the company of their traditionalist counterparts.

anachronism

Via Boing Boing, a physics professor and a graduate student have embarked to scour the Internet in such of evidence for visits from time-travelers.

They employed parameters that would point to prescience, either direct or indirect that suggest a fore- knowledge, inquiries whose parameters seem to defy causality and too I suppose people claiming to be from the future were investigated. The study found no conclusive evidence, with the admission that this does not prove or disprove anything. Some thinkers postulate that it would be impossible to travel backwards in time to a point before said conveyance, the time-machine, had been invented.  The thesis too has a limited scope, aside from trawling the Internet for clues, in that it only looked for tourists to the past—not individuals native to it and traveling to their future.
I wonder if there might be some similar paradox at work that makes those living in the present somehow blind to things anachronistic—or to view them as a genre, like retro, steam-punk or Gothic, or that time-travelers from the future have returned to the past but to a parallel reality that we cannot experience directly, only as said trends from an alternate dimension.  Widely publicized time-traveler conventions have been held by academic institutions since the 1980s but have apparently failed to attract any genuine venturers. There is also the possibility that stealth and caution have made such journeys impossible to detect—at least through tried means, and maybe time-travelers only need the projects and papers of a professor and his companion like this to tip them off and allow them to cover their tracks.
 

what do you want on your tombstone? pepperoni and chease

I know that selecting a heavily processed frozen pizza makes could call ones judgment into question to begin with, but usual foregoing the American shopping experience—at the company-store, and opting to mostly buy groceries on the so-called “economy,” I was a little aghast and amused with the detailed, cradle-to-grave instructions on the packaging. One has to wonder what sort of horrendous lawsuits prompted such directions. Every once and awhile, it's worth it to have the reminder that there are far superior alternatives, readily available and even with the premium of far fewer special ingredients, unless one insists on a taste of home. Naïvely, I used to believe that such fortification with preservatives was a result of some rigourously honest admission and was required to maintain freshness for a long journey overseas, but now I think otherwise—especially considering the re-imported items on the shelves. I refused to believe that German beer, brewed hereabouts, was actually sent to the States, only to be sent back and sold at a discount, denominated in American dollars and with no visible taxes, to someone.
Just before the holidays, I noticed an expanded assortment of champagne, prosecco and Sekt, and I thought it was to supplement demand at first—that is, until I noticed this label (with mandatory warnings) on a effervescent beverage produced and bottled quite literally just around the corner. Lured by a bargain, I am now finding this more than a bit unconscionable. Though I am glad that there's an export-market for goods that seem very local, this indirect route to pass the savings along to you seems rather wasteful—whether or not specially outfitted for the journey.

vestal

H and I had the chance to visit the city of Köln (Cologne—the exonym coming from the Roman colony established there) and stayed very near the fifth century basilica-minor of Saint Ursula and discovered a little bit about the legendary story behind this edifice and the saint.
 It's a historical fact that there was in the second century a princess in Roman-controlled Briton that chose to dedicate herself to the new Church. The Ursuline Order was a thousand years later established in her honour, as was the naming the Virgin Islands. Her story becomes a little amazing and conflated afterwards, having resolved to travel all of the mainland as a missionary and brought eleven-thousand of her like-minded—wed to the Church, friends with her. First they all sailed to visit the Pope in Rome, in record time, whom approved of their cause and advised that their next stop should be the distant outpost in Köln, but sadly their pilgrimage ended there, massacred by heathen Huns upon on arrival. The origin of such an impossibly large entourage in the thousands may have been over one companion ambiguously named Undecimilla (the Romans had the convention of naming daughters in order of birth in the Middle Republic—Tertia if there were three daughters or Quinta for the fifth plus a part of the family name) but it is more likely due to the fact a previously unknown mass-grave was discovered on the grounds of the church some seven hundred years after it was dedicated to Ursula.

Though the site included the skeletal remains of children, men and animals, the find was tidily appropriated as Ursula's following and a Golden Chamber (Goldene Kammer) was built with gilt cases. Latter day physicians have gotten hate-mail for pointing out that some of the reliquaries hold the skulls of dogs. And though the enlargement of the structure may be a ploy to lure pilgrims, like the nearby Cathedral of Cologne (Dom zu Köln) which is home to the relics of the Three Magi, it is a pretty neat tale. Check out the related post from Atlas Obscura for a gallery of images from the Golden Chamber.

pygmalion

By itself, the German word Schweinehund is not a polite thing to call someone—a maledictum, sort of equivalent to the English bastard.

I had thought that this pig-dog was an actual animal at first, maybe the German term for an aardvark or like how meerkats are called simply Erdmenschen. In the formulation “inner” pig-dog, however, it takes on another meaning for which there's no adequate translation: the internal pig-dog can refer to someone's alter-ego, distractions too easy to indulge, a quiver of procrastination, or simply bad-habits. With the new year cuing many to cement resolutions, it is a good time to examine ones own Schweinehunde and what parts of ones personality in need of reform—or at least, redirection. And with that, there is apparently a whole spate of portable and potable applications designed to stave off such behaviour for ones electronic accessories. I don't know about those type of goal-enforcers but perhaps it's a good thing, as the internet and instant gratification have enabled a lot of piggish and idle traits. What do you think? Can the wireless manage bad-habits or is it just a temporary fascination?

happy new year

Dear Readers,
Best wishes for an auspicious and healthy new year. Thanks for visiting and party on.

cenotaph

Europe will begin commemorations of the centennial of the Great War next summer, marking the outbreak of fighting that began in late July a hundred years ago and the short-live*d armistice that followed over four long and horrific years later on 11 November 1918. The chosen means of remembrance, however, are not without controversy, both within and without—with many groups opposed to scheduled events for various reasons from dishonour through tourism exploitations, a celebration of nationalism and worse yet a kind of forgetting that makes war more palatable. Wounds that can never heal are being re-opened among combatants become allies as well.

The UK plans more than two thousand venues over the next four years, and while surely a noble and enlightening thing, also risks glorifying war and re-enforcing a lesson that humans have yet to learn. In contrast, aggressor states plan parallel but more subdued events, though the perception now is that Germany then does not own World War I like they do World War II with all the connotations. Perhaps the reason behind this notion and other modes of commemorations is due to the fact that there are no more soldiers and by-standers alive today that experienced the trenches and the dread new machines of war first hand. What do you think? Do some means of keeping make for something demeaning and ignoring that the default-setting for Europe (and abroad) for all of history was that of battles and skirmishes? Be sure to follow developments and pivotal events on MentalFloss' ongoing series on World War I.

landschaft

Last week on the radio I listened to a report that was really more of a sad fable, entitled “The Last Cow” about a village in the Swabian region and the decision of the last rancher there to ironically buy the farm and retire with no heirs to take over the family business, purportedly run since Roman times. The German title for the report (Der Letztes Küh) sounded like “the last coup” but the German word for coup d'etat or blow is the funner word Putsch.

It was a tragic narrative, since such a choice looks like it cannot be undone and abandoning agriculture is not something that one can recapture later on, and recounting personal memories of the slow disassembly and compartmentalisation of the community over the lifetimes of the people being interviewed. Though the end result is obvious—houses becoming things unto themselves and independent of any neighbourly infrastructure or else given up for convenience and opportunity, it is unclear what the anchorage is for these small villages. Beyond one farmer's nostalgia, which nonetheless establishes very true facts about the condition of such withering communities, there was formerly a brewery that incentivized young people to remain as well as all the supporting infrastructure, schools and churches. While it is a patent fact for the moment that Germany's agricultural bounty can still provide a lot—weekly markets and even supermarkets able to satisfy most needs produced locally, and a surplus, Bavaria, for instance, has still seen its agricultural experts halved within the past decade. It's hard to say what lesson that this sort of fable, repeated too often, is giving.