ssv

Over the weekend I visited my parents and went to a few flea markets (Flohmarkt)--there's certainly nothing unusual in that, and I found this glass dish, which would be perfect for roquefort cheese. It's not a rare occurance--that I come home with trash and treasures, though regretably visiting my parents has been of late and they are the original Floh und Trödel (Flea and Junk, another name for such a bargain basement extravaganza)--and sometimes I play a game with H where I've casually hidden my newest finds in plain sight, flush amid the other vases and knick-knacks, and I wait until he notices them--mostly however, I have no patience for suspense and usually end up confessing. "Look at this unique glaze. I didn't have one quite like it."

pay for play

In Germany, any decent company recognizes and rewards its employees at the end of the year with a holiday bonus--a 13th month of pay for their hard work during the year. It's not mandated but has become institutionalized, and has nothing to do with performance and shows no favouritism. Some companies, however--even companies in the health care business, are moving towards linking one's bonus to one's soundness of body. The last time there was an award for perfect attendance was in high school, and that was a snotty prize to get. If one misses 3 to 10 days of work during the year due to personal illness, one is entitled to half of the bonus--10 or more, nothing. Germans have no such thing as sick leave--an illness runs its course and one is granted leave until one is better--but there's never been a lower rate of absenteeism than right now. People are afraid for their job security, I suspect, and are wanting that bonus paid in full. I can't believe that those who make people well are taking part--it just seems irresponsible. One might spread his pneumatic joy around the office, rather than staying home and recovering. Swine flu, I imagine, is particularly pernicious in this matter. The 13th month--lousy Smarch weather.

Rule 4: Don't Be Mean

I am certain there is some fearful catalyst behind this meme that's apparently popping up on posters in the Southern California, but that is a point that I am wont to miss. I wouldn't want to be construed as shilling for an ideologue--and I don't care to much for the "socialism" caption but what ever was ever wrong with being a champagne socialist--but I wanted the great right-leaning masses to prove themselves capable of something creative and scathing, not just childish and crude. Almost there. Not quite. Maybe.

look that up in your funk & wagnall's

It is as if expertise is no longer a virtue and that the expert is something virtually extinct. Instead of having to ask the creepy comic book shop guy when Aquaman joined the Justice League of America or the pierced chick at the vintage record store who wrote "Tell me why I don't like Mondays," we have pawned away our resources and too quickly turn to the internet, which has commercialized most of the trivia and advice that we are seeking and rent it back to us at a premium--only now with no guarantee for accuracy. One no longer asks a ninja, and even health care professionals are avoided unless one is given the response that they don't want. It's more than a bit sad that the devotee and the fanatic , the guru and whatever comes with the territory have become superfluous--not to mention treacherous.

76 trombones

Over the weekend, H and I went to a neighbouring town to attend an annual Stadtfest. The event lasted through the weekend and culminated with a grand, horse-drawn parade through the streets. The parade was a cavalcade of historic personages, mostly from the area, like Bavarian kings and queens, famous artisans and sculptors, dashing dukes and pre-imminient physicians. There were also throngs of people in traditional costume and historic outfits and energetic marching-bands. While watching, I had a minor revelation that hosting a parade could also be a real boon for our little street: we could charge a nominal entry fee, like they did, or take a percentage of concessions, and make a small fortune. Aside from the money, I got very excited about working out the logistics for, what the theme might be or what we could name it--the musically inclined down stairs neighbour could provide the entertainment, a jam session with African drums and piano--the Russian (Little Odessa) contingency across the street could represent with a small cultural demonstration. There's the old man with a rambunctious pony and the other old man with riding lawn-mowers, and I think I have already established that the old woman who tossed the scarecrow over her cabbages has a flair for design.

manufactured crisis

The German people are not as a whole insurance-junkies, as H was trying to convince me--or rather that he was not a fanatic himself. The Germans are not a particularly legitious people, either, though I think that their almost complete lack of sleazy lawyer advertisements and claim-jumping television offers, make them seem to take the matter more seriously. There is a plethora of insurance to be had to safeguard every aspect of one's health, property and legacy, all narrowly and precisely defined. Sometimes I feel that this multiplicity of underwriters must have very hyper-active imaginations, turning every benign instance into a chain-reaction of events that lead to freak-accidents, the overturning of empires. I am sure that agents thought up the butterfly-effect or the creationists' argument about the jalopy spontaneously formed when a tornado sweeps over a junk-yard. Still, there's much sense to having the extra protection that hopefully one will never need. H took the matter seriously as we were talking about options and the extra coverage, and he got a bit annoyed with me for missing the point, which I often do. Insurance beyond the ilk of the proletariat does not give one license to be a jerk: I can't put our trash in the neighbour's dustbin and feel immune from any repercussions because we're insured. I can't incite a turf war at the flea market, because we're insured--although the policy specifies it can cover loses or damages sustained in a side-business operation. The policy also explicitly covers damages done to hotel rooms or other rental property. I was really hung up with the idea that H and I could trash a hotel room like rock-stars and get away with it.