paid for by the campaign for space dog for president

zum mitnehmen oder latchkey take-away

Germany is a comparatively neat and tidy place, but there are quite a few problem spots and scapegoats for litter. Politicians are targeting one visible culprit, with some precedence and a mixed record of success, in Munich and Berlin by proposing levying a fast food tax on the disposable remains of daily routines—coffee cups, greasy bags, waxy paper. Not wanting to dispatch more sanitation workers on new beats or provide ever growing waste-bins, however, the tax scheme, borne by the cafes and fast food outfits that produce these leavings and pass the costs on to the consumer, seems to be only punitive.

Believe it or not, the judicial system in Germany only lets stand taxation programmes that somehow benefit, and not merely punish, those who pay into it. In fact, most of the litter that one sees is from take-away (or quickly overflowing from public trash receptacles) and is quite easily traced by to its source through shameless branding. No industry is a paradigm of cleanliness, though, just some are better hidden and less identifiable.  While I agree that something should be done and the producers might need to acknowledge a little more responsibility for the lifestyle they are promoting, I am not sure how it can be legislated without providing special consideration and extra services for the litterbugs. Berlin’s scheme encourages people to bring their own mugs to coffee stands to avoid the surcharge, and I’ve been to quite a few festivals that not only charge a deposit fee, refunded when one busses their own cups, steins and glasses back to the counter, but also on paper plates, plastic cups and disposable knives and forks. Take-out culture might need a little fine-tuning, with more trash redeemable to ensure it’s disposed of properly. What do you think? Should snack bars and fast food operators be saddled with the financial or the collection responsibility of their disposables or ought the matter of civic pride just be left up to the patrons?

timetable or free-on-board

The Bundesrat (Germany’s upper house of the legislature) has voted to remove long-standing protections on the national railway network, the Deutsche Bahn, to allow competition for commuter and holiday travel from long-distance, inter-city bus and coach companies. After much debate and research, parliament, risking the displeasure of this established institution, determined that the virtual monopoly should be allowed to lapse, since private enterprise could offer travelers alternatives adhering to environmental standards, at a discount and with greater flexibility.

One quoted example was that with advance-planning and some luck, one can book a trip from Dusseldorf to Berlin from 69 € by train—currently, one’s only option, compared to a 28 € bus trip, a rate probably gotten without reservations. The train people naturally were not happy with this decision, but a healthy outside challenge may drive them to tighten up some service areas that have atrophied a bit—especially punctuality and overlording tariffs that keep increasing. The environmental hook, however, does bother me a bit, since bus-liners are as prone to traffic congestion and jams (Staus) and makes me think of the enlightened (and no less controversial choice) to allow these big rigs, giant trucks on the streets, because they eked out fuel efficiency with capacity—though no one wants these marauding beasts to hog their roads. Trains, I imagine, have already seen pretty big losses in terms of freight and cargo due to trucking.  The government has not stripped away all the railroads’ advantage, still limiting regional traffic for public transportation, but I want there to be sufficient measures left in place to ensure that the public train system is not scuttled by private concerns, like elsewhere and erstwhile, leaving unfavourable or under-performing routes without any kind of service.

four-square and eight-bit

Considering the estimable impact and pioneering influence the surprisingly simple and intuitive yet habit-forming diversion Tetris had on the video game landscape, it seems ironic that the concept and programming, built in turn off of earlier mathematical models and gaming traditions that go back to antiquity, Connect-Four or Penta (that glass bead game with the scroll for the playing area that they sold at Pier One), emerged not from the US or Japan but rather the Moscow Academy of Computer Sciences in 1984, spreading to Western markets prior to glasnost and faster than conventional diplomacy in just a matter of months. Did you know that tetrominoes fall in accordance with the laws of gravity, accelerating in proportion to the height of the stacks below?

The game does not speed up only due to advancing levels—it’s kind of an unsettling surprise, like not learning about the secret levels of Super Mario Brothers until years afterwards or that (supposedly) Duck Hunt is really a two-player game. Back when the notions of licensing, clones and copycatting were mostly unexplored and untried and there was not a sufficient language to articulate intellectual property, surely the author did not know what he was releasing and signing-away. The game is now ubiquitous, with variants and inspired plays, integrated into the standard quiver of distractions for telephones, key-fobs, greeting cards—but it is strange to think how technology might have been less ingratiating or progress hindered without the earlier platforms of Nintendo Game Boys and the like (because by 1989 many competitors also held distribution rights to different versions of Tetris for play on personal computers and home gaming systems, Nintendo developed a new hand-held console to get around rights issues), propelled to a large extent by that basic game and its catchy tune of the Russia folk song Korobeiniki (Коробейники).