Inter Stellas

Lets first get out of the way that my knowledge about wormholes, quantum mechanics and stuff relating to natural science in general, is very limited.
The world is saved. Again. No Clingons hurt.
This is the good news. Malicious tongues may greet the fact that Anne HATHAWAY (Ger., Eng.) in the end sits alone on a planet in another galaxy, behind the wormhole left (or right, or where ever, it’s behind the wormhole). Don’t get me wrong, I like Ms HATHAWAY. She looks cute in my eyes, and I am sure that she could act, if someone would give her a chance to do so. She has not much to do in this film but stare with large brown eyes & open-mouthed out of her helmet. She does a good job doing so. Nice teeth.
I have sympathy for the old warhorse Sir Michael CAINE (Ger., Eng), who impersonates the head of what is left of NASA and sends all these people out in space, through a wormhole – and is basically a big liar. Yes, this is  a spoiler, sorry.
Sir Michael has a nice little role and finally dies. Perhaps from laughing on his way to the bank, but again, only malicious tongues would say something like this.
Finally, there is the hero. He does hero-stuff, and in some sequences I think he’s really good, a certain Mr MCCONAUGHEY (Ger., Eng.).
So what’s it all about ?
If I understood it correctly it’s about saving crop farmers from extinction. Yes, they are saved in the end. But why not allow Mother Nature to run its course – and have another Mad Max-chapter ? Would be too easy perhaps, not philosophical enough, and GOd knows, have you seen one explosion on the big screen it’s enough, they look all the same, don’t they ?
Basically the world (or better: The US of A) turned into a kind of desert, being an engineer is a big no-no, history is re-written (moon-landing is a big hoax – I knew it!). Finally our hero meets (no details here) Sir Michael and is sent through the wormhole with some other people – their job is mostly do die in due course, HATHAWAY survives. Hero’s daughter stays behind, with her grandfather and her brother on a farm in the big dust bowl, and a ghost that communicates with her by throwing books out of the shelves. Yes, they have books, and they even read them, Mr Hero hates farming, damn intellectuals.
There was an earlier expedition to seek a new world, three still send data. Planet one is close to the wormhole, time is bent to the effect that hanging around on this surface costs a lot of earthen years. There is nothing, close escape, one man kia.
Second planet would have been the right destination, that’s where Ms HATHAWAY always wants to go to – bad luck. The surviving crew members doubt her decision, and insinuate that it’s based on her inclination towards the researcher who sits on this rock and not on rock-hard facts.
Third planet is seemingly nice somewhere (basically they sit on a piece of ice), according to what the surviving researcher says – it’s all fake, he just wanted to be saved, tries to kill Mr. Hero and wants to escape with the space-station.
Doesn’t work, much damage. Mr Hero finds himself in the middle of the wormhole and finally ends up behind his daughter’s bookshelf desperately trying to communicate with her by throwing books.
He seems to be successful, the strange place where he is, gets folded, Mr. Hero drifts into the big nothing.
The film could end here, but his daughter on earth puzzled all together, understood what Daddy had to say, and somehow saved the crop farmers. She even realised that Sir Michael once had a cunning idea and somehow managed to start all this, but please don’t ask me about it.
So in the end Mr Hero wakes up on a station on our side, from where they have started, of the wormhole, visits his daughter while she’s close to dying from old age, finds his farm musealised and decides that all this is damn boring & sterile. He steals a modern space machine and sets out to travel to Ms HATHAWAY, who is – as already mentioned – sitting on that third rock that looks a bit like Arizona, maybe, I never have seen Arizona.
Scotch me up, Beamy. Sadly they sold no Stella (Artois or other) in the pause.

I enjoyed the company of my friend, who had me invited to join him for this evening. I was impressed by the technical possibilities of modern cinema. I do not think that “Interstellar” is a must-see ; perhaps it wants to be too much, a dystopian vision, a space odyssey, a kind of meditation about love, I do not know. It was a nice dissipation after all.

Sunday Music

This day was the first sunny one after a seemingly endless row of short, grey & cold interludes dividing the winter night. Nun ja, this may be a bit exaggerated. The hungry wolves are not yet coming into town – but who knows ?!
In this week Jadwiga PILSUDSKA (obit) died, in her nineties, the last surviving daughter of Marshall PILSUDSKI (Ger., Eng.). She had returned to Poland after 1990. In a way the second world war ended only 1989, the Poles for example did not stop after 1945, also some people in the Baltic. That’s why they are pretty nervous in this corner of Europe today.
Some clandestine organisations had bureaus in Germany and through the 1950s and ~60s there was intelligence activity and murder. I wonder if there is a comprehensive historical research paper about this. Actually there is a trial against some former high-ranking officers of the Yugoslav service, accused of more than thirty (!) murders committed on political opponents in exile here in Western Germany through the 1970s and 1980s (German article, English article).
But not only Tito’s henchmen worked here (and in Austria). I think the Bulgarians were responsible for “wet actions” against opponents of the people’s republics in Western exile. The Soviet service had labour and responsibilities split. If I’m in the mood I’ll write a bit about it.
But not now and today.
It’s already nine in the evening again, time is fleeting. Four weeks to Christmas, first advent on next Sunday !

Here is a silly little song, performed by Frankie JAXON (Ger., Eng.) sometime in the 1940s : It Must be Jelly, ‘cos You Know, Jam don’t Shake (Eng.). I hope You enjoy it, all the best for the next week – and let’s get this year over and done with, hopefully without any major disaster.

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Ach, Titel vergessen …

Snoopy is right, as so often.

Peanuts

Source

Rain. Cold rain. Short days, one has to turn on the light at 16:00. Travelling youtube and realising that most of the artists one listens to are already dead, does not help to brighten the mood. Freddy Mercury, Pavarotti, James Brown – ach Du lieber GOtt … is this turning into a kind of Totentafel ?
At least the printer of my neighbour is working, it does what it is meant to do. Klaus was very happy when he discovered that he can make copies while the machine is not connected to the laptop.
The screaming mother-of-the-year downstairs is remarkably quiet these days, perhaps she realised that she had gone too far around here, who knows.
Business is bleak, no customers in sight. No answers to applications, at least nice yeah-we-received-yer-scribble-letters. Perhaps a small, but steady job to pay the bills, we’ll see, I knock on wood. Three times please. Yes, I’m superstitious, some times things may not be spoken, pronounced too early does no good. So I’m just pulling meself together and answer silly questions in my head, stand in the room and watch my hands while I’m talking (where do I put them ?), and try not to be nervous. It is just a job that would pay my bills, and involve something I like to do, far away from my profession. The fact alone that I’m nervous now, shows how dependent I’m on this. In earlier days I’d just shown up and saied “Here I am, take it or leave it !” Now the “leave it” option is no nice outlook. In German this would translate as “den Schneid abgekauft”. But the bottle is not totally lost, I guess, there’s always Mogwash
Some music here, there, und da auch noch. Sleep would be nice.

Sunday Music

My neighbour in the wheelchair asked whether I’d help him with his computer. He had bought a new printer and it needs to be installed.
Why not ?
Of course it was a fiasco. Some people call me paranoid because I developed the habit to delete cookies etc. regularly “per hand”, what means simply not automatically, and that I run two maintenance-programs every two weeks or so. Looking at my neighbour’s computer I learned to appreciate a cleaned and maintained hard-drive again.
He admits that he has only superficial knowledge of the computer, mostly his brother takes care of the machine. Brother told him tons of horror-stories about the dangers of the interwebs. In the end, while trying to install that printer, besides the anti-virus-software at least two other programs interrupted the action asking silly questions & uttering apocryphal warnings like “if you continue to do this Armageddon will come earlier & you’ll be held responsible by your local GOd”.
My neighbour tried to bribe me with Rumtopf (again), but after some hours of this nonsense I had enough and told him that it would be much easier to format C:\ and start from scratch. He did not like the idea, but promised to get rid of the most annoying “helpers”, use the service-programs that come with the operating system, and if things are working again, we’d give saied printer another try.

But this is all trallala. One week ago a friend told us about being ill. She detected a lump in her body that should not be there. Seemingly early enough, no metastases ; chemo is on the way, half-time now I think ; first week is cry&vomit time, second is better, third “all right”, just to start again. The timetable for further treatment is already printed, there will be an operation and there will be radiation – yes, full treatment. She’s in her mid-forties, strong, optimistic, I am (stupid, I admit) very sure that she will overcome this damn illness.
For Sabine, and all women who have to face cancer all of a sudden, a nice little nothing of a song : Trio LESCANO with Tu Piccina, originally You Are a Sweetheart, from 1937.
The Trio LESCANO (Ger., Eng., article) has a very interesting history, marketed as the Italian answer to the Andrews-Sisters the three Dutch-born sisters LESCHAN were very successful in the Italy of the late thirties and early forties, until someone became upset about her Jewish mother. I’d like to see the documentary about them.
I hope the next week will bring only good news, for diversion, it’s about time.

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