Turn on, tune in and get therapy

Graham Hancock is just a journalist with all the tricks of the trade, who despite chances with several top press agencies, degenerated from social critic to propaganda requisite and tabloid style confabulator. Of course he plays that from the passive-aggressive; something we refer to as a leg-pisser. Like that annoying dog that sneaks up when you’re not looking. 

Was it the years of drug and pharmaceutical abuse or the DMT? One learns in nursing that denial carries a predisposition for substance abuse; in this case wanton dissociation. Out-of-Body Experience, voices in the head or a general sense of alter-reality, are usually the desired results. How he comes across like some time-warped remake of Timothy Leary, says it all in the typical undertones of the 60s counter-culture. Being a Baby Boomer myself, I’ve seen too many fall down that rabbit hole, like it’s the only inspiring thing that ever happened in their otherwise mundane lives. While I agree what followed also left a lot to be desired, I had quite enough of my own bizarre challenges to contend with. They simply didn’t relate, nor did I care to under the circumstances.

Pseudoscience and the Raiders of the Lost Brainspark

 Its incredible the amount of idiocy besmearing the recesses of true scientific journey, It's been escalating since the publishers of quasi-esoteric woo; like Sitchen, Churchward, Castaneda, Velikovsky and of course Erik von Däniken. Back then the elite fossils of royal society were still clinging on to their academic titles with very little scope, despite the advances of the space program. This in turn, dissatisfied our youthful idealisms, so rebellion was definitely afoot, taking us to the fringe of god-knows-what, making new ageism a very marketable fashion statement. Unfortunately that us-and-them paradox never ended, many of our generation becoming just as fossilized in their polemic. The anti-establishment turning establishment, romaticizing the old "what if" enigma even further. 

All hail the myths of lost utopia, while religious fanatics cling stubbornly to their biblical "firmament". Of course nowadays with social media, all these yahoos are trolling for a captive audience everywhere. The internet has become so inundated, not even the best search engine can seem to get past it, no matter what your use of semantics. The bots and algorithms are just as brain dead as the rest. AI is no match for natural stupidity, but then it's not actually intelligent either. Just another useless set of algorithms.

The Doomed Messiah

 Way too many people these days expect their platitudes to have some kind of precedence over the laws of physics. While being the odd ball that I am does seem to have a strange attraction, I’m not inclined to see it as some kind of cosmic deliberation. Lately one long-time acquaintance seems to be sinking ever deeper into that void of moral dilemma. We were never that close to really involve myself, just an occasional social thing. My circumstances were always far too complicated to afford much of that, let alone expect others to. Mind you for that, many would come to me for advice whenever the going got tough. All fine and well, but don’t expect me to feel obligated to give it. Some people just don’t understand my ambivalence towards ideology. I don’t believe in a perfect world. Nature always sides with the hidden flaw, no matter what you wish.

Much of my teenage years were spent in the Ruhr District where there was never a shortage of places to go and things to do. Hence people there appreciate diversity and are very open spoken. This is not the case in Ortenau, and notoriously ridiculed for it. I found myself forever being dragged into Discos, clubs and events where people seek comfort in their cliques, staring at others like lost sheeple, but heaven forbid if you try to approach them. They take immediate offense. I asked this guy what the hell kind of social life is that? He tells me that I should try to fit in. That’s when I told the lot to bugger off; it would take a full frontal lobotomy to even tolerate such faceless bullshit. I can think of better ways to waste my time, in more colourful locations, with those who at least know what a sense of adventure is.

From there on in I thought I had my peace, only rarely crossing paths with that mundane lot, but this has been marked by intrusive Sunday visits whenever shit happens and his public image takes a nose dive. It’s always the proverbial “why me” as if all that pandering deserves some kind of divine entitlement. That already went pear-shaped looking for damsels in distress on foreign dating sites. He thinks he’s so well meaning in his quest, that he suggests I should do the same (as if I really need it). Obviously he doesn’t know what a “romance scammer” is no matter how I explain it.


So after a brief ordeal with a Thai woman, he lands one in the Dominican Republic, oblivious to her multiple identities. Don’t ask me what love is when neither really understands the language. No surprise she was refused a German visa, despite their marriage on one of his visits. “Oh no, she’s just a hair stylist at the local beauty salon, nothing criminal”, he tells me. Rather than investigating this, he keeps spouting that perpetual mantra about government conspiracy and corruption- like they made this up to keep us all back on the farm. *sigh* I rebuked- “Look man, just because I went through a lot of shit in the cold war zone doesn’t mean it never ended. Times have changed and I’m out of that game. It took me years to get a real life so I’m not about to give it up for just another colonial backwater. Save your threats of pulling the pin, because I just can’t hear it anymore”. Needless to say, this really angered him and he comes on with that “fit-in” nonsense again. It’s like all these years I was just a projection of his own inner Schweinehund. As if we should have nothing better to do than follow his so-called better judgment.


Well it’s over pal, no matter how you want that laptop fixed to sneak in through the back door. Nor is lamenting Bro on his sex change gonna win you that pity party. Go hang yourself on a cross elsewhere.

Reconstructed Heathenry

I can understand why the Icelandic Ásatrúarfélagið wants naught to do with the above mentioned. Call me a bog-standard heathen as I was never Christened nor baptized. That whole genre you’re trying to get at, is like waiting for a ship at a bus station. German heritage as I learned it, is largely an oral tradition with much of the original meaning preserved in the language itself. Such roots seem a complete mystery to Anglophones who rely on spurious sources of loosely interpreted translations, looking for regimes in what was and still is a diaspora, each location with its own nuances as one would naturally expect. European ethno-culture encompasses some 230 languages, aside from the various dialects thereof. My Prussian grandfather saw need to teach me these things, for fear of it becoming distorted by the Nazis. Indeed they were hell bent on making the “Allfather” the universal alternate to Yahweh, much to the demise of the Jewish people. Although Christianity was just as ruthless in its pursuits, the common folk did not have the privilege of literacy; and so the oral memory and its customs, still lives on.


In the beginning it was all elementals, spirits and cunningfolk; often tricksters traveling in the guise of the poor and elderly- helping the needy and making complete fools of the greedy. They were all to be respected, with offerings of whatever one prospered from their providence. One did not simply fell trees or till the soil without consulting the wights. This was the beginning of agrarian times in Europe some 7 thousand years ago. The moon was the bearer of the seed- the months according to its cycles, were 13. The setting of the Pleiades marked the start of the growing season, and when they rise in Samuin we honour the ancestors and those who have passed. The long night of the wild hunt was understood as the marriage of the Sun with the Earth Mother in her underworld domain to fertilize and rejuvenate growth. A time of culling and cleansing.


I could go on and on, but the bottom line is, you lot need to get out of that pedantic Anglo-latinzed mind set if you really want to understand these things.

The Proverbial Hate Campaign

 It seems that with every accomplishment I achieve these days, the hate just gets deeper like the twist of the knife. Apparently it's the punishment for not living up to her undivided importance, tho I can't quite figure as to what end. Like the accusations of dependency on "white privilege". Say nothing what this lot did to sabotage every escape. Like all the stalkers who my father called his comrades, only too willing to offer subterfuge for sexual favours. All the would be employers fobbed off by my drunken sister in law, or the phone calls I was never informed about, before the advent of mobile phones. I know the contempt of these insults are aimed at my integrity, but to prove what to who? Thanks but no thanks. Whatever crusade this weirdo is on, makes no sense in the real world other than paranoid projection, making it up wherever reason fails.

The Rival Sibling

 Since the sex change, I've been forbidden the reference "brother", "he", etc. despite the 63 years of enduring this calamity. Well, since that large tumour was removed from between the two hemispheres, the convolutions have escalated to mind-boggling proportions. Not sure if it was the cause of the mayhem, because this person was always on the contrary, forever trying to engage me in a battle of wits, as if I should be some contender; and that as far back as I can remember. All fine and well if it wasn't for that overweening flaw in that reasoning, namely the imposing narcissism like a bulldozer wherever faced with indifference. Taking to the offensive with insulting suppositions against me wherever logic fails to justify or indignance fails to satisfy.

I got up this morning at 7, and venturing to make myself a cup of tea, discovered my honey had disappeared off the table. "Now where the hell did that go?" I nattered to myself. I received the prompt response, "it's in your fridge", from the far corner of the flat. Puzzled, I retorted, "why that? It doesn't belong there..." "Well, I don't know where you put these things" she declined. "If that's the case, then why put it in my fridge?" I guess that question threw a wrench because it made the imposition obvious. I actually got an "I'm sorry" from the blighter, mind you, followed by a "I like to keep things fresh". I simply retired to my little office beside the living room.  At some point, the drama queen pitches up with- "my girlfriend is not on speaking terms because of my fucked situation, blah, blah, blah. I only have 6 euros left on my account blah blah blah. I said, "well, if you need anything from the store, I can foot the bill. That's when the insults started flying about what an allegedly comfortable and appraised life I've been leading and some punishment she has in store for me when she leaves for NZ. "Fine then," I withdrew, "go fuck yourself anyway. Then she started on about how moralistic and provident my renomee is, which only made me laugh as I let the music drown out this meaningless rubbish for whatever it's trying to get at. I'll be glad when Wolfgang arrives and I can bugger off where I can't be reached. Like I really need this after singularly wet-nursing two other psychos for 10 years of my life.

Fuck this noise.

Give it up

Bro finished his cancer treatments a couple of weeks ago, after they removed a huge tumor that had grown from between the hemispheres. We're not sure how long he had this thing. He was always contrarian if not trapped in some kind schism, so it's hard to say whether it was the cause or not. Just the same, the suspicions of ADHD and the narcissistic tendencies. These things seem to have been going on since day one. Then there's these personal attacks he launches whenever his plans fail, as if the rest of us should feel guilty for not making some ultimate sacrifice on his delusional behalf.   Forever trying to bullbate me into his pseudological entrapment of pros and cons, even trying to humiliate me on social media.

As much as he hated his parents (mind you, they were no better) he was their golden boy and I was that insubordinate little brat of a girl, allegedly only good as a galley slave for their failure as parents. Having my own formative years to contend with, I wanted no part of that blame game, as much as he tried to turn it on me- standing there gloating while they tried to beat it into me. Then after assembling a pity party with his claims that he was the abused one, wonders why they're playing the same game with him. Then there's the sex change like some wannabe feminist on steroids. I could go on and on about how deep in that twisted mind of his that I should have no other purpose in life than his. Well, with that kind of learning curve, I'm only too glad he wants to bugger off to the other side of the planet. In fact, if I had the money, he'd certainly be on the next plane far the fuck away from me.