Monday, April 28, 2008

Get Cubefield On Phone

Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I'm reading ...

Butterfly The Diving Bell and Jean-Dominique Bauby

Can write a man who is paralyzed after a stroke over the entire body and only communicates by twitching of his eyelids with the outside world, an authentic book? This is still a film to succeed?
He can.
by precisely this twitch, or blink, he dictated his thoughts on the basis of a secretary of the publisher cherished letter boards. Letter for letter read result made feelings, anger, sadness, irony, sarcasm and many memories of his previous life.
Bauby describes his inner world, like life in a diving bell - but his thoughts are flying around like butterflies. At the same time he realizes that he shares in the novel and completely unsentimental, sometimes bitter, but in many places with ludicrous humor that it now "for life and of death" has all the time for thinking and remembering - and time for boundless imaginations.
frightening to read but also of Bauby, who has been on a bad experience locked-in syndrome sufferers with nurses and doctors, which he barely still perceive no longer take for full, have been written off, as he feels his humiliating fate of being diapered distance of less wise-cracking sisters. And then the journalist shares with his infinite longing to embrace his son.
vain.

Conclusion: A Emfehlenswert book for readers who want to get involved in this fate, and can.
I am very impressed and will surely read it again.

Here is a link to further descriptions and excerpts of the same film
http://www.schmetterling-und-taucherglocke.de/start.html

Johndeere Trailfire Track

Duckmäusertum due to internet forums?

It may be a risky proposition which I now outside ...

I notice the following:
We are a nation of quiet subtle, enduring, all hands-border, people have become silent. "Erin olle 68"

When I experienced as a youth or young adult and lived, that you rebelled against constraints, inequitable and prescribed laws and / or at least publicly protested.
I remember a red-dot-action "in Hannover, as - today we would call them" militant "- protesters because of drastic increase in fares of public transport, some rails concreted over and all accesses and exits of the trams by depot blockades prevented. At that time there was a collective Affirm this action. Many car traveling citizens took part in such a way that they stuck a white sign with red dot behind the windscreen, visible sign that they supported the action and could be stopped at any time anywhere in order to ride on. Cars waited in long queues at the tram stops and taxi holding areas. It was soon agreed, who could go where and with whom. Same time, several demos were running against the fare rises in central locations in Hanover.
Results: After two weeks, about the price increases were taken back.
there are many other examples: Vacant houses were occupied, and as much, at that time for young people scarce, living space is used. "Student rebellion," an appreciative topic in the media and the attempt to Benno Ohnesorge then ultimately brought many to the left anarchist movement to join.

And today?
you look around the web. For anything and everything, there are forums. Here, "rotten" hidden behind Nicks together people who rail against gasoline price increases, tax inequities, too low a commuter tax, social deprivation, fees, and missing or false laws. But who helps? And above all that this virtual grumbling alter the circumstances?
Nix! Nothing!

The rich will remain rich or get richer, corporations poke a fat profits and reward employees with starvation wages, the poor remain poor - with or without work. As children go
with plastic bags instead of satchels and without any food to school because their parents lack the necessary ALG money. Whatever the reason, the children that is not to blame. They are excluded as school trips and school trips parked in other classes, sit in kindergarten during the Mitagsessenszeiten in a separate room because the parents do not pay the required lunch money (can) and learn early on what it says in our country, "poor" to be.
Social Justice? Not at all. Politicians of all parties to complain about the debt of the state and that no money for school meals, free school books and educational funding is available. Finally, there are child benefit for anyone who educates children! Yes, yes - but it is unfortunately offset by the ALG families with the support. And the well-earning? Are rewarded for their children by "tax deductible" rather than the amount determined in their children. The pay off properly, GE better the more you earn bagged one for the kiddies one ...
free teaching materials for the socially disadvantaged? No. Why. Intended to use the children but the discarded school books of the older siblings. Just bad luck that some have no siblings. There is also in most schools workbooks, are described and thus unusable for sharing are.
But we have "ubiquitous television". If we do not have to give all children equal educational opportunities, they can at least before PCs and TVs will be parked in order to go daft and / or some of them later as young adults drink and beat all to pieces. Brecht once said that every society has the teenagers it deserves.
right.

Why should study "poor" young German or migrants? University fees in almost all states create the conditions that the rich keep to themselves and held a "natural" selection.
And what about the old man, whose apparently decent pension many are jealous of us? Let's look behind the facade? Do we really said pensioners objectively? You do not so much: One bag of white flour, bread, a cup margarine, a ready meal and a little cottage cheese. Now and then an apple ... Your clothes, years old and tattered? Well, where to they should do fine, they can go out anywhere anymore anyway, often not even afford one, age-friendly, warm apartment.

It is a lie that all citizens of all ages in our country has the opportunity and the right to education and freedom of expression.
look around! The available everywhere in big cities Ghetto speak a different language.
The rich contented silence - what is that to them.
The poor also silent. Because they do not believe (more) to justice, that they can at the state and to their poverty Molloch change. They stand in lines at soup kitchens and free at Nahrungsmittelverteilstellen.

And what we do "old" that we used earlier against social injustice and domination of the state? We nod approvingly at "hard but fair" look "euromaxx" and "Anne Will" and are outraged by the social imbalance in our society. Yes, we still bring the empty bottle of wine quickly into the kitchen and you enjoy in our warm bed. Or we hoof it around in internet forums and make our displeasure to read manner air. There are enough users who clap and report virtually like to know.

If each of us would in real life be a little bolder, we could change things.
There is much to do. Let's do it.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Hexagon Fish Tank Lids

Sunday!



This morning I was quite early in the garden and the tomato plants have poured in the greenhouse. And then I walked with my camera along the grass paths. The sun is shining and the tulips open. Unfortunately, it is now does not matter for optimal exposure to bright. Nevertheless, I take pictures a few designs ... as "soul heat" reservoir of inhospitable winter days.

Forget-me-not, tulips, grape hyacinths and dandelion flower in competition. In a sea of white cherry and pink apple blossoms. How beautiful!
However, I will probably be able to reap a few fruits. This year hardly flying bees - only here and there a huge, black and yellow striped bumblebee and rarely a few small bumblebees. Also in the currant and gooseberry bushes, all is quiet. I miss the many-voiced murmur of the small pollen collectors. But everywhere scurry around ladybugs. Well, they are probably at least a little help to ensure that the flowers are pollinated.

Well, dear reader, I invite you to a short walk through my organic garden.
http://picasaweb.google.de/Gitana52/GartenImApril2008
However, I have refrained from the potato, onion to photograph and vegetable beds! As I watch anyway out yet. In July there is an extra photo to show.

Next week it is getting colder and rainy, the most important garden tasks are done for now. I certainly think again time to respond to the broken-mails.

I wish you all a good Sunday - Carpe Diem!
Greetings
Elke

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Dune Buggies Blue Prints

The everyday madness

spring!
Everywhere is green and blooms. The air smells of apple and cherry blossoms.
time for long walks in warm sunshine.
walks?
No, far from it. Sun protection cream on the nose and down into the garden. I would like to have ten pairs of hands and turn depend on every day a few hours.
who, like me, has a large fruit and vegetable garden, will understand me.
The beds must be released, fertilized shrubs and compost can be spread by fruit trees.
For first sowings it is high time: leeks, lettuce, peas, radishes, carrots and turnips. The bulbs are already growing and first tender garlic-leek I have already harvested. Tomorrow be the pre-sprouted potatoes in foil and early planted tomatoes and Chillipflänchen the greenhouse.
Then I can allow myself a few quiet hours in the garden.
No, probably not, the grass is already growing hand high. And since I environmentally conscious, have no gasoline mower, I will probably rouse to draw endless trains in winter with the rusty mower. Weight training with a difference!
Nevertheless, I look forward to a sea of tulips, forget-me-nots and Perlhyazinthen. The Süßkirschenbaum begins to bloom and everywhere scurry around black and yellow striped giant bumblebees. I see no bees. I also have a attentive guest: A male blackbird hopping around next to me boldly observed exactly where I rake and is immediately at hand when I toss him a worm before the beak. How nice. His breeding will thank him.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Gigi Products Singapore

I'm reading ...

Fahrenheit 451 Ray Bradbury of
, translated by Fritz Güttinger (1955)
Extract and abridged from Wikipedia Inahltsangabe http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fahrenheit_451_ (novel)

Fahrenheit 451 is set in a world where it is considered a serious crime, to read books or even to possess. The Company is dependent on the political system, anonymous and kept under age ...

protagonist of the novel, the fireman Guy is Monday, the first work of criticism in this system. By the 17-year-old Clarisse he meets the art of words, the value of free thought and the beauty of nature. He secretly read books and start the world with different eyes ...

Society in the novel has a very monotonous. Your goal is to make the population continually to deal with simple means and divert them as of major events such as wars. This will be achieved, for example, with television shows that are looking over the video screens in their living rooms and on which the audience can participate, but also by large amusement parks ...

have people who read books and are enemies of the state, to be pursued. Their houses and libraries are set on fire by firefighters, said some of the dead are also accepted.

This state of society was brought about but not by the ruling, totalitarian government itself out.
, but have brought the people by increasing their media consumption, especially through television, even in this situation.

My opinion:
If one considers what time the author wrote the book (1953) and how far we have come now in our and in other "democratic" States are! Frightening! And I think
even more shocking that we are well on our way to a totalitarian police state - for better and for worse!

A highly recommended book that makes you think about our own personal behavior and keep still in our country. If "we" already made by using gaga Medieneinheitsbrei stupid, comfortable and speechless?

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Mover Camara Pokemon Snap Mac

Devil and Beelzebub

Today I was, like every morning, traveling with my dog in the fields.

met me in front of a tractor with a trailer - that's a big yellow barrel and a folded spraying device. Shortly after I had
again avoid a similar vehicle.
The Agriculture drove right and left fields with hand-tall green corn, folded their spraying went out loud and smelly then their paths. They clouded with spicy sweet scent that the wind carried to us the landscape.

I noticed a crouched near a hare. It is set and closed season! Dogs must remain on leash in the woods and meadows. Rightly so.

But ... who protects rabbits and wild rabbits (no prey animals, they duck in case of imminent danger) before tractors and chemical showers?

Our wildlife is increasingly under threat - indeed eradicated, and the nests destroyed by ground nesting birds such as skylarks and lapwings, intensive agriculture.
is now also promoted organic fuel, which require intensive spraying and chemical fertilizers. Numerous bio-gas plants for renewable raw materials (Rapp, corn, clover) are built.
ie: higher use of pesticides, herbicides, phosphate fertilizers and large-scale reclamation previously uncultivated land. The protection of our fauna and flora remains sidelined.

'm very quiet I went home - with a dog constantly sneezing and sad thoughts. Many of the young hares few weeks will not have survived this morning. Unlike rabbits namely they do not live in sheltered caves, special duck, well camouflaged, from their date of birth between grass and grain fields. In these same fields ... Instead of exploring

energy from solar, wind and geothermal energy, to promote and accelerate our all natural, self-sufficient living space is becoming smaller.

Let's drive the devil with Beelzebub from?
Is this kind of environmental rape in the sense of our "blue planet"?

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Marlin Firearms Microgroove Rifles

then everything was better?



Harsch blows April gusty wind through my thinning hair. Determined is the evening set boring headache. Despite all this, I will not get used to myself to be an old woman. No more jumping barefoot along the beaten Lehmweg to be bitter, but I allow myself the least bit of freedom disheveled hair on my walk. Open eyes for my environment and yet, like old people now are so time and again lost in thoughts of the past, I stroll on ...
On the playground in our town I stopped. There can certainly stay well to enjoy a few last rays of the sun. I find an empty bench. Three mothers are sitting on a and other smoke. Beautifully decked out small children are undecided on the edge of the sandbox. The driver of a pink baby gear lying around glittering with broken glass around the bet.
"No," shouts one of the women harshly over the place, "do not go in there, you're dirty!"
remains a little girl are abruptly turned, wondering around and then slowly moves away from the sand pit towards the climbing frame.

No one had noticed our leave. The adults were on their early evening chores busy to take care of our disappearance. Mother supplied her old father, bedridden father lived in the attic and chopping wood behind the shed.
Friedel, the eldest, he went to school since last summer, slipped from first shoes and stockings. We did the same and yet also rolled up our filthy, damp trouser legs. Spring at last! There was a smell of freshly cut clover and adventure. The air was filled with the chirping of sparrows, larks singing and Kibitzgeschrei. But we did not care.
Hans whined. The youngest was the wet grass too cold. So I pulled him caring socks and shoes back on.
hooves sounded from a distance! Bright, metallic and piercing it was coming closer. Then heard We curses and loud crack of a whip. A cart came! Immediately he was there.
Flink we hid behind the milk bench and waited. Evi giggled.
"Pssst! Else's trouble". Friedel covered her mouth.
Bauer Randers hiefte several heavy cans zinc on the oak planks. He turned the wagon and no longer grumpy Haflinger trotted towards facilitating the native food stall and filled eaves.
Evi took a dented soup ladle, which she had pilfered from the home, laughing and knocked on the wood. Friedel had great difficulty in the battered cover of one of the cans removed. Finally! My sister was allowed to drink first. Then little Hans. And then Friedel. Impatiently I waited until I was finally his turn. How well the milk tasted. She was still warm, very greasy and smelled a little beet silage. We drank alternately spoon to scoop and quenched our thirst. Later, there was no dinner that was certain. Finally, we were prohibited from such punishment, moved to irruption of dawn to around outside. So get a few gulps. This made full.

are chattering on the mothers. One of the children is on the wheel, can be pushed to the fence. Wheels squeaking. One of the women brought drinking packet distributed to the children, another red-white wrapped chocolate bar. Paper and cigarette butts are thrown away. As the crowd passes by me, I catch a few snatches of conversation.
"... will only eat sweets. Or pasta with ketchup."
"... will wash their clothes immediately afterwards. I do not come afterwards. Enduring she sits in the dirt."
"In kindergarten, she was now out in the field. The grass stains" I get no more out ".
"Catherine repeal Do not!. This is Bah, come at last! DC's Sandman."

direct TURNS about us the only Street light of the asphalt road. It was so late? Two cats slowly crept closer, crouched timidly and gently licking a few drops of milk to be trampled grass. Hurry home! We started to run without being noticed that we had forgotten shoes and stockings.
mother was waiting grimly at the door.
"Well, you bully! Where have you traveled and you again? THE father had not explicitly prohibited?"
Hans crowed, before I was able to keep his mouth: "We were drinking milk Evi's got tufts had."
mother mine was still gloomy. Then she scolded from us harshly. But of course - we had to wash ourselves, and were sent to bed without supper. Mother was while on his way to pick up our shoes. Giggling, we moved into our bunks and whispered for a long time from our adventurous spring outing. Hans was already asleep soundly. Sometime late in the evening, I heard mother out back and forth on the farm go. They cleaned out the oven. The iron door quitschte penetrating. Tomorrow there would be fresh bread.

sparkling glass shards in the neon light of the many street lights around me. With difficulty I get up and shuffle from the playground. My back hurts, your legs do not get going. I'm cold. On the way I met a caravan of young people. They drink alternately from a bottle. A black plastic monster, one of the boys carried on the shoulder pops, bass and stuttering speech-song in the formerly peaceful spring evening. I turn away and go home.
paralyzing silence greets me. My first handle - turn on TV - broadcast news.
"... in the attack were killed over eighty people and well over a hundred injured, including many children. UN troops cordoned the area off a wide area. And now the weather ..."
I lubricated my bread listen to the forecasts and weather warnings for the North Frisian Islands and sit in front of the TV. Equivalent to a thriller. Some tension in the sadness and loneliness I can do well, even though I probably will like almost every night to sleep on the film.

The next morning my father shook awake. Friedel was already on his way to school, Hans was snoring softly. Still half asleep, blinking, I got a slap in the face.
"This is to ensure that you are not accepted. And for stealing! As punishment, you son today in the hen house and allow you a week has not from the farm. Alas, I found you! Friedel is now clean bikes! And although all! "
Then I got a blunt thump, which drove me out of bed.
I got dressed quickly. In the kitchen, sweating mother moved with a large wooden spoon around in a vat. Today was laundry day. Water droplets hissed on the stove top and orange flames licked ablaze by a gap between the stove rings. It smelled of soap after birch wood and freshly grated. Stumm, tears welling slip away, waiting for new rant, I ate a sandwich with crispy fresh-scooped Quark.
"Because you know what father said, that march in the henhouse!" Interrupted my mother drove me dumb and Breakfast together with the bread on the farm.
The mucking lasted until noon. I struggled with integrity. Several times tipped the wheelbarrow to the smelly cargo or remained on the muddy ground by putting the manure pile. Father was long gone into the forest and sawed there rotten, from spring storm felled beech logs into firewood.
mother sent me with his lunch to the grove. Filled with cooking utensils, I moved I los.Wie his recent outburst was afraid! But that was unfounded. His anger had evaporated. Once there, he showed me laughing a few random plover eggs. One of them ausschlürfen I get to the other he kept for the mother. Everything was well again.
On the way back I met Friedel. I saw him from afar on the rusty bike too big bike along the dirt road. The wheel flew to the grave-edge, school bag next to it. And then we waded through shallow chattering, ice-cold water. We discovered the first tadpoles of this year. Some had even small black Vorderbeinchen. Friedel pulled out his breakfast box. We drew water into it and a few animals. Long we were sitting in the grass and watch the lurching swim the frog babies. Later, we caught more sedges and water scorpions. We forgot the time. When we finally made our fishing on the way home it dawned it already.
was time father at the gate. We got the expected slaps, but at least after dinner. However, we had to eat out for punishment while standing, then wash and straight to bed. That made us but for nothing. While parents chatted quietly with each other in the kitchen, slipped out Friedel. He took his breakfast box from the luggage carrier and pilfered a jar from the basement. Later, we observed a long lag in the glow of a flashlight around swimming tadpoles in our new aquarium.

the morning I shower long and hard. The radio droning any advertising that only comfort in my morning solitude. Bright children's laughter, then promises a squeaky voice-round health by multivitamin juice.
is gray and foggy out there. It is drizzling. This time with a hat, I'm on my way. First, the baker. Too late. Sandwiches are made. There I meet a neighbor. She wants the supermarket. I accompany them and buy a few little things. Sausage, cheese and hot baked bread and buns from the bakery shop. Then we go to pick up my cleaning and linen.
A bus stops next to us. Noisy and crowded school children out almost simultaneously. I see three teenage girls who take turns watching over their shoulders while giggling tap little palm-sized devices. Buzzing melody sound. Those things make music yes! A young boy joined them himself. Digs his hand a black plastic piece out and holds it at eye level in front of the girls. The thing is a short "click" on its own. Re-giggle. Now all bow to the device. That's apparently even photographs.
My neighbor says goodbye. She wants to go home for the elderly by visiting her senile sister. The bed linen is heavy. I wish I had taken my trolley. Just around the next corner, I'm finally at home.
There! Hooves! Bright, piercing and metal. Glossy brown Trotting horses. Pull a wedding carriage.
It sounds like back then.

Yes, everything was better back then. And now I have an appetite for a glass of milk.


(c) Elke Kemna








Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Women With Small Vulvas

Kieselndes

Pot Lid Holder That Clips On Pan Or Pot

longing for warmth