Out of all misery...

It should have been nothing but my kid's birthday. It was one if these days, though.

First of all, I worked approximately 14 hours with hardly any breaks. Why would I do this? Being a works council member in social work, I have to deal with more shit imaginable, and yesterday the confirmation came to my knowledge that this inhuman shark calling himself our employer is working against my colleagues and me by openly founding a second company with even worse working conditions, and letting us bleed to death.

Then I learned my Ex had a heart attack. Which affects also the kids, and the rest of the patchwork family. My mother went straight into a massive panic attack, leading to symptoms of her own special heart attack. And on top of everything, my kid, not being able to enjoy her birthday, had to deal with the aftermath of another eating disorder attack, while my best friend, still being in massive pain, was literally kicked out of a London hospital after an operation, probably because she is on NH and did not pay cash.

On this very day, some rotten criminals had to flood Wikipedia's servers bringing it down. May these excuses for human beings from now on be in pain every day, may their employer (or if haven't got one, they themselves each other) treat them like slaves, may their mothers suffer each single day of their lives, may their kids have serious diseases, may their friends, if they have any, be gone for good because the doctors refused to treat them.

If anyone attacks again the one organisation that brings mankind together, and forward, by giving out free and valid information, they should all die of a heart attack. Instantly. After one of these days, of course!

Yogameister: Wie geht es dir?
Schülerin: Gestresst. War wieder stressig im Betriebsrat.
Yogameister: Wie im richtigen Leben.


© 2017

Some time gaps seem to be longer than others. The old tea kettle phenomenon. Half an hour later can either mean minutes, or hours.

No wonder, if even minutes can make the difference between life and death. There is only one truth that can put a stop to all this. We all die.

Even though all the dictators in the world, and their followers and wretched copycats, might think otherwise, no one lives for ever.

Their dead and their living victims might even decide to send them a curse in order to speed up time. Where a strike will be shattered and thousands are slaughtered, a gap might be the solution. An o for an i in the word strike, and they're gone.

That is why the future is already written, after all. For all of us, the end is clear. And no money and no power in the world can change that.

We will all rot.



© 2017

We have always known, as Bert Brecht put it, "the womb this crawled from is still going strong." We have known that those who do not value diversity, and are bound to what they are already familiar with, who are too cowardly to explore the unknown unless they conquer it, afraid they might lose the little they call their own, those who make their lives so small, that they are still there, that they still exist, hidden, and more or less silent, maybe muttering their homemade lies to themselves.
But now they can be heard again, they are no longer hidden, they even claim a voice.
Not this time, though. From now on, we will not fight in their arenas any longer. This time, we will be using completely different weaponry. Oh, yes, we will fight back in unison for freedom and humanity. But we will be using very special sinews such as politeness and humor. And, as additional support, we will execute spontaneous and silent acts of minimalism that may not be suited as revenge, though surely they will serve as satisfaction. (For once, we will get it!)
Therefore, recently, a young Asian woman answered the hateful phrase "Go back to China!" ever so politely with "Oh, I am so sorry, but I am from Korea!" And my Trinidad friend redeemed the racism of a man who would not even take his change from her hand, as if his attitude was not filthier than her hands, by rubbing the special bagel he claimed in the bakery's backroom across the sole of her shoe before she carefully bagged this piece of pastries for him.
Come on out of your hidyhole, you fascist disregarders of human dignity, you racist political die-hards. We will get you without you even getting it. Everyone of you. Everywhere!


© 2016