For Whom the Daisy Bell Trolls

I’m half crazy all for the love of you.

This article in the Berliner Zeitung takes a feelgood event and — maybe in striving to be fair & balanced or, even more maybe, in an effort to avoid appearing to ignore the devil in our midst, lest they confirm the treachery the anti-Islam crowd crow about whatever the media do or don’t do — highlights a controversy that turns it into a referendum on the radical associations of religious Muslims at home. If indeed it were only as fair & balanced in background detail as it is through its otherwise laudable microscope.

On its face — assuming one read the face from start to finish — it appears pretty fair & balanced. I would even give it high marks for the editor’s inclusion of pertinent details one doesn’t find in other articles, yet I cannot help but stroke it with a thick red marker for something I find missing, albeit on the obscured ground of the light kind of propaganda-by-default that results from the critical mass of a nation assuming one’s own occupy higher ground. The extent to which one’s own are not above reproach is considered, if taken into consideration at all, hardly relevant to the topic at hand.

The topic at hand is a band of imams & rabbis taking to the streets on tandem bicycles, pedaling together against anti-Semitism and Islamophobia, so to spoke. But all is not well, for one-or-another of the participants “has connections to the Muslim Brotherhood”, which is not okay if you’re an imam not under the aegis of one-or-another of the host nation’s spy agencies, if you’ll excuse the digression.

It is the Berlin Office for the Protection of the Constitution who says so in a report. For those unfamiliar with this office, it is not a grassroots-minded, independent watchdog, but rather a opaquely-funded, government spy agency. But who better to gather intelligence than an intelligence agency with absolutely no history of- or proclivity for bending the rules on behalf of their conflicts of interest, if you’ll excuse the sarcasm.

The article is fair & balanced insofar as it gives the do-gooders the final word, those who remark that the imam in question is not who the spooks say, and others who are, anyway, more concerned about the downside of shutting people out of the conversation, which would drive them into the limbs of the rads, if you’ll excuse the trans-lingual pun.

The mosque man’s alleged connections aside, one should order one’s own house. If the concerns are real and legit, then they’re just doing their job in reporting on them. I have to wonder still what the official constitutional protectorate has to say about their host state’s support of Saudi Arabia, not just because of the latter’s alleged support for the same Muslim Brotherhood, but as it relates to the former couple’s brutally collegial project that has created the humanitarian crisis in Yemen.

Just as the strife between the Union side of the current government coalition threatens (at least as one reads in the media) to destroy European unity with its collateral damage, does no one find it strange that the same government should supply weapons to regimes that violate the same human rights as the party named in that particular intelligence report, said to model themselves after the historical regime, unreformed, while that current regime are with the support of their Western allies killing thousands and driving many more away from home, exacerbating the refugee crisis, which crisis is what this internecine political strife is all about? This connection is not even alluded to by any of the parties mentioned in the article or its editors, regardless of which of the ostensible two sides they come down on: for the iman ridin’ the bike vs. against the imam ridin’ the bike.

While we have learned from the media about the horrors in Yemen, it has not been as comprehensive and obsessively set to REPEAT as has been their reporting on the War between the CDU and CSU. Lemme ask you this: If the imam in question had procured for this so-called brotherhood just such weapons as Berlin has the Kings of Oil, would NATO missiles have destroyed his entire neighbourhood by now, or would they find a better solution?

Update: es geht weiter so. ..  . Gänseblümchen:

Yes, a Gänseblümchen is a daisy. You can’t make up a coincidence.

Oily Bell, Daisy Chain: Links to Fahrradikalen – Berlin, 2018


Re. +49301785853304

Short answer (text-like version) in the 1st of the following sentences: No, I don’t. As a matter of fact, to begin the comprehensive explanation, I let it lapse only relatively recently after the pre-paid SIM card I had been using since my arrival in 2002 had its Terms of Use amended to limit using the minimum loadable amount of €15 within six months instead of what had been for over fifteen years a year-&-a-half. Ironically enough, the only chargeable offense I used the phone for was to write texts, which were 30 cents a piece, so the fifteen euros had over all those fifteen years lasted at least through a couple of terms just inside the entirety of their eighteen months.

Now one might ask (and, trust me, more than one has) why I never just purchased a contract, thereby enabling a more frequent use at a reasonable price, much more convenience, etc., etc. This question crucifies itself upon the assumption that I would have used my phone more if I could have. But it was precisely the way I was using it that led to the realisation that I not only didn’t need it but simply didn’t want it.

Nevertheless on 29 September 2017 at 1:49pm, I was loathe to load an additional €15 to prolong the first new expiry and to avoid losing the 15+ that was already on it. ‘Use it or lose it’ was the agitated cogitation until on 29 March of this year when I lost that entire thirty-something because I didn’t want to prolong the anti-ecological cliché any longer. Obviously I wasn’t using it to make many calls or write a significant number of texts. That last time it served an emergency is in a cloud of forgotten memories.

I have a landline. I won’t go so far as to make the hereditary affirmation that if it were up to me I wouldn’t even have that. It is at least partly up to me, it comes with the Net, and I wouldn’t have it otherwise. My ability to tele-connect makes the expenditure of both the fiat transfer and cognitive tax justifiable. The sometimes inconvenient convenience remains worthwhile. I am all-too aware that the industry I therewith support is manufacturing a world into which I will no longer be able to venture if I don’t change my immobile ways. So be it.

The sole subsequent mobile telephone that I purchased as a replacement of the first one (solely because the former’s display no longer displayed legible lettering) and into which I stuck the SIM card — which was what I’d really purchased on that summer day at a flea market — has become anyway little more than a camera, albeit digital and of quality quite limited, the bulk of primary evidence of which can be found in the hover images here.

The longer background (should this be (or remain) of any interest) is that basically I bought my first mobile telephone used at Boxhagener Platz Flohmarkt, not because I wanted it, but because the first guy I wanted to book T & me grimaced when I said, “No, but I got an email address.” I got the phone. We got the gig.

The most interesting tidbit of this tale only occurred to me as recently as a couple of days ago when I turned on my one-time to me embarrassingly chic flip-phone for its other primary purpose — to be able to track the time for the three hours that followed. A new message appeared. “SIM nicht registriert”. This displayed so prominently for so long that I actually almost wondered if I’d ever be able to see the clock again.

So from 29 March of this year, when my moola minima vaporised into an un-spendable pun, to apparently exactly two months later, I was nevertheless able to receive calls and texts. Now, the final expiry of expiration must have been last Tuesday, I’d wager, 1:49pm. I hadn’t turned it on from the previous Friday until Wednesday so I make this assumption based on the always accurate carrying out of the Terms which this time, seemingly arbitrarily, granted me an additional two months’ passive use. I’m sure in that time I would not have received those few texts in tact… but for some goddess’ grace period.

What occurred to me between Wednesday and now is that the SIM card was never really registered, at least not to me. Having bought it used, I even had to have its digital lock picked by the kind of pro who can do such things. Not that I hadn’t been trackable all this time, but at least in the court of law, I’d’ve had a better chance than someone who’d signed their name along a bottom line. Or I might’ve had the least of lesser chances and been locked up for purchasing a stolen phone and going so far as to assist in the achievement of its unlawful unlocking and, not least of worst, evading the law that says you’re not allowed to use your devices without allowing your being traced & tracked by name & number. At any rate, as far as I can tell, +49301785853304 is over & out.

The machine that houses it, however, remains reusable. Indeed. The following corresponding hover image comes by way of an inadvisable shimmy to the depth of this one-time riverside swimmery (I wudn’t walkin’ that plank, palms & knees for me) and the use of that former courtesy phone of persisting paltry pixelation. Quite conversely, it is only the row of postal addresses of the rooftops in the background that remain from this photograph:

“111” – Osthafen, Berlin-Friedrichshain – 1907/2018

Just the Facts

Observe the following sentence & subsequent translation: Der Rollstuhlfahrer soll beim Überqueren der Straße nicht den Fußgängerüberweg genutzt haben, eine Ampel befand sich nur 25 Meter weiter. It means: The wheelchair user is believed not to have used the pedestrian crossing. A traffic light was only 25 meters away.nur {adv}: only; just | If he’d only wheeled his lazy ass to the next corner. He’s just looking for sympathy.

The descriptive measurement becomes a value judgment by way of the insertion of no more than an additional word, a simple syllable, a mere morpheme, which is then nothing less than a transgression of journalistic responsibility that triggers a number of possible conclusions about what actually happened. However, the application of “nur” in this context is not only bad reporting pregnant with the plausibly prejudicial ableist attitude beclouded in traffic law & order. It’s also inaccurate, which mere minutes of research might have made clear. As you can glean from the item’s accompanying photograph, there is in fact a light at the reported intersection. Either the Unfortunate wasn’t crossing at this corner and the driver dragged him the distance, or the nearest light was *twice as far away.
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Struck sure. March first.

The question’s begged in the march toward progress.

Stare down Richtehofenstr. (Auerstr.), Berlin-Friedrichshain – 1906 / (hover 2017)

Infrastructure came with the plan. The POVs were brought by the economic miracle. Small wonders.

In die Aue von weit Weg aus.        Berlin-Friedrichshain – 2017



Don’t wanna let them in on our strategy, but could use tactical assistance. Well, financial, anyway. Buddy’s got a glut of goods that’d fill the bill. Problem is they can’t afford what they think they don’t need. So we promise to give ’em a healthy cut of the contracts. Tell them we’re letting them in on our strategy.

They still couldn’t cover the stuff, not holding enough of our currency, but they’re damn good dam builders with a close relationship to the pastry chefs. What can I say? We’re pigs. As long as we keep eating donuts, they can afford our product.

Karlshorster in die Haupt : Berlin-Lichtenberg – 17 December 2015

Wreck Ignition

There is no intuition, colored as it is by information, memory, and cognition. An intuitive impulse is expressed frequently enough. That is, the experience of the expression is expressed to others and recounted & related to – or misunderstood.

When the idea of intuition is corrupted by conglomerate qualities of crap, intuition is quite dead, if it ever was. I’m not sure how a human could ever hope to possess such a thing, only believe that what now is felt and/or sensed is informed intuition, which is a contradiction. There might be something to it. But intuition? Memory burns it to bits.


A scientific theory is built upon facts. The theory is there for scientists to accept as a model going forward, or reject through contravening evidence. But the theory holds sway.

I have observed a reluctance on the part of scientists and fans of science to acknowledge the neither-proved-nor-disproved nature of scientific theory for the wiggle room it affords hordes of half-baked ideas not founded upon ground as solid as empiricism. But while they don’t cede the ground of the unknown to misuse, they submit the known to abuse.

All the Difference in the World

If time travel were possible, so the argument, we’d be surrounded by time travelers, to which one response would be, or might be, that we are surrounded by time travelers.

If a computer simulation of life were possible, or a near simulation of some aspects of one person’s life, then there is a likelihood, or near likelihood – so a line of thinking – that one or more of us already live in a computer simulation or, indeed, everything you or I know is something akin to being a facsimile of the same. Your thought, a likeness of the same. This very idea, a simulation of the same.

This spreads outward into multiple reproductions, the idea of a future singularity event — the transcendence of humans to a world free of their apparent biological nature — being a part of the same illusion, would represent just another layer, or more layers, of simulation. As simulations go, they might be indistinguishable from one another, but as processes, set in motion to run their own course, there might be minute discrepancies — differences so subtle it would take a lifetime to find amidst the lifespan of the history of the known – or knowable – universe. Let alone this multiverse.

Of course, combing through the data would be done with much more powerful programs than the human brain, so it would be a computer that would ultimately deliver the news that you were unoriginal.

Actual cognizance of your own derivation would appear as prohibitive as direct access to the day after tomorrow from now, or an immediate portal to any point in the past by way of anything but our incredibly flawed system of memory. We might look at each moment of time as a physical frame with no way forward without first toggling through the intervening frame. No skip function.

Likewise, we might look at each computer-like simulation as a frame of reference, laid out sequentially, with no way to examine simulation C without first going through the entirety of simulation B.

But even if perceivable simultaneous access to multiple simulations were possible, looking for discrepancies between two simulations of almost imperceptible variation would take too long to recognize with the naked mind. And the vast differences between, say, simulations Z and A might be so great as to appear as if from different essences entirely.

Without comprehensive comparison capabilities, the ability to know what you were looking at seems remote. It could be by default that you are forever leaping from a point in one simulation to a point in another. How would you know?

And what difference does it make?