Cup of Gathering...

There is a very important but also a very misdirected debate going on in Sweden, where our Ombudsman of Equal Opportunities (I don’t like that Swedish word in English) is perhaps one of the strongest voices. He want the, along with several other organizations, Swedish national team to boycott the single greatest sport event in the world, just because the German law is very welcoming for prostitutes in general. They claim and fear that hordes of east European prostitutes will sell sex to the immoral western men that are there to watch football. They are afraid that many women will get horribly hurt in the slavery and trafficking that will follow this huge global event.

I am too worried about it even though I don't agree to the actual severity of the problem during the World Cup. I'm worried about it because it's a accelerating problem, world wide. It's a growing child of the global situation. Stupid Germanic laws do not help, nor does the World Cup. Their aim is, however, very much off when they target the World Cup. The World Cup is, like any other sport event, about peace and friendship. It will become a topic of conversation for every man, woman and child around the world for a whole month. I will easily be able to start a conversation with almost anyone, from any country during that month. This is much harder during any of the other 47 months the Cup isn't played.

We should instead boycott German products, like we did when France decided to nuke that poor atoll in the Pacific. But I don't think the Swedish government is very keen to that idea since Germany is one of the most vital countries of trade for Sweden. So, it would probably be a political suicide for the Ombudsman for Equal Opportunities (damn I really hate the sound of that word in English) to suggest something like that.

(In fantasy fiction, items can often be enchanted and can thereby have silly names like the sword of Storms and such; Hence the title.)

Me? I'm putting on the Robe of getting a Job.

Steady as she goes...

"Steady as she goes" is not only the title of a brilliant song by The Reconteurs (a new project band including the honourble Jack White), its also an order often given by sea captains when they want the boat or ship to keep a course. Steady as she goes is, further more, the term I would like to use when it comes to the monarchy in Sweden.

Yes! The King can, at times, be very silly or perhaps princess Madeleine is the royal slut the paporazzo want her to be (she probably is), but they are our own lasting royal tale to talk, gossip or complain about. Is it unjust that they do last? Is the pain too severe for the ordinary self righteous swede to know that there will always be one family, despite everything that could happen, that will live on easy street? Hey! They would live comfortably even if we refused them the crown, a crown not used since 1873 by Oscar II. Very few of the thousands of kronor the state send their way can found in their pockets at the end of the year.

Many people complain that we support a deprived culture of excess by upholding the monarchy. That may be so. Money deprives, there's no question about it, especially new money. The Royal Family, however, is made out of old money, as old as money possibly can get. If there is one family that every degenerate von, af, or other semi-germanic surname look up to, it's the royal family. And we control the royal family, we do! We ruthlessly judge and rule on the behaviour of the one family that in their turn set the rule of etiquette for how to behave in the Swedish high society... at least I hope so, but it could be wishful thinking on my behalf.

The strongest personal argument of mine is history and tradition though. I just love history. And when I look upon a ruin of something I can't help to think how it was back then. And I can't bare the thought of a future where my children will look upon the Royal Castle and barely see a fragment of something that has, like no other thing, marked the history of Europe as the monarchies have. Imagine the horror of a Royal Castle turned into a hotel for the elite. A castle where the history within have been gutted out for all to see (or not, since many of the items would surely be stored away) at some dust collecting museum.

Let's keep the history alive with a living history.

A trivial matter...

Hmm no comments on my last post... I guess everyone else are cat kickers.

I was about to write something about poker, since I'm sitting here loosing, in ordinary order, at the poker table. But I'm saving it all in case I would need it later, at a completly different forum...

I instead intend to write something about the lack of motivaton I was so dreadfully concerned about. I use past tense because it seems to have vanished... to be honest, it hasn't, but that's irrelevant to my point. Earlier today I reread some of my more juvenile and unripe posts on this blog, the ones that dealt with all the things I apperantly still wanted to talk about. Well, I don't. They're no fun and there is nothing personal or unique about them at all (I do not claim that there should be something unique or astonishing about the later posts). This is my point. The reason I felt such a frustration about having such trouble writing something on this blog, was because I had gotten use to the pace I posted post, posts containing nothing but pixel enlightened letters, nothing else. So, I'm sorry to have to say that you, my few but dear readers, have to get accustomed, as I have, to the future amount of posts posted on this blog. The goal is three posts a week.

On the topic of future. A futuristic vision: A massive fleet of alien motherships hover the atmosphere of Earth. The aliens send a delegation to the, if they've watched the movies, White House, or, if they've done some real research, the UN HQ in New York. The delegation arrives and the General Secretary asks who they are. The aliens answer; Death.
... And the world, after a couple of hiding american soldiers have sniped the alien delegation and the US president sent every available nuclear rocket the US have intended to scrap for some 20 years or so towards the motherships, ends due to missunderstanding. "Death" in this case simply meant hello.

The vision isn't that far fetched as it may seem, maybe it is, but that's irrelevant to my point. When the Spaniards first arrived to the Yukatan they asked the indians what the land was called. The natives said; Yukatan.
Yukatan actually meant; What the hell do you want? (It really means "What do you want?", but that's not as funny). I guess the natives found it all very funny at first when the Spaniards then thrusted a flag into the sand of the beach and said that they now preclaimed "What the hell do you want?" as their land. No wonder the natives didn't take them seriously at first. I wouldn't.

I'm sorry about the minor assault on the USA, but if you are Rome, then you are Rome.

GAH... Like this post would be that much better than my earlier!?... But that's irrelevant.

Cat lover and dog kicker...

I've got the flu again... How about that? It's not as bad as the one I got a month ago, but still...
I've always thought that there would be some sort of correlation between the desease (that's a word valued too high, perhaps ailment is better) and the time you are healthy. I believed that I would be well for at least a year or so... Oh well.

On the way home from another job intervue (which went very well, much better than the last) I accidently overheard a conversation between two woman talking about dogs. I can especially recollect one phrase outspoken by one of the two.

She said: Oh they are so nice and faithfull, they never let you down.

From this point I was a hairs breadth from intervening and saying something like: What the hell are you talking about? Are you seriously comparing a dog with a human beeing? Of course the dog is faithfull to the hand that feed her. Naturally I didn't say any of this, I never do.

I honestly believe that the human race, no, lets narrow it down to people from the western hemisphere, can be devided into two groups; the one that loves cats and the one that loves its literary arch-nemesis, the dog. I for one am a cat lover and a dog kicker.

When I get my cat, that is for certain even though the time frame is not, I will get it for my amusement. With a graceful cat I can study nature at a comfortable distance, this I can not do with a dog since it requires so much from me. It requires me to feed her to walk her and to play with her. What do I get in return? A really, really expensive friend. I've got friends and while there's always room for more, I don't need a stupid one.

I don't get a friend when I buy a cat, I get a hint of nature. The cat couldn't care less about me but always shows compassion when it wants something from me, like food. But if the cat don't get the food from me, he'll run away and hunt the food on his own. That's what I like about cats..

Don't buy a dog, get a talking friend instead.

... or a cat

At least I think...

Perhaps you should, but what about writing?

Is it possible to write about anything? Anything that pops into your head? I'm often afraid to sound stupid when I write, or when I speak for that matter. But, that's because I won't let my ignorance stop me from thinking, pondering and trying to understand something, even though I know I don't know much about it.

I'm willing to be corrected and informed about something I've written. I am not however willing to be insulted for formulating a thought where I perhaps haven't had time nor the interest to check if the facts are correct or not. This hasn't happened in a long time, but I very much afraid of it.

In a previous post I wrote about an idea of letting the unions predict the demands for seats of specific professions in schools of higher education. I felt the thin ice, I heard the crackling sound of bad wood uphoalding the roof I stood on (what?). I didn't and in some sense don't know what unions does today (I know and fully understand the importance of unions in the 19th and 20th century), except negotionating your salary, and every one elses.

I still however don't regret posting posts like that, how stupid they may sound. They could be a seed from wich something more constructive may grow, but they could also be pathetically stupid and perhaps even insulting.

I can live with that.... And I can perhaps live with the stupidity of this post

Perhaps....

A touch of the dark side

If I bit my nails, I wouldn't have any fingers left. Oh how I love football.

And oh, how I hate Djurgarden. Hate is a powerful, destructive and simply put a bad feeling, I know, but that's how I feel. I hate the team, I hate the colours I hate everything they stand for, what ever they stand for. I do not, however hate the fans, I just utterly and completly despise them. Thankfully I don't feel hate that very often. If I felt it more often something would be wrong and I would tumble further and further down the spiral because it's such a sweet and seductive feeling, especially around alot of people you know feel the same. It is the dark side and more than once I have wanted to plant my fist into the face of, and turn his face into the same colours as his shirt. I have never done it though. And it's ok...

Derby is the name of the game. Battle is how it's fought. Mental death is how you loose it. North of Stockholm versus the South of Stockholm. Djurgarden versus Hammarby. 0 - 0.

This will become a short post, the tidal emotions that rises and fall before, during and after a game has taken its toll. I'm tired.

The highly educated beggar

I can't have the title "Hey I'm drunk" on top of the blogg for too long.

It seems as if many of the people I meet within my own age group, who has a university or college education in humanities are unemployed. While every other person I talk to who didn't proceed to higher education do have one, and makes a hell of a lot more money, after taxes, than I will ever make. If I could get a job, I still would be pretty much be impoveriched because of all the loans I have taken in order to recieve my, to this date, worthless education. I've been robbed of almost a decade of my life together with loads of money. I've been conned to believe that once I have an college or university education I would be more than welcome on the job market. Well that's not the case in Sweden.

I sense in a prophetic way that the highly educated wi be the unemplyed of the future. We are far too shy and well adjusted in Sweden to do something about it. Sometimes I'm sad that Sweden has been such a peaceful nation, politically, for over 200 years and militarily just below that figure. How would we react to the idiotic policies of today if we had a culture of rebellious uproar like they have in France for example? Which number in order is the current French republic? Is it the sixth, seventh or eighth republic? Someone once said that every nation needs a revolution every 20 years, and I'm starting to believe it to be true.

A feeble minded solution perhaps: The police, the firemen and the doctors, together with many other professions all have vocational oriented educatons, where the number of graduated in a sense are related to the number of job opportunities on the market. Why should not other schools have the same? I say, let all the differant unions take control of schools, let them predict the future and its need for differant types of professions, and let the state supervise the unions. It's not as if the unions have that much on their plate anyway.

How is the situation in the states?

hey I'm drunk!

Never post when drunk, a voice inside my head suspiciously says. Well sorry, I can't help it.

Even though I previously written that I lack motivation to write, don't think I've just gotten drunk to gain some. I haven't. I am drunk, but not for that reason, I'm only seizing the moment. (therefore please excuse any mispellings). I have, however, come up with at least three possible topics to write about during the evening. I've written them down analogously...

I am drunk because it was the opening night for the league in which the team of my heart plays in (see link to the right), we won, 4-2, and I'm happy. There you go... it's a perfectly legal reason.

I don't know how you all are as drunk (please tell me) but I'm pretty much sane through out. Sane in the sense that I don't act out like a total idiot. the simple effect of alcohol on me is that the sledge hammer it produces, without pardon, crumbles the defensive walls I've built fifteen meters high around myself. All of a sudden I have options I've never thought of and the answers to all sort of problems seem clearly enough to taste, or kick.

The question I asked my self is which part of me is what can I learn from a Niklas under the influence and can I perhaps find the walls that the alcohol with such efficiency broke down. If I could find them sober, what would I be able to do then?

It's tomorrow morning now and I want to erase the whole post...

perception

It's hard thing sometimes, inspiration. When I started this blog I was full of topics and items I wanted to write about. Now I feel drained.

I guess I ain't perceptive enough. I mean you have to have ground to stand on, some soil in which you can plant your seeds of thought. My land is barren and I need to reach high ground to see where the clouds gather.

And here I stand, the wind is cold, the sun is pale and nothing can be seen on the horizon. I do however see a vague path leading southward and a sign pointing in the same direction at the foot of the hill. I climb down.

The sign reads: Your future, tread it eagerly.

The path doesn't seem to lead anywhere and as I walk, and as I walk I realize that I really need that high ground to distinctly see the path. I don't even now if I'm still following it. Disoriented and disillusioned I lay down on the scorched ground and watch the few scattered clouds that I do see. They don't seem to blow in the same direction.

And I start to dream...