Dachshund

Dachshund, ever curious, sniffing her way round,
sudden turning furious when nothing's to be found.

Dachshund, ever lively, wired, running round the block,
sudden turning very tired at the sight of rock.

Dachshund, ever friendly, greeting people in her way,
sudden turning menace once owner walks astray.

Dachshund, ever focused, deeply, on her fav'rite chew,
sudden turning hedgehog when foliage in view.
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Dackelmonster

Ich habe meine eigene Anleitung (in zehn Schritten) zur besten Version meiner selbst befolgt und mir ein kleines Dackelmonster namens „Ups“ zugelegt. Sie hat in wenigen Stunden meine gesamte Wohnung in Beschlag genommen und innerhalb einer Woche selbst die dunkelsten Gassen Karlsruhes erobert. Außerdem hat sie ein Kabel im universitären Hörsaal angeknabbert, eine Schulklasse zu Begeisterungsstürmen motiviert und Menschen in der Straßenbahn misstrauisch beäugt.

Ihr Lieblingsschlafplatz sind meine Schuhe. Sie isst gerne alles.

Ups im Schuh.

True North

One cannot help but wonder why it is that, in this here time, our youth seems to have lost its true north. What is responsible for this loss of moral compass, I ask. How do we readjust it? How do we, as a community, make our youth, our communal youth, face the right direction again? That is to say, how do we help them regain their orientation? Because right now, I contend, they run around like rabid squirrels, incapable of pursuing anything, a nut, if you will, or an apple or what have you, in the long term. Meaning their pursuits are short-termed and vain. They zigzag our streets and parks, so to speak, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Take, for example, my niece Jessica. Most of you have come to know Jessica as the sweet and obedient, yet somewhat naïve little girl that sold homemade cookies after Sunday services. Or maybe you have crossed her path more recently, say, last year or so, and wished her a good day, in which case I commiserate with you, because she probably told you to bugger off – if she replied at all. Now Jessica, as you might already have gathered from the latest issue of the Wilmington Gazette, apparently got herself involved with a drug cartel and was busted for moving large quantities of cocaine. My question is: How did we let that happen? And by “that” I mean Jessica’s transition, so to speak, her change in attitudes from pro-order, pro-community, to pro-drugs – which is to say, against everything we stand for?

Now take Miguel. You all know Miguel. Maybe you have congratulated Miguel for the excellent condition he keeps our communal lawns in, in which case he probably replied with a heartfelt thankyou. Or you met him while tending to my wife’s rose garden, with his signature cheerful and loving attitude. Now, what is it that turned Miguel into this dutiful and god-fearing human being, I ask? Scarcity and struggle. Due to Miguel had to grow up in a foster home, far, far away from his Mexican family, Miguel learned to endure and embrace hardship.

Oh, I see. So you guys spoke to Miguel, you say? He’s from Colombia? You don’t say! Well.

Still, Miguel, this sweet and innocent boy who apparently is from Colombia, with his happy-go-lucky attitude, grew up in the communal foster home, where he was beaten up time and again, and ridiculed for his shoddy and frumpish attire, due to which Miguel became a hard-studying shut-in. He devoted himself to his studies and became the dutiful gardener we all got to know and love. He keeps everything in order, and we love him for that. It was by means of hardship and hassle that Miguel has become a pro-order, pro-family values pillar of the community.

Oh. I see. So you guys think that Miguel was responsible for turning Jessica against her hard-working, god-loving family and pro drug-cartel? You don’t say! Well –

They had a love affair, the both of them? You don’t say! Then how come – ah, I see.

But why – oh, okay.

Well.

See, I’m not sure that I – or me and my wife – can do that. It wouldn’t feel right to call the police in regards of Miguel, to rat him out, so to speak.

Let’s have a vote: Who, in this here meeting, is pro-Miguel?

How To Become The Best Version Of YOU

Do you want to know HOW TO BECOME THE BEST VERSION OF YOU? If so, read on. Because in the remainder of this text I will present to you a FOOLPROOF, tried-and-tested method consisting of TEN EASY STEPS you can begin to take no later than TODAY.

So GIDDYUP, my dear friends on the INTERWEBS, prepare for the TEN EASY STEPS, which I am going to present you with RIGHT NOW.

Have you ever wondered why there are TEN EASY STEPS needed in order to BECOME THE BEST VERSION OF YOU rather than, say, NINE or ELEVEN?

If so, AMAZING! You are already ONE STEP CLOSER to becoming THE BEST VERSION OF YOU! Congrats!

I kid you not! Because, see, STEP ONE is just this:

  1. QUESTION EVERYTHING. And by „everything“ I mean EVERYTHING. Do not take anything, and by „anything“ I mean ANYTHING, for granted.
  2. Get a pet.
  3. Goldfish do not count.

WHY NO GOLDFISH, you may ask. And rightly so, RE STEP #1. But HANG IN THERE, things will become MUCH MORE CLEAR as you proceed.

  1. Build a WEBSITE from scratch.
  2. Do not forget to feed your newly acquired pet (RE STEP #2).
  3. Generate TRAFFIC on WEBSITE. You may use pet for this (RE STEP #2, #5).
  4. Generate BITCOIN through TRAFFIC on WEBSITE (RE STEP #4, #6).
  5. With BITCOIN, buy stuff on INTERWEBS. Not any stuff will do. Only cool stuff your achy-breaky heart has longed for in a real, and I repeat, a real long time. For example, buy this ubercool piece of black and shiny techwear clothing the OLD YOU could not have afforded, in like, ever.
  6. Wearing this ubercool piece of techwear clothing, do not forget to TEND TO WEBSITE and pet (RE STEP #6). Feed pet when needed (RE STEP #5).
  7. You’re DONE. And, HAHA, you were right to question the ten-step method. See what I did there? 🙂

CONGRATS. You’re AMAZING!

Goose

"Hope is a thing with feathers", I think, means
hope is delicate,
and light.

Hope keeps you warm
in darker night --
but careful not to squeeze too tight
or hope might die by move of arm.

I might have misinterpreted
those lines by Dickinson,
for I treat hope like goose, it seems.

And I imagine Emily, the poet queen of poet queens,
warn not to get my Dickens on,
as I'm about to lose.

Alabaster

Sie konnte sich nicht mehr erinnern, wann sie zum ersten Mal die Schwelle zu ihrem Büro übertreten hatte. Ihr war, als arbeitete sie seit unvordenklichen Zeiten auf dem Katasteramt. Die graue Eminenz der Erstverwertungsabteilung III A-D. Auf den neonerleuchteten Fluren des Amtsgebäudes begegnete ihr von Zeit zu Zeit eine andere langjährige Mitarbeiterin, eine Eingeweihte 2. Stufe wie sie selbst.

Der wahre Zweck des Katasteramts war nur den sogenannten Ewigen bekannt: ephemeren Wesen, untergebracht in Büroräumen, die sich ob ihrer überragenden Unscheinbarkeit den neugierigen Blicken Normalsterblicher entzogen.

Ausgestattet mit Rechenschiebern und altertümlich anmutenden Schreibmaschinen — Maschinen, die ihren Namen noch verdienten — arbeiteten die Ewigen gewissenhaft an der Umsetzung des Alabasterplans.

Als Eingeweihte 2. Stufe konnte Erika über das wahre Ausmaß des Plans lediglich spekulieren. Streng genommen wusste sie nur, dass der Plan existierte; worin er bestand, entzog sich ihrer Kenntnis und, so mutmaßte sie, überstieg aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach ihr Fassungsvermögen.

Damals, als sie noch rauchte, hatte sie während einer ihrer mittäglichen Zigarettenpausen im Innenhof des Amtsgebäudes munkeln hören, der Alabasterplan sei noch zu Zeiten der Weimarer Republik verabschiedet worden, um die Menschheit des 21. Jahrhunderts vor dem ruinösen Einfluss extraterrestrischer Teilchenaktivität zu bewahren.

Marianne, eine Ehemalige, hatte eines Tages eine Vermutung geäußert, die an Blasphemie grenzte: Bei dem, was als Alabasterplan in die Annalen des Katasteramts eingegangen sei, handle es sich um den Versuch, einen Konsens in der Führungsriege des Amtes herzustellen bezüglich der Frage, welches Material für die Schirme der Schreibtischbeleuchtung zu verwenden sei.