herring gull floating
looking sharply far ahead
Susan parked her car on the driveway. The porch and front terrace were lit brightly. This shouldn’t be so, because nobody was home and she was certain, she had not left the lights on. Donald wasn’t at home, because he was occupied until ten this evening and needed almost two hours to drive home. His car wasn’t on the driveway. She felt uneasy and tried to tell herself that there was nothing to worry about, but suddenly an uneasy feeling made her body shiver.
She looked closely but didn’t see any lights in the house, though she had the impression she had briefly seen a dim light on the upper floor. She was not sure and thought her imagination was fooling her. Susan opened the door of the car, hesitated, closed the door again and locked the doors, because she was afraid. Fear was a sense that was strange to her, but now it was there, sudden and intense. She looked round and saw an unfamiliar car on the other side of the street.
After a few minutes Susan picked up her phone and tried to reach Donald, but that didn’t work and she knew why. Donald was a media specialist and therefore a keynote speaker at a conference on the abuse of social media and his phone was probably switched off.
Susan observed the house more closely for a while and again she came to the conclusion that nothing was going on in there. Meanwhile uncertainty ran through her veins causing a feeling of panic as she had never experienced before.
Susan pulled herself together, got out, shut the car and walked to the porch with her handbag over her shoulder and in each hand a shopping bag. She put the bags down and opened the door, went inside, tapped with her elbow on the light switch and walked into the kitchen, where she dropped the bags on the table.
Susan looked round and saw that a knife was missing from the knife block. She inspected the dishwasher, but it wasn’t there. Susan searched for other suspicious clues. Then she heard a soft sound on the first floor. She grabbed her bag and ran, half stumbling out of the house, leaving the door open. She jumped in her car and drove away as fast as she could. Three blocks further she parked the car and phoned Donald. Again she got his voicemail. After begging him to call her back, she sent him an app: “Urgent. Call, please.”, but she saw that the app had not been received.
Susan drove back, stopped again and called the police. She explained what she had heard and that she thought someone was in the house. The officer asked her to repeat and then told her that they were quite busy at the moment. He assured her that a patrol car would come by in one or two hours. She insisted that they should come immediately. The officer got annoyed by her persistence and told her that the situation was too vague to respond to. Susan took a deep breath, pushed the red button to disconnect and regretted phoning the police. Unnecessary fear, she thought. I’m just tired. Moments later she was back on the driveway.
Susan saw the front door open, remembered that she had left it open and walked in, closing the door behind her. She switched on all the other lights. Then she sat down and listened to all sounds for over fifteen minutes, but she heard nothing special or alarming. She still felt uncomfortable and experienced a mix of uncertainty, anxiety and growing anger. She walked to the storage under the stairs and took one of Donald’s baseball bats with which she slowly walked up the stairs. She had almost reached the first floor when she heard a very soft, scratching sound. It made her feel tense and alert and though she was afraid, she became more and more angry. Now, she wanted to know who or what was in her house. Could it be an animal? Raccoons again?
Susan swiftly opened the door of the first spare bedroom, waving wildly with the baseball bat. With one hand she opened the cabinets, in the other hand holding the baseball bat, ready to hit. She repeated the procedure for the second extra bedroom and the study, but she found nothing. Still, her feeling said something wasn’t right.
Susan turned around, passed their bedroom and walked into the direction of the bathroom, because she heard a soft noise coming from that direction. She was about to open the door of the bathroom as she picked up a sound behind her. A shadow came from behind. Susan made a half turn, roared loudly and swung the bat fiercely against the person behind her. The result of her ferocious attack was a screaming Donald, tumbling over the balustrade, falling almost 15 feet onto the floor of the living. He broke his neck and died instantly, no longer being able to say: “Surprise!”
The dawn of the new era was already looming over the United States of America more than a year ago. Friday January the 20th, the reign of the first Emperor of the USA had its lift off into a temporary presidency.
Meander expects that the phrase ‘you ain’t seen nothing yet’, as daring Americans like to say, will be fully applicable to all Americans future. Governing by tweet and establishing the next Trumpian Empire is what lies ahead. A period in which critical opinions are punished and a Trumphasian Dynasty is controlling media policy and media licenses.
Democracy was progressively dismantled by the American bipartisan system, with nothing to choose, except one of two illusive, doubtful characters. The election was overshadowed by threats, lies, influence from abroad and by penetration of electors minds with deceiving marketing strategies. Strategies that aren’t aiming at the interest of the common people, but still suggest they do so.
In a swift move, within two years, Trump and his mates will walk an Erdogannian route mixed with Vladimirian tactics to prevent a successful election for the Democrats in 2018. They will, with all means, force a transition that enables Trump to stay in for at least eight years. A period in which he can arrange his succession by one of his sons or his son in law. The Emperor of the USA, Donald the first, might have as successor Donald the second and so on, and so on.
Trump and his prophets want to make you believe, that their politics are not in their own personal interest but in the interest of the people of the United States of America. But, it will only take a short while before democracy gets another interpretation in a way that you could write and read it as “democrazy”. Trump is formally preaching democracy, without explaining that in his mind, democracy is the way his family will rule the nation for decades.
In the meantime everybody is obliged to work, getting just enough payment to stay alive and buying all their stuff from companies owned by the Emperor, his government and his friends. Jobs for everybody, but no more land of the free.
From now on, the army and nuclear weapons will be used as business instruments, to enhance the need for greed.
So my dear Americans, be prepared for the transition from democracy to dynasty and the inevitable implementation of adjusted slavery. And… be prepared for war.
A Poem written for everyone who feels lost and fallen. Written for anyone who needs to invent life again.
Fall free and believe in ephemerality as positive chance for a next part of your life.
Niké was gliding gracefully over the ice in. Speeding up hour after hour, on her path to a jump, conducting complex figures, flying and dancing to the ultimate victory. It was tough, but still she enjoyed it. Though the ease, with which she performed, seemed to be of a natural simplicity, it was not only talent that brought about the results. To triumph gloriously, she had to train hard, over and over again. Zeus exhorted her after every success not to sit back. A warning that wasn’t necessary at all, because ambition, diligence, strength and audacity, drove the goddess to tremendous efforts. She brought the sacrifices that Zeus desired, with passionate dedication.
In the battle with the Titans she had helped Zeus defeat his opponents, along with her brothers Zeal and Strength and her sister Force. Since then she was the protégé of Zeus and lived on the Olympus.
Zeus was responsible for ensuring that Niké, or Niki, as he preferred to call her, was a personified feature and character trait of Pallas Athena. She was therefore more a concept than just a goddess.
The original meaning of her name was lightning, which connects her again, with the lightning throwing Zeus. In the battle for the Olympic victory, she lives up to that name, when she’s flashing over the ice.
Niké is not only the goddess of victory, but also the goddess of each gain, no matter how small. That her actions are perceived as a message from the gods, is without doubt.
According to tradition, and as can be seen from almost every appearance of the goddess, Niké is a young, beautiful woman, who at times seems to have wings. Virtual wings, that she puts down occasionally, because she wants to stay at the Olympus for ever. Her divine name instils fear in her opponents.
Over endless centuries, Niké fought numerous battles for supremacy in many different appearances. On the ice, we see it in the guise of Niki Wories and her combat for medals. It is therefore good to be aware of the fact, that on every Olympic medal, Niké is depicted, using her wings to portrait the V of Victory. No wonder Niki wants to conquer her own medal.
Niki, goddess on the ice and goddess of victory, follows her own Spartan route in Canada to prevail. Graciously, smoothly and skilfully dancing over the ice, borne by her invisible wings, fighting her own Titans fight, to the delight of the Gods on the Olympus.
Assistance English: Dan B King
Information and sources:
The hauling engines of the sleek racing cars weeping over the circuit, pushing the cars to ever-faster rounds. Now and then a car slips off, which is smoothly corrected by the experienced driver.
Angry sounds, abusive and occasionally discordant voices erupt from the board radios:
“Yes but he is cheating, damn…”
“This is a bloody shame, he won’t let me pass.”
“He’s just blocking the way through.”
“He has no respect the shameless rookie.”
“He is looking for shortcuts, do something.”
“He’s driving too fast, that’s quite dangerous.”
“It can’t be, the way that kid drives.”
Complaining Formula-1 drivers, are worried about Max Verstappen, where it stands out that the Mercedes stable and the Ferraris are the grumbling ones. Them whining is trivial and logical, because the other drivers are not even close to Max Verstappen.
The drivers of the Mercedes team leave the complaining to Niki Lauda who, well paid by Mercedes, at first seems to be exited, enthusiastic and very positive about Max Verstappens talents, but than shits into another gear, accusing the young driver of dangerous and reckless driving.
Vettel and Raikkonen, who fear for their ranking, express their anger with undistinguished aggression to Verstappen and his team. The driving behaviour of the Dutchman, scrutinized at a closer look, seems remarkably similar to the bold, firm driving habits of the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers. Something the Dutch Red Bull driver can only appreciate.
Stable orders to let someone pass are downright unsportsmanlike. You don’t let anyone pass. It is a competition, isn’t it. If someone wants to pass, he should achieve it and wanting to achieve it by himself.
A few weeks ago the drivers of Mercedes and Ferrari delivered their complaints concerning the driving style of Verstappen to the organization. The victory oriented driving style by the talented, bold and popular driver was, as a result of these complaints, reason enough for the organization to adapt the rules of procedure. This smells a little, or more appropriate, it stinks. One complaint and the rules are changed, to bring about that a quirky, dynamic, alert driver no longer is allowed to be quirky, dynamic, and alert.
The stakes are huge. The Formula 1 isn’t about millions, not even about hundreds of millions. The stakes in the Formula 1 cover several billions. Who gets money from whom and who has an interest in what, this alas is unknown and the system is uncontrollable.
New rules will undoubtedly follow soon. From the start the bolides should be driving in a nice and respectful queue, based on the training times. Overtaking is prohibited. A few weeks later, due to the prefixing of the results, with large probability the organization will decide that the contest will be shortened to one round in favour of the environment and the climate.
In the end it all comes down to the fact that the other drivers cannot track Verstappen and only a faster car may bring them victory, but not even that is a certainty as a consequence of the magnificent driving by Max Verstappen.
Meander advises the gentlemen drivers of Mercedes and Ferrari to apply, for example, as a cabdriver in London or New York, then they can annoy themselves all day and complain continuously. Hopefully there is no one except a puzzled or irritated passenger, who will listen to them.
There is no place for softies and wimps in Formula 1 for them the only thing left is the Formula 0.