On Death Row

Composite blog consisting of notes, reflections, weird jokes, trip reports and amusing stories from the death row; some personal, some told and some fabricated, I have to reckon!

BEWARE!! This is neither a porno nor a politically correct site... more probably is a highly misanthropic and overtly cynical terminal account

Ridendo castigat mores, that I freely translate as ”humor improves behavior” , not that I believe, but it sounds nice!

12
Dec
2017

The Exit

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Biased attitudes, genuine lies, fair sarcasm, dogmatic insanity will be vigorously at work here any time that some unpleasant truths, most of them are, will have to be ruthlessly and cautiously dished. For sure, with some restraint, because I am aware that good thinking people could be extremely dangerous both socially and physically for those (me) who do not share the despicable J.J. not Cale (he too) but Rousseau paradigm that the human being is born good and kind and THE INSTITUTIONS – state, justice, universities, fans’ clubs, syndicates, whatever, are those which corrupted him. Privately I am an establishment fan feeling very grateful to all those who take care of the garbage, schools, brain washing, roads, money printing, hospital super intensive care, Philippine servants for CONFUSED old boys and girls and sewers correct functioning. My ambivalence is great and I have to avow that I follow with enormous sympathy the anti-mundialization riots not so much for their causality if there is some (I am so little informed) but for the amount of petty material damage, huge adrenaline download and beneficial ritual exercise (I mean violent) accompanying the insufficiently frequent outbursts. Often I dream, day dream I know, to have them in power, running the world affairs. An apocalypse here and there can lead to an exciting change even to a nice total collapse. Will the politically correct permit it? I doubt! They pulled their kids out of the integrated schools and packed them under heavy protection in plush out of town performing education saloons. I do not care. There is long ago that I resigned from the human race. Race? Ex-race? Read More

13
Dec
2017

The Happy-End

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In a couple of months I hope to move officially on DEATH ROW. Should I will be asked from above if I have some preference I will say that I would like to join the bandwagon the 26 of March, 2018 and nail so, the 80 years’ time mark. Being a gambler numbers mean a lot to me especially those concomitantly positive and negative. Do not the years signify both addition and deduction? That, only if you are a naïve optimist. In reality life is only matter of deduction! Somebody or something is gnawing from your infinite small expanse, every moment, a huge chunk!
Even if I do not want to be particularly nasty or highly impolite I am compelled to say – please do not think of you as different. We are all of us on the death row included the unborn and the unbaptized… The only thing that differentiate between us are statistics. Older people are dying first; at least nowadays…Hundred years ago infants were heading the row, during the wars young male adults are shinning. In peace time like now women, minorities, overdose consumers, gangs’ fighters and good believers’ activists provide a nice slice too. But there is no need to push; the mill grinds its grains unalterable.

I feel that is time to go into concrete, because as strangely as it may appear people did somersaults all over world and time to avoid considering the issue, the concept, the occurrence, the inevitability. Some invented an oversexed paradise (72 virgins by customer? that is really a rare commodity), others were graciously floating above the ground in company of hallowed martyrs, a fine intellectual group indulged into a subtle fusion with a major deity (God so and so) or with the World Spirit, a large mass, a giant lump are ferociously eager for another RUN and the rest float in a state of hopeful, unarticulated, stupor. Few cynical anarchists or devout politically correct, will leave their bodies to science or to agriculture, after having signed some fat life insurance. That is called life insurance… Read More

13
Dec
2017

Dans les murs de la ville impériale I

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Une Randonnée Urbaine

Mes chers enfants, parents et amis

J’habite, formellement, car chez moi tout baigne en éternel crépuscule, dans un pays qui se méfie des indices et qui se trémousse indigné chaque fois que la première université (Paris 9) se classe sur la 39ème place de l’index de Shanghaï…Par osmose donc, j’ai reçu avec une réticence outrée la nouvelle que Vienne s’est pointée plus d’une fois en tête des villes les plus plaisantes à vivre. Mais le coup de grâce fut de découvrir, après quelques heures d’énergiques déambulations, que l’endroit qui se devait insignifiant, capitale d’un état à pignon quasi inexistant, reliquat d’un empire depuis longtemps disparu, ne produisant strictement rien, regorgeait de richesses inouïes, matérielles, spirituelles, artistiques et sociales. Read More

14
Dec
2017

Dans les murs de la ville impériale II

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Die Pestsäule

Mes chers enfants, parents et amis

 

GRABEN PLATZ WIEN

Quoique je fasse, je glisse et je m’enlise. Adepte des comptes rendus courts me voilà à nouveau à la tête d’un béhémoth sans que j’entrevoie l’ombre d’une queue. L’art, la science et dans une certaine mesure le sport me permettent d’oublier le destin médiocre de la race humaine, la présence des barbares entre les portes et la nature vicieuse d’homo sapiens. En particulier, je suis féru des œuvres d’art uniques que je rencontre pendant mes voyages réels ou imaginaires. J’ai reconnu à Vienne deux réalisations de cette nature. Elles étaient les fruits de la main d’œuvre locale, imprégnées d’une certaine dose d’exceptionnelle maîtrise, se détachant du groupe des objets à qui formellement ils appartenaient et frôlant à la fois le sublime et le ridicule. Read More

23
Jan
2018

Escape from Bilbao, Punta Galea

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Dear Danarel,

Do you think I am a fool?

I have the holiest hope that the matter of this letter and the illustrations accompanying it will not shock you because the last thing in the world I want it is you to get angry with me. I thrived, past tense will be appropriate now, but I expect things to improve, thanks to your magnificent protection revered guardian angel. As you know I am an architecture buff and the architecture it is the mother of arts for many, I always wonder who is the father, but nowadays you will agree, the FATHER’s rank went down some rungs, not offense intended. To be sincere, I know it through direct experience and I should say that worst things can occur. An egoist will think that if women want to raise kids alone or to make them by themselves, see serene Serena, why to discourage them? A cynical historicist, it should be one around, will say that this was the case for thousands of years during matriarchate, so the HOW DO is there! Read More

27
Feb
2018

Travels through the Gehry’s Land, part one

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Dear Danarel,

 

I probably kept silent for more than an year not for being, God forbid, short in subjects, as some people whom I know who can never get out of the disquieting news, boring job stories, kids achievements or misconduct, planetary deterioration or some basic health worries . Things are fine with me man (excuse me! the origin of angels is so controversial) grace to you, money is rare but the moral is high. To be sincere and straight forward I think that it was my natural laziness which took over. I dare to say that you cannot imagine what torturous efforts I have to make in Read More

5
Mar
2018

Travels through the Gehry’s Land, part two

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Dear Danarel,

This is the second and the last report upon my amblings into the Gehry’s Land. I still hate the little dwarf, EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE, but I have to avow that I am both puzzled and confused. Some vicious character will hurry to claim that I was never different. It may be true but not by lack of desire or attempt. So, I am going to try to put some order now into my orbs or meanders at your guise. Then, the two last space stations were the Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris and the Guggenheim Museum of Bilbao, Read More

14
Mar
2018

Danarel, the Conjurer and the King Stork

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Some who may receive a copy of this letter don’t know who is Danarel. Discreetly, I inform everybody that he is my guardian angel. When it was more or less clear that I should come into being, my mother, the CONJURER, who was also a first rung ESPER (extra sensorial perception), a TRUE BELIEVER and THE LEADER OF THE PEOPLE, did something that had zero chances to succeed. She was desperate. She knew that age and situation, the Second World War was on the way, will not allow her to have more than one child. She also sensate that the package coming, me, will be a quite violent guy, not very easy to raise. Also she felt that things may go after the war from bad to worst. They did, the Nazi left so to say but the Communist regime that came after was not less ferocious. Read More

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