Dear, voluptuous, sophisticated Coolositable reader,
as I am very angry today, I thought this occasion might be perfect to finally update this fine little land of apostil and at times florilegia.
It is about a man who should never have been allowed to ever set a foot on this world ( ““#““ÇÇ#““#). As he is just scum – or in Christian ‘the spawn of the devil’ – we will not even write out his name, as he is so repulsive. In principle – we should not even have to worry about this toxic waste endorsing thing, as we both live on the other side of the world. However, as the so-called Land of Unlimited Possibilities is inclined to imperialist, expansive methods and politics, spreading out its tentacles all over this cute little globe, it is essential to condemn the evil and send it into somewhere it cannot do any further harm anymore.
As it is undisputed that he is – to put it nicely – human dross, what has to be argued about is, whether every life is valuable.
According to Basic Human Rights, yes. But what happens when one has repeatedly terribly violated these laws, promoted, suggested and incited its violation, as he has – namely the following points:
- ‘All human beings are born…and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood‘
- No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.
- All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination.
- No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.
- Men and women of full age, without any limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and to found a family. They are entitled to equal rights as to marriage, during marriage and at its dissolution.
- Everyone who works has the right to just and favourable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection.
- All children, whether born in or out of wedlock, shall enjoy the same social protection.
- Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote understanding, tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace.
So, do you think this monster deserves anything at all, even life?
Probably he does deserve life – as everyone does – although I might presume that the evil’s status as a person should be strongly taken in consideration – but in some way I think the propagation and indoctrination of everything Vomitorum stands for is condemnable and lowers one to anything below the status of a human being; as the Universal Declaration Human Rights proclaims, it applies only to human beings, meaning the wish of a slow, violent death (for example by suffocation) to Vomitorum may embody a legitimate and legal action under current states of law.
In this way, pacifists everywhere, get out your voodoo dolls and behold morticians everywhere, you may soon have another job to do.
Sincerely yours,
Balthazar
I am Santa’s Imaginary Boyfriend.
Dear, sophisticated reader,
you won’t believe it, 1) Coolositable is still not extinct and 2) SANTA IS COMING TO TOWN JAPAN.
As Anna and I have been very busy for the past *goestocheck* 4 months – well actually our whole lives – we haven’t been able to update this blog as much as we hoped to.BUT BUT BUT BUT here is a new post. And it’s utterly positive – not according to expectations.
Balthazar – e.g. I – loves/love Christmas. Or actually the ideal of it. Gaining weight by stuffing ourselves up with cookies – yes, not in that way – eating AND peeling tangerines – exchanging gifts unilaterally or nonlaterally – putting dead corpses into pumpkin soups – drinking Ginger Vodka on the Snow (not on the rocks as during other seasons) – going away to Barcelona – staying at fabulous, exclusive hotels – throwing snowballs against passing cars and people – and most of all, throwing snowballs at world leaders in Davos (well I admit, that happens only in January) are wonderful activities to keep oneself busy with when passing time in this wonderful time of nice words, hugs, kisses, French kisses, passion, affection, patting, petting, really hard sex against the Christmas tree, cleaning your chimney with Santa, S/M with Rudolph, Christmas bonda….well just love, right. And CHOCOLATE, LOTS OF CHOCOLATE and GINGER and CRANBERRIES and SNOOOOW. So you see, materialistic lusts evoke great excitement in mankind.
So where is all this leading to? Nothing, apparently. It’s mostly about corporations making inexorably exorbitantly large sums of £,$, ₪, Ft, ₮,,﷼ and mostly CHF. And filling one’s hollow, shallow, wallowed hearts with warmth by buying and cashing and moneyz.
Ahm. Where was I? Yes.
As you may not know, I am currently Santa’s Imaginary Boyfriend and and his muse, that’s why he – the omnipotent Sata… Santa has sent upon us this present:
In this way, I wish everyone a happy beginning of the most materialistic holiday season EVER, and hope you won’t build perverted snowmen and snowwomen.
LOVE and gingerbread,
Balthazar
P.S. Custard-pie battles have been largely accepted in contemporary culture as a new aspect of Christmas.
LOOK OUT FOR IT
Dearest, caring, loving and supportive reader,
you should keep track of or look out for those artists. Because they’re either absolutely hot right now or because they’ve been hot for a long time. Or because Balthazar says they’re hot. And because all of them were featured in some way at the largest art fair in the world, in which the author of this article has dwelled for 6.5 hours.
GENIESSEN SIE!
KEITH HARING
ROBERT REYNOLDS
JEREMY DICKINSON
BALTHUS
KARIN KNEFFEL
GEORGE CONDO
JOHANNES KNARR
HIROSHI SUGIMOTO
PETER LINDBERGH
Space bends and Nobel Prize
Hello there, if any of you still wander around.
As you may have noticed, there has been a significant break since we, or, speaking more precisely, I have given birth to another bunch of meaningless letters and punctuation marks, taking away your free time. We, the proud parents of this little chamber of graphorrea, have some difficult time with our offspring. The eternal problem of fathers and sons, meh.
But let’s forget about these small and senseless details and take a breathtaking journey to the land where even the almighty, solid as a rock, laws of Their Majesty Physics don’t work. The time and space, space especially, bend. The reality as we all know it loses familiar shapes.
I am talking about metro at 8:30 in the morning.
The first rule of Moscow metro in these ungodly hours is, you do not even think of using it if you are not rushing to save the world from the invation of zombie radioactive rabbits. The second rule of Moscow metro is, these is not a coach existing in the world that cannot fit one more person. This “one more person” is the most ephemeral substance in any of the parallel universes, even more ephemeral than a student’s loan.
Too much people, too much. And you were trying so hard to convince me that overpopulation is not the first problem of our little green planet.
Speaking of little green things, I have found a way to at least take a breath or avoid being stuck in a dramatic pose. Starting to laugh hard or sing “La Marsellaise” out of key automatically creates space around you, restoring the physical harmony at least a little. See, making other people think you are completely insane has serious benefits.
But you, my dear reader, may already be submerged in doubts about the reason why your humble key pusher writes these anthropological notes, besides of anthropological notes and scenes from the Land of Absurd as a purpose itself. What is the idea, you ask yourself. And the idea, instead of propagandizing the use of condoms and all this prosaic bullshit, is the following: there is no idea. Ta-dah.
Just if someone decides to describe the deformation of space in a metro coach in the early morning with Physics, then I know who gets this year’s Nobel Prize. Don’t forget to mention me in your speech.
to nisennenmondai the pain away
as you may know from my twitter stream, i haven’t been really well lately.
This has urged me to find methods to escape from this dystopic state of mind, and typical for me, I tried music. Now, what would come to your mind first of course, would be “Fuck the Pain Away” by Peaches. Also in a literal way. Unfortunately the dolor-reducing sex doesn’t work, that’s one of the things I know. In the end it’s just sinister and glum music playing inside me.
So, through a divine webular afflatus I discovered Nisennenmondai and their album Neji Tori. As the name suggests, the formation is from a faraway country going by the name 日本国. Yes, I’m talking about Nihon-koku, you’re absolutely right. Minutes after I had digitally clutched the 58-minute-long album, I found myself in a dark room with loudspeakers, blasting Nisennenmondai.
And it was a revelation. Screeching but rhythmic guitars, no singing, rigorous drums, vast but little melody at the same time. Uneasy to describe, to be honest, but exactly what I needed and still am in need of to make the interior pain go away. LOUD, RAW, BLASTING, PRIMITIVE, DISTORTED, BRAIN-OFFSWITCHING, NOISY, JAPANOISE.
To be honest, I guess my words are an assault to or don’t serve justice to what wonder Nisennenmondai - Japanese for Y2K bug by the way – is. So please, buy their music, I recommend you starting with Neji Tori, I haven’t gotten any further with their discography because even after almost a month now with their album,
I’m still in a state of amazedness.
James Dean’s Emaciated Face.
Dear reader,
as the last days of this year are passing, with cloudy skies, storms in the distance, broken hearts and love for the rain, I feel obliged to write about James Dean, one of the persons of
whom I haven’t seen any films.
But only a glance at one of the grainy, black and white pictures of him, was enough for me, to see how gaunt or emaciated his soul seems to be. At the end of existence, the sensitive soul, the fragile innocence and still the oppressed freshness.
I guess 2010 was for more and more people exactly that. For too many people. Social injustice, unmerited projected anger of others on one self, not-talking to each other, the mean games, the escape from reality and how others are unable to accept that, cutting a better figure at the expense of others’ weaknesses, brainwashed assholes, social incapability, bumpkins and ultimately disappointments, empty promises and failure in communication, dishonesty.
“In life you have to suffer, a lot”, says Pepa in ‘Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios’, and unfortunately she’s right. The repression of the fact that life is just an endless dark tunnel, with little light and few angel…
That was 2010 in emotions, for too many.
Hope? Maybe. People won’t suddenly change, but there will be wonders, which though have to be searched for in ourselves, our souls unfolded, maybe that’s the way, even if it hurts and involves humiliation or else, but being true to oneself, may be the ultima ratio to save ourselves.
Before it gets better, it always gets even worse.
Sincerely yours and cheers,
Balthazar
Inglish Langvage in the Lande of Absourd
Diar reeder,
Hellow agaen froam the Lande of Absourd. As you all know, I reely love talking about my countrey’s phenomena – how can I not talk about paradoxes and absourd, absourd and paradoxes!
This time I thouht that it woud be aproupriate to raise the question of langvages. Yes. Langvages. Especialy one, and you all can guess what exuctly: the almigty Inglish Langvage. (My exsitement as I write this word, blesed by all the deities, is so big that I can not hold on to start “Langvage” with a capitol leter)
The Inglish Langvage. All Russians start to tremble as they heer these wondarful words. How many teers are shed above the textbuks during the scoolyears of every Russian! How many unhuman sufers are expirienced by all of us! How many sweerwords directed to the creators of latin alfabet and/inglish gramar are pronounsed by everyone! And the horrid sound “θ” – the persoan who invented it was morally depraved, I sweer.
We, the poor adherents of Cyrilic alfabet, are unabel to achiev a good level in Inglish – genetics are a powerfull thing. But we are strugling and strugling and strugling throuh the years and time. We’re reeching out for the skyes of lingvistics, whear the birds always sing and jasmin always blosoms, but despiet of our wishes we cannot touch them. It raises complecses in us. We’re very ashamed to speak the celestiel Inglish Langvage, but the sever realities of moderne lief force us. And we take atempts.
And then the whol wourld laughs at us. It is unfaire. Reely unfaire to laught at somwone who tries.
Mr. Balthazar
anch
