Guten Morgen, liebe Folglinge! ☕

The python

In 1968 John Clee­se, the well known mem­ber of Mon­ty Python, did a tv show cal­led How to irri­ta­te peop­le. There’s no need to say that he is a spe­cia­list, when it comes to com­bi­ning the irri­ta­ti­on of peop­le with humour.
In 2008 Mon­ty Python appeared in the inter­net per­so­nal­ly for, well I don’t real­ly know what for. But they are the­re. And they irri­ta­te and amu­se as if not­hing had hap­pen­ed in the last 40 years. How inte­res­ting to see the­re still so much room for them to act like that. John Clee­se seems to be the most active one of them, having an own blog and an own twit­ter account.

And the­re he says things like this:

Ha?

Ha!’ means you know some­thing. Some­thing of inte­rest. Some­thing of impor­t­an­ce? Some­thing we need to know? Defi­ni­te­ly some­thing he’s hiding from his followers.

You see how easy it is to irri­ta­te peop­le: Just hide some infor­ma­ti­on from someo­ne and show wit­hin a short utter­an­ce that the­re is some kind of infor­ma­ti­on he might be inte­rested in. That he could even­tual­ly be in need of. Even if he doesn’t have a tiny clue what that kind of infor­ma­ti­on that could be.

John keeps that infor­ma­ti­on for about 7 hours. And 7 hours in twit­ter are a life­time. You can dri­ve with your car from Lon­don to Paris in 7 hours.

Final­ly he comes back and…

enjoys kee­ping his secret.

You think I just made that up? Have a look:

johncleese3

Der Weltuntergang

Alles begann mit einer Pres­se­mit­tei­lung in der letz­ten Woche…

Irgend­wann muss­te es halt mal sein. Ewig wür­de sich die Welt nicht hal­ten, davon hät­te man nicht aus­ge­hen kön­nen. Die Mit­tei­lung mach­te in Twit­ter schnell die Runde:

21

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat­te, der bau­te sich kei­nes mehr. Unter­schlupf wur­de aber wei­ter­hin gesucht:

2

Der­weil warf das Unheil ers­te Schatten:

3

… und hek­tisch wur­den die letz­ten Din­ge geregelt…

5

Ja, aber nur weil da jemand den Hape macht, lässt sich der Wel­ten Lauf doch nicht auf Ter­min­ver­schie­bun­gen ein.

4

Nein, nein, der Welt­un­ter­gang war wei­ter­hin für den mor­gi­gen Tag vor­ge­se­hen, auch wenn man im Rhein­land schon auf­plus­ternd anfing zu strei­ten, wo das Event sei­ne Erst­auf­füh­rung haben sollte.

6

7

Nicht ein­mal in Zei­ten des Unheils wird man Rhein­län­der zusam­men­schwei­ßen kön­nen. Aber noch war nichts gesche­hen, noch konn­te man die alte Welt gebüh­rend ver­ab­schie­den. Noch konn­te man in Ruhe konstatieren:

21

Eine gewis­se Span­nung unter den Twit­te­rern konn­te aber nicht abge­strit­ten wer­den, das Unheil nah­te schließ­lich. Zeit für letz­te Vorbereitungen :

21

Leich­ter gesagt als getan…

21

Und dann war es lang­sam soweit. Das Licht wur­de gedimmt…

14

… die letz­ten Pro­ben waren abgeschlossen …

21

… und die ers­te Begeis­te­rungs­stür­me waren zu hören, als der Vor­hang gelüf­tet wur­de und das Schau­spiel begann:

91

Wäh­rend eini­ge noch ungläu­big wirkten…

8

Wur­de er andern­orts schon klar identifiziert:10

1213

Ja und wie war er nun, der Weltuntergang?

21

Also eher ent­täu­schend? Naja, was hat man denn auch erwar­tet? In Zei­ten der Finanz­kri­se hat Petrus auch kei­ne Kapa­zi­tä­ten mehr für so einen umwer­fen­den Welt­un­ter­gang mit allem Pipa­po, da muss man sich auch ein­mal mit weni­ger zufrie­den geben. Oder eben tricksen…

21

Naja, sooo kann ich das auch.

The boy’s taste

I used to think for a long time that I was able to get into a good con­ver­sa­ti­on with peop­le having the stran­gest opi­ni­ons. And it took qui­te a while befo­re I reco­gni­zed that that was an over­esti­ma­ti­on of my capa­ci­ties. The­re are peop­le I’m too unwil­ling to get into con­ver­sa­ti­on with.
Mari­el­la­El­la is not that kind of per­son. I’m sure tal­king to her can be a walk in the park. But she is able to ask ques­ti­ons whe­re­of I don’t have a tiny clue how to ans­wer them:

mariella

Well, asto­nis­hin­gly enough it’s the boys she fucks. I was told the tas­te depen­ded on what boys ate befo­re. I never thought on how to make it beco­me deli­cious. This seems to be her topic. A topic girls talk about? For what? To expe­ri­ence boys depen­ding on their taste?

And also the­re are boys to crea­te a “chai-esque” tas­te? AND it has a ting­ling after-effect? What else are the­se guys able to crea­te? I’m com­for­ta­ble in not being able to com­pe­te with tho­se super­he­roes or James Bonds but this seems to be way bey­ond my capa­ci­ties, too!

The boy’s taste

I used to think for a long time that I was able to get into a good con­ver­sa­ti­on with peop­le having the stran­gest opi­ni­ons. And it took qui­te a while befo­re I reco­gni­zed that that was an over­esti­ma­ti­on of my capa­ci­ties. The­re are peop­le I’m too unwil­ling to get into con­ver­sa­ti­on with.
Mari­el­la­El­la is not that kind of per­son. I’m sure tal­king to her can be a walk in the park. But she is able to ask ques­ti­ons whe­re­of I don’t have a tiny clue how to ans­wer them:

mariella

Well, asto­nis­hin­gly enough it’s the boys she fucks. I was told the tas­te depen­ded on what boys ate befo­re. I never thought on how to make it beco­me deli­cious. This seems to be her topic. A topic girls talk about? For what? To expe­ri­ence boys depen­ding on their taste?

And also the­re are boys to crea­te a “chai-esque” tas­te? AND it has a ting­ling after-effect? What else are the­se guys able to crea­te? I’m com­for­ta­ble in not being able to com­pe­te with tho­se super­he­roes or James Bonds but this seems to be way bey­ond my capa­ci­ties, too!

The moment after

Heinz Erhardt, an old ger­man come­di­an (yes, the­re are some), did once a play that only con­sists of wor­ds with the let­ter “G” (“Gera­de Gewürz­gur­ken geges­sen.”). Well, ger­man humour nowa­days is still so seda­te, a play like that would never have star­ted this way:

geradegut

In english: “Just fucked well. fboes shags excel­lent­ly. Sad­ly I didn’t come. But I got used to that. Gree­tings and kisses.”
The­se are 5 sen­ten­ces and what is unusual­ly in ger­man: Alt­hough they are very short they tell dif­fe­rent things.
So there’s Tif­fy and she has a sexu­al rela­ti­ons­hip to fboes, who is qui­te good in bed accord­ing to her. Good for her, good for him. This time she didn’t come. And she’s used to that. Used to what? That fboes doesn’t care about her in bed? That she’s not com­ing with him? That sex ends abrupt­ly so that both have to car­ry on tal­king about what hap­pend in twit­ter? Ouuuuhh.
fboes doesn’t seem to be much of a tal­ker. He’s not tal­king about Tif­fy or even to Tif­fy on twit­ter, alt­hough he’s her only con­tact on twit­ter (One day I’m going to find out what this only-having-one-person-to-follow-thing is all about).
But Tif­fy seems to be hap­py with the situa­ti­on. Good. I guess.

The arousement

I thought I had reached a boar­der during the last weeks. Do you remem­ber Mr bou­vierm? I thought that game thing was over. Do you remem­ber Ellen? I thought that sho­wing yours­elf thing was over.

I am so stupid.

The­re seems to be some­thing in the­se things I still haven’t got­ten into. There’s still the ten­si­on of com­bi­ning the­se things. Let’s have ano­t­her try to under­stand it.

This is Cel­tic­Frog. I don’t know what a cel­tic frog is, do you? Also I don’t wan­na pre­tend after having goog­led all that can be found, that this con­cept belongs to my know­ledge. It just doesn’t. And I don’t miss it. May­be she has a like for the cel­tic cul­tu­re. May­be she thinks she looks like a frog. May­be cel­tic frogs are spe­cial ani­mals taken from a star trek epi­so­de we all haven’t seen.

Any­way, Cel­tic­Frog obvious­ly has a fri­end. And she mis­ses him from time to time. And if you still got Mr. bou­vierm in your mind or Ms. Ellen, you could alre­ady guess what’s com­ing up:

At first glance I thought this was the see­min­gly new usa­ge of “to mas­tur­ba­te”, intro­du­ced by Google:

But no, appar­ent­ly Cel­tic­Frog is plan­ning some kind of erotic game for the night, which does not fit into her boyfriend’s plans. Somehow.

No, I don’t want to go down that road tel­ling you that her guy is try­ing to avo­id to take part in her games.

He’ll defi­net­ly know she’s play­ing that kind of games in the inter­net as well.

The emo boarding

Wit­hin the last tweet we found out some­thing more about the world of man­hood and its chall­an­ges. That topic brought us to the ques­ti­on: What’s the grea­test chal­len­ge of woman­hood nowadays?

Won­der­girl has an ans­wer to that question:


In english: We deci­ded in chick talk that we all want to fuck an emo one day.
The­se girls refer to the actu­al defi­ni­ti­on of “emo” as given in wic­tiona­ry: “A young per­son who is con­s­i­de­red to be over-emotional or ste­reo­ty­pi­cal­ly emo”. I used to pic­tu­re it this way:

In the old days it was a challan­ge for women to “walk like an egyp­ti­an” and other types of adap­t­ing dif­fe­rent roles. The­se days are clear­ly over.
But how come fuck­ing an emo is one of the most inte­res­ting chall­an­ges a woman can expe­ri­ence the­se days? Are the­re more of the­se deci­si­ons done in chick talk we should bet­ter be infor­med about? Do they expect the emo to cry? Do they wan­na have someo­ne insi­de their bed being more stly­ed then they are?

Or do I miss the essen­ti­al point of fuck­ing emo’s?

The brave

Today Mike Ray gives us a spe­ci­fic look into the male world of complaints:

So, fre­quent­ly Mike gets shots into his ass. It does not seem to be that much of impor­t­an­ce who’s shoo­ting at him or what it is, that is shot into his ass. For him the expe­ri­ence of being shot into his ass is the thing he wants to sha­re via twitter.
As you can read he’s being shot into his ass more than once, but see­min­gly the last time was qui­te a while ago. In the mean­ti­me he almost for­got that kind of suf­fe­ring. What he did not for­get in that time was the suf­fe­ring from being kicked into his balls. May­be that hap­pen­ed more often. This expe­ri­ence is so pre­sent in his mind that he thinks he can com­pa­re it to being shot into the ass qui­te easi­ly so that the reader will under­stand him.
What whit­hin both expe­ri­en­ces real­ly dis­turbs him is not the pain, but the “extre­me dis­com­fort”. So as it is not the phy­si­cal pain that dis­turbs you after being kicked into your balls, it has to be a psychic one. It could be a fee­ling of weak­ness. The fee­ling to be kno­cked out. The fee­ling not being ready to fight back imme­dia­te­ly. The fee­ling of not being a man.

Appar­ent­ly the bold­ness of get­ting shot in the ass or being kicked into your balls is the last resort of man­hood nowa­days. At least for Mike. Women somehow don’t do that or can’t do that. But the resi­dence in that resort lasts only seconds and qui­te quick­ly men are expel­led out of para­di­se. What a sad story.

Hope­ful­ly you have a few other hob­bies, Mike.

The lady’s juice

This week’s tweet is in a way real­ly a clas­si­cal one. Twit­ter used to start with the moti­vating ques­ti­on “What are you doing?”. After a while the users chan­ged their habit in ans­we­ring this ques­ti­on into ans­we­ring the ques­ti­on “What are you thin­king?”. Well that ques­ti­on isn’t far away from the for­mer. Befo­re you start doing some­thing you usual­ly think.

The ques­ti­on that comes next to be ans­we­red seems to be: “What is going on with your body at this very moment?”. A woman cal­led Ellen tells us in ans­wer to that question:

This is in english some­thing like “My fin­gers smell of the juice of my pus­sy: Sweet, sour­ly, spi­cy, deli­cous.” And it seems to be in a way part of a move­ment in ger­ma­ny . On top of their natio­nal book list is a book with almost the same topic and also this kind of juice seems to be a new form of pre­sent in germany.

The resent­ments of the com­mon twit­ter readers con­cer­ning the­se kind of tweets are some­thing like: We’re not inte­rested in the­se flu­ids or what anyo­ne does with them. We don’t expect anyo­ne on twit­ter to tell us some­thing about their illus­tra­ted thoughts about them.

The spe­cial thing about Ellen in com­pa­ri­son to others wri­ting about sexu­al acts is that she does not try to sell sex through twit­ter. She might want to pro­vo­ke others and find satis­fac­tion in doing so. Well, we don’t feel pro­vo­ked. We actual­ly do think she tou­ches a bor­der bet­ween pri­va­cy and publi­ci­ty. And she does it that way that there’s not­hing sexu­al left we want to find out about her.

That’s not bad in tactics.

The lady’s juice

This week’s tweet is in a way real­ly a clas­si­cal one. Twit­ter used to start with the moti­vating ques­ti­on “What are you doing?”. After a while the users chan­ged their habit in ans­we­ring this ques­ti­on into ans­we­ring the ques­ti­on “What are you thin­king?”. Well that ques­ti­on isn’t far away from the for­mer. Befo­re you start doing some­thing you usual­ly think.

The ques­ti­on that comes next to be ans­we­red seems to be: “What is going on with your body at this very moment?”. A woman cal­led Ellen tells us in ans­wer to that question:

This is in english some­thing like “My fin­gers smell of the juice of my pus­sy: Sweet, sour­ly, spi­cy, deli­cous.” And it seems to be in a way part of a move­ment in ger­ma­ny . On top of their natio­nal book list is a book with almost the same topic and also this kind of juice seems to be a new form of pre­sent in germany.

The resent­ments of the com­mon twit­ter readers con­cer­ning the­se kind of tweets are some­thing like: We’re not inte­rested in the­se flu­ids or what anyo­ne does with them. We don’t expect anyo­ne on twit­ter to tell us some­thing about their illus­tra­ted thoughts about them.

The spe­cial thing about Ellen in com­pa­ri­son to others wri­ting about sexu­al acts is that she does not try to sell sex through twit­ter. She might want to pro­vo­ke others and find satis­fac­tion in doing so. Well, we don’t feel pro­vo­ked. We actual­ly do think she tou­ches a bor­der bet­ween pri­va­cy and publi­ci­ty. And she does it that way that there’s not­hing sexu­al left we want to find out about her.

That’s not bad in tactics.

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