Sunday, December 26, 2010

A Young HERM Unchained

A bit of nostagia with a small twist ...

When Other People Say
You're Someone To Misuse
Shut In Behind Your Young Girl's Face
And Helpless In Your Bed Of Thorns
I'll Remember Who You Are
Yes I'll Remember Who You Are
I'll Remember Who You Are:
A Young HERM, Unchained
Come Back Here Now
I Know You're Somewhere Still Alive
Strong Behind Your Young Girl's Tears
I Know You're Somewhere, Unchanged
Oh I Remember Who You Are
Yes I Remember Who You Are
I Remember Who You Are:
A Young HERM, Unchained
(The complete original lyrics can be found here)

All it needed was changing one word here and there ... Almost uncanny, but in the end pretty fitting for "the band that would produce the most stark vignettes of institutional and familial abuse of power ever committed to vinyl".

(Btw, there's another recording of this song with Michael Gira singing instead of Jarboe, the male voice and his intonation adding yet another twist to the last verse.)

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Campaign against forced prenatal steroid "therapy" for "suspected hermaphrodites"

In the USA, an actual campaign is starting against this usually neglected form of forced "normalizations" by prenatally administering dexamethasone on any fetus suspected of being "disordered in it's sex development" (9 out of 10 times, a "normal" unborn is submitted to the various "side effects" of this off label use of steroids.

As all cosmetic "treatments" forced on the intersexed, there is neither evidence nor follow up. In countrary, the ones responsible for these inhumane "treatments" try to avoid such things at all cost. Other than former "intersex campaigns", this one is less about medical reform than about actually stopping known perps, namely Maria I. New, which makes it so much more exciting.

So far, a formal complaint demanding an official inquiry on these decade long, inhumane "human experiments" was logged by 35 bio-ethicists. This complaint was made public by a website with additional info.

Advocates for Informed Choice (AIC) published an official statement.

More is in the making ...

If this is getting played out nicely, this could be the very first time criminal surgeons and/or endocrinologists could at least be actually coerced or even stopped by the power of nonviolent action. Can't wait!

>>> Advocates for Informed Choice (AIC)
PS: >>> Hilde Lindemann, Ellen K. Feder, and Alice Dreger @ Bioethics Forum / Hastings Center

Friday, November 27, 2009

Boy, do I look old this early in the morning ...

"Justice for Santhi Soundarajan and Caster Semenya!"
(Photo: Reuters)

Ok, so it was a wee bit early when we went after the IOC, even for one of our infamous mini-rallies.

(Btw., here's what it was about in a nutshell, and here's a some essential background.)

Reckon I should work out more often. Not to mention getting a bit of regular sleep every now and then. This is just too much, or even plain unhealthy, and it just never ends like.

However, still like the above one especially, this AFP-snapper Fabrice Coffrini seemed to dig some humour as well (also I can blame everything on the wide angle like that).

(Photo: Ärger)

And since there were ahem more photojournos than demonstrators, this statue below in front of the entrance of the IOC came quite handy, as we had to leave the placards somewhere in order to deliver our Open Letter.

Not to mention the statue looking obviously more glamourous than the two of us ...

Anyways, all things considered, actually went down quite well.

Except maybe for the New York Times reducing my beautiful hermaphrodite girlfriend to a mere 'woman' in their blurb – shame on youse:

Ah well, guess you just can't win 'em all, I'm afraid ...

(Speaking of, it's a week later now, but I'm still wrapping up. At least yesterday slept more than 5 hours in a row since I don't remember when – actually 13 hours more or less straight, but today coming from work still just passed out again. Not to mention all of the rest I should really, really have finished yesterday. Also the explanation why I didn't manage posting anything here erm lately.)

And, just in case I didn't mention yet:

Background article: The Hounding of Caster Semenya and the Extermination of Hermaphrodites in the "Developed World"

The rally: "Justice for Santhi Soundarajan and Caster Semenya!"

The Open Letter: Unfair Treatment of (suspected) Intersex Athletes

Another nice article in english, about this year's children's hospital rally: Campaign against corrective surgery

Even more english language stuff @

See you around ...

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

The Shooting of Oscar Grant: Some Thoughts on Real Life Big Brother

Of course Anger saw this one first. This is what we were hoping for and talking about at the peak of being busy with Big Brother for the cops eventually made true by the rise of cellphone vidcams. No way without this video the copper would've gotten that much flak (erm, actually still next to nothing). I mean, they're shooting and maiming people all he time anyways, but the fact this now getting out into public will at least change their easy going attitude about it, or so says my 2 cents.

Sweet irony: The video is from youtube and I'm publishing this on blogspot, both owned by Real Life BIG Big Brother Google. So reckon I'm off now cleaning the cookies I had to accept for logging in here, plus refusing them again ... (Done.)

Below an even more close-up vid of the shooting, for a change coming from a much smaller company:

Your browser is not able to display this multimedia content.

However, the posters' blog again is ...

Still, lots of infos 'n' updates ... Respect! This isn't over yet ...

(Also a nice one: the ever indispensable Not yet a subscriber to their newsletter? Your loss ...)

Monday, December 29, 2008

Wish I was so alone till it hurts and I can feel again

Hate seeing pity in other people's eyes.

It's dark outside, the earth is frozen, and I'm off to the woods.

Getting closer ... any day now ...

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Hermaphrodites as cannon fodder, erm, 'important empirical support' for 'transgender or queer identities or politics'

My comment on a review over at Feministe of the new book about Intersex, "Fixing Sex" by Katrina A. Karkazis:
as a partner and ally of an intersex activist i have to admit i'm having very mixed feelings about this post.

on the one hand i'm very grateful for any highlighting of the 'invisible' existence of intersexed people (1 in every 2000 by the way) and how our 'western civilised' society tries to literally extinct them as a species by probably the worst atrocities and crimes against the humanity under the guise of 'science' and 'medicine' since 1945. and i'm also especially grateful for even the slightest mention of hermaphrodites' decadelong fight against the inhumane practice of forced genital surgery and castration in early childhood, followed by lifelong forced hormone and other non-consented (mostly not even informed informed) "treatments", since i think it should receive a lot more solidarity and active support. so, for one, i'm very happy about this post.

unfortunately, on the other hand, in this review, once more the ongoing struggle of the intersexed and their key demand of ending the forced surgeries immediately (which as far as i know is amply described in the book) is hardly mentioned at all.

once more the focus is not on the intersexed, but solely on gender issues.

once more, the very person who coined the terms 'gender' (as opposed to sex), 'gender identity' and 'gender role' etc. in the fifties, and who used it as the "scientific" grounds for bringing in effect the still ongoing "genocide of hermaphrodites", and who explicitly defined himself as a feminist ally (and who dismissed critique against his inhumane practice as part of the 'backlash' to drive 'women back to the spheres of domesticity', is also omitted -- despite that he's mentioned 7 times just in the intro of karkazis' book (from wich by the way all the quotes in the review were taken):

thus once more the struggle of the intersexed against the atrocities commited against them gets no coverage, but instead hermaphrodites are reduced to a mere 'important empirical support' for 'transgender or queer identities or politics'.

same in most comments.

no offence, but every time i'm confronted with this frequent "re-use" of the intersexed, i'm suddendly feeling like i should puke for the rest of my life.

how can you protest e.g. against female genital cutting in other cultures -- and tolerate (and even "re-use") intersex genital cutting in your very own?

don't you have a heart?!

by all that is human: how about a little practical help, support, solidarity, political action etc. specifically for the intersexed -- instead of just gender-talk and advancing your own agenda?!!


and whithin the parameters of feminism, gender studies and queer theory: how about perhaps some due critical review of the (not always so bright) sources of the concept of gender and all their implications?

(again, no offence, but i can really hardly stand it)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Call me Mr Guest-List

Firewater played Zurich for the 1st time ever. Didn't catch them live for quite some time. However, a mate, when offered to put some more on the local guest-list was nice enough to give Anger a call, so baby and yours truly went on the list just as well. And she even came along.

Abart is a nice club, though could hardly afford their regular fees, so it's an easy guess when I might last've been there. Still like their sound system, though being compliant with the drastic swiss decibel laws, at least they're squeezing it all the way, and unlike other clubs whithout pushing the most painful and damaging frequencies (which ironically are exactly the ones that are still legal to turn up the most, and coincidentally also what even real cheap PAs are really good at).

Frankly was more into Cop Shoot Cop (pre-Firewater), especially the first two albums (though "Everybody loves you when you're dead" from the 3rd is a lyric I'm still quoting every once in a while), but still like Tod's no bullshit attitude, and the music was pretty uplifting, so we all had a great ole time dancing and shouting in front of the stage (your's truly just next of the subwoofers, in case anybody harbored any doubts).

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Love's not dead, it just deserves to die ...

It's been a while now since I last experienced something like this, but tonight in this club, when recognising my shadow on the wall, for a quick moment instinctively went like, who the fuck is this, that's not me there, no way, that's not my silhouette, who's this bloke with this evenly round, round skull, if this'd be me, well, there's something missing, doesn't feel comfy, doesn't feel right, where are my lumpies, wanna have them all back, wanna be myself again, wanna be back whole, lumpies, warts, edge 'n' all.

Little while later, staring into the sunrise, earth still dark below, 11 hours of sleep in 4 days, too many beers too fast, eventually having hit the gate just 2 or 3 minutes before boarding (though still got a seat with the right view, you bet), and it's beautiful, sun still coming up, while I'm trying to figure out the words of my personal version of this Dead Kennedys song, and fittingly funny, for the life of me couldn't come up with the parts bout the money, cause that's what's different, give you that.
Love's not dead, it just deserves to die
when it becomes another stale cartoon
Who needs a friend scared to love and to feel
judging everything by money rules appeal

Harder core than thou for a year or two
Then it’s time to get a real job
Who needs friends when the money’s good
‘cept to take, take, take and never give

The more things change, the more they stay the same
We can’t grow, when we won’t criticise ourselves
Ripping people off, when they share their heart
When someone falls, are there any friends?

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

In an extraordinary move, two lasses and a husband of Intersexuelle Menschen e.V. Germany flew to New York to present their awesome Shadow Report to the CEDAW Committee – and had them gasping ...

(Btw. Baby's story's the first one af themse plenty addendums.)

So let's hope the heat will be on (not only) for the German Federal Government ... especially after the 43th CEDAW Session in Geneva in January 2009!

And yes, now awailable in english, too ...

... on (who might have guessed?)

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

My Beautiful Hermaphrodite Girlfriend

Sunday 06.07.2008, main entrance Children's Hospital Zurich ...

For the non german speaking of yez, here's what it's all about in a nutshell (from the flyer):
About every 2000th baby is born with ambiguous genitalia ('intersexed' / hermaphrodites). At Children's Hospital Zurich, like in other places, small babies are regularly 'prophylactically' castrated and forcefully submitted to surgery on their ambiguous genitals without their consent. With an open letter by the self-help group to the Children's Hospital Zurich we'd like to protest against this inhuman code of practice and help to abolish the public taboo about these systematical human rights violations.
(Stills © Anger /

Shirt: Stop Forced Genital Surgery!
Banner: Human Rights For Herms Too!

Ok, admit not having followed the news on the telly for quite a while now. Colour me baffled nonetheless. I mean, did you hear him, saying 'castrating' on air, prime time sunday evening? Tagesschau 12 points!

Big thanks to everybody who contributed to make it all happen, and a special one to everybody involved at Tagesschau!

>>> more rally-pics at

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Menschenrechte auch für Zwitter!

Tagesschau vom 06.07.2008, 19:30

Menschen, die keinem der beiden Geschlechter zugeordnet werden können, nennt man Intersexuelle. Bislang wurden diese Menschen als Baby operativ korrigiert, um ein geschlechtstypisches Aussehen herzustellen. Dagegen demonstrierten Betroffene in Zürich.
Tagesschausprecher: Sie sind weder Mann noch Frau, sie sind sowohl Mann als Frau. Die sogenannten Intersexuellen. Schätzungsweise 2 bis 3 % der Weltbevölkerung ist keinem der beiden Geschlechter zuzuordnen. Oft werden diese Menschen bereits als Baby, also ohne ihre Einwilligung, operativ korrigiert, um ein geschlechtstypisches Aussehen herzustellen. Viele werden dabei gleichzeitig auch kastriert. Gegen dieses Vorgehen demonstrierten heute Betroffene vor dem Zürcher Kinderspital.

Kommentar: Daniela Truffer ist intersexuell geboren. Genetisch ein Mann, aufgrund der äusseren Geschlechtsorgane nicht eindeutig einem Geschlecht zuzuordnen. Noch bevor sie zweijährig war, wurde sie kastriert und zu einem Mädchen operiert.

Daniela Truffer: Dann hat man die Eltern angewiesen, mit niemanden darüber zu reden und auch mich, mit niemandem darüber zu reden und niemandem zu sagen, dass ich nicht wirklich eine Frau bin und so, weil das sei dann das soziale Aus.

Kommentar: Rund und ein Dutzend Betroffene und Angehörige treten mit ihr an die Öffentlichkeit. Sie wollen das gesellschaftliche Tabu brechen. Mit einem offenen Brief an das Spital machen sie auf ihre anliegen aufmerksam.

Daniela Truffer: Wir haben Forderungen an die Ärzte und zwar, ähm, dass sie unsere Selbstbestimmungsrecht achten, dass sie nicht an uns rum- herumoperieren ohne unsere Einwilligung. Und wir haben Forderungen an die Politik, dass sie ähm auch Gesetze schafft, die uns schützt vor solchen Eingriffen und auch ähm gesetzlich ein Zwischengeschlecht quasi etabliert.

Kommentar: Intersexualität ist vor allem auch ein gesellschaftliches und für die Betroffenen ein psychisches Problem. Dem will das Kinderspital auch Rechnung tragen.

Daniel Weber: Wir möchten mit Betroffenen, mit Eltern, mit Patientenorganisationen Kontakt pflegen, weil wir von ihnen lernen können. Sie haben als Betroffene das Leid einer Fehlbildung durchlebt und sie haben oft auch ein grosses Fachwissen in diesem Bereich. Wenn wir in dem Gespräch mit diesen Leuten lernen können, so können wir dieses Wissen an unsere Patienten, die wir heute behandeln, weiter geben.

Kommentar: Denn auch heute ist eines von 2000 Neugeborenen geschlechtlich nicht zuzuordnen. Eine Tatsache, die sie ihr Leben lang begleitet.

ich habe eine fantasie von mir als intaktem zwitter: eher weiblich aussehend, aber irgendwie kerlig, grösser, mehr muskeln, vielleicht eine aussenseiterin, vielleicht gehänselt als kind, eine biographie, die mich abseits der gesellschaft positioniert, vielleicht würde ich eher auf frauen stehen oder mich aufgrund meiner körperlichen besonderheit (keine vagina) eher in die richtung orientieren (man ist ja anpassungsfähig). vielleicht wäre ich einsam, vielleicht auch nicht. aber ich wäre nicht mein leben lang von hormonen abhängig, ich hätte keine immer wieder kehrenden 'komischen empfindungen' (phantomschmerzen) zwischen den beinen, die ich schon als kind immer empfand, wo ich mich jeweils irgendwo weinend verkriechen musste, einmal rannte ich aus der schule nach hause deswegen, die heute oft im zusammenhang mit einer 'blasenentzündung' auftreten. meine freundinnen beschreiben ihre blasenentzündungen ganz anders. bei mir ist irgendwie noch die 'klitoris' beteiligt. eine "körpererinnerung".
auf diese sch... hätte ich liebend gerne verzichtet! und wenn schon hätte ich lieber selber gewählt, auch wenn es vielleicht eine wahl zwischen zwei übeln gewesen wäre.

und: einsam, eine aussenseiterin, abseits der gesellschaft: so fühle ich mich auch obwohl ich oder eben weil ich kastriert und genitaloperiert wurde (und deshalb unauffällig bin auf der strasse).

ich kenne zwitter, die als frau leben und sich in der rolle wohl fühlen, ihren mikropenis (obwohl durch testosteronmangel geschrumpft) aber noch haben und wohl mehr lust empfinden als genitaloperierte zwitter.

es geht nicht um die frage, ob ich mich in der rolle als frau wohl fühle. ich habe nicht das bedürfnis, mich nachträglich in richtung mann operieren zu lassen. ich fühle mich schlicht und einfach nicht wohl in der rolle des angelogenen, verarschten, erniedrigten, gegen seinen willen kastrierten und genitaloperierten menschen, der hormone fressen muss und zwischen den beinen nicht nur gute gefühle hat.
--> mehr

OFFENER BRIEF: Geschlechtszuweisende chirurgische Genitalkorrekturen ohne medizinische Indikation, wie sie offensichtlich auch im Kinderspital immer noch regelmässig an Kleinkindern durchgeführt werden, sind auch in der medizinischen Lehre alles andere als unumstritten. Nach wie vor gibt es keine gesicherten Erkenntnisse, dass sie auf lange Sicht wirksam und sicher sind. Hingegen gibt es viele Indizien, welche ihre Wirksamkeit in Frage stellen.

Weder ist gesichert, dass Genitalkorrekturen langfristig zu besseren psychosozialen Resultaten führen, als wenn sie unterlassen werden. Noch kann garantiert werden, dass ein Kind sich entsprechend der ihm zugewiesene Geschlechtsidentität entwickelt. Im Gegenteil:

"Die Behandlungsunzufriedenheit von Intersexuellen ist [...] eklatant hoch. [...] Ein Drittel [der Patienten] bewertet geschlechtsangleichende Operationen als zufriedenstellend bzw. sehr zufriedenstellend, ein weiteres Drittel ist unzufrieden bzw. sehr unzufrieden und das letzte Drittel ist z.T. zufrieden, z.T. unzufrieden." (5)

„Auch aus der Literatur ist bekannt, dass sich ein überdurchschnittlich hoher Prozentsatz von Menschen mit DSD im Lauf der Pubertät oder im Erwachsenenalter entschließt, das ihnen zugewiesene soziale Geschlecht zu wechseln.“ (6)

Auch aus ethischen und juristischen Gründen sind prophylaktische Gonadektomien und geschlechtszuweisende chirurgische Genitalkorrekturen an Kindern ohne deren informierte Zustimmung strikt abzulehnen.
--> mehr

Bild: Ärger /

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

'Death, old friend, I wait for you' (Tears 8)

Missed Part 1?

Baby hates doctors for reasons of her own I can hardly compete with, not even by throwing in the odd lawyers, cops, politicians etc. However, still isn't exactly that I like doctors either, wrong number, no way.

Just supposing I might get into physical violence against others some day, the first person I'd like to seriously hurt physically (like breaking his nose at least) still is this one particu-liar!-ly fine doctor, teaching me never going to a hospital alone again by carving it into my body: guinea pig readily strapped on table, doctor harvesting my lungs for samples, going on and on and on, knocking me out intravenously the very moment I started complaining ...

At which point in my life I hadn't even met the other nice fella from airport prison yet. Not to mention another old or new friend here or there. No, I don't like doctors.

But why I personally really hate them all as a caste stems probly from eventually learning how my grandfather had died. Read it and weep, cause no matter how dead I'm inside these other days, this one always makes me cry.

His body and stature had always been pretty similar to mine, though I'd grown a bit taller in the end, and I reckon he also shared this particular experience, that what worked perfectly fine on thousands and thousands of other patients, almost always would f**k up terribly wrong on this one particular body. All of his life, with regards to health related issues, he (like my father almost till today) strictly observed one rule and one rule only: Never ever go seeing no doctor at all never ever. Not as long as you can walk or crawl in the opposite direction. Never unless some one else rolls you in unconscious or else unable to resist. Never. Literally. Ever.

So, after my grandfather's second stroke, rolled him in once more. Eventually still makes it. But then, apparently there's something's wrong with his feet ... turning black ... cut up a toe, blood all curdled inside ...

Tough decision: If they'd not amputate both feet quickly, he'll die for sure. However, weak as he was after the stroke, if they cut off his feet now, he'd most definitely die on the spot.

So they let him die slowly with his feet on. Obviously as per usual without even hooking him up on morphines properly, them bloody f***ing b*stards.

Looking backwards, still can't get over how having been such a hopeless letdown that I didn't go to see him in the hospital just because I was told not to. It's such a lie, pretending preventing me from doing so'd prevent any harm to anyone, in contrary. Just the same old 'grown-up' fuss of shying away from death, making it just all the worse, and plenty of it, praise be.

My grandfather was probly the hardest man I ever knew. Thogh 'hard' mostly not in the sense of being so to others, but in terms of being able to go on relentlessly despite any pain. Would hardly notice it in the corners of his mouth, but then onwards, always onwards. Like the song in school, about the heart that always has to run like the river, day and night, but in death may rest, eventually. Things that would have others cringe and/or going up the walls, he wouldn't even mention, let alone complain about.

And there he was, lying in this hospital bed. Dying slowly, day after day, night after night. Praying to die faster, screaming out loud from this room to the lord, to hurry on, to take away his left leg, then the right one, then hands, arms, and all of the rest, please, please, now! Hours and hours, day and night, night and day.

Which is why I eventually still learned about it in the end , cause everybody in this part of the hospital couldn't help but to bear witness, including somebody I got to know much closer couple of years later down the road.

Still, how sad and hard it ever might've been to learn about this firsthand, it's better to know. And it's a bloody lie that he'd suffered more if I'd been allowed to see him or just had gone doing so anyway.

He always was fond of me like probly nobody else except a grandfather carefully making up for the mistakes when his own son was of the same age. Seeing me would've meant less pain, not more. For both of us.

Truth hurts, sometimes plenty, yes, but seldom as much as lies. While on the other hand, lies hurt always more.

Silently I wore my pain from not having seen him again for years to come, muffled inside this nameless dark grown-up cloud of don't mention it, not to the young ones, it's better they don't know at all, for their own sake. F**k you!

About his pain, reckon I only started actually realising what must've happened to him when the thing on my head went wrong and my skin started dying off on me. Which was one of the most painful experiences ever and a pretty nasty one for that too, cause it hurts so f***ing much and it takes so f***ing loooong til the dying parts finally turn dead and are done with. And that bit on my head was just skin and for that only the size of about one single toe, as compared to his two whole feet.

It's so unfair. Yes, my grandfather was a stubborn man, sometimes even irate, but whatever he demanded, he also backed it up on his part, and always more than just that, dying breed an all. No, it's so not fair.

How could I ever forgive God? Perhaps because he would want me to. My grandfather, that is.

Bloody f***ing b*stards, too. Could've turned off his pain no sweat. But no, obviously didn't care to. Just tight on the morphine, now that'd come as a surprise, wunnit? What worked for thousands and so on. Doctors. Yes, there's hardly a fouler word, and in case I didn't mention, no, don't like them b*stards either, no way.

However, at the end of the day, what really bugs me is something else.

Like, how to forgive myself?

I'm quite sure, he'd tried to pretend the pain wasn't there if he'd seen me, and I'd played along with it mostly, but I would've taken his hand and he would've known. That I wasn't there, I'll take it to my grave, and as long's there's a single tear left inside this body, just the thought of it will probly always make me cry.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Imagine a country ...

... where someone gets killed by the police every week [1]. At the same time, at least 10 more people die an untimely death in state custody [2]. Week after week, month after month, decade after decade. And not a single copper, goaler or doctor gets sentenced. Not even for unlawful killing, negligence or anything. Not once [3].

On top, since most of the victims were poor, living in bad areas or just black, pretty nobody gave a flying fuck anyway. Year after year, the bereaved gathered for a silent procession followed by noisy protest in front of the prime minister's offices [4]. Since every year there were more bereaved than the year before, the protests kept on growing.

However, as usual no one else came ...


The UK has probably the grimmest death in custody toll of all Europe. According to official figures, every year about 600 people die in state custody. And everytime afterwards, the bereaved are just getting fucked over again.

Think about it.

[1] Official figures. However, the total count per year you have to add yourself ...
[2] Different official figures (see chart at bottom). Now that's more convenient, innit? And also I'd say that charts looks more impressive. Police Custody figures pretty lower, though.

Last year's uk.indy feature 2006:

Think again.

This year's flyer. Click to enlarge.

The above is a piece I originally published on uk.indymedia ( Since this year the anarchist bookfair changed its traditional date and now is on the same saturday as the march (oviously oblivious of the march taking place on the last sat in oct for 9 years now), there were some well, at least partly a bit dubious comments, which make me once again wonder if so little 'radical' people would attend the annual march (or even know about it) if it was organised and led by white middleclass activists instead of people of colour ...

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad

All pics © Baby 2007 -- click 'em to enlarge!

Am afraid I'm constantly doing the wrong thing. Like e.g. going up the hills hiking with baby for 3 cloudy days, instead of working straight through my entire two weeks 'holiday', trying to catch up on some of them projects I'm still waaaay behind with. Not to mention adding another 2 days when learning that eventually there'd be some sun for a change (which was why I wanted to go there in the first place, now that the surgery-scars are healed up enough to allow me getting some for the first time in almost two years). Of course took the laptop with me, incl. plenty work and all the best intentions, but in the end did squat (well, except ongoing correspondence, processing book orders and other impossible-to-be-postponed-at-all everyday stuff).

Of course didn't help me catching up on anything I should've finished about the year before last year, and I've got some really hard deadlines coming up book-projects wise. And after the 'holiday' the new semester kicking in real hard, plus the callcenter-job, and of course my obligations to the dole office (though at the mo with regards to the ladder, let's just say hope the person responsible for my file there doesn't read this ...).

However, despite working on everything as hard as I can for the last 6 weeks, still don't get far. Actually already have a bad conscience when e.g. sleeping for twelve hours for a change like last night, though over the last week still doesn't add up to more than probly 7 hours per day. Not to mention the GP telling me my stomach problem though still being far from an actual ulcer, that's clearly the direction I'm headed, and even if I did a total U-turn immediately, still can take 6 months to lose my symptoms. Well, nutrition-wise deftly complied at least 98%, i.e. skipping everything that's preprocessed, plus generally supper. So stomach's better now, but I'm starting to loose weight fast, already shed more than 5 kilos, and not the fat of course. Though working out, fat chance of fitting that into the schedule somehow anyway ...

Still like a lot the pics baby made during these 5 days (somehow from above even ugly LA-type smog can look good), so couldn't resist uploading some in chronological order, hoping y'all are gonna like 'em too ...

All pics © Baby 2007 -- click 'em to enlarge!

Thursday, September 06, 2007

'Pills Against Aircraft Noise'

Finally two weeks off. Well, at least from dole and callcenter, that is. Meaning not necessarily from last semester's paper, the plenty remaining job hours, the layout of the leppin book, the next one etc., all of it due about yesterday.

Still, at least means don't need to read any of the papers or mags published by my new old employer.

Though, as Baby went through the daily paper yesterday, couldn't help myself noticing the caption 'Pills Against Aircraft Noise' screaming into my optical ears.

Of course wasn't about pills actually eliminating the actual noise, but rather doctors paid and sent by the authorithy prescribing sleeping pills to residents living next to the new Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok. 35 year old Thanatos (!) Preebem, on sleeping pills for a month now, to AFP: 'Without the pill I couldn't sleep at all.'

Hey, actually just like @ e.g. Zurich Airport Prison for I don't know how many years or even decades ...

Ah, Switzerland! Proudly bearing the torch of humanity to where no civilised man has gone before!

Though, as a kid in school, was told only evil communist russians would do such things, like keeping their inmates drugged. So perhaps rather a backlash. Which idiot came up with the idea of tearing this darned wall down etc., anyways. (Shame on you, Mr. Waters, all your fault. Should've listened closer to 'Holidays in the Sun'.)

But never mind. At airport prison, almost only alien inmates, too, who cares.

Hilariously enough, another caption invading my privacy, about contemporary russia: 'Even recalcitrant seniors getting labeled "extremist" [a.k.a. 'terrorist'].' After the russian parliament adopted a tightened extremism legislation, a new wave of trials sweeps the nation. Though the law being officialy aimed at neonazi thugs, the police mostly targetting simple citicens and moderate political opponents, many of them facing jailtime, as the correspondent reports from Moscow.

Hey, erm, actually just like everywhere in the rest of the world, too, innit?!

Though Russia in the West probly still being the more popular punching bag, you can bet.

The more things change, some don't.

Welcome to the brave new future!

(a.k.a. straight back to the middle ages ...)

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Stomach ulcer, anyone?

Ugh, reckon shouldn't've eaten these continental style chips. Visiting my sis, celebrating the kids' birthedays, had left from Zurich in a hurry and without breakfast, so just needed something in my stomach quickly before eventually having supper. Or so I'd thought anyways.

Well, afterwards you're always smarter, and mostly we all do learn by painful experiences, right? Still thought could trick my stomach by eating a deacent muesli after having returned, and for a while even seemed to eventually work out. Until I laid down, that is. Suddenly all of the apparently rather indigestible, fatty sauce welling up again, dishing out serious pain.

Even worse, while all the upper part of my stimach felt in flames, there was one spot that felt more like caused by a welding torch instead of the overall coal heating.

Ouch, guess we all know what that's hinting at.

And ok, things are really bit over the top of my head lately. Deftly more than unsual and way more than within the limits of healthy living anyway.

However, just dropping three quarters of all the stuff on my neck isn't exactly an option either.

At least not as long as I'm still able somehow getting up the next morning, that is ...

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Shock and awe

DU Baby # 20 © Dr. Jenan Hassan

Of all the photos of ye olde collections of Depleted Uranium Babies from Afghanistan and Iraq ('unredacted' -- YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMARILY WARNED!), for obvious reasons the above one always 'appealed' to me most.

With even the places of the lumps vaguely corresponding with how I saw them in the mirror, in my mind always could almost feel the tactile sensation of reaching up with my right hand grabbing the huge motherf***ker.

Though any further, my imagination fails me.

I mean, like do they hurt? Do they hurt bad? Is this child still alive today? If yes, how does it spend its time? Does it go out often? Can it go out at all? Does it still hurt physically? Worse than being the laughing stock? Can anyone else imagine how it would be living in its skin and skull at all?

Even worse, compared with other DU Babies, it seems rather 'underdone'. And, as the below chart suggests, in countries where DU had been deployed by tons and tons, today, when a child is born, parents don't ask 'Is it a boy or a girl?', but 'Is it normal?'

© Thomas M. Fasy (download whole presentation as pdf)

Sweet irony, loadsa grunts, incl. their families are getting a gruesome taste themselves as well. Cause of course, just like the local civilians, they weren't told about DU and its 'side' effects either. Though the top brass knew very well, they refused to tell (my suggestion would be you'd start with 'sequence 2', though not the .mov version). Hell yeah, still pays being a full fledged member of Se Master's Race® in more than just one way.

This is such a sick, sick world we're livin' in (though don't guess too many crawlin round here would need a reminder of that), but are we not all just f***king bloody lucky, now aren't we?!



Same as everyone else who just stood by and didn't care to be bothered ...

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Random General Update

Got a new job, but dole bureaucrazy still on my back. Scheduled for presenting my forms next Tue. Lovely!

Recorded stuff for a TV-Show about gore, gore and even more related thangs. Probly Anger n yours truly will do a regular show-within-the show starting Sept. Will even see some cash (or else), but still wont be enough to kiss the dole goodbye.

Got a new book out! And only today managed to upload some advertisement on our own page. SHAME!

Am busy cycling and mostly regularly working out also in the woods, so my lung is slightly better again, but won't hold my breath, not on other poor puns either.

Got a letter from our restless neighbour , again complaining about 'very unpleasant noises' from my bedroom keeping her up 'all night', even though baby and myself stopped doing anything there but literally sleeping since well before midnight. However, her being 'very sensitive' concerning stuff like that'n'all.

Yes, obviously seems so. Of course didn't tell her where to stick it, but that we're actually very considerate because of her, plus mostly only sleep at my place on the weekends just for the same reason, so in case from now on she should still hear anything despite all our again improved efforts, I'd hope for a little tolerance from her side as well, cause going into the woods for it every time after 10 o'clock frankly wouldn't be an option either.

Up to now did the trick. Even strated being less noisy in the early mornings for an amazing timespan now.

Went to some parties. Mostly on the guest list, though my favourite one being where the wannabe copper security nazi did a body search for allegued weapons but failing to detect my two cans. Even did physically reasonably well, though only with PP3 particle filters in front of my face (them afterwards kinda resembling old cig butts, same colour, same smell).

And hey, second but last new moon, was able making out the milky way from our balcony! Only vaguely, but it was definitely there, at least in the direction away from the city. Awesome.

Still haven't done my last semester's paper. Not to mention finished the huge Leppin book. Nor all the hours of the uni job, nor the other book I've got to do there, too, nor zillion other stuff either.

And yes, am afraid I'm still very lazy on the blog ...

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Lookey who's back ...

Yes, the backwards, erm, FIT Team, again again, in front o thee rampART.

© indy uk (click for more pics & vid)

Boy, do they look well trained, don't they?

Now they're even allowed in other places, too! Travellin around the country wherever duty calls! To boldly go where no other copper has gone before!

© Tash / indy uk (click for more pics)

And yessir, I do like my officers friendly ... or not at all.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Forward Intelligence spelled out (Pt. 2)

Say Cheese! From uk.indy

Last year I wrote bout how I witnessed the Met's glorious 'Backwards Intelligence Team' (as a.o. the clowns call it) photographing everyone entering or leaving thee rampART in Whitechapel in order to put them on file for terrorist activities (i.e. attending a meeting of a political campaign -- btw. whether they actually attended or not).

Well, guess what? Yesterday, the FIT guys were just back for the umpteenth time, at the very same corner -- just for having their own picture taken, too.

An me bucko, if you'd hide your face and play hard to get like demse brave ones, they'd even take you for a free ride probly ... or something ...

more pics n report

even more FITters'n'maties

and two more verry intelligently looking uns
(found here --> scroll down)

edit: just when you thought it was over ...
(hat tip to johnny void)

... but were wrong ...

... again again (and these are very funny lookin fellers indeed!)

+ new feature on uk.indy

... and even LOTS more!

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Corporate Sloppiness Censorship

Ah, the irony. Not sooo long ago, cause of a complaint about 'subversive smere campaigns, especially against the police' and other 'illegal content', no less than The Bavarian County Criminal Department, Interpol Wiesbaden, The Swiss Federal Police Department, The Zurich County Police (Special Division 2), The Zurich District Attorney's Office, they all wanted virtually all of our homepages taken down (plus yours truly held responsible for even more pages he didn't even know about).

However, after a two year legal battle, failed.

Ok, they've been giving us an interesting time, but not once they managed scrapping a single word, link or pic on any of the (rapidly growing) pages, no siree.

Whereas now the 'anti-censorship' dutch Provider just succeeded no sweat, deleting pages at will and locking us out of our own paid site by changing passwords without notice, not to mention thereafter having the cheek of refusing to give us the new ones. I mean, the company we paid, on our own pages!

Ok, eventually some of our security measures kicked in, and eventually, after announcing them the first entries on the net calling them censors, suddenly was no problem doing what all emails and phonecalls earlier didn't achieve: telling us the passwords straight on the phone at once ('though that's not usual').

Too late, boys. Revenge is petty but sweet. Hope makes at least some small dentures into your hip 'anti censorship' rep from better days.

Ok, I'm well aware, though they might've put a smile on some coppers faces, actually the responsibles-but-not-answerables at xs4all (sold to privatised Dutch telecom KPN rsp. kpnqwest 1998, 2006 buying or original provider probly couldn't care less about the content of the pages they took down.

And yes, they didn't do so on purpose, but by merely being sloppy and arrogant as usual.

But frankly, whatever the intent, effects like the ones in question here still aren't exactly improving my freedom of expression (nor anybody else's, I guess).

And yes, just in case you harbored any doubts, there's still plenty actually intended censorship stuff going on, e.g this incident about a flash-game the vatican didn't find funny. However, at least for the moment, even if God's Local Stromtroopers had succeeded, bet you'd still be able enjoying yourself by playing OPERATION: PEDOPRIEST just in spite? (WARNING: 'Extreme Adult Themes')

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Obviously still shows ...

Found this quiz via The Anti-Essentialist Conundrum:

You Are 53% Feminine, 47% Masculine

You are in touch with both your feminine and masculine sides.
You're sensitive at the right times, but you don't let your emotions overwhelm you.
You're not a eunuch, just the best of both genders.

And you know what?

Damn, was I pissed at not being predominantly male!

Despite last post n all.

Really liked the proportion though.

Thankfully, e.g. black boots 'n' trousers (plus cap) seems to fool virtually everybody. Only yesterday, learned a female knowing me only from seeing me selling newspapers in this gayish local pub describing me as 'masculine', colouring me slightly surprised for a sec.

Ok, a long way from probly 90% female for most of my life. Also it's just this quiz which I'm not taking too seriously.

Damn, still just would like having them percentages changed.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Neither pro-feminist nor MRA (Pt. 1)

I identified as a (pro-)feminist for a good part of my life. In Switzerland, where I grew up, in most parts women got the right to vote only in 1971, shortly before my 8th birthday. The last region actually had to be forced to implement it by federal law no earlier than late 1990, almost a decade after non-discrimination on grounds of race, sex, religion (to name but a few) had been written into the constitution in 1981.

So guess the notion women not being treated equally and this not being ok kinda came naturally.

On the other hand, frankly was pretty ill-suited for virtually all of the obligatory he-man-men type stuff anyway, both physically and mentally. My size was at no point above average, and don't get me started on build. Till I began working out at 30, was actually merely skin and bones, to the extent that I'm still glad having grown up before 'anorexic' and 'bulimia' became such buzzwords. (Well, at least no fat either -- before cortisone, that was.)

Also simply failed getting the point. I mean, what's the use, feeling good from making others feel bad? Since I've been a kid, most people always said I've got 'way too misantropic views'. However, always got plenty ideas of activities making me at least much happier than the average 'social' person always in need of putting someone else down first. A concept just beyond me.

Guess I was the perfect victim. Not actually offering the other cheek, but never hitting back. Which kinda results in the same. And of course in getting beaten up or worse every once in a while.

Took me literally decades to realise, plenty people are just cowards, going for people like me for some freebie kicks and punches, and the only way of getting rid of such is looking them straight into the eye, thinking, 'Ok, that's it, go on and I'll hit you as hard as I can.' That's the one funny part about it: Don't even have to say it. And the other: Of course suddenly there isn't any need of actually doing so anymore, but that's another story.

Rather had a knack at skills usually attributed to girls anyway, like languages and other 'soft' disciplines, while definitely not being a star at math and the likes. At seven even learned knitting, out of curiousity, but soon learned better than to talk about it to other boys. (Same as for plenty other things to most people in general, that is, especially 'grown ups'.)

Actually, when it came down to relationships, and there to e.g. adressing emotional issues on both sides, or commitment, mutual responsibilities, and plenty other behaviours usually attributed to women, turned out me being more female than most of my girlfriends.

Of course there were other traits where I'm no exception, on the downside I'm e.g. much, much better at nagging others into sex than keeping up with household chores. (While most of my girlfriends weren't so bad at some also exactly glorious 'female' routines either.)

So, during my twenties digged easily into feminist critique of male behaviour and gender roles in general, and plenty too. Feeling that in a social environment based on equality and without the typical patriarch games, life would definitely be more fun, despite the male priviledges I'd lose.

As said, self-identified as a (pro-)feminist for a good part of my life. Funny enough, took some 'feminists' to eventually change that. And though I still uphold the idea and the notion of making it true, had to realise that what's going down in its name in the real world being quite something else, with which I'd rather not associate myself, nor would want to be associated with either.

(to be continued)

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Sevice to be resumed shortly

Oh noes, been down and out blogwise for a while now. Just too much other stuff wanting to be done. Also only went exercising in the woods every forthnight for over a month now. Bad bad bad.

(Though you can be sure baby's keeping me up for certain other 'sportive activities' plenty, and while that might be a reason for not losing more flesh yet, still, as my sore muscles tell me, doesn't really help gaining either I'm afraid.)

However, looks like I got some substantial portions off my neck now. Like having delivered all the monthly dole formularies with my usual grace, having worked up plenty hours on this semester's uni job, kicked off another presentation there, prepared some german webpages for forthcoming updates, and, best of all, yesterday sent the file of our first Paul Leppin book to the printing office, woooo-haaa!!!

Make no mistake, of course that's just the proverbial tip of the iceberg. Like I'm still on the dole and hating it, there's two expositions I've to deliver for the uni in the next 3 months, there's the second Paul Leppin book (a much bigger bastard) I should've finished for years and latest this month (and today's the 31st), there's two more books I'll have to design and execute for the Institute of Popular Cultures (for these I'll even get paid, imagine), got loadsa folks breathing down my neck when we'll be putting out the next volume SUN KOH (those not yet talking about 'if', that is), and so on.

Still, though sometimes inbetween seems necessary, working too many hours while neglecting too much other stuff won't do it in the long run, no sir.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Spot the difference?

..........................Tages Anzeiger, 25 August '05 © Beat Marti

.....................Murnauer Tagblatt, 8 May '07, © Roland Lory

No, it's not the presence of Helmut K. Schmidt on the 2nd pic.
Nor the different locations. And no, not the wardrobe either.

Not at all.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Negative is positive

Teeheehee -- well, at least everytime it comes down to an HIV-test, that is. And am I not happy in the last years technology advanced as much as that now you can get the results in less than 24 hrs without extra charge?

Funny, still the same guy on the phone delivering the results. Though I'd bet this time he had way less hard news to break. You can tell by the way he does this little break when saying, 'The result is ... negative.' Last time the intermission was just a wee bit longer, and you could clearly hear that he was kinda happy too, not having to tell me else. So I remember thinking like uh-huh, sounds like lotsa bad news today.

Baby was even faster getting the results than me. Less than two minutes after the hotline opened and she'd already sent me the good news by txt. While silly me had to get the number from the net again first, since by accident I put the paper together with the trousers into the washing machine today.

At least no problem remembering the code word, haha. Sometimes folks at the hospital indeed do show some sense of humour. Like they'd seen us arriving there together, and when we went each with somebody for the preliminary quiz, gave me the codeword 'eel', while she got 'zone'. Hawhawhaw.

However, you can bet we'll be doing plenty of eel'n'zone jokes for quite a while ...

(to be continued ...)

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Bad karma & just plain stoopid

Guess we all heard bout safer sex for quite a while now, don't we? All agreed?

Or at least that's what I'd like to think myself. Which is why I'm sometimes a wee bit confused when again having to remove some girl's head from my private parts in bed, explaining why. Not to mention then hearing things along the lines of, 'Oh, really?' (Which in my experience usually includes even the ones used to taking a bit more responability in bed that the average lot, but that's another story.)

Something I'm in all modesty slowly getting kinda familiar with. Until very recently, that is. Not that the situation had been different for a start, I'm afraid. Only insofar that I just didn't.

Man of principles, hawhaw. Not even a special excuse or anything. Actually I'd be in trouble only explaining why instead of merely processing the fact.

Bad karma in my book, both. Even worse, didn't take too may days and I also engaged unsafely in other stuff just so as well. Something I've never done before in my whole life! And despite this time at least there's something like a minor cheap excuse, in the end still boils down to lack of wits and patience, but again, still no real reason. And there I was, thinking people becoming more calm and mature when getting older. Colour me double-perplexed and very ashamed of myself. Not to mention havin been just plain stoopid, again.

Okokok, we both had more or less valid reasons to assume we're probly both still negative. (Not to mention then we didn't do what's considered the classical high risk sexual practice yet.) However, imho there's some things in life when even 99% just isn't enough, and guess what's being the prime example, hm?

So high time coughing up the dosh and going for another test plus negotiating the usual minimal guidelines (a.k.a. if you'd ever do something unsafe with somebody else at least tell me before doing so again with me, which I promise you too).

If we actually find the time going to the test at the required hours, not to mention the results being still in favour of any such things, that is ...

Not that I'm really nervous, but ... still would be better being 100% sure already, now wouldn't it?

(continued ...)

Tuesday, May 08, 2007


Just after hearing local parliament having given the green light for doing this exhibition about author Paul Alfred Müller (german bio) at Schlossmuseum in Murnau, the Bavarian town where he'd lived from 1948 till he died, driving back exactly there for another book presentation @ Antiquariat Hannak, again together with Müllers fellow local scribe Helmut K. Schmid. (Like the famous german expressionist filmmaker of the 20ies, PAM also once adopted Murnau as nom de plume.)

Nearly no actual audience (i.e. people not involved in any of the projects) turning up, and absolutely no turnout financial wise. And for that alla the preparations, not to mention getting up before 8 after almost no sleep ...

However, taped the conversation with H. K. Schmidt, and -- tadaaa -- also got this nice review in Murnauer Tagblatt, which eventually made it all quite worthwile.

Cause besides the pulp scifi stuff we're doing already, both he and P. A. Müller also wrote yet-unpublished nice regular novels with a local touch, but until now we never got an angle getting through to that kinda audience. So the first article in a local newspaper and the exhib coming up in a place were also plenty tourists show up is something to be celebrated.

Which later at night I indeed did. Well, erm, kind of. Together with with a certain kinky babe, to be a wee bit more precise. Though not that I'd let you in on the details here ...

But instead urge all local lurkers to check out this lovely early sixties pulp novel by Schmidt called Hellbreed.

H. K. Schmidt and fan with signed portrait in our PAM-Bio
@ Antiquariat Sammelpunkt Zurich, 25.11.06
© Ingrid Tomkowiak

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Keeping the neighbours awake

Ah, reckon this was just bound to happen sooner or later. Neighbours complaining bout this baby and me having too much fun, that is. Not to mention too long and way too often, too!

Surprisingly enough not the neighbours I had suspected most, but the single mom from the apt. below ours. Nonetheless strictly by the book. I.e. first banging at the wall from below in the still of night, probly waking up everybody a few floors in both directions. Then the next day ringing while my mate still sleeping, complaining 'I didn't get a wink of sleep for two days now.'

Actually the night before Baby and me had been practicing the explicitly romantic variety, contrary to like three nights ago, probly having been he loudest while staying in my apt., but nevermind. And just for the record, even then, though we weren't gagged nor stifling ourselves, weren't actually loud either.

Definitely quieter than them regularly banging up the roller blinds plus stampeding through the apt. and slamming doors when they're late and in a hurry getting off in the mornings. Both things I'd stopped counting how many times they woke me up a long time ago (not to mention even the old lady from above asking them to be a bit more considerate about in vain since way we moved in anyways).

And though this baby and me definitely not being into the 3-minutes way of things clocked from foreplay to falling asleep, during the relevant timeframe 'all night' was still be a wee bit exaggerated too, 'mafraid.

Tellingly she also didn't mention us waking her up, but just her being unable to sleep.

Now despite the house itself, contrary to the doors inside the apts., being built quite solid, I'm aware, if you listen closely, you'll be able hearing it no doubt. Just like loads of other noises, incl. stereos, tvs, kitchens, bathrooms, and also planes and cars outside.

Which is why my educated guess would be the problem being probly more the nature of the sounds than the actual volume.

Or, after I had apologised politely, declaring it hadn't been our intent to cause her discomfort (even true), as Baby put it with an innocent smile, 'Perhaps she'd need 3 earplugs: 2 for up and one for below.'

(continued ...)

Monday, April 30, 2007

Farewell to the beauty farm

Last appointment. Mop up shots. Surgeon was pleased with the scar development. Me too. Meant it, when I thanked him and the assistant.

Though it's still pretty funny touching the scars and especially grafts myself, somebody else touching them does feel nice. Also with regards to the synaestesia thingie with the one on top, feels like being thouched at other parts, too.

Anyways, am glad having them tumors off. Especially cause they just would've kept growing, I reckon.

As to the looks, yeah, well ...

Guess if I really strictly want going unnoticed, would be even more difficult covereing everything with a cap now. But what the f**k.

Funny, how actually it's still a bit like with the lumpies, though fairly more moderate. Especially from my point of view, i.e mankinds immediate reactions mostly beyond my ken. Filtered out automatically, no effort needed. Sweet denial.

Sweet irony as well, since I always got the impressions everybody more troubled about them than yours truly, actually mostly giving in to social pressure.

Peace-offering to all humankind, blablabla. Sorry didn't work out as nicely as it should've.

However, ahem, not exactly my fault really. Neither if you're still offended. Official license, now. Not guilty. Sorry.


And yeah, though I could go for more surgery to make the freaky parts smaller, will just leave 'em as they are, thanks.

Surgeon was nice, also asked about the scar on the hand. The b*stard one, still handing out electric jolts, that is.

Himself he'd fared even less lucky. Fallen from from a horse, back broken. Though definitly lucky enough so the spinal chord remained unharmed. Still has to go wear a corset for half a year, since he's got no assurance for sickness daily allowance, as he said.

Copied me the whole folder with all my pix, also some I hadn't had before, so brace for an update at some point.

So, after 11 months in 'n' out, looks like I just left the beauty farm for good. Walking towards the bus stop, hit the air with both fists and turned the phones a bit louder than usual.