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?) http://intersex.shadowreport.org
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
http://intersex.shadowreport.org
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):
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 Zwischengeschlecht.info
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 Zwischengeschlecht.org 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.
Shirt: Stop Forced Genital Surgery!
Banner: Human Rights For Herms Too!
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 Zwischengeschlecht.info
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Menschenrechte auch für Zwitter!
Tagesschau vom 06.07.2008, 19:30
Intersexuellen-Demonstration
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.
nella: 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
Monday, June 16, 2008
'No Justice - No peace!!'
9th Annual Protest Against UK Custody Deaths
http://remember-pauline.blogspot.com
http://www.youtube.com/user/Jondelsur
http://remember-pauline.blogspot.com
http://www.youtube.com/user/Jondelsur
Sunday, June 15, 2008
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.
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] http://inquest.gn.apc.org/data_deaths_in_police_custody.html Official figures. However, the total count per year you have to add yourself ...
[2] http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7005556.stm 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.
[3] http://www.injusticefilm.co.uk
[4] http://www.4wardever.org/uffcannualrally
Last year's uk.indy feature 2006:
http://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/2006/12/357852.html
Think again.
This year's flyer. Click to enlarge.
The above is a piece I originally published on uk.indymedia (http://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/2007/10/384167.html?c=on). 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 ...
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] http://inquest.gn.apc.org/data_deaths_in_police_custody.html Official figures. However, the total count per year you have to add yourself ...
[2] http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7005556.stm 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.
[3] http://www.injusticefilm.co.uk
[4] http://www.4wardever.org/uffcannualrally
Last year's uk.indy feature 2006:
http://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/2006/12/357852.html
Think again.
This year's flyer. Click to enlarge.The above is a piece I originally published on uk.indymedia (http://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/2007/10/384167.html?c=on). 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 ...)
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 ...
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 HassanOf 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?!
DAMN EVERYONE INVOLVED IN THE DEVELOPMENT AND RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEPLOYMENT OF THIS UGLY FRIGGIN SH*TE.
AND ALL OF THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA THAT REFUSE TO COVER SUCH 'TOUCHY SUBJECTS' APPROPRIATELY , like on the frontpage, with pictures'n'all.
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 ...
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.
http://fitwatch.blogspot.com
© 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.
http://fitwatch.blogspot.com
Monday, July 23, 2007
Forward Intelligence spelled out (Pt. 2)
Say Cheese! From uk.indyLast 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 xs4all.nl 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 demon.nl) 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')
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 xs4all.nl 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 demon.nl) 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:
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.
| 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)
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.
(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 LoryNo, 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.
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