#Herr OX

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleonic daily soap - special. Bonn, December 1795

I'm not sure if anybody still remembers the idea of a napoleonic daily soap. Briefly, I was quite fascinated by the idea but, as usual, I got quickly distracted. By that time, I had begun a little "special", featuring an event unrelated to Napoleon. Because, after all, the napoleonic saga is so much more than only one monsieur Bonaparte.

I had gotten halfway through the plot before I broke off. Now I've finished it - rather hastily and badly, but finished, and I'm posting it in case somebody is still interested. It's heavily inspired by some real complaints found in German sources 😋.

-.-.-

Napoleonic daily soap, special 1 – what was everybody else doing at the time [i.e.: September/November 1795]?

-.-.-

[Scene: Bonn. The Council Room/Ratsstube of the pub located in the town hall’s basement [that every German town hall seems to have]. Darkened wood lining the walls, carved ceiling, heavy oak furniture. Some dozen town officials, visibly well-off members of the local bourgeoisie in old-fashioned 18th century overcoats, gold watch chains hanging out of their waistcoats, are drinking and chatting happily]

[Mayor, raising his glass]:

"Gentlemen, we have every reason to be satisfied. The French army of the Rhine has continued its retreat." [Applause, town officials knocking on the table, cheering.] "The French headquarter has left our beloved Bonn for good. No longer will French soldiers rob our peasants, squeeze the money out of our working class and misappropriate the contents of the city's coffers."

[Town official, interrupting]

"Damn right! After all, that’s our job!" [Laughter, more cheering]

[Door opens. Kinzinger enters, an open letter in his hand.]

[Kinzinger]

"Don’t you rejoice too soon, gentlemen!"

[Mayor]

"Herr Kinzinger, you’re late for this meeting of the city council. Where have you been?"

[Kinzinger, handing him the letter]

"I was kept up by a courier who brought me this. Apparently, the French are returning."

[Groaning all along the table. The mayor hastily studies the letter]

[Mayor]

"The corps of one general Lefebvre will be stationed in our region … some brigadier general is even supposed to stay in our town … soldiers to be quartered in private houses … officers to be lodged and fed at the town’s expenses …"

[Town official]

"The usual, obviously."

[Mayor, gets agitated]:

"And there we have it. This brigadier general is not even here yet but already sends ahead a list of what he wants to be delivered to his personal cook on his entry into town."

[Town official sarcastic]:

"Efficient. What does he ask for?"

[Mayor, eyes bulging]

"He demands – get this: 12 pounds of ox meat, one mutton, half a calf, vegetables, white bread, chicken …" [some of what he reads is lost in a flurry of upset murmurs in the audience] "… coffee and sugar."

[Town officials all talking over each other]

"Outrageous – what sort of glutton is this? - this guy must weigh a ton! - do we really have to comply with this?"

[Kinzinger]

"We’ve had some bad guys here already but that one seems to be the worst so far."

[Mayor, knocks on the table calling for silence]

"Gentlemen, I say we must not put up with this. It is time to reign those Frenchmen in. We have met the demands of those French officers long enough. That's the last straw." [Cheers, applause and approval] "We will let this general …" [checks the letter] "... Soult know that the city’s coffers are empty, that the town’s resources are exhausted, that the things he asks for are nowhere to be found and that he has to come up with another way to indulge in his culinary vices."

-.-.-

[CUT to Soult’s office in Bonn. His younger brother Pierre is standing at attention before his desk.]

[Soult, confused]

"What do you mean you’re not going to stay here with me? You’re my aide de camp."

[Pierre]

"That does not mean I have to always sleep under the same roof as you, right? I mean, I will show up for my job, obviously. But Jean, I’d really love to have some time for myself occasionally."

[Soult stares]

[Pierre]

"Look, the only thing that will be different is that I won’t be there for dinner."

[Soult, aghast]:

"You will even eat elsewhere?"

[Pierre]

"You will barely notice! You always invite half of our officers to dinner…"

[Soult]

"For good reason. I want to have my people close by. At least then I know where they are and that they are not committing any excesses or stupidities in town on that evening. Which reminds me: Where precisely do you plan on staying in Bonn?"

[Pierre, a bit embarrassed]

"There’s a house close to the city gate."

[Soult's eyes narrow]

"You would not be talking about the one on the left side of the road? The one with the red paper lanterns in all its windows?"

[Pierre regards a corner of the room with great interest]

[Soult]

"You have to be kidding me!"

[Pierre]

"Look, Jean…"

[Soult]

"That’s general Jean to you, monsieur!"

[Pierre]

"I’m 25, okay? Plus, technically, it’s just another kind of inn. The rooms are clean and comfy, the girls are very nice, the food is excellent …"

[Soult]

"You’re staying at a brothel because of the food? When we have our own cook? Wait until Perrou hears about that!" [stares at Pierre]

[Pierre stares back]

[Soult, exasperated]

"Just so you know, I am appalled! And Perrou will be even more so! Do I really need to explain to you what an impression those good Germans will have when they see one of our sous-lieutenants, who is not only an ADC to the commanding general but also closely related to him, openly stay at a brothel? I do not have words to express my disappointment. This idea is outrageous. You're giving the French army a bad name by such behaviour. Even worse, you're giving me a bad name. You make us look like insatiable womanizers, you're confirming all the prejudice the Germans may have about French vices. How could you even dream about staying at a house of bad reputation?"

[Pierre, matter-of-fact-ly]

"I understand that, as brothels go, it actually has a very good reputation. The girls say that all important town officials are customers. The rooms are incredibly cheap, I'll have one all to myself, unlike when I’m quartered in town and can congratulate myself if I do not have to share the bed with some grenadier. And as a long-term client, I’ll get drinks and services at a discount."

[Soult]

"There’s a discount?"

[Pierre]

"I’m sure I could get my friends and family included into that."

[Soult]

"That does not make it any less outrageous."

[Pierre]

"True. But can I go now?"

[Soult]

"Unfortunately, you’re a grown up. I do not have any legal means to hinder what you do in your freetime."

[Pierre]

"Thank you, you’re the best big brother ever!"

[Soult, grim]:

"I may get back to you about that discount. And if Mum finds out, you’re on your own. I’m not covering up for you!"

[As Pierre turns to leave, the door opens. Soult’s cook Perrou enters the room.]

[Soult]

"Ah, Perrou, good you’re coming. We will be one person less for dinner tonight. And apparently all through the rest of our stay in Bonn. You can rearrange your plans for the meals accordingly."

[Perrou, furious]

"I’m sorry to say, general, but I fear there will not be any meals. At all. The town magistrate has refused to send anything for my kitchen. Am I supposed to conjure up dinner for everybody out of thin air?"

[Soult]

"What du you mean, refused?"

[Perrou]

"They flat out say there is no food in town."

[Soult, glares]

"They are trying to starve us. This means war. - Pierre?"

[Pierre, hastily]

"You already said I could leave for my inn…"

[Soult]

"You can. But make a quick detour. To the town hall."

-.-.-

[CUT to town hall. Kinzinger sitting behind a wooden desk. Pierre Soult standing in front of him. Both are engaged in a discussion that obviously has been going on for a while.]

[Pierre]

"I truly fail to understand you. A French army is quartered in your town. Of course the magistrate has to provide food for it. How else are the soldiers supposed to be nourished? Do you want them to just run around and grab stuff?"

[Kinzinger, menacingly]:

"Is that a threat?"

[Pierre]

"Actually, it was a question. This is not the first time you have a French army in town. You know how these things work. You have delivered provisions to the generals who used to be here before us, without any problems. So why not this time?"

[Kinzinger]

"Because our means are exhausted, because we are fed up with you guys, and because we have never before encountered such extraordinary demands. This is the first time a general already sent a list of stuff he wanted for dinner before he had even entered the town. What do you think our town of Bonn is? An all-you-can-eat buffet free of charge?"

[Pierre sighs]

"Look, Monsieur Quinzie …"

[Kinzinger, muttering, almost to himself, in the tone of somebody who has repeated himself several times already]

"That’s Kinzinger, actually…"

[Pierre]

"I do not know what the regular demands for the table of a brigadier general are. I’ve only ever served on this staff, so I cannot compare. What I do know: If you want to keep my brother in a good mood, you better keep him fed. And fed well!"

[Kinzinger]

"So you’re saying the general is your brother? - Typical. Greed, gluttony, nepotism."

[Pierre]

"Whatever. Just send him something to eat, or I don’t know what he will do. He’s cranky enough on a full stomach."

[Kinzinger]

"Very well. The town magistrate will provide the extraordinary amount of food stuff the general has demanded. But I let you know that we will send him the bill at the end of the week."

[Pierre]

"Fair enough, you do that. If you excuse me now, I’m off to the Towngate Tavern."

[Kinzinger, exasperated]

"You go where?"

[Pierre, grinning]

"Now don’t be jealous, Monsieur Quinzie. We French have had a long and exhausting campaign. I plan on making the most of my stay in your beautiful town." [mutters] "God knows I’ve deserved it. You, monsieur, only have to deal with my brother now. Can you imagine doing it every day?"

[Kinzinger]

"I admit you do have a point."

-.-.-

[CUT to Soult’s office in Bonn. Soult is sitting behind a desk covered with papers, making notes on some letter, obviously working hard. He picks up another document, studies it. Frowns.]

[Soult]

"Sublieutenant Soult!"

[CUT to anteroom. Pierre Benoit is on duty. Winces visibly at his brother’s call.]

[Pierre]

"Merde." [enters the office] "Mon général?"

[Soult hands him the document]

"What’s this?"

[Pierre]

"Looks like some kind of invoice."

[Soult]

"That much I saw myself. Why is the town magistrate sending me a bill for the food we consumed?"

[Pierre, regarding a corner of the room with great interest]

"Because they kind of expect compensation?"

[Soult glares at him]

[Pierre, exasperated]

"Look, it was the only way to get them to comply. You wanted food, you got the food. But they insisted on sending you a bill at the end of every week."

[Soult]

"So what am I to do with it now? You know we’ve not received any money from Paris in ages. How are we supposed to pay?"

[Pierre, shrugging]

"Maybe, if you explain this to the magistrate …"

[Soult, scoffs]

"Sure. Let’s tell the enemy that we do not even have enough money to pay for food expenses, let alone weapons and equipment. Great strategy, sublieutenant."

[Pierre]

"Then just ignore the bill, for what it’s worth. Who knows if they even expect you to pay? These are town officials, maybe they just needed some document to put a seal on and to file away in their archives. They’ve been difficult enough with all their bureaucracy."

[Soult, still frowning]

"They have?"

[Pierre]

"Sure. Refusing to honour a request because the list was not signed, or not signed by the right person, or not signed in the correct place… I’ve stopped counting how often they sent back one of the lists until we had corrected those mistakes. But in the end they have always played along so far."

[Soult]

"Keep me informed if these magistrates continue to harrass you. Who is the person responsible?"

[Pierre]

"A monsieur Quinzie. Quite a nice guy, actually. But stuffy as hell."

[Soult]

"Well, I hope he will remain cooperative. We’re expecting general Lefèbvre and his staff for the next weekend. And I want everything to be top notch for my old commander-in-chief."

-.-.-

[CUT. Town hall, one week later. Kinzinger’s office. Several town officials surrounding Kinzinger’s desk, all talking loudly over each other. A sheet of paper goes from hand to hand. General excitement.]

[Town mayor enters through a side door, regards the chaos for a moment]

[Mayor]

"Please don’t tell me this is Soult’s list again."

[Kinzinger]

"I fear it is."

[Mayor]

"But didn’t I already sign a supply list for French headquarters this morning?"

[Kinzinger]

"That was the regular list. This one is an add-on. For a special occasion. And I must say, we’ve really had to endure a lot from this glutton already. But this time he’s outdone himself. Here, have a look!"

[The mayor grabs the list Kinzinger hands him. We can see his eyes bulge and his jaw drop.]

[Mayor]

"Thirty … thirty bottles of red wine! For one evening! What, does he want to take a bath in it? And additionally two bottles of whisky, thirty bottles of beer, twenty pounds of ox meat, fish, several chicken … all sorts of jam and pastries, fresh and preserved fruits…"

[Kinzinger]

"We’ve heard that the scoundrel-in-chief of the French vanguard, general Lefebvre, and his staff are coming over to visit. That may explain it, but ..."

[Mayor]

"But it does not make the expenses in any way easier to bear, precisely! – Wait, what’s this? Whose name is that on the bottom on the list? Isn’t it usually the general’s brother who signs these demands?"

[Kinzinger]

"Most of the time, indeed. This is a different name. Possibly the cook?"

[Mayor, with grim satisfaction]

"Wonderful. In this case, we will regard this outrageous list as non-existent. The signature of a mere army cook cannot have any meaning for this town magistrate. Send it back, and inform whoever sent it that we will only accept demands through the proper channels. – And now, gentlemen, let us start today’s meeting. Surely we have more important concerns than the bottomless stomachs of our French guests."

-.-.-

[Half an hour later. The council meeting is in full swing. We see several bottles of wine and plates full of delicacies on the table, when the adress of some council member suddenly gets interupted by commotion outside the room. The door swings open, and in stomps Soult’s cook. All council members jump from their seats.]

[Mayor]

"What is this supposed to mean?"

[Perrou]

"That’s what I ask you." [points at Kinzinger] "Or rather you! Aren’t you that Monsieur Quinzie who sends me the supplies for my kitchen?"

[Kinzinger, annoyed]

"That’s 'Kinzinger', actually, and I’m not a grocery supplier but a member of this esteemed town coun…"

[Perrou]

"Don’t you dare deny your responsibility! I’ve sent you a detailed list of everything I need in order to create a true feast for the visit of general Lefebvre! And you? You have refused to send me anything! How dare you? Do you know who I am? I am Perrou, the best cook in the Armée de Sambre-et-Meuse, and I am working for the best general of the whole of France!"

[Kinzinger]

"Well, I do not know if he’s the best general but he surely is the most demanding."

[Perrou]

"Demanding you call him? Demanding you call these poor soldiers, who would be happy to live of nothing but bread and onions for weeks? Demanding? Ha! If you knew, Monsieur Quinzie, what it takes to turn these boys into accomplished gentlemen, to teach them to even appreciate the finer qualities of life, to train their tongue and taste buds enough for them to recognise the true value of a culinary work of art such as I create! Because that’s what I am, an artist! An artist of the kitchen, and you, Monsieur, are hindering the creation of yet another masterpiece!"

[Mayor, annoyed]

"I think we’ve heard quite enough of this madman. Let’s call for the servants to get him out of here."

[Perrou]

"You want to kick me out like some random beggar? Me, Perrou? Oh, you wait, I’ll show you!" [stabs an index finger at Kinzinger, poking him in the chest] "You give me the food for tomorrow’s feast right now, Monsieur Quinzie, or all hell will break loose! Do you reckon I will feed general Lefebvre nothing but potatoes and cabbage?"

[Kinzinger]

"Hey, stop poking me!"

[He shoves him back. Perrou pushes him, Kinzinger strikes back, Perrou grabs him be the throat. Within a second, there’s a full brawl, with all the honourable council members joining in. Together, they succeed in pushing the enraged cook out of the room and in closing the door behind him]

[Mayor, panting]

"What a day! I wonder of we will get any work done during this meeting…"

-.-.-

[CUT to next scene: Pierre Soult and four soldiers are standing in front of them, ready to arrest Kinzinger.]

[Pierre]

"I’m sorry, it’s an order from my general."

[Mayor]

"You cannot arrest our colleague. He’s a town official, he is not under your general’s jurisdiction!"

[Pierre, shrugging]

"Possibly. But unfortunately, I am. Come on, Monsieur Quinzie, we have a nice room prepared for you, and I’ll see to it that you’ll have some of what Perrou has cooked for the visit of general Lefebvre tomorrow night. That should reconcile you a bit with your fate. I’m sure you’ll be out of prison again in time for christmas."

[Kinzinger, being led away, turning pale]

"You want to lock me up until christmas? Mayor!"

[Mayor, shouting after him]

"Do not worry, Kinzinger! This savage violation of the law will not be tolerated! It is about time to show these insolent French soldiers the limit of what they can do." [Door closes behind the French who march off Kinzinger. The mayor adresses the rest of the council] "And we shall do so by using their own weird laws of their own weird republic."

-.-.-

[Cut to new scene. A rather simply furnished room. The mayor, accompanied by two council members, is adressing Caselli. Who is sitting behind a desk and eagerly takes notes.]

[Mayor]

"So you assure us that you will be able to do something in favour of our friend?"

[Caselli]

"Absolutely. I have come here from Paris to the army as representative of the French people; taking care of such blatant abuse of power is precisely my job!"

[Mayor]

"I'm glad to hear there is some sort of justice under your new form of government. Just imagine: Kinzinger, one of the most respected citizens of our town, arrested! It's unheard of."

[Caselli]

"It is, and I shall put a stop to it. Put all your faith in me, messieurs! I will reign in those rogue generals in no time."

-.-.-

[CUT to next scene: Another day, another council meeting. Kinzinger’s seat is empty. The door is thrown open with such force it hits the wall. Enter Lefebvre and in his wake, somewhat slowlier, possibly a little embarrassed, Soult]

[Lefebvre]

"So these are the bastards who sicced that obnoxious 'representative of the people' on us, eh, boy?"

[Soult]

"Oui, mon général. But I assure you that I will be able to deal with these gentlemen on my own…"

[Lefebvre]

"I do not doubt that. But you will not have to. Because now I am here. [faces the mayor] How dare you give my dear general Soult so much trouble! I will teach you! Sending that idiot paper pusher after us so he writes some report to the other paper pushers in Paris! I will make you regret that idea, I’ll make you wish you’d rather shot yourself! You think prison is too much for one of your kind to bear? I’d have you all hanged, I’d have you all guillotined if you had gone through with the plan to let us starve! My dear Soult here wanted to cut down the trees in one of your alleys as a punishment, I say we’ll do worse, we’ll garrison another regiment in town just so you suckers know what it means to have to feed hungry soldiers! I’ll have you all put in iron and walked to Paris, I’ll…"

[Soult, putting a hand on Lefebvre’s shoulder, silently]

"General, I think they got the message."

[Lefebvre, still furious]

"They better have, or they’ll see how throroughly I can fuck up their pleasant bourgeois existence here!"

[The two French generals leave]

[Mayor]

"What brutes! We need to have another word with this representative Caselli."

-.-.-

[CUT to Caselli’s room. Caselli is busy packing his clothes into a trunk]

[Mayor]

"Monsieur Caselli! Are you leaving?"

[Caselli, smiling]

"Why, yes. My position here was always only temporarily."

[Mayor]

"Really? To me it seems you are running from Soult and Lefebvre?

[Caselli]

"What? How could anybody think that? Though I have to admit that I found these two generals rather unwilling to accept my authority. And also rather ... impolite. Rude. Almost threatening. You could have warned me about their character. But still, my departure has absolutely nothing to do with them. There have been some political changes in our government – well, to be fair, there are always certain changes in our government, and people like me need to make sure they are on the right side of events."

[Mayor]

"But what about our problems? You promised to help us?"

[Caselli]

"Oh, don’t you worry, Monsieur. My report must reach authorities in Paris within a week. I’m sure it will have dire consequences for the future careers of these two generals."

[Mayor, exasperated]

"I don’t care shit about Soult’s or Lefebvre’s military career. I want Kinzinger out of prison, and I don’t want to pay for these generals’ daily feasts anymore!"

[Caselli]

"You know how things are, Monsieur. You’ve lost the war, you pay the price. Be happy you only have to feed these men and don’t have to suffer them plundering your beautiful town, too. They do keep their men in check, right?"

[Mayor]

"Yes, but…"

[Caselli]

"There you have it. Isn’t that the most important point? And as to Monsieur Kinzinger, I understand that general Soult at least is quite aware he has overstepped his boundaries there. In his initial anger, he got carried away, and then felt he could not go back on his words. But once he feels he has saved face, he surely will release your friend. I’m convinced it’s only a matter of days. - Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find some servants to get my luggage into the carriage."

-.-.-

[CUT to – epilogue. A rather dark corridor. Pierre Soult is leading Kinzinger out of prison.]

[Pierre]

"See? I told you you would be free before christmas."

[Kinzinger]

"Am I supposed to be grateful for that now?"

[Pierre]

"Oh, come on, we did treat you well enough, didn’t we. I even arranged for some … private visit from one of my Towngate Tavern ladyfriends, didn't I? And you have to admit that Perrou’s cooking alone would have been worth it."

[Kinzinger gives him a sullen look but starts nodding]

"He really seems to be a master of his craft, I’ll give him that. Truth be told, it may be hard for me to get back to my wife’s cooking after having been spoilt all these days…"

[Pierre, beaming]

"See? And that’s why Perrou told me to give you this. [He grabs a large package wrapped in paper from a table near the exit and hands it to Kinzinger.] Some leftover meat pies and pastries, to share with your family. With my brother’s blessings. It’s not as if he apologizes, mind you, it’s just… well, we do not want to end our stay in Bonn on such a bad note. [He sighs.] Unfortunately, we will not be able to enjoy this town’s hospitality much longer. We’ve received orders to move."

[Kinzinger]

"I hope you don’t expect me to fake tears about this change of events. May I ask where you will be going?"

[Pierre]

"Seems we’ll cross the Rhine. A town named Solingen, where we shall have our winter quarters. I hope we will not have any similar disagreements there. But most likely, in such a small country town, nothing of importance will happen..."

[human-antithesis]

Norðsæta gætis, herforingja Ormsins langa

Norðsæta gætis, herforingja Ormsins langa ok vígsburi margs Haddings éls, endi þar líf sitt at sjávar beinum Land-Rǫgnir hvarf at benvargs hreggjum Svǫldrs at ǫldu heimi Wendlanda. Sveinn tjúguskeggr, son Haralds blátǫnn Gorms-sonar, Óláfr sænski, son Eiríks ins sigrsæla ok Einar Hákonarson jarl at Hlǫðum hertóku Óláfs ellifu branda elga með sínum sjátigum ok steyptu vegtaugar jóts grundar tyggi niðr til Ránar dætra. Var sá hergrimmi hjarls dróttinn af úneyttum laufa társ lǫngli drukknan? Dæla dróttins verki at br-jóta aptr ása jaðars andstefni er lokit ok Draupnis dǫggvar hlynr er laus lands ráðanda bræði. Mikill er landstýrandi Hǫrða foldar vǫrðr, en úmyldr konungr. Nú er knǫrr búit, færandi malmdyns hlyn Aðalsteins aptr at vinkers botnum Íslands. Á því fyrra ylgjar tafni grímu galdr fylktisk at leika yggjar bála él við jǫtuns eyki. Eptir lagarmána ok hafs daga Haddingja vals hróka flugs Ánars mær verðr at landa heimi. Fáum fimtum áðr sá geit Týs máli tók við þeim nýja grams róða ok margr breka sunnu askr lét skírask. Hǫrga herr goðabrennir, vargsbrǫðar lǫgsǫgumaðr, réð fyrir guðs ástvinum ok setti reglur strangar gegn hertýgðri blóta fægis andstefni. Mikill hrotta hreggr ríkir á hólmgjarðar nagla. Mǫrg hænahús byggð skjaldaviði úr Haralds haukey, en enginn mið máttr stýrir dróttins liði. Hǫskuldr kemr at garði Kjartans í suðri af orm-sins fálmandi líki. Á siggjar linda fólksstara fangs kringlu mikil fórn var færð. Þrír oksbirnir leystu sitt svarðar strǫnd sem oddbreki þeirra roðar fljóts glóða elris hring ok fyllir steininn. Dreyra fylltir Háars þegnar goða varnendr! Hlóriði, veit oss þursa týs burir. Belja dólgr veit oss sólheima. Hjalma hríðir leid þú þangs lat fyrir oss sjásk hvergi er Krists mark leitar á rauðs uppskeru athǫfn. Því þetta er fyrir fróms legg gjǫrt ok hamra vífs buru forna.

[ENGLISH - The king's life, commander of Ormurin langi]

The king's life, commander of Ormurin langi and good fighter in many battles, found it's end at sea. Óláfr Tryggvason disappeared at the battle of Svǫldr at the coasts of the Wendlands. Sveinn tjúguskeggr, son of Haraldr blátǫnn Gormsson, Óláfr sænski, son of Eiríkr inn sigrsæli and Eiríkr Hákonarson, earl of Hlaðir, conquered Óláf's 11 ships by their 70 and brought the sea king beneath Rán's daughters. Did the fierce king of the useless bow drown? His mission to break the heathen resistance finally comes to an end and Hǫskuldr is released from Óláfr's anger. A great king he was, but a merciless ruler. Now a knǫrr is set, bringing the son of Aðalsteinn back to the dark clouds of Iceland. In the old year storms gather to play a wild game with sea horses. But after nights and days of raven flights the wooden ground becomes black ground. Some weeks ago this kingless land accepted the new faith and many chieftains were baptized. Heathen Þorgeirr, long time lǫgsǫgumaðr, decided for the Christians and set strong rules against the armed heathen resistance. Great dispute reigns the isle. Many churches are build with wood from Norway, but no central power reigns the followers. Hǫskuldr travels to the farm of Kjartan í suðri of the dragon's struggling body. In the first days of the old year's circle, a great sacrifice is made. Three oxes loose their heards as their blood reddens the chieftain's ring and fills the stone. Bloodful we hail ye! Þorr, bring power to us. Freyr, bring growth to us. Njǫrðr, lead life to us. This sacrifice is for the wooden gods and for a peaceful future of this agitated soil. Fylgjur of ours, do not appear when the cross confronts our ritual of the red harvest. For this is for the earth and gods of old.

[musikhai]

Die Geschichten von Herrn OX...

Die Geschichten von Herrn OX…

… stammen aus dem Buch Daher ergänze ich: “Herr Ox nach den Aufzeichnungen von H. Naebers”. Es ist interessant, wie ich zu dieser Information kam. Da die Geschichten meines Blogs auch auf Facebook erscheinen, las der Sohn von Herrn H. Naebers Beiträge meines Blogs. Er schrieb mir: “…Herr Ox nahezu wörtlich aus dem Buch meines Vaters Hans Naebers zitiert!”. Huch! Wenn ich das gewusst…

[gwendolynlerman]

Cultural differences between Germany and Spain

As you may know, I’m studying in Germany this semester as part of the Erasmus program and I have noticed a few differences in everyday life and in people’s behavior vis-à-vis my homeland Spain. By the way, not to bash my own country, but I prefer life in Germany 😅

Bear in mind that I have been living in Erfurt, Thuringia, which was part of the German Democratic Republic (East Germany), so these differences may not apply to the whole country. Things that I know are only present in the former GDR are marked with an asterisk (*).

Furthermore, some of the differences I mention are not unique to Germany.

Pedestrian signals feature a different icon known as Ampelmännchen (literally “little traffic light man”).* Fun fact: I actually thought all traffic lights were like this in the whole country until someone told me they are one of the few remnants of the former GDR.

Street house numbers are not divided into even and odd, they start on one side of the street until it ends and then come back on the other side using the “clockwise” or “ox-turning” scheme.*

People take off their shoes upon entering someone else’s home.* In Spain—at least in my house—we wear slippers in our own houses, but keep our shoes on when we visit someone else’s home.

Time is distributed differently: Morgen (morning) is 6 a.m.-12 p.m., Nachmittag (afternoon) is 1-5 p.m., Abend (evening) is 6-9 p.m., and Nacht (night) is 10 p.m.-5 a.m., while in Spain it is like this: mañana (morning) is 7 a.m.-1 p.m., mediodía (noon) is 2-4 p.m., tarde (afternoon/evening) is 5-8 p.m., noche (night) is 9 p.m.-12 a.m., and madrugada (early morning) is 1-6 a.m. Furthermore, Germans eat at around 12-2 p.m. and 7-9 p.m., while we Spaniards eat at around 2-4 p.m. and 9-11 p.m..

Drivers and pedestrians normally respect traffic rules. Everyone uses blinkers and jaywalking is frowned upon.

People are very respectful and polite with extrangers and always use the polite form (Siezen). In Spain, we tend to only use the polite form with senior citizens.

Fruit and vegetable prices are per piece and not per kilogram.

Airing rooms (lüften) is very common, especially in corona times.

There are no blinds, which we Spaniards consider a lack of privacy.

Christmas is celebrated in a more traditional way and Christmas lights are very subtle and harmonious, whereas in Spain they are really colorful and flamboyant. Each Sunday before Christmas Day a candle is lit in the Advent wreath (Adventskranz). There are many different kinds of (delicious) Christmas treats (Christstollen, Spekulatius, Lebkuchen, Dominosteine...), which you can find in stores as early as October. And of course, Christmas markets (Weihnachtsmärkte) are very typical.

People shake hands when they first meet instead of kissing each other’s cheeks.

Germans are generally shy and do not initiate contact.

There are no turnstiles in public transportation, so you can get on without paying, but you should not do it, because there are conductors (Schaffner) that check if you have a valid ticket.

Professors and students are addressed as Mr./Ms. (Herr/Frau) + their last name by each other. Students typically say thank you or rap their knuckles against the table after a lecture.

There are not a lot of people on the street after 9 p.m.

People line up next to the doors to let others get out of public transportation.

Punctuality is very important in official appointments and people usually arrive early, but in informal ones, Germans are not as punctual as the stereotype claims.

University lectures start fifteen minutes later than the time written on the schedule.

Only surnames appear in mailboxes, which are used as intercom buttons.

Germans only have one surname, so they are confused when I sign emails using my two surnames and call me by what is actually my second surname. Instead of Frau Rodríguez, they call me Frau Ramiro.

People say their last name when they pick up the phone, instead of saying “Hello?”.

To control capacity in stores due to corona restrictions, you need to take a basket or bag before you enter a store. If there are none, you have to wait outside. People usually do not greet store clerks.

German children receive presents from either Saint Nicholas or Baby Jesus, depending on the region, instead of Santa Claus or the Three Wise Men, like in Spain.

Neighbors pick up packages if the recipient is not home.

You cannot pay with a credit card in many places (bars, Biergärten, restaurants, markets...).

Eggs are sold by tens instead of by the dozen.

You can drink alcohol in the street.

Parents receive money from the government each month to pay for their children’s expenses.

There is a lot of trust that citizens will behave themselves and be honest, for example, to apply for a student loan you do not need to give a lot of details about your financial status, unlike in Spain.

Streetlights do not give a lot of light and some streets are very dark at night.*

There are not many zebra crossings or bins on the street.

Police, firefighter, and ambulance sirens sound different than in Spain.

There are bird spikes everywhere.

Windows can be opened in two ways.

Pillows are more like cushions and beds have duvets instead of sheets.

The staff at the airport asks if you speak German, whereas in Spain they directly speak to you in Spanish.

[magnetoeisenhardt]

How To Pronounce Magneto’s Names

Magneto is from Germany, and German is a non-Latin language. This means that literally every audio media ever has pronounced his name wrong.

Magneto:

Maug-Neat-Oh

The “a” is sort of a cross between an “a” and a soft “o”. It makes the same sound as the “au” in “augment” and the “o” in “omelet” and “ox”.

Erik Lensherr:

Air-Reek Lenz-Hair

The German word “Herr” means “Mr.” or “Sir”. There is no “sh” sound in Lensherr. Erik itself is an Englishization of the German name Erich. Erich was the name of Magneto’s Uncle, who died resisting the Nazi’s. The English language doesn’t have the sounds to pronounce the second syllable though. You can look up the German word “Ich” to hear it.

Max Eisenhardt:

Maux Eyes-Zen-Heart

The “a” in Max is the same sound as earlier.

[thebigpapilio]

Alternate Miraculous Wielder Name Ideas

Here are some ideas for Miraculous wielders’ aliases or words to use in them.

Some of these I’ve used before in my fics. Despite this, feel free to take these for fics, and if you could tell me so I can read them, that would be great!

Here we go!

Female names are Italicized. Male & Nonbinary names have nothing. Some might be repeated if they work for said groups.

Ladybug: 

Sir Scarlet 

Sir Spots/Spot

Coccinea

Coccineus 

Latin for Scarlet

Vedalia

Black Cat: 

Mr. Fortune 

Mx. Fortune (if fitting)

(Miss Fortune has long been used)

Bombay

Bobtail

Fox: 

Renard V

Rena V

The V stands for Vulpine/Vulpis (Latin for Fox)

Trickster

Could be good for a villain

Astutia 

Adstus 

Latin for Cunning

Turtle:

Do something with Emerald or Peridot instead of Jade

For a bulkier Turtle, do Plastron

Clypeus

Zaratan

Blackshell

Bee:

King Comb

Beeline

For a villain’s minion/assistant, try Drone 

Such could be good for Nathalie...

Negaueris

Prophetess

Moth:

For a villain, consider Dark Dagger

Death’s Head

Bogong

Black or White Witch

Mothwoman

Imperialis

Latin for Imperial

Peafowl:

Cock 

ONLY IF MALE AND ACTIVATED AT THE SAME TIME AS A MALE OX USER NAMED BULL

Princess Plume/Plumage

Prince Plume/Plumage

For younger wielders

For a villain, consider some pun with Fowl

La Paonne

Le Paon is for a peaCOCK

Henway

___________________________________________________________

Dog:

Boxer

Phalène

Prince Puppy

Princess Puppy

For younger wielders

For a villain go for Terrier Terror

Updog

Snake:

Anaconda

Basilisk

Sir Pent

Python

For a villain (?), consider (Boa?) Constrictor

Mamba

Taipan

Miss Hiss

Mister Hiss? It Hissn’t as good, huh... 

Kingsnake

Jormugandr

Sassmaster

Horse:

Miss Tang

Mister Mustang

Prince Pony

Princess Pony

For younger wielders

For a villain, try Speed Demon

Speed Demoness

Stripes

Maybe as a nickname like with the canonical Chaton & Bugaboo 

Ox:

Look at Peafowl for one idea

Bull Power

Minotaur

Longhorn

Goat:

For a villain, Gruff could work

Ibex

Bighorn

The Kid

For younger wielders

Zigzag

Dragon:

Fireball

Draconica

Wyvern

Bakunawa

Knucker

Mouse:

Rat Racer

Mousetrap

Ratatoskr

Rat King

Rat Queen

Mus

Murmur 

Maybe as a nickname like with the canonical Chaton & Bugaboo 

Rooster:

Chicken Runner

Sunshine/Sunspot/some Sun pun

Morning Crow

For younger wielders

You could replace the first Peafowl one under the same circumstances

Henway

Monkey: 

King Kong

Champ Chimp/Champanzee

Nope (they shout it when their disrupting banana hits)

Mono

Wukong

Monkey Man

For a villain, consider Mischief

Pig: 

Hogwash

Boar Boy

Younger wielders

Piglet

Younger wielders

For a villain, try Warthog

Tiger:

Tigress

For a villain, maybe do Shere Khan or Tigre Fonce (I used that once for a Cat wielder)

Tigre Naranjado

Tigre Naranjada

Portokáli

Rabbit: 

Hoppins (hope you get the reference pun)

Herr Hare/Herr Hase

Lièvre

Le Lapin

La Lapine

___________________________________________________________

For Fusions (NOT DOING ALL OF THESE ANYTIME SOON):

Snake & Moth = Diamondback

Any younger wielder’s fusion of Peafowl, Snake, & Rooster - Egghead/Eggman/Eggwoman

[empress-of-xerxes]

“Talk about-” Vicca

Send “Talk about-” and a name for my muse to talk about that person!

“Victoria. Sweet, sweet Victoria. She is an enigma and the best kind of mystery to fall into Xerxes net. When I first met her, that bubbly hyperactive glee was infectious. She had already been well known among the Ox Pentacle and as such the Techeun Conclaves of Herr, our Forgeworld. So I knew instantly that she would be sticking around for sometime and yet I was still utterly clueless about her intentions.’

‘That was...’ She said with a sly smile, “until she found out about our little ungifted population boom. The Pariah gene had become a slight more common, Xerxes way of balancing out between the more gifted individuals. So an opportunity came, laughing and giggling with one of my greatest Techeuns at her side.”

Seras leaned forward and rested her chin on her fist, “Marie Alejandra Snake-Heart, Arch-Techwitch of Herr wanted to assist Vicca in the retaking of the Yelian Sanctuary. Forbidden land. Lost to us ages ago and taboo to even speak of. Her cost was simple, she wanted Pariahs. For what exactly? I wasn’t certain. But I saw an opportunity in of itself. The Pariah here among Xerxes Primus are beyond the lowest class and nothing I speak nor declare to the populace could give them reason to rise. My people are deeply superstitious and the ungifted were seen as a blight to them.’

She sighed, a depressing sound of guilt and pained memory. “So, Yel would be their home. Not exiled. But as their own place. Their own self-governed, thriving place. And Vicca... wanted this. So did I.”

[ssfoc]

I'm so happy Louis saw and liked that BBC live lounge tweet. It means that he's interested in it, and he's up for singing it solo!!! And also that he's come along way since the start of the hiatus. He has confidence in his voice and he's proud of his songs. If you look at the responses to that tweet, the majority ask for Louis, so I'll be surprised of Louis isn't invited to sing on the show this year. I CANNOT WAIT. He will be so great.

Despite everything else, Louis has grown so much musically. His voice has improved from the JHO days, he’s confident and happy to perform (the jitters have gone way down), and he seems to have a mature, supportive band.

At this time last year, I honestly wasn’t sure about a Louis tour. I didn’t know whether he was emotionally or musically up to such a grueling task as a solo artist. After the songs and performances he put out this year, I’m confident he’ll be fine.

I feel like we’ve been through so much with Louis, it’s beautiful to see him rise. Remember the anon ask to @lululawrence about the lion, bear, ox and phoenix? I’m thinking about Plath’s last lines from “Lady Lazarus,” as Louis addressing his team (the poem has nothing to do with Louis’ situation, but the lines are on point).

Herr God, Herr LuciferBewareBeware.

Out of the ashI rise with my red hairAnd I eat men like air.

Here’s to L018.

[image-transcribing-bot]

you wont me +0 kil the most powerful witch in the land ond free you of your curse? o shitty sword tha ents Eyes your curse of. E being a shitty sword? quibbs olso 1{Ox/re literolly | | the first person in 3 yeors +0 wolk by, Becouse I con see deep down into peoples gross litre souts, fool. Couldn't you use a breok N from being o usetess form hond oll doy? I guess I could help a sword in need. cursed crentures of the fifth dimension hold no do you hove o_ nome, sword? Before we kill o summer witch, im going +o need to be fed a to+ of eyes. Whatever, eyes moke me oll buff, God no. TI would difiin-regrme os port Of the curse. i cont ore you gonna eat my eyes, stobby? once im full of eyes, ones ghm arm? ly0urs, ill 2 i dont core e powertul enough +0 ki the summer witch. how you get them, byt i think we both know killing is the most Obvious course of action. quibbs lke we're ready to i bind the shit out of We) wel free you o witch. in no time, stobby but shes so young.. you want me +0 BLTND her? this washt the deol, stobby. Tm not going ) to cut out the eyes of ao kid lke me, STABEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING. This is my ONLY oppurtunity to be free. I'm not going +0 waste it becouse you got oll weird. cont we just tolk to herr?

I am an image transcribing bot which uses Tesseract OCR to translate images to text. I'm far from perfect but I try my best! Accepting that you all are animals is the first step | PayPal | Patreon

REALLY long comic i did for sequential art class!! i wish i had more time so i could give it a good gay end

[my-joys-and-desires-blog]

Dagrún Sigríðr

Disclaimer: The following and all its content does belong to me. Notes: - OC short story. - The following's epoch was before the Ragnarök, so yes, Nihil shall be depicted just a little slightly different. - I use a tad of syntax. - I am a neologist. So if you see a weird word combination, fret not, it's not a mistake but an example of neologism. - Please let me know if you spot a legitimate spelling error. Warning: - Long Post. [Uc].......................................................................... [CU]~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~\\~ T'was a nite of chilling and feast, after another well accomplished land conquering, at the greatest inn of Svalbard, the land of De Vhelmond Brødre. Warrior folks which of the last battle they fought, diverting themselves they were. The barman was concocting drinks as waitresses kept themselves busy, delivering mugs of fresh beer to the corresponding tables. The place was loud, with laughters coming from each corners, rough accent of Old Norse could be heard by the whole villa near the humongous walls of the Vhelmond's Castle. Each maid which carried beer trays were often teased by the other folks with pet names, rub offs and stumblovers, drops of beer leaked out from the mugs. Every table had a group of well entertained barbarians, on each of these groups occasionally had women flirting with the men, some couples had their "fun" in the middle of the throng. At a single table, a hooded woman sat, she was wearing a fair dress, with dark but desaturated colors, part of her lustrous raven hair fell out from the hood as she sat. A waitress rose her eyebrow as she saw the maiden alone at the table aside the wall, only her, amongst the frenetic crowd. She nervously walked to the maiden then asked if she would like to order something from the tavern, the maiden answered "would thy bring me a mug of light mead..?" She gave the waitress a pouch of coins, "yes, fair dame." the maid walked off to bring the new order. The sounds of the lutes, flutes and percussion resonated on the big, crowded hall, although barely heard due to the folks' loudness, but the flute gave a fairly good ambience to it. At the center of that hall, where the warriors most grouped, a hot coal pit there was, where a man assisted on spinning a grilling ox, impaled on an iron stake, it made the place actually smell really nice. Everything was so loud as then a half drunken man stepped over a table to make an announcement "Our great King was officially invited to this very great inn, let us honor His almighty presence!!" Everyone stopped to hear the man, and then they all yelled in joy and hit each other's mugs, leaking more beer drops everywhere. The maiden at the table aside the wall paid attention to the man's brief speech, but she wasn't phased, she didn't ever see such King, as doth as heard much, yet she wasn't at the battlefield. Soon, her earlier order came to her table, carried by the same maid of before, "Cheers, fair one", the maiden took the mug as she thanked the waitress and then sipped from it, slowly. At all of a sudden, yet actually expected, the atmosphere inside the inn became shivering cold, even if for a moment, t'was enough to freeze solid most of the mugs' content closer to the inn's entrance door, the hall instantly went silent. The maiden, even if she perceived the occurment, was not stirred, instead, kept drinking from her cooled mug. A man rapidly walked up to the door and opened it, to then appear a high man, dressed in a noble attire, his long cape went to his ankles, the high collar's tips folded to the sides; his ruffled shirt's collars covered his whole neck; over this shirt were a laced corset; and over, a long, sleeveless detailed leathercoat; he was not wearing protective armor, despite the gauntlets and his knee high boots' tips. His hair was very long and slightly wavy, it had a strawberry blonde color. He had a very pale, clean skin and his zero pigmentation blue eyes were clearly glowing, making contrast with the paleness. The door could hit his forehead due to his height, leaning on the same's frame, he was stately looking at all that crowd in silence for a moment, then all his folks rose their mugs once more and exclaimed "Our Hero has came!" "Hail the Immortal King!" "Praise His Honour!", the referred King chuckled at the folk's praisings, then stepped in, there was a high chair ready for him, "Please, please, my Lord, sit" the same man whom opened the door asked, prepping the chair for His Highness, the King slightly bowed to his people then sat like a jarl, spreading his legs and resting his elbow on the chair's arm, after flicking his mane back he rests his fist over his cheekbone. The ladies which were teasing other warriors immediately fell over him, trying their petty flirting on His Highness, oh emphasizing 'trying', for their flirtations would fell a barbarian but never a cold-hearted immortal lord. He remained unfazed until a waitress brought him a ceramic cup of the finest brandy, one of the ladies offered to slit their wrist to mix with the drink, he asked calmly with his deep voice "art thou a virgin?" For each word, a smoke of cold air escaped his mouth. He asked such, for any and all blood that "impurely contaminated" were never went down well on him. The lady said "Oh, min Herre, why thou dost not asketh Elísabet? She's the only amongst our little group~" the referred lady shivered as she was pointed at, she showed up still, the King asked "come closer, min kjære, be not afeard", as she stepped up, she lifted her hand, turned, to show him her wrist, he gently took her arm, then slid his gauntlet's sharp fingers along, giving her more shivers, as meanwhile the waitress held down the fine cup for the King. The Lord found the right spot of her vein then slowly sunk his sharp armored nail in her wrist, she flinched and whimpered, her blood started to drain on the cup underheld, the cup's brandy was filled to the half, and with the blood, it was then wetting the borders. The King lightly pushed her arm to him and licked the wound, then pressed his thumb over it, so it would coagulate and partially close. Then she backed out, holding her arm by the wound. The King took the fulfilled cup by his fingertips, sipped the thick liquid off the border, then he slowly moved the cup in circling motion to mix the blood with the fine brandy. The taste of virgin blood partially fed his pleasure. The bards started to play again, breaking the uncanny silence, the hall gradually grew loud again, groups of warriors yelled festing to the Lord's name "Hagl Herre Vhelmond!!" The mutilation of the main feast, the grilled ox, began, so the vikings jumped over it like berserkers raving for meat. Lord Nyhjlús watched them all still unfazed for so much diversion, it meant nothing important to him. He took a long sip from the blooded brandywine, it could satisfy him but not enough, the lady yes was virgin, but still, her actions in life itself had it slightly tainted. The maiden which alone was sitting, discreetly watched the King since his entrance, almost finishing her lightmead. As when the ladies fell over him, she paused, with the mug touching her lower lip, she remained still when he punctured the lady's wrist and licked her arm. After the folks restarted to fest, she unpaused and finished the last gulp of her beer in one turn, then left the mug over the table, she crossed her legs and rested her elbows on the table, clasping her hands, meditating for some minutes. The King has not moved from his chair, his drink was at the cup's half, as he eyed his people, his headache was showing up, their thoughts were loud and he needed silence or distraction, he closed his eyes for a second of relaxment, but then his attention pivoted to a single person's thoughts, t'was off from all the general of what in that room was discussed, it was about....daily life? Visions of frustration, of family union, but alas an afterwards abandonment, hard daily basis, harassment, these visages traveled his mind as he focused, "t's a woman.." he stated with certainty on his mind "hath she come not for celebration? Hath she came for abstracting?" He opened his eyes out of the dark then blinked to get rid of the sudden light and and glistening stars of lighthead. He looked around discretely, observing which could be the owner of the previous thoughts. Nyhjl slowly stood up, clutching his cup on his right hand, he spotted the maiden alone at her table, the Lord walked to the bunch of men fighting over the ox, with a single glance, they immediately stopped. He stretched his hand without a word, though a man knew what he wished, the folk brought him a steel plate with ox pieces on it and placed on the King's hand, Nyhjl lightly snickered and took it, that's what he likes about his folk: the understanding with no need of spit wasting. The Lord then stepped away and now from behind the lone lady, he silently set up the plate on her table then sat on the empty chair, crossing his legs and leaning on the wall. The maiden was aware of her senses as she felt a slight cold breeze when he walked by her, then opened her eyes from the gentle impact of the plate on the wood, she saw the huge, tall man by her, his hair falling over his face then over part of the table as he sat. She stood still, eyeing the King, not surprised nor frightened, only asking herself why had he came to her. "Greetings min dame...i am Nyhjlús Vhelmond, King av Svalbard, Conqueror of Lands. To whom i give the pleasure?" His soft, deep voice sounded, he reached out a hand for her, she kept her silence for a second, watching him hang out his hand, as then she hesitantly stretched hers to him, he took it very gently, then leaned on to place a kiss on her hand, before letting it go. "...i am..but a miserly woman...why hath thy cometh to this insignificant soul?" She introduced herself and spoke directly, he lifted his eyebrows and slanted his lid, with a closed grin, "'t'must be a meaningful, beautiful name thou bearest as i wonder, which is owned by an indeed beauty hidden under a hood" he complimented the maiden, she stately looked at him, still ununderstanding, he continued "it impresses me that thy'rt not phased by my presence. Tell me, if thy will, why thou hath cameth?" She picked a piece of chopped ox then ate, before responding "...why dost thy care? I came to run from my personal matters for a nite...til i heard our Lord would come, yet i kept here still.." he watched her eat a piece of ox then speak, focusing to not loose concentration due to the ambience's considerable loudness. He leaned his elbows onto the table, so to look into her eyes, the striking blue of his eyes met hers, a shiver grew up her spine for a moment, "...is there some way i could assist thee? For i know that for help thy craveth" he slightly tilted his head as his voice was as low to purr, the maiden grew pale for a moment, his words were lies not, "..how dost...thy knoweth?", "fret thy not, heed my offer, for what i spell is not for all", he clearly had given her one more chance, it was not to deny, "i...i am astonished, why thy gaveth such offer to me?", as the maiden said, he lightly chuckled, "thy amuseth me, little mortal flower, despite that i am noble, thy treateth me indifferently" he slowly stood up, lowered his lids as he lightly smirked, his height towered towards the sitting maiden, "...indeed i must admit, small unblossomed flower, i like this" he held a hand out for her "hath thou decideth?", the almost unamused maiden was now stunned, she slowly turned her legs and stood up in front of him, gently taking his hand, her hood fell, revealing a lengthy raven hair that would touch down her waist, her face was chiseled, clear, thus had the most perfect of curves, and her eyes were of an emerald green not to be unperceived, the Lord, deep inside touched by her beauty and character, asked "...tell me thy name, o beautiful flower", she with her free hand adjusted out a lock of hair from her face, til she spoke "t's Dagrún, my lord, Dagrún Sigríðr"

[sammy-summerdotde]

Treu und Wahrhaftig, das beste was dir begegnen kann. Mein Pferd ist nicht weiß, sondern Gelb und sieht eher wie ein Nashorn aus, aber wir reiten über die Meere um Menschen zu retten. Was bringt der stärkste Motor, wenn der Keilriemen reisst? Fix ein neuen gebracht und ein guten Freund wieder glücklich gemacht. Wind treibt mich voran und die Sonne gibt mir Energie. Momentan hab ich ein super guten "Azubi" am Start der einen guten Smutje macht. Yeah Baby Summer Mobil ist in Schleswig am Start. Momentan sind zwei Plätze frei. Nächster halt Maasholm, dann evtl Ochseninseln und dann wieder Flensburg. Solange sich kein großes Schiff günstig anbietet genießen wir 24 Fuß. Wer kennt Menschen, die Bootsbauer sind und Lust haben auf ein Refit? Schlafen unterm Sternhimmel. Wie groß das Wesen über uns wohl sein muss, das die Erde durch das Universum schiesst, wärend man mit einer Nussschale auf einer Pfütze kriecht. Losung: Dienstag, 31.07.2018 HERR Zebaoth, du bist allein Gott über alle Königreiche auf Erden, du hast Himmel und Erde gemacht.Jesaja 37,16 Ich sah den Himmel aufgetan; und siehe, ein weißes Pferd. Und der darauf saß, hieß: Treu und Wahrhaftig, und er richtet und kämpft mit Gerechtigkeit.Offenbarung 19,11 Faithful and true, the best you can do. My horse is not white but yellow and looks more like a rhino, but we ride across the seas to save people. What is the strongest engine when the V-belt breaks? Fix brought a new and made a good friend happy again. Wind drives me forward and the sun gives me energy. Currently I have a super good "trainee" at the start of a good Smutje makes. Yeah Baby Summer Mobile is in Schleswig at the start. Currently there are two places available. Next stop Maasholm, then possibly ox islands and then again Flensburg. As long as no big ship offers cheap we enjoy 24 feet. Who knows people who are boat builders and feel like a refit? Sleep under the stars. How big the being above us must be, that shoots the earth through the universe, while crawling on a puddle with a nutshell. Solution: Tuesday, 31.07.2018 Lord Zebaoth, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth, you have made heaven and earth.-Isaiah 37:16 I

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Behind the Masquerade of Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier

Elīna Garanča as Octavian and Renée Fleming as the Marschallin in Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier (all photos by Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera unless stated otherwise)

It has been said that opera is an acquired taste. Aficionados insist that the serious operagoer must spend years cultivating the fine art of listening in order to appreciate the stratospheric nuances of the music and the performances of the Divas and Divos. After years of attending operas, the true opera lover is encouraged to announce her preferred lineage — does she love Italian? German? French? Or Russian operas? Or does she dare to be an outlier and not conform to the rules of admission to that most elite of opera clubs: the seasonal subscription?

Press image for the first English production of Der Rosenkavalier, taken from “For the First Time in England: Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier”, Illustrated London News, February 1, 1913 (via Wikipedia)

Indeed, I am such a non-conformist. For me, opera is less an acquired taste and more a journey to the land of not so thinly veiled passions. If asked to choose an opera in the category of “most satisfying,” I would choose Richard Strauss’s brilliant Der Rosenkavalier (The Knight of the Rose, 1911). Considered to be a “comic” opera in three acts, Der Rosenkavalier has waltzes, glamour, a love story, fantastic arias, and humor, as well as a darker dimension of social commentary that simmers beneath all that Viennese charm.

With music by Richard Strauss and libretto by Hugo von Hofmannsthal, the story is a hodgepodge that mixes and adapts elements from various prior works: the long forgotten operetta, L’Ingenu Libertin, by Claude Terrasse and Louis Artus, as well as Moliere’s comedy, Monsieur de Pourceaugnac, and aesthetic inspiration from the painter William Hogarth. Count Harry Kessler, an art patron and a friend of von Hofmannsthal’s, was an uncredited collaborator in the opera. Max Reinhardt, the esteemed director, produced the original production.

The setting is 18th century Vienna. There are four main protagonists: The Marschallin; her lover, Count Octavian Rofrano; the lecherous cousin Baron Ochs (pronounced “ox” rather than “oaks” for obvious reasons); and the Baron’s prospective fiancée, Sophie von Faninal, daughter of a recently ennobled bourgeois arms dealer, Herr von Faninal. At the Marschallin”s suggestion, Octavion is chosen as the Rosenkavalier and asked to deliver to Sophie the ceremonial rose that announces her betrothal to the much older Baron Ochs. The moment Octavion and Sophie meet, they fall passionately in love. The remainder of the opera involves getting rid of Ochs while the Marschallin comes to accept the loss of her beloved Octavian to the younger Sophie.

Renée Fleming as the Marschallin in Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier

While the plot might suggest a comic opera with beautiful music — an amusing matinee — underneath the 18th-century Viennese schlag (in German, to strike a blow and a shortened versions of schlagobers — whipped cream) is a much darker story encoded with early 20th-century themes of social change and the end of the Habsburg Empire: the relentless passage of time; the position of women in society; the construction of gender; the fall of the aristocracy and rise of the bourgeois; the meaning of love; the inevitability of change; and the masquerade of social rules and roles embedded in disguised desires.

Elīna Garanča as Octavian and Renée Fleming as the Marschallin in Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier

Each character is confronted with one or more of these challenges during the course of the opera. The Marschallin, at 32, sees herself as a fading flower who will soon be old and alone. She tells her young lover, Octavian, “I arise at the dead of night and take the clocks and stop them, every one.” But time cannot be stopped and she knows that Octavian will one day leave her for a younger lover. Although she hides her fears behind the mask of her rank and position, the Marschallin represents a dying empire that will soon be replaced by a new order.

Octavian, the ardent 17-year-old chevalier, is one of the most interesting characters in opera. Known as a “trouser” or “breeches” role, it is played en travesti — the male character is played by a woman. Octavian additionally disguises himself as a woman to seduce and foil the plans of the Baron Ochs. The spectacle of Octavian transforming himself into a woman and then back into a man reflects the construction and deconstruction of gender in society. His romantic scenes with both the Marschallin and Sophie are filled with barely veiled eroticism, titillating us with forbidden passions, while his scene as a woman seducing and being seduced by the Baron Ochs makes a “travesty” of the heterosexual gender masquerade.

Elīna Garanča as Octavian and Günther Groissböck as Baron Ochs in Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier

For his part, Baron Ochs (Ox) is an impoverished noble who is looking for a wealthy bride to keep his lifestyle afloat. He despises the up-and-coming bourgeois class that is replacing him in power, but by marrying Sophie he will gain a substantial dowry from von Faninal. Faninal is as greedy as Ochs and sees his daughter as a commodity for exchange in order to further his social status. There is no love here; just social hypocrisy. Although she wants to obey her father’s wishes for her to marry Ochs, 16-year-old Sophie is totally appalled by the Baron’s behavior. She meets Octavian and it is love at first sight.

Unlike the Marschallin who, as young girl, was forced by her family into an arranged marriage with an older man, Sophie refuses to marry Ochs. By doing so, she challenges the rules and roles of her society. She wants to choose her own husband, and refuses a loveless arranged marriage filled with sexual hypocrisy — a masquerade.

Erin Morley as Sophie and Elīna Garanča as Octavian in Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier

By the final act, when all the disguises have been removed, the Marschallin sums up the opera’s doings as, “a masquerade, as we in Vienna practice — nothing more.” Then, the Marschallin offers the central lesson of the opera when she releases Octavian from their relationship and encourages him to go to the one he loves, Sophie. In the end, all that matters is love without the need for masks.

A most endearing and timely opera, Der Rosenkavalier uses artifice to unmask the artifice of social norms. It is Viennese confection that uses schlag to hit us over the head with our own hypocrisies and masquerades.

The post Behind the Masquerade of Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier appeared first on Hyperallergic.

from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2qQ09MH via IFTTT

[musikhai]

Hr. OX schreibt von der Schulzeit (02) 

[cravenswine]

Drone Newsletter

GNN Apr’17 Vi Hagra, Secretart and MM Pleasure Activist Infidels:  The Sword of Allah is Keen

Congrats to all our rehog survivors.  Now, here’s the plan:

   Project   GROG    Gut Rehog Ordeal Groups BGR = Before Gut Rehog;   AGR = After Gut Rehog Inmates will be divided into 2 groups:  BGRs & AGRs. The first group, the BGRs, will then be rehogged themselves.  Then they, serving as a control group, will aid and participate in the rehoganizing of the 2nd group, to wit:  the AGRs.  This intricate, delicate biomedical procedure will be conducted at the world famous revitalization clinic of Herr Baron Doktor Frank N. Stein and his renowned colleague, Dr. Acula. the seer of serology. THEN:  The Conquest of Cheatsworth Cheatsworth delenda est! The 2017 spring military offensive to attack and sack Cheatsworth  is in the final planning stage.  (Note:  Bingo tourney on hold.)   Gen. Brutus Axhandle and his wife/aide de camp Thea the Odorous will lead the MM forces.  Loot from  pillaging will  finance the reanimation of the Monster, now laying dormant in Dr. Stein’s lab in the labarinthian catacombs beneath Krone Kastle.  Those wishing to enlist and share in the booty can sign up at the MM Confusion Room.  Bring power of attorney, last will and proof of a Deffenbaugh Landfill Internment Plan.   landfillrest.end  (Ads)  Geezermodo now available to pose for holy pictures. NO, most emphatically NO, XXX action videos!!  See Vi for app’t. Lola Lustrouser Tryst Service.  Utmost discretion assured.  NOW LEASING: Senile Living Utopia Mahomet Meadows  (SLUMM) email:  cronehaven.sty  Moat dig halted.  Covered wagon and ox bones unearthed.  Links to the pre-hickstoric arrival of geezermodo at MM.  An ox-hide parchment scroll assigns the entire MM HUD site, Kastle, 4plex and all  to That Awful Bob, an iconic figure often seen lurching and reeling about the sacred MM turf.  (gasp! shudder!) What hath Kong wrought?  A New owner?   MM lore has it that Poor Bob (aka geezermodo) came here in a covered wagon and was cruelly abandoned when sent to gather firewood.  This find may mean he is sole owner of Mahomet Meadows & all inmates.

10 empty parking spaces at 4plex!!  These must be filled!  More cars, signs and poles needed.  Get friends, neighbors or relatives to put a vehicle in these spaces or the 4plex  lot will be transhogresized for Berzerkistan “refugee” housing.  Those who have no vehicle can at least apply for a pole.  Non-tenants welcome.  Just put something in that empty space & get a pole/sign for it.  Later this summer, using plunder loot from Cheatsworth, the signs will get horns and inmates will have beeper remotes to honk at pedestrians while hiding, warm and safe, in their  ratpads.  Whee!  Startle a geezer today.                    

Daily dog fashion show at 4plex.  Bring your naked dog to be fitted for new clothes. Brqrs must be clean and de-pooped.

MM KKK (King Kong Kult) demands statue of St. Francis, patron saint of barkers,  be replaced by a statue of King Kong.  

.When PB went on vacation He caused a minor sensation. He swilled too much beer, Fondled a deer, And was charged with fawn-ication.

Brought to you by Geezer News Network.  Al Z. Heimer, Ed.

[musikhai]

Es geht weiter!

Bild von Jill Wellington auf Pixabay Als ich meine Unterlagen durchsuchte auf der Jagd nach etwas ganz anderem, fand ich eine Mappe mit weiteren Blättern von Herrn OX! Juhu! Ich freute mich sehr! Das heißt, ich werde euch demnächst noch weitere Kapitel vom Leben des Bewohners Hr. OX erzählen können! Seid also gespannt!

[musikhai]

Kinderlandverschickung

Hier gibt es einen interessanten Beitrag von Planet Wissen, der gut erklärt, worum es dabei ging. <<klick Auch Herr OX erzählt davon in seinen Erzählungen. Bundesarchiv Bild 183-L16351, Schlesien, Berliner Kinder im KLV-Lager , CC-BY-SA 3 . By Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1983-056-13 / CC-BY-SA 3.0, CC BY-SA 3.0 de, Link „Herr Ox nach den Aufzeichnungen von H. Naebers“