Curls of gold and silver shimmer with the violins as they play a maudlin melody, bemoaning a falling of fellows past and future. No urgency comes with their deliverance, for the piano softy soothes her falling torrent of salty sea. There are broken threads throughout the symphony tied up only by the hatred and lust for the end of it all.

Discretion denies what some may a call a remonstration of past follies. Memory has served its use through and throughout all of what we desire, but that which yearns for us peers around the corners of vexing temptation. A swift glance from the bursting dam means only that sparks won't spark.

Striking melodies clash with their counterparts as crescendos build deep within the chasms of the heart and cease, searching for the light in the darkness of it all. Granted the most within the time of flight cannot elicit the birdsong from the lips of man given that she is everywhere.

Tonic for the mind relays itself with vibrations throughout the body, ceasing when the hands are done striking the notes of the correct chords. Hatred of the fingers is not a common ailment but stares through the silence of unknown qualifications, destroying what should be and creating what is.

There is no me. There is no I. There is the collected interactions and indescribable absorption of every single other person, character, and being that has been talked to, listened to, or interacted with, but there is no me. There never was a me.

Me is a finite recursion of intellect and incredulous suppositions. I is the interpersonal scheming of the daily sunrise. We are naught but the assiduous machinations of others who contain naught but the assiduous machinations of others, ad nauseum. They are what we are because we are what they are.

In eyes do we feel the trickling of a stream of thoughts of others. Ears do not give us sight for food or dire straits, but instead the durable astuteness of thousands of recollections. For with a mouth can we become us or me or I or we or nothing, by which we create the juncture of malignancy and delight of wonder.

Wandering produces effects similar to joviality. Arriving tends to accrue mileage between the cracks of two branches of a tree through which light creeps around and tickles the shy boy sitting underneath. A field is a field until it decides it doesn't want to be a field, but the field cannot decide for itself because it is a field.

Red and blue and green are buzzes in the fingers of a deaf man and words in the eyes of the blind. Music like fire and velvet enraptures the unknown relaxation and causation of the universe, as it should be, for there is no known cure to the sight of a woman with her arms open to the wind.

Footprints in the dirt create shockwaves throughout the Earth and the Earth adjusts because it always has and always will, not because it desires to, but because that is what it does. Strings like light dance through the sun and project themselves in the hearth of the heart of the person who can see the happiness in others.

There is no me, nor an I, nor an us, nor a they, nor a we, because there never can nor ever will be. There is something that cannot be described or ascribed to a vision of an old man sitting among trees in the springtime air with no thought of anything else except the next second warmth.

Hullabaloo for a Speedbump

For the past 4-5 years, much of the western world has been in the throes of a recession. The European Union in particular has come under fire for allowing countries with high debt or risk levels to join the Euro, i.e. Greece, Ireland, Portugal, Italy, and Spain. There has been much speculation (mostly from the Euro-skeptics) that, because of these "toxic" countries, the Euro will break up, the countries will revert to their old currencies, and possibly the EU itself will break up.
Let's assume, for a moment, that a country does decide to leave the Euro and revert back to its old currency. What would happen? Well, because that currency is not collectively backed by the other 16 members, the old currency would face severe inflation because of its speculated buying risk on the international market. The currency itself would fall in terms of exchange rate, and there would probably be austerity within the country, leading to higher unemployment, possibly the rise of nationalist parties, etc. There is little to no incentive to leave the Euro.
For a "smaller" country (always use that term lightly), the Euro and the Eurozone is a treasure trove. Not only is there equal footing for interstate trade within the Eurozone, but there is also a free transit for both people and companies. It also protects the smaller countries from highly unfavorable exchange rates in the international market.
But what about the current crisis, you ask? Won't the other Eurozone members want to boot the countries who are bringing the Euro down?
The answer, in simple terms, is no. The countries rated lower in international credit standards keep the Euro at a stable trading level, unlike the pound, which British Exchequer Osborne refuses to devalue (currently worth $1.53). Should the endangered countries leave the Euro, purchasing on the currency will likely rise, leading to an increase in its price, making exports of goods more difficult.
As for the legal side, crises such as these in a currency's infancy lead to a consolidation of the currency itself, such as in a set of new banking rules unveiled in December of 2012. Obviously, no currency is ever flawless: the dollar had more than its fair share of crises in its infancy, including individual states' desires to return to their own individual currencies.
I can only say it so many times: the European Union will not break up. Even if, on the strange and unlikely contingent that the Eurozone dissolves, the EU will remain. It is too deeply entrenched in the laws and trading regulations of its member states (especially in the original six) to suddenly dissolve, or even dissolve over time.
As one can always expect, recessions do not necessarily cure themselves in five years' time, or ten years' time, or even fifteen years' time. What matters, however, is wondering for whom is this a recession? Those who make from half a million (in whatever currency) to one million or more a year, or everyone below them?

That's all for now, 
Das Flüg

Don't Drink the Blue Cup: Chapter 1

After deciding not to comment on any news this week, I have decided to put the first chapter of a very odd story I came up with off-the-cuff. Enjoy.

1

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not.”

Jason shifted around in his seat as if he had irritable bowel syndrome. His eyes darted every which way, from the waitress held together by a tortured corset to the obese man on his third shrimp sandwich, trying to see if he could see it too.

“So you know everything I’m going to say?”

“Everything.”

“Bullshit,” we spoke at the same time. He raised his eyebrow and crinkled his nose.

“Yabba dabba doo. Skittle-lee-winks,” we said in perfect stereo. His fingers wrapped around his fork and prodded his half-eaten chicken sandwich. The poor thing would never get eaten by him at this rate.

“I fucked your sister!” we yelled, and sadly, I knew it was true. A few eyes turned our way. Jason slouched back in his seat and eyeballed the room.

“Do her,” he said, nodding to the obese waitress. I turned to look at her; she was collecting cups from a group of old men in bowler hats.

            It’s not like I had to really focus or anything for it to work; it just worked. I gazed at her refrigerator-shaped form, and in an instant, she broke off into a million different people, some clearer than others. This was the part I hated: discerning which one would happen.

            The clearest one traveled along, some ghosts in tow, as it clomped towards the kitchen with the tray in hand. One of either two things would happen based on the actions of the flirtatious bowler hat men around her: she would skid over the bit of spilled water on the tacky yellow tiles, or she would fall on her back, the tray would fly in the air, and her corset would burst apart like two people who made a drunken mistake but don’t much care for each other. I was hoping for the latter.

“She’s going to skid over that water spill,” I said to Jason with a frown. They never do the ridiculous falls. Jason looked over my shoulder as the sound of the rhino’s heel squeaked on the water.

“Oops!” said the waitress with a nervous chuckle. The cups shook on her tray. “That would have hurt.”

Jason’s golf-ball sized eyes turned to me. I had the sickest urge to throw one of my fries in his mouth just to close it, but that would result in him choking. Probably a bad idea to kill my best friend.

“Dude.”

“Yeah…”

I looked out the window. The goddamned Doopers were out again, trolling around on the sidewalk. It’s not that I mind their presence; hell, they’re great, but I hate the way they look at me and at skyscrapers. They look at me like I’m their goddamned savior, and they look at skyscrapers like that fat guy a few seats down looks at a sirloin steak.

“How’d this happen?” asked Jason, scratching his idiotic rapist mustache. He’ll shave in three days once he gets the nursing job.

“You remember that day a few weeks ago when I brought home that bag of carrots by mistake, and we already had that first bag of carrots in the fridge?”

Jason stopped scratching. Just shave it now, god damn it.

“Of course not.”

I sighed. This was going to sound ridiculous.

“Well, I figured that it would be better to eat all the old carrots since I brought home that bag of new carrots-”

He’s going to interrupt.

“Wait, you’re saying that you can see the future because you ate a shit-ton of carrots?”

I hate when I’m right.

“Let me finish.”

Jason slouched back in his seat.

“So, I ate all the carrots we already had. That was like, thirty carrots man. That night, I started seeing weird shit. I started seeing all these ghosts and stuff walking out of my body and doing things, and ghosts walking out of your body and doing things, so I freaked out, just like one ghost did, which is when it hit me: I was seeing the future, but not just the most certain future: I was seeing all futures.”

He leaned forward again. At this rate, he might actually get in a decent workout.

“So dude, what you’re telling me is that if I eat a ton of carrots, I’ll be able to see the future?”

Being patient with conversations is the worst.

“No, and trust me, I’ve seen the future where you eat a lot of carrots. You just end up with orange-colored crap.”

He leaned back again, but rebounded instantly.

“Wait, you saw that future?”

Okay, I’m cutting this conversation short.

“Yes, and before you ask, I’ve seen every possible future for the next four days, no I don’t know how exactly my brain sorts it all out because it just does, and yes, there is a future with you eating a crap-ton of carrots and subsequently crapping orange the entire night. It wasn’t just the carrots, it was something in that specific batch of carrots, though I don’t know what and I don’t see any future, at least not yet, telling me that answer.”

His eyes searched the table. There were actually multiple questions that were probable at that point, but they all depended on whether or not I spoke or if the monster truck of a waitress came by just in time. To not speak would probably be better; after all, he’d just ask me about the goddamned Doopers if I mentioned them, and they’re too goddamned intense. At the same time, I have no idea what to do with them.

“You boys doin’ okay?” asked she-Hulk. I should stop being so mean. Her name is Alberta, as in she comprises one-fifth of Canada. That poor, poor corset. If it had a mouth and lungs, it would scream. I turned to her and smiled.

“Yeah, thanks ma’am.”

Jason was still searching for a question. He only nodded and she clomped away to go terrorize Japan. Jason finally found his question, just like I knew he would.

“So does this mean that you know lottery numbers?”

Shit, it leads to the goddamned Doopers anyway.

“Yes, and no, I’m not going to game the system more than I already have.”

Jason’s eyes went wide and he grinned.

“That’s how you’re fucking all those girls!” he yelled, pointing a finger. Eyes turned once more, though I couldn’t help but grin as well.

“You see the future, you clever bastard, and you talk to them in a way so that they respond to you. You clever bastard.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with that stupid mustache extending with his smile. Leave it to Jason to completely ignore the philosophical and scientific implications of this ability and focus only on the fifty-seven women I’ve slept with since I gained this ability. Oh, don’t worry, I foresaw no happy ending with any of them.

“You’ve got to wingman for me, you clever bastard you. But why not play the lottery, man? You’re a sure thing!”

I bowed my head. God damn it, he wasn’t going to let this one sit.

“Because there is so much more going on right now,” I said, leaning on the table. My food was getting cold, but it sucked anyway. Jason leaned in close like he wanted to hear a secret. He wasn’t going to hear about my minor lottery playing.

“Like what?”

“Fuck. It’s the goddamned Doopers, man.”

A nude mariachi band could have walked up to Jason and started blaring Besame Mucho in his ear, and he still would have stared at me with his confused ogle.

“Doopers?”

“Yes, the goddamned Doopers. Look outside.”

He turned his head to the bustling street. A few people in suits argued on something over their phones. Only one of them was getting laid that night.

“What do you see, Jason?”

His eyes danced from person to person, from building to building, from car to car, but he had no idea what I was talking about.

“Of course you don’t see them,” I said, preempting his obvious quip. “They’re one second in the future.”

He turned back to me, still the look of baffled consternation on his face. At this point, I would have preferred the naked mariachi band.

“They’re what?”

“They’re these aliens, see, and they’re like, three feet tall. Gray skin, three eyes, four legs, some of them look like kids who have had too much LSD. They’re called the Doopers. Those little fuckers are here protecting us.”

“From wh-”

“From the Asheeyo.”

“The wh-”

I look forward to my quiet masturbation time tonight.

“These big dickhead conqueror aliens who come to planets and fuck shit up.”

I popped a fry in my mouth. No use in letting this shitty diner food go to waste. Jason was still trying to wrap his head around what I told him. It would take him a few seconds, so I picked on some of the chicken on his plate and ate it. Not too terrible, actually. I might get that to go.

“Wait wait wait,” said Jason, shaking his head. His mustache looked like a speedy caterpillar. “There are actual aliens on Earth?”

I nodded and ate more of his chicken.

“And they’re here protecting us from other aliens?”

“Yep,” I said.

“And you’re cool with this?”

Of all his possible responses, I didn’t think that one would be the most probable.

“No, I’m not.”

I grabbed his entire sandwich and bit into it. Pretty nice. It’s got a hint of paprika. I should definitely get this to go.

“But, if they are here protecting us, why aren’t you cool with it?”

This sandwich was too good. I don’t know why Jason wasn’t eating it. There really is no way for him to understand the magnitude of what’s going on with me. God damn it, there has to be someone more intelligent I can talk to in the distant future.

“Becauf,” I said with a full mouth, “they’re not being totally honest wif me.”

A bit of chicken flew onto Jason’s plate.

“About what?”

I shrugged and ate more of the sandwich.

“I ‘unno.”

His next question would possibly open him to greater philosophical possibilities, or he’d just let it go and not bother to think on it. Being patient sucks.

“So, wait,” he said, leaning forward once more, “why not game the system more than you already have?”

I swallowed a bit of chicken. There was still some bread stuck to my teeth. Worst feeling in the world, man.

“You need to imagine all lives as taking a pre-set course along a planned route, kind of like a road trip. All your decisions are already made for you, all that’s necessary is to drive it. That’s kind of what I’ve discovered about individual human timelines. We are, on this Earth, pre-ordained, and I hate to use that word, to make every single decision in our lives the way we have in the past and will in the future.

Jason stared at me, bug-eyed.

“Now, because I can see every single possible decision someone could make, including my own, I can choose the least-probable decision, meaning that I’ve drastically changed that pre-ordination. That means I’ve upset the natural flow of the world, because there most certainly is one. Just the other day I stopped a kid from wandering into the street, where he would have gotten hit by a car and died. I created an entirely new timeline on this Earth. Do you understand that?”

He probably didn’t, though sometimes I give him too little credit.

“Now, these timelines intersect where we meet others,” I continued without looking into his ridiculous face. “Because I’ve chosen to interact with timelines I would not otherwise, in all probability, have interacted with, I have, again, upset the natural future of the Earth.”

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jason had shit his pants.

“So-”

“Yes, I’ve seen all outcomes of this conversation, yes I am extremely patient with everyone, though sometimes it wears on me, to be honest. There’s no easy way to really describe it except to say that I’m omniscient when it comes to the immediate future.”

He leaned back and stroked the pedophile’s watermark on his face. Come on, Jason, I know you can come up with the right goddamn question with me prodding you.

            A car honked outside and I glanced at it while Jason ruminated on his existential quandary. Two young, attractive people, very much in love, put their luggage in the trunk of a cab, and in the moment before they entered the back seat, I saw the end of both their romance and their lives. I turned back to Jason.

“Before you say anything, look outside.”

Jason turned his head, expecting to see some goddamned Doopers.

“See the cab?”

He nodded.

“Ten seconds after the cab driver takes off, the brakes will fail and all three of the people in that car will die because they won’t be able to stop at the light.”

Jason turned a sickly pale.

“Now, I have two options here: I stay here and talk to you or I go out there and perpetuate three timelines that wouldn’t otherwise exist past fifteen seconds from now. What do I choose?”

“You, you save them?”

“Why?” I asked, and if Jason’s jaw had dropped any lower, he’d have to go to the hospital to get it reattached.

“Why? Why? Because, because it’s right!” he yelled, and some eyes turned to us. I smirked. The cab drove away, and Jason was ready to explode.

“What makes it right?”

“You’ve got to, you’ve-”

The crunch of metal and screams from the street interrupted him. A few people turned to look outside. Jason only stared at me.

“You could have-”

“I could have, yes, but again, I’d create unforeseen timelines. I saved the kid because it was a gut reaction and because I thought I knew what ‘right’ was. But is it right to completely negate what is supposed to happen to save a life that has unsure meaning in the future?”

He was confused. Understandable. A few people ran past our window towards the accident.

“Do you believe in multiverse theory?” I asked Jason. He still had no idea what I was talking about. “Do you remember all those alternate-universe stories from sci-fi and comics?”

He nodded, his expression an unsure mixture of constipation and shock.

“Well, I’ve come to believe in it. How can I not? I see all the goddamned choices we can make. So, in another universe where I have this ability, I made the decision to go out and talk to that cabbie to tell him that his brakes were faulty. I apologized to the couple for delaying them, and then I lied, saying that I was a mechanic and I realized that there was a faulty alignment on the wheel, whatever that means. The cabbie and I talked some more, and of course, I used my foresight to stop him, and eventually he called a tow. The couple lived.”

Jason scratched his head. He should grow his afro so he could be a funky man-nurse.

“But how do you justify all this?”

It always came down to this.

“I don’t. I try to maintain the integrity of the future, but I’m capricious, kind of like Zeus, except I don’t hurl lightning bolts and I don’t impregnate women. Sure, I use my ability to get a girl to sleep with me, but that’s a minor alteration of the future. Reversing death is a shockwave. It upsets the balance of our universe. Someone is alive who shouldn’t be. That means that everything that person does will have an unaccountable ripple effect throughout all time, even if it might be as minor as the introduction of another genome.”

He sat back and folded his arms. I couldn’t help but envy his position of utter ignorance, but at the same time, I’d rather not have that ugly mustache. Sirens blared in the distance as still more people ran towards the accident. They were already dead at this time, but at least the last thing they saw was each other.

            A Dooper walked up to the window and waved at me, though only the top of his prickly head reached the window. I waved back, and Jason tried to see what I was waving at.

“What-”

“A goddamned Dooper,” I said as I smiled at the stupid thing. Stop looking at me like that, asshole. It makes me uncomfortable.

“This is heavy, man,” said Jason, sitting back. Lady Juggernaut marched over to our table.

“Anything else, darlins?”

She glanced at Jason, who was about ready to vomit.

“You okay, darlin’? You’re not lookin’ too good.”

He looked at me with his sunken eyes for an answer. Great, this is my new use: a personal Dear Abby. I nodded, only thinking about what unpleasant dreams I’ll have tonight. That always happens when I see death.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Jason, a meek smile stretching out his mustache. I swear, I could have drawn that thing on with a pencil.

“And you, darlin’?”

“Yeah, can I have what he had to go, please?”

“Sure, dear,” she said with a grin. Her cheeks were probably hiding nuts for winter. She wrote down my order and got ready to go to the kitchens, but the sirens from all the police cars and ambulances grabbed her attention.

“Say, you know what’s goin’ on out there? Sounds like something big happenin’ on the street,” she said, pointing out the window with her sausage of a thumb. For a second, my eyes dared to follow one of her less likely decisions for later in the night. I no longer wanted to make fun of her.

            Jason glanced out the window every so often and then to me, trying to come up with some response that might accurately convey everything I’ve told him into a sentence. There was no need really, because there was always just one word that ever needed to be used.

“Life,” I said, and with a puzzled squint, Alberta walked off to the kitchens to place my order.

Saddle Up, Lock and Load

In case you've missed it (somehow), North Korea has been ratcheting up their war rhetoric of late. Of course, any actual tactical strike made by Mr. Kim Jong-Un is likely to elicit an extreme response from the US and South Korea. North Korea is far outgunned, because at this point, it's unlikely that they have a capable nuclear arsenal, much less the ability to actually put nuclear warheads on intercontinental ballistic missiles. However, let's assume, at least for the moment, that North Korea is serious in its bellicosity and actually intends to strike at South Korea or Japan (because the US is probably unreachable). What should the international community (re: the US) do?

One obvious answer is, of course, retaliate. Why shouldn't we retaliate, the hawks would say. It's a good question, but there is also a good answer. It isn't the North Korean people who threaten the world with annihilation, it is its untested and frightened leader. Kim Jong-Un stepped into the leadership position not a military man, but a son of a respected leader (in NK) who has a history of enjoying western culture.

When looking at North Korea, one must also look at the military: the military rules, above all else. North Korea has the largest standing army on Earth, mostly due to the fact that its government spouts anti-west and anti-South Korean propaganda. The top generals also wouldn't want a respected leader replaced by someone who has no prior military experience and who has, at least rhetorically, stated that peaceful negotiations are possible. What better way to perpetuate military dominance than to remove the man who threatens their purpose?

Thus, this is likely Jong-Un's proving ground: seeing how far he can push the rest of the world before the clock stops on his decision to push the button or not push the button. Of course, there is always a point of no return for this sort of thing, and it was nearly crossed in the Cuban Missile Crisis; for Jong-Un, that point may be when he recognizes that the NK military generals want to proceed with military action, and he doesn't want to. That would almost certainly lead to the beginning of hostilities, or a coup.

So, let's assume that Jong-Un does decide to strike a target, without being too specific about its location. What does the US do? The US has a military umbrella protecting South Korea and Japan, two of North Korea's assumed targets, leaving it responsible to come to the aid of either country in case of attack. Should it retaliate immediately, however?

In my opinion, no. Even if the US military strikes can be carried out only on government targets, the US should not attack. Why, you ask?

First, let me state that I am not ubiquitously anti-war; if a nation is attacked, obviously they have the right to retaliate, but just because one has the right to retaliate, that does not mean that it should be the first option. Consider the military strength of the US: it is the most technologically advanced military in the world with the highest number of nuclear weapons, fighter jets, etc. etc. etc. Razing a country like North Korea would only be problematic, especially with China right nearby (though that is another story).

The US should, instead, give North Korea, and specifically, Kim Jong-Un, options: First, give him the option of ceding power and dissolving the government (obviously won't happen); Second, give him the option of fleeing North Korea (problematic, but Kim is facing a lot of backlash from the established military leaders, though it still likely won't happen); Third, in conjunction with both China and South Korea, open the borders and allow NK citizens to become refugees (definitely won't happen); Fourth, disarm completely, dissolve the government, place the military under South Korean command, and surrender to a coalition force (definitely won't happen); Fifth, give him the option of disarming and opening the economy AND government.

President Obama has avoided making any aggressive remarks against North Korea, and for that, he is smart. He knows the situation of the country all too well, and is much less likely to engage in any kind of strike, preemptive or otherwise, than his predecessor was. I'm hoping that he can carry this rumination with him should there be some sort of outbreak; otherwise, several million people may die in the process.

Any war instigated by NK would have to be an absolute war, i.e. an all-or-nothing game. Giving Kim the option of an escape from (basically guaranteed) annihilation will likely work, but of course, that doesn't say anything about his generals.

The situation, in itself, is complex, with so many different angles (I avoided talking about China completely, though it fulfills the strange love triangle between them, NK, and the US; the issue of famine in North Korea is also salient, along with the younger population, many of whom are less likely to believe the government propaganda, etc.) that it's hard to see viable options. I'm just hoping that the first option isn't the last one for the people of North Korea.

That's all for now, 
Das Flüg

I've decided to drop out of school

April fool's! Wait, what, that was two days ago? God damn it, where does my time go?