Educated Rita


I stumbled upon a great article in The Times today, about the amount of hits you get if you search for Downfall +Hitler on YouTube, and why that might be funny. (Downfall being the english title for the German movie Der Untergang, about the last days of Hitler in the bunker in Berlin.)

The joke of course, plays on the fact that most english-speaking people don’t understand German, so that the subtitles – well, they could really say anything, couldn’t they.

And that is exactly what is going on. People take the original scene where his officers tells Hitler that the Russians are approaching Berlin fast and that there really is no way out, whereupon Hitler goes ballistic, and put new subtitles upon it.

There is the one where Hitler has been banned from World of Warcraft, the one where Hitler’s mom closed his porn-connection on the internet, Hitler having trouble with Windows Vista, all in all, people have the strangest, weirdest and funniest ideas for this.

My favourite so far is the one where Hitler realizes that he has lost his connection to Xbox live…

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opener4-6247Funnily enough, after elizadrool posted the “Oh god, that is a big snake. And speaking of snakes…”-scenario the other day, Tim Dowling in The Guardian today muses about the different scenarios used to set up the sex, all of them of course completely silly. But maybe not so silly as that snake…

(Pictured above is the opening of what Tim Dowling happily refers to as The funeral parlour-scenario.)

Knowing that you are going to leave your job (or rather, being laid off as the case may be), is not a really great incentive for doing your best the last two months. And it doesn’t do much for the feelings towards your fellow workers either, I can tell you. Because, if you know that you are going to have to deal with these people for the unforseeable future, then you develope some techniques to deal with them. You have to, otherwise life would be unbearable.

The boss that never, ever can make a decision? The overpaid person in a job you don’t know what entails, that you never see doing anything worthwhile? The woman that is so scared of other women getting ahead that she constantly puts all the other women in the office down, but manages to charm management nevertheless? The woman you suspect having an affair with the boss? Does this sound familiar to anyone? (I really hope so, because if not, I’m the crazy one.)  You learn to tolerate it all, seeing as you spend more time with them than with anyone else in the world.

But to know that it is going to end? That in a short two months you don’t ever have to see them again? I can tell you what that means, it means that what you really think of them is starting to seep into all conversations you have at work, all the time.

Feel like George Costanza.

twin-peaks-tv-02Watching Twin Peaks again, near on 20 years later, is strange on many levels. I can’t help thinking how far TV has come since then, and remembering how crap it mostly was before Twin Peaks. It is hard to try and recollect how truly strange it really was watching it, back in 1990.

But what almost gets to me the most, is the smoking. It is strange in most old TV-shows and movies, the amount of smoking that went on. Everywhere, all the time. Seeing as it hardly is allowed anywhere anymore, watching people smoking indoors, in schools, the sheriff’s office, in the hospital – God knows where people didn’t smoke in those days – is just plain weird. And it is not only the bad guys either, it is everyone.

There is one particularly weird smoking-incident in Twin Peaks that just blew my mind.

Audrey Horne is hiding in the closet in the office of the manager of Horne’s Department Store, to find out how he recruits girls from the department store to work as prostitutes at One Eyed Jacks.

So there she is, hiding in this closet with doors that are more like blinds, really. Smoking. And she continues to smoke in there while the manager talks to one of the girls. Without being discovered. Without anyone saying; “Can you smell smoke?”

And you simply don’t see that anymore. It is quite hard not to think that it was ment to be ironic or strange, in that peculiar Twin Peaks-way.

But I really don’t think so. And that is the strangest thing of all, in 2008.

(This clip from youtube has nothing what so ever to do with this particular scene. I just wanted to share Audrey Horne in all her glory.)

I need elizadrool to expand on this, but the notion of Sweden as the home of all horrible og unmentionable moral, and spesifically sexual, badness, is so clearly based on watching Swedish porn in the sixties and seventies, that one must assume that the members of this church have some moral issues of their own.

(There is however a story to this – Swedish evangelist pastor Åke Green was some years ago to court for his rather distasteful attacks on gay people. This led to a certain reputation amongst some American preachers that Sweden is the home of all immoral acts, and with a state ready to defend gay people. The shock! The horror!)

But living in Scandinavia, the idea of the Swedes as the Masters of the Promiscous Sex-world, is completely silly. It is the Danes, stupid!

(Having checked the completely insane website assosiated with these people, http://www.godhatestheworld.com/, I realize that God does not hate Norway or Denmark, only Sweden. He does however hate Russia for being gay, incidently one of the most homophobic places on the planet. I feel that fact-checking is not high on the agenda with these people.)

westboro-baptist-ch_779439w

nattbordJames McAdam has made this rather nifty bedside table for the nervous amongst us, and those willing to fight off their enemies, it seems.

However cool it looks, I’m afraid it is not for me. I am scared of things that go bump in the night, but very rarely is this the right weapon to get rid of them, if everything I have learned from Joss Whedon is correct. And I am quite sure that it is.

And if I really should have a bog standard burglar in my house, I would curl up and try to will the bastard away. To attack someone when you don’t know what to do, is far more likely to end with getting yourself injured, I fear.

Plus, the amount of books, newspapers, coffee-mugs and assorted crap that would have to be tossed on the floor in the process of assembling this in my bedroom, would surely alert the burglar to my existence long before I was ready to wack him over the head.

But I gotta give it to James – rather good idea!

Here in Norway we have a rather embarrassing political situation occupying us at the moment. Apparently, a politician in Parliament has, on a few occations on trips abroad, been so blatant in his pursuit of prostitutes that the head of Parliament has given him a sharp talking-to. This has been going on for some years, if I understand it correctly.

The rather more interesting episode has allegedly happened on a trip to some undisclosed country in Africa, where the problem of trafficing of women to Europe was the topic of discussion. Apparently, when session closed, this esteemed member of Parliament have then ventured out into the city, buying the services of the local women. He has also been quoted by one one the female participants on that trip, who found the whole thing rather inappropiate and confronted him about it, to have said that “What’s the difference between buying food and sex? I don’t understand why you are so upset”.

Charming, in so many ways.

He has – without being named – commented to say that the whole thing is ridicolous, he has never bought sex, never been reprimanded about it, and don’t understand why the journalist asked him this rude question. Something that strikes me as rather stupid, seeing as the head of Parliament has already confirmed the whole thing.

This story broke earlier in the week, and surprisingly his name has not yet been disclosed. Because honestly, in this day and age, these things have a tendency to see daylight rather quickly. And why don’t they learn?! The best thing to do is to admit, grovel, and beg for forgiveness. Every child knows this!

But it gives the whole country a feeling of – I don’t know if this is distasteful – holiday, to be honest. Everything else seems to be suspended, we all have something in common to talk about and despise (even other men who buy sex, because taxpayers money is involved), and it is that whole feeling of glee. Never to be underestimated.

Rumours are however starting to emerge about his identity, and in a country of 5 million people, you can hardly keep anything a secret. So I’m waiting eagerly for the groveling. That is the best part, don’t you think?

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