Writer's block

Yesterday

This is the Dom, at 4505 m. the third-highest mountain of the Alpes, the peak is in the clouds. You can see autumn descending down the slopes (the rainbow of colors).

A third Bush in a row, that would be....like this guy

"I don’t want to be elected president to sit around and see gridlock just become so dominant that people literally are in decline in their lives. That is not my motivation. I’ve got a lot of really cool things I cold do other than sit around, being miserable, listening to people demonize me and feeling compelled to demonize them. That is a joke. Elect Trump if you want that."

Jeb Bush, Oct. 25, 2015

PS: (msnbc):

Addressing his many troubles at a campaign event in New Hampshire over the weekend, Jeb Bush said, “Blah blah blah blah, that’s my answer, blah blah blah.”

PSS: And if you want to know FF's views: Emerging dynasties are bad, especially in a republic. A third Bush in a row, that would be, qua analogy, like this guy:

Not invented here (Glenn)

This morning

Back in France

Yes, this is actually the sun rising this morning

The first snow

We're still in Bürchen, Switzerland; our chalet is located at 1,600 m above sea level

"I'm still a virgin" --- This is heaven --- teaser (4)

(The Happy Ending Is over now, was the title of the first chapter. But John is still with Alex---and the plot thickens already (go here for the previous teaser)---because Ben has called, the other guy John met last week. Here's the beginning of the next chapter. The boys are about to meet Juliette and Taylor, both pivotal characters to the plot of Part II:) 
  

We are about to turn the corner of Nick’s Restaurant but are held back by a bunch of kids coming from Georgia Avenue. Teens, mostly, tribal in appearance, piercings, pipe jeans, one or two Cherokee heads, overnighted mascara and a discordant air of nerdy-ness that I haven’t seen since I visited MIT once; some of them even wear oversized glasses. They look at us, we look at them, Alex’s arm is still on my shoulder. There’s something exploratory about their body talk, and one or two are homophobic (if I read them well (I’ll have to relativize this later)). “You know where the beach is?” a pale-faced girl without piercings asks Alex (we are standing on the boardwalk). Alex explains about the beach (“This is the beach”).

"This is the beach." (This is the beach of Rehoboth Beach,
DE, seen from the vantage point of Peggy Noonan's statue)

“You locals?” Yes we are. They’ve just arrived per overnight ride in second-hand passenger vans still misparked on the main street, they explain. “Where’s the festival?” The festival is on the grounds of Surfside Field, between Lake Gerard Park and the beach, half a mile to the north, at least that’s where it was in the past.

“That’s where the gay beach is?” one of the homophobes asks. He’s dressed for the occasion, black cape and artificial fangs that shine in the sun when he opens his mouth (if they are artificial, that is). The horn-rimmed, oversized glasses don’t fit; perhaps he need them.

"Taylor, come on, you can do your sodomy thing later."

“Taylor, come on,” his pal says, “you can do your sodomy thing later, when your penis is grown.” Alex is patient, he explains about the gay beach.

“You guys are gay?” the girl asks.
“You guys are vampires?” Alex asks back.
“Yup,” the second homophobe says.
“Real ones?” Alex asks.

There’s some tribal confusion, they haven’t decided yet.

“Yup,” Taylor insists.
“You should be lying in your coffin,” Alex says and points at the sun.
“That’s so yesterday,” the girl replies, “you should read Twilight.”“Twilight?”
“Yes, the saga.”
“Where are your fangs?”

“I’m still a virgin, “she says. “What’s your name?”
“Alex,” he replies, “What’s yours.”

“Juliette.” And, having said this, the virgin touches Alex’s pecs (he’s still top-naked, the T-shirt dangling from his right hand), makes a seductive step forward—she’s quite a bit over the top, perhaps the strain from the night ride or peer pressure from the tribe, this doesn’t look like her normal routine—and asks, the voice a bit slower: “Alex, will you buy me an ice cream.”

“Ice cream is not good for virgins,” Alex replies.
“I’ll do anything for ice cream.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he says. He turns to me: “Let’s see where this goes, let’s buy her an ice cream.”

“We have no money,” I say. “We didn’t bring any money.” The tribe erupts in laughter.

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Back in Switzerland

Guns don't kill people, I kill people --- with guns (Cathy U.)

Recently, my father and I discussed the shootings in Oregon, and I wondered how many more mass shootings it would take before we finally decide we need stricter gun control.

 My father: He got those guns legally, you know.
 Me: And if we had stricter gun control, maybe he wouldn't have been able to get them. 
 My father: Yeah, it's a tough deal. I don't know what we could do to make it better. 
 Me: Maybe stricter gun control? 
 My father: And I don't know why we have so much trouble with mass shootings compared to other civilized countries.
 Me: Uh, I think it's because of their stricter gun control laws.
 My father: Yup, it's just a problem that can't be solved.

"I'm going deaf, and also: I can't hear you! Neiner, neiner, neiner."

 And here's the clip that justifies the headline:

This post (minus the clip) appeared first on Cathy's U.'s site: Hollywood Hates Me

(Hat tip: Glenn)

Sunday school (Glenn)

Philippines (3) --- taxis are for the faint-hearted --- connubial bliss

We've arrived in Baguio yesterday, and this morning we decide on a stroll through the city. Let's go to Mine's View, which is a neighborhood in the northwestern part known for it residential vibes and views. "You know where it is?" Chang ask as we are leaving the hotel. Michael, flapping his internet maps, answers in the affirmative.

We stride past a terminal for Jeepeneys (a taxi-bus hybrid)...

and a construction site, where the construction crew reacts with
loud cheers to Chang's photographic efforts.

Otherwise, the first 15 minutes pass uneventfully, 
but then we get a repeat of yesterday.

Chang chokes on the traffic, the pollution, the noise (not shown). He covers his nose with the decollete of his T-shirt (as if this would help against the exhaust fumes). He then uncover's his nose and says: "Let's take a taxi."

("GOP" means grand old party, and refers to the American Republican Party. The elephant is their mascot)

Philippines (2)

"Lying with your beard" would be a more appropriate header, perhaps...

Philippines (1)

Note the dress code; background is the Thuner Lake (in Switzerland)
we haven't even arrived in Zurich.

Zurich Airport (reposted)

(This post was posted first in May 2012, when we were on our way to Thailand. Now we're heading for Baguio, in the Philippines, but again we're staying over for the night in Kloten, the town next to Zurich's airport. Little has changed in the meantime:)

Why Zurich, why zee airport? Well, we are en route to Thailand, and the plane will leave the next morning at 11:25am, and the counter will close 2 hours prior to departure, the website kindly informs us, and we would risk missing the plane if we take the early train from Visp, in the Valais, where we've started our summer sojourn in Switzerland, as we've vacated our house for the summer rentals. So we come a day early, and will spend the night in an airport hotel. And it's the Welcome Inn, located in Kloten, the suburb that gave the airport its name.

The receptionist looks stressed. She asks for our passport, then speaks Dutch (we have Dutch passports), asking whether we could speak Dutch. Sure, I reply in German. She looks stressed-er. We are handed the keys, and I like the room, especially the bed covers, and have a nap. I meet her (the receptionist) again in my dreams, and a theory develops. She's so stressed, I theorize, because "kloten" means "balls" in Dutch, and she was possibly raised by seven dominant sisters, who are all married now, and always ask her to explain to the nieces and nephews why she, the lonely spinster, works in Kloten, of all places. Dutch humor, I know it so well. 

Anyhow, when I return to the reception area after my nap, the camera ready, she eyes me suspiciously. Can I take a picture, I ask kindly in Dutch. It does not help. Yes, she replies, and flees the scene to hide behind a pillar that the architect must have put in place for that purpose. Here's the result:

Stay tuned.

Yesterday evening