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Allan´s Weblog

Currently busier than a one-legged Riverdancer

Posts tagged with "death"

Never Again

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This is not going to be a pleasant entry to go through.

If you choose to do so anyway, you will be "rewarded" with a first hand impression of what humans can do to each other when at their most extreme.

When I was at school in the early seventies, the following footage was shown to us. Prior to that, the question whether we as 13 year olds should be seeing this was intensively debated. This debate was taken at the school board, between the teachers and together with our parents, we were told.

The outcome of the debate was, that we at our most receptive age should see the film in order to let it do it's part to ensure that nothing like it would never happen again.

My family was very influenced by what this film has to say. Therefore it had maybe an even more profound influence on me than on most. Even today at my 48th year I can't help crying over it in desperation and grief.

The film is a collection of different footage taken as the Nazi concentration camps were found and liberated just after the German surrender following the second world war. The full collection takes almost an hour to watch. Watching it is most disturbing, most necessary and most interesting.

You know, this could happen to anybody. Anybody could be treated as we Europeans were during that damned war - just as any of us could be one of the people doing these atrocities, if we don't keep our minds and hearts sane and healthy.

Please - watch it, do your crying if you must and decide with yourself what you will be a part of and what not - on the small as well as on the larger scale.

This film contains extremely graphic scenes of human suffering, please exercise caution when viewing.

Read more...

Calling for a just war?

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Don't get me wrong, please. I am not in favour of wars - on the contrary.

But sometimes there's a call for a "just" war in the world. Many have described the western "adventures" in Iraq as a just war. I strongly disagree. To me, the war in Iraq is all about defending achieved privileges in the west.

Others have described WW2 as a just war. Maybe so....

That's a long story - I'd rather go straight to the point:

Myanmar. Burma. The situation is horrendous - you know that, I'm sure. People are dying as I write from deceases, thirst and hunger because a government, well, rather a junta can't stand the idea that foreign people bringing life-saving necessities into the country will see and report the misery and maybe even bring "wrong" ideas to the population of Burma just before a scheduled "election".

For that reason tonnes and tonnes of high-energy biscuits and other life-saving stuff is standing idle in airports just outside Burma.

That's obviously absolutely insane. A catastrophe of the present scale should cast all other considerations aside and should allow any help needed to access the country immediately.

Of course. Otherwise I will not hesitate to call the present political situation a genocide.

I have been told that the obvious solution to the problem, namely dropping emergency supplies from aircrafts without permission from the junta, can't be done since it would be an act of war.

This, I think, calls for a just war. I am not in doubt.

I Am Rich #2

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I've just won the grand prize - and contrary to my previous post, this is the pure and simple truth.

Story goes like this:

For quite some time I've had a birthmark (well, maybe not quite a birthmark since it emerged a few years ago) on my forehead. A couple of months ago it began changing colour from brown to something darker - almost black at places. I kept an eye on it a while and decided to go to my GP with it. You know, a birthmark like that changing, should always ring a bell somewhere - as it did for me.

A thing like that can be a melanoma - birthmark-cancer. And that is most likely lethal if not taken care of in an early stage.

My doctor didn't have time to see me right on - had a long waiting list. I could probably have made him see me earlier if I insisted, but I didn't. I was sure it was nothing serious, since I didn't feel ill in any way. At that time I didn't know as much about melanomas as I do now - had I known what I now know, I surely would have rushed him to see me.

The time passed. A long time - till I finally saw my GP. The only thing he could say about it was, that since he was not an expert in these matters, all he could do was to lead me on to a dermatologist. And so he did.

New waiting list. Long. Now a couple of months had passed waiting for the right person.

Ten days ago I finally made it to the dermatologist. He looked at my mark, scratched his head and said he really didn't know. But he would set everything aside for me and make an immediate surgery. He would simply remove the thing here and now after which he would send it to a lab for analysis.

That was when I got it. Got IT, to be precise. This birthmark could very well be a melanoma. It had been there for years. It was changing.

I had been sure that he would look at it and say that it was all benign. But he didn't. He had a serious look in his face, asked me all kinds of questions. For how long had it been there? Did it feel strange in any way? Had I experienced other symptoms of cancer?

Other symptoms of cancer!

I felt like falling into a deep, black hole. I stared my death right in it's eyes. Was I going to die soon?

The dermatologist made an appointment for me ten days ahead, where I could have stitches removed and hear the result of the test. These ten days would prove to be ten days in a mental roller coaster. I wouldn't want my worst enemy to experience anything like it.

I drove home in a mental haze. At home I began searching the Internet for knowledge of this sort of cancer. And it all seemed like it was written to fit my situation.

What about my wife if I died now? Would I undergo severe suffering prior to my death? Radiation therapy? Surgery? Tumours in lungs, liver, kidneys, bones? These were the questions I asked myself again and again.

The days were tolerable because I had my job to attend to. Things to do, people to take care of.

But the nights! Oh, sweet Lord! Nothing more to be said. Imagine the worst and multiply with ten.

Today at 12:20 pm I got the results.

Age related changes of the characteristics of the skin. All benign - no traces of cancer at all.


I drove - no, I flew - home to Lise and told her. Then I went back to my job.

I could have won 20 million dollars today, and I wouldn't care one bit. Today I won my life back. I won years of smelling the grass in the morning. Watching the traffic. Enjoying the sunshine. Experiencing the seasons. The ordinary things - the smallest, yet the largest of things in life.

Do you know what I mean?

I breathe! I gorge in air!! Isn't that the best thing ever?

I am so happy that I don't have to kiss you all goodbye way too early.

The Tale of the Young Man with his Dead Grandfather´s Pocket Watch

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There once was a young man, who´s grandfather died. The grandfather had, just before his time ran out, handed his old, trusty pocket watch over to the young man with these words:

My dear grandson, my heart´s delight, keep this watch close to your heart, in remembrance of me. Look at the watch to know the time, to know about the value of time and to ponder what to do with your time in order to make a good life for you and yours.


The young man with his dead grandfather´s watch took the watch, held his grandfather´s hand and comforted the old man through death. Then he left the house, went out into the night roaming the streets with an overwhelming grief leaning over him. Wandering up and down the city streets he thought about the absurdity of existence. The fact was, that he didn´t have a job, therefore no money. Having no money, he didn´t have any friends, not to mention loved one´s, either.

The young man with his grandfather´s pocket watch felt a void spreading inside of him.

Thinking of what his grandfather had said while giving him the old timepiece, he felt that this gift couldn´t have been given to anyone less worthy than him. As far as he knew, there was no aim and no value in his life. He was a failure, a human disaster, a waste-product of life not fitted to live his miserable life on this planet.

The young man with his dead grandfather´s pocket watch thought about exactly what he´d accomplished in his life.

He thought about the cocaine he´d been filing himself with, together with a laughing, screaming and superficial crowd. He thought about all the times he had fucked women he didn´t even care about. And fucked was the right word to use, since love had nothing at all to do with it. He thought about all the people he´d betrayed at the decisive moment where they needed him. In his imagination he saw former friends accusing him for all the bad things he´d put them through. The young man pleaded himself guilty.

The young man with his dead grandfather´s pocket watch realised that he didn´t deserve the life he was given.

He fully understood, that he´d wasted every opportunity in life. That his grandfather was mistaken when he gave him the timepiece. That the only person left in the world that this young man still loved, was dead, betrayed and mistaken.

The young man with his dead grandfather´s watch found himself standing in the rain on a bridge over the river.

At that moment he lost it. There was nothing in this world left for him. He had abused life as no one before him. He climbed the railing of the bridge - the bulwark between himself and the ultimate peace. Oh, he longed for that peace - the piece of death. The peace that would take away his guilt and every sorry memory of this miserable wasted life of his.

The young man with his dead grandfather´s pocket watch took the last step in life.

He fell, hit the cold water and sunk rapidly. Half unconscious he felt death reaching out for him as the river filled his lungs and his senses faded. One last time he took out the pocket watch to look at it as some sort of last farewell to the world he was leaving behind. In his last moments, in the flickering lights from the city, he saw the second hand stop. The time was one minute to twelve - a new day was about to begin. Too late, too late he realised what his grandfather´s present was all about.

The young man with his dead grandfather´s pocket watch disappeared in a river of wasted tears.