Über die Webseite von Kaffee Total bin ich gestern über ein sympathisches YouTube Video gestolpert.
Nüchtern betrachtet ist die Zubereitung eines Espresso relativ einfach und das geheimnisvolle Getue darum wenig verständlich, geht es doch nur darum die richtige Menge frisch gemahlenen Kaffees zu dosieren, anzupressen und dann das Wasser mit dem richtigen Druck durch das Kaffeemehl zu leiten. Heraus kommt ein feiner Espresso und schon ist alles gut 🙂
IRRTUM – Gott stehe uns bei, wenn wir etwas über die richtige Zubereitung eines Espresso wissen wollen. Der wird nämlich wie eine esoterische Kunst behandelt, und es wird so viel philosophiert und lamentiert, dass einem fast schwindlig werden kann.
Heute führten die Schülerinnen und Schüler der Ballettschule Benas-Georgopoulos im Milchwerk in Radolfzell ein Wintermärchen auf in welchem meine Tochter einen Harlequin spielte. Der Harlekin, vom italienischen Arlecchino, ist eine der Dienerfiguren aus der Commedia dell’arte, eine Form der italienischen Volkskomödie der Renaissance (16. bis 18. Jahrhundert).
Im Wintermärchen verirren sich zwei Kinder beim Schlittschuhlaufen im winterlichen Wald. Müde und erschöpft lassen sie sich nieder und erleben ein Weihnachtswunder. Engelchen kündigen die Ankunft des Weihnachtsmannes an. Feen wiegen sie in den Schlaf und bringen ihnen einen wunderschönen Traum. In der Werkstatt des Weihnachtsmannes erleben sie die emsigen Weihnachtselfen, die an Geschenken basteln. Puppen, Zinnsoldaten, Harlequins, Clowns usw. tanzen für die Kinder bis zur Rückkehr in die Wirklichkeit.
Long before Edward Snowden leaked classified information from the U.S. National Security Agency (NSA), good Will Hunting already knew that you shouldn’t work for the NSA.
I just watched this great movie from 1997 with Matt Damon, Ben Affleck and Robin Williams once again. Man, it’s such a great movie. I really love it. One of my all time favorite movies. Matt Damon is Will Hunting, a janitor at M.I.T. gifted with mathematics, but needs help from a psychologist (Robin Williams) to find direction in his life.
Here’s Will’s monologue from a job interview with the NSA:
Why shouldn’t I work for the N.S.A.? That’s a tough one, but I’ll take a shot. Say I’m working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I’m real happy with myself, ‹cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin›, «Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area» ‹cause they don’t give a shit. It won’t be their kid over there, gettin› shot. Just like it wasn’t them when their number got called, ‹cause they were pullin› a tour in the National Guard. It’ll be some kid from Southie takin› shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, ‹cause he’ll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain’t helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they’re takin› their sweet time bringin› the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin› play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain’t too long ‹til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy’s out of work and he can’t afford to drive, so he’s got to walk to the fuckin› job interviews, which sucks ‹cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin› him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he’s starvin›, ‹cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they’re servin› is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I’m holdin› out for somethin› better. I figure fuck it, while I’m at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.
