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National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand
Interpreting Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world
Interpreting Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world


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Back in the day, everywhere was like Slovenia. Men were men and women weren't. Women who smoked were sluts.

88 years since Edward L Bernays "empowered" women smokers, the grisly awfulness of misused mass psychology encircles the globe like a boa.

Public relations media manipulation was bad enough when it was just trying to sell shit such as Lidl's Silvercrest SSMP 2000A1 LB3-16 Standmixer Pro food mixer.

To progress from defending the odd indefensible product to installing entire regimes to do its bidding was only a type of capitalist efficiency, from banana republics to the Brexitrumps of today.

Towed from empire to empire, ending in the present theo-oligarchic attempt to please a tough and divided crowd, present-day Slovenia never had long enough to toy with the notion of freedom in a 70s way to actually miss it now.

It's all in the art of the flip. Bernays' "torches of freedom" march was designed to flip public perceptions of the image of women smoking (even in public) from sluttiness to sophisticatedness, when it had become clear to too many people from their own behaviour that they could not possibly be responsible for that amount of sluttiness.

The flipping process was enabled by the way in which the behaviour of smoking and the opinion about sluttiness had become yoked together in public opinion.

In the ensuing rebellion for someone else's cause, non-smoking for a bad reason was exchanged for smoking for the opposite of a bad reason...which, disappointingly, turns out not to be a good reason.

flip flop

Brexitrump was a flip in which the unnatural behavioural demands of political correctness and a realistic world view were flipped in favour of a myopic view of self-interest with the promise that simple ideas will win, if we just act within national borders.

Fanatical ethnicism has always worked out really well in the past. So would any national Hungarian iodine-131 on its way to Slovenia from dirty medical reactors please turn around at Rédics thanks.

Brexitrump was an all-or-quits rampage, just like Peter the Hermit's people's crusade (1096). If you didn't sell up the farm for peanuts to go off a-burning and a-raping and a-looting across Europe to get to Jerusalem to expiate your sins, you were definitely an enemy of the people.

Nobody knew what to do with these problematical pilgrims, who visited bloodshed and mayhem from Neuss to Niš. What were Peter's qualifications? Like Farage and Trump, he knew the right guy for creepy Facebook analytics (Pope Urban II).

The hermit guy (Trump) wore simple clothes (this was before Ralph Lauren) - he rode a donkey (equivalent to a BMW today) - and had a letter personally signed by himself for chrissakes. Still think you're an individual with free will? Get over it.


so yesterday

we know where you live and which biscuits you like

why we flip - overloaded back end flipping hell

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Women never tire of the company of other women. Whereas often I get bored with the guys and their deep conversations about sport and alcohol and cars in about five seconds.

Am I gay? In my town the boys all want to drink with the boys, and the girls with the girls. Public demonstrations of affection are awkward and exceedingly rare. You will be a slut. And the boys want to keep it a secret too: you can’t let your mates down by preferring her, to drinking with them.

Here, women are more concerned about how others will portray them, than the ridiculous proposition that they could love some guy. But if encumbered with one, it doesn’t mean you’re exempt from a misandry arms race.

Despite their support through the pain, the collective wisdom of the women is little help. What if you have already “fallen”? Your running commentary about how miserable the guy you were forced to choose is making you will elevate your standing among the watchwomen, in equal measure to the intimacy trashed by your personal life’s conversion into a public drama.

Over coffee and carcinogens, it would be embarrassing not to be able to show the watchwomen that you had somehow failed. Therefore self-abasement before her listening friends, for letting some guy into her life, is key to maintaining a girl’s credibility. Until everyone has to go off because they have found something more important to do. You will be about 29.

So I should have said, young women never tire of each others’ company. As love matters develop women become very bad allies to each other.

Beneath this defensive mask they are SO frightened — and not without reason. The notion that synchronicity might be a turn-on remained unformed in some earlier agrarian hell. Then sex and the struggle for goods became even more inseparable under communism, and its daughters and granddaughters were instructed accordingly. The psychedelic 60s, like everything not-from-around-here, were never more than a superficial pastiche, omitting the anti-materialism and the catholics’ unmentionables. And so the locals never overcame a mostly-physical, unromantically pragmatic, no flirt love model.

They have heard what happened to Auntie Janja. They are timid, and they seem to think that’s a good thing.

Somehow eventually some go off and do it, like mushrooms, in the dark. They have worked out a way of keeping all the men and women apart at night in public especially if they are in any way remotely attractive and we call this scheme JISM — the Jealous Interrupting Slovenian Man. Try to talk to a single woman and within seconds a JISM will jump in to screw up the feng shui. Not to be with this woman, but just to stop the other guy.

Reputation is key, and the most important use of Slovenia’s many languages is to ensure equality, through reputation management. The ultimate societal aim — which is economic — is for everybody’s reputation to be trashed equally.

The general idea seems to be that relationships might slow down or interrupt the drinking which they have been told by their fathers and grandfathers is the main hope for their future. Sure. It is likely to consist of little else. Slovenia’s population grew last year only because of immigration.

Eventually, when nobody is looking, the go-girls give it up, dealing with the nasty necessity the way you might conduct a minor medical procedure or deal with a dangerous snake. Sex is only for reproduction: reproduction jewellery, reproduction furniture…How the girls laugh as the stupid boys battle it out to prove their pork sword is the most honourable, least bothersome, but…y’know…STILL THERE.

As her bewilderment and hopelessness grows, the greater her delight in this, until she ends up inexplicably impregnated by the biggest, wildest, drunkest, most obviously unreliable psycho available. And unhappier than ever, boo hoo. If I am to integrate in Slovenia I must become a proper schadenfreuder.

As everyone here seems to agree, the default guy is a problem guy. A single guy in a bar with women in it. What if he just won’t stop hanging around?

My advice to these very local ladies is to stop flattering your un-60s-ised egos by enjoying that stupid competition. It won’t get you what you want (unless you want Hulk Hogan) because intimacy isn’t a competitive thing at all.

Intimacy cannot be rushed, to fit into the brief periods when you are available. And, a committee-led compromise on who you should fuck is likely to work out about as well as any other committee decision on some complex issue.

Slovene is a language into which world-vibrating catholic sex scandals cannot be translated, thus generating virtually no national media coverage. Theirs is a claustrophobic, inexorably possessive, relentlessly chauvinist, alcohol-based “social life” of limited ideas — the one Melania showed her heels at the earliest opportunity.

Press commentary on Presidential hand-swatting etc. elicits little attention in Slovenia, revealing only the lack of interaction— any more would mean shame of one sort of another — regarded as normal in Slovenia. In the words of Girls Aloud, we’re living in two tribes, and ready for war. Suicide, and spousal murder-suicide, that’s the classic Balkan divorce. Slovenia is top.

Girls have got the upper hand. That’s about all they’ve got. The hand says no. Flirtation is weakness. Relaxation is danger. Surrender is not an option. They might dress real hippy an’ all. But for the mightily uptight, any looseness — which fun demands — implies a trick around the corner (pun intended).

What is my problem? It is a classic case of over-analysis. Pulling technique is a non-subject. Following your unnecessarily arduous but socially-required clamber amid the obstacles of alcoholic desensitization, fellow-girls you must be unhappy for, and JISM, “falling” in love turns out to more of a collapse. You didn’t know, in your teens, that it was just going to go on and on and on like this. Now you are about 29 and almost anything or anyone halfway decent that gets you away from this cycle will do.

You get hitched…but immediately similar orthodoxies apply. As partners you may hang around near one another in public at night. Better to arrive and leave separately, and not to look at or touch each other. Ignore your partner completely and snub them if they make the mistake of paying you any attention, or do anything that might reveal to the assembled onlookers that you are a unit of some kind. Because it’s just so EMBARRASSING! An added benefit is that singles lurking nearby can become inappropriately attentive to the ghost partners, resulting in a confusing fight that you can watch with contempt.

This beautifully correct scene is fun like pulling a big rubber band, to see how far it will stretch before it breaks, is fun. And the result is similarly painful.
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cheap architecture of slovenia

Is that Ratzinger? While the rest of the design is as nice as any panty pad with wings, one wonders how God could have let Skorba down so badly, that despite the centuries of praying and donations and so on, it could arrive in the 21st century having built a sports centre with showers and changing rooms yet still lack a village centre.

The villagers helped the architects do it to themselves. And as long as Skorba residents remain 100% behind St Augustine of Hippo, burdened by concupiscence and ancestral sin, the structure can be considered their panjandrums' very own success story.

It is not just an origami spectacular covering over the original village spring - which God previously saw fit to make unusable - but with its intended overlap of believing in Him, and having somewhere to smoke a fag, Enota and its clients have created a sort of municipal Klein Bottle, an inside-out irony by which all who pass (not many) should be reminded that for the catholic in a village like this especially, there really is no outside.

Gone are the gloomy churches of yesteryear. Sinners can now squirm about uncomfortably on bus shelter seats and fry their noted Štajerskan hams in the 40 degree heat, a fine scourge for today's deep municiphysical thinker.

Just accept the obvious: you don't have a better explanation of how the universe was created than we have, so you should send your kids off with an organisation that hates sex and women and has paid out billions in damages, with billions more claims in the pipeline.

Because what else are you going to do with them? There is no outside.

So however appropriate this may appear to the villagers and their architects, culturally the result is more of a dangerous vortex than a centre, and probably an unkind daily reminder to some of what naughty boys they have been. And don't tell anyone or you know what will happen.

On the Twitter timeline, the Skorba architecture story changed, after things got competitive Then the unimaginable happened: it rained.

What began in architectural storyland as a generic triangular village meeting point turned out on closer examination to be a chapel. Later versions make it clear that a chapel is what no one in the village decided they could resist.

What happened next:

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This English managementspeak version of Slovenian evergreen Slovenija Od Kod Lepote Tvoje is now available for recording or performance at the usual author rates.


Eyeballs consuming content,
We have a wow factor,
Did you discover an exciting acquisition scenario?
Can you visionise raising value-added vis-a-vis touching base?

Seizing the vertical I revisit the big picture
Brainstorming on maximizing oversight
Outreaching to a blue-ocean opportunity
Can you visionise raising value-added vis-a-vis touching base?

Slovenia, going forward,
Hack me a hammock task,
Phone it in, homing from work.

Slovenia, sunshine enema,
Seeking strap-on statistical massage.

Feedback from the cloud
Whose rubber hit the road
Who can action breakthrough engagement
More than our rock star deliverables?

Cross-boundary workstreams resonated
Road map circumnavigated
Nowhere's price-point, is my prebuttal,
Productizes like our head shed.


original lyrics here

and performed here
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fatal harvest

Older, more experienced tractor users are more likely to come a cropper as this new-fangled 2014 study shows:

Getting squished by your own tractor is almost as popular as early-morning drinking in Slovenia. Whether it is your birthday, or you have just bought a new tractor, remember that you can easily calculate the highest tilt angle using the formula:

arctan (0.5 x rear wheel track/centre of gravity height)

Remember using a lifting bucket will raise your centre of gravity.

Use 80% of the formula result, as Slovenia is actually quite bumpy.

autumn tractor fatality reports from Slovenia (pop. 2 million)
Podgorje pri Pišecah, 23 Nov

Drenovec pri Leskovcu, 13 Oct

Hrušico pri Jesenice, 18 Sept

Vintarji, 14 Sept

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axe murders

Bobo (pictured clutching inspirational people's tabloid Slovenske Novice) admits, phlegmatically, that he did it. Apparently his motivations were inadmissible, and the judge - who has not yet been eaten by worms, see - shouted at him.

Bobo, who complains of digestive problems and told police he can only eat fish and figs, engaged in his one-legged neighbour overkill 18 days after a fire at a chemical dump and recycling plant, 30km away on the other side of Ljubljana, released mercury and various other hazardous materials into the air. It was one of at least three such fires across Slovenia this year.

It turns out the wind blew in Bobo's direction for 9 out of the 18 days between the fire and the murder. During that time the temperature rose steadily to 31 degrees. Mercury flux from soil to air is positively correlated with UV intensity and soil temperature, as well as Hg concentration in soil.

Mercury kind of hangs around in the large gut. Mercury can cause rages.

All kind of circumstantial, and inconvenient if truly a causal factor, as that would make the Kemis factory partly responsible for the murder, and way beyond any Slovenian public defender that Bobo is likely to encounter.

Bobo has his own rationale in mind, to be sure. Bobo is not defending himself - as he denies being a murderer.

around Slovenia's axe crime scene
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presidential race

By living in a house pretty much like everyone else's, and saying the least controversial things from the least politically-involved place in Slovenia, Suzana Lara Krause (Krausehaus in Ptuj pictured) hopes to slip unnoticed into the job of President of the whole of Slovenia.

She is in with a good chance as nobody has ever heard of her.

But surely it is time for Ptuj to declare independence from Slovenian rule and then it could have its own Presidential race.

Just as Slovenia is not really interested in anything that exists outside of Slovenia, it is the same for Ptuj, as the last presidential election and the recent railway referendum showed. What could the reason possibly be?


Its melancholy drunks are glum: no sex, another year,
There's squeaky flagpoles, soggy snow, but plenty wine, and beer.
Heaped in the bedclothes, staying home, the unemployed in bed;
The recipe for egg on toast has not reached Ptuj yet;
The voting people's apathy was quite clearly on display,
Ptuj declared independence on election day.

Thirty-eight percent remained hell bent on Slovenian nationhood,
Where went the other sixty-two? They thought: "We're leaving! Good!" -
Agreed: we'll flee corruptive state, shun debt-encumbered nation,
And not voting at all declare Ptujmancipation.
Top apathetes soon picked a bar, to discuss the new milieu:
Arguing how Ptuj will keep the millis - but not join the EU.

As euronotes fuelled barbecues, the Ptuj national tank
Escorted lorries full of beverages to the vaults of the new state's bank.
The citizens had a week or two to get their euros turned
To stable alcoholic money, which is wet and can't be burned.
And many queued at banks for hours, but at the front were wrathful -
No-one told them that to exchange their cash they were supposed to bring a bottle.

Meanwhile the borders round the town were by drunk soldiers sealed,
As economists' vague, blurry plans for pricing were revealed;
Eight Pivos or twelve Vodkas make a Vino, that's the system -
Transactions to be monitored, with waitresses to list 'em.
For petrol, cigarettes and drinks, prices will be negotiable
Depending where your relatives work, and which are the most social.

Bus drivers, clerks, butchers, and priests had fridges installed near
Where man's any necessity might be purchased for beer;
Gas, water, electricity, socks, underwear and wool,
Train tickets, calls, all quantified in vodka and Red Bull.
Virtual vino banking uncorked Pie-Eyed-Phone pay-apps;
Loans in jeroboams ensued, large withdrawals from the bankotaps.

Note well this tiny state's collapse, this alcohol-kingdom:
Where squirrelling much away is hard - I mean, you can't save some.
A twinkle in the banker's eye showed things were much worse still;
To foreign factories non-Ptuj, no-one could pay a bill.
Left with nothing to eat but chicken, Ptujčani ceased to cope,
When, to their discontent, the bank/government "lent" all their the Pope.

Very loosely based on - the author's my best mate. Or a real bastard. Depending on my mood.

According to Wackopedia, William Cullen Bryant "was an early advocate of American literary nationalism...and his own poetry focusing on nature as a metaphor for truth established a central pattern in the American literary tradition."

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Thompsong Slovenia, something went wrong,
Diddley bong, diddley bong.
He's a national Croatian, not nazi, no
But it don't matter now, 'cause they cancelled his show.

Austria, Netherlands, got it wrong too -
Thompson thinks Hitler won. How about you?
Germany, Switzerland, won't let him play,
And then even Slovenia said "Go away!"

Germans and Swiss will not smile at his heil, he
Likes it Ustaša, military-stylee.
Down in Croatia, they cheer any pleb
Who says Europe's capital should be Zagreb.

Their next plan to insult and humiliate Serbs
Is a nationalist knees-up, out in the 'burbs.
Ten percent of the townsfolk in Slunj won't be swaying
Celebrating their slaying. The government's paying.

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power words

In the as yet unwon battle against the hegemony of money - which ought really to be called hegemoney - only one word will make any difference to high-rise building safety - uninsurable.

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