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I've been meaning to get around to you, but it turned out my best intentions were misplaced somewhere between the airport and all the good food.

I've been stationed outside Stavanger over Christmas Eve and with two crazy cousins, rivaling cats and a couple of dopey bunnies time flies like an arrow. Whereas fruit flies like a banana.

For Christmas I got a couple of psychedelic coffee mugs, some chocolate, a book with useless information and a Norwegian translation of Kant's Critique of practical reason. Not to mention all the stuff I had bought for myself, some of which still remain to be delivered.

If you found this post oddly short or short-minded it is because I wrote it on my cellphone. Another present I got for myself this Christmas. What can I say? I've been particularly good this year. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that I've been most excellent.

Thank you and have a blinding good year! Not literally, of course. If that firework gets too close, remember to duck and cover. I'll be around in 2008. See you then!

In September this year I was violently attacked by 3-4 unknowns who beat me up like nothing I've ever experienced before and stole or destroyed most of what I had on me. With a bit of luck I got out of it alive and I still have my health, long-term trauma still pending..

What I don't have is an insurance.

However, the Norwegian social democracy is - thanks to a left-wing direction - bound to take care of its own. Instead of being left with a 10,000 NOK deficit on top of the experience itself, I could transfer my economic claims for damages to the state. This means that in the hypothetical but very unlikely case that the police ever catch these men, or that I myself recognize them on the street, they will have to pay restitution to the state and not to me.

It's a cumbersome process of fulfilling the criterias of application, and I didn't have much hope being that they had stolen most of my stuff. The settlement I applied for is limited to victims of violence and does not repay what has been stolen. For instance, I had two thousand in cash which I'll never see again.

Yesterday I got my reparation from the state, earlier than expected, and with a very positive result. Two earlier cases in court established a precedent for giving me a) reparation for my stolen glasses on the count that they were most likely destroyed in the course of action and b) economical satisfaction for the infringement of my personal freedom.
I didn't expect that at all.

So I just wanted to express my positive opinion of social beauracracy when it works like it's supposed to, being that I am a tax-paying citizen in a country where no man needs to walk alone. No one should ever have to be solely responsible for events acted upon him when it is a fact that we're all born into a community, a society, a family of sorts. We're in this together. Colour me communist.

In this "feature" I present to you e-mails that I have sent-to-all at work. They are mostly about local matters at work, but so damn funny that I know you'll enjoy them. I sent this out today in the spirit of the season. I'm still expecting my forced resignation any minute now. If you enjoyed this post you might like Good old Santa, my ass! from 2001.

So it's that time of year again. It's called Christmas, and it didn't come as a surprise to me. I mean, it said so in the calendar "it's Christmas time now", just like it did last year. So I already knew. And I know for a fact that it'll be Christmas around this time at least until year 2009, but that's how far my calendar goes. Any further than that is mere speculation..

In any case, it's here again, and there's no denying it. You can try but it'll only hit you back twice as hard. Many resort to drinking. So what kind of historical events justify this terrible upshot of childhood trauma and financial abuse covered up, as it were, with Santas and Angels and fake plastic trees?

Well. Many believe that the Santas are pagan tributes to Santana, and that the Angels only goes to show how far the infiltration of Hell's Angels really has gone. But as scientists you will rightfully glance at such information with a raised eyebrow, maybe with a brandy in hand, and hint at your academic background and expertise in areas of expert knowledge so wide that it covers entire bookshelves and really can't fit into a single glance of the human eye, before you make your counter argument. Whatever it is.

And Christmas is really a whole lot more complicated than biker mobs and a Mexican guitar hero. It's a concept, not a term, and to attain the conceptual understanding of Christmas with which experts can analyze the public's irrational behavior when cast under its ominous shadow, you will have to understand the fundamental elements of the concept, all of which stem from particulars or axioms. Here is a general and non-exhaustive list of particulars, most of which are historical events:

1. Creation and Expiration date (presupposes existence) 
2. Vikings (Germanic agricultural people who surpassed and/or integrated the stone age hunter-gatherers "right after" the last ice age) 
3. God Almighty's Jesus H. Christ (triangular divinity) 
4. Philosophers Augustin and Thomas de Aquino (couple of chumps) 
5. The bloody Romans (possible source of the Norwegian nisse-tradition) 
6. Paranormal reindeer morphology 
7. Questionable audio entertainment 

..And many more, most of which are still debated.

There are written many reports on Christmas, a search on bokkilden.no for the keyword "Christmas" alone yields 4093 results, so I will of course not delve into all the specific details. I reckon there are several PhDs coming on the subject too, some from [our institute] as well judging by the look of it. Instead I thought I'd sketch a general outline based on some of the points above.

Winter started due to climatic changes in the atmosphere several thousand years ago, and is distinctly known to seemingly cancel out the heating effect of the Gulf stream. The change of climate caused the pre-Norwegian caribou to flee the steppes of France, with a bunch of pre-Norwegian Frenchmen on their tails. Not that reindeer have much tail to chase, but you get the picture.

Skip a few thousand years and you're in the so-called Viking era. They have still not found a way to preserve all the great bounty we collect from our fruitful country, but they've found out about speed boats which can go just as fast in rivers as in open sea and land just about anywhere. This technology granted us the grace of raping and pillaging. From what we raped and pillaged not everything could be stored over the winter without a considerable decline of quality, so mid-winters we made a great party (no. julebord) and simply threw the rest away (no. vinterblot).
«Are you just throwing that away?» «Nah, it's to the gods.»
That's the origin of Jul.

Half a thousand years before this though, a baby was born under terrible living conditions in Bethlehem and received presents from three Iranian astronomers. The baby was so happy about the cash and perfumes that angels appeared to a flock of sheep somewhere. Unemployed and kind of Aryan looking, Jesus H. Christ rose a non-violent uproar against the Romans who had deforested most of Palestine, and was crucified after a charade of a trial that the Romans themselves would have nothing to do with. Just like the case of Che Guevara, most people knew about Jesus, and for some he became a suitable icon for a mono-theistic and anti-Roman worldview. T-Shirts flourished.
That's the origin of Jesus-mas.

Thanks to a couple of Christian philosophers in doubt about the skeptical arguments from new-Platonists regarding human knowledge, Aristotle was re-furbished into Coptic faith, which gave us Catholicism and 50% income tax in December. Later on the time of violent conflicts between Viking warlords was ended due to the double edged sword of idealist faith and politics. Hence Christianity was introduced under Olav the Holy's banner; Do or die. Along with pagans, gypsies and the Sami people, pagan _tradition and culture_ had to change and a symbiosis akin to Jamaica's Rastafarianism sprung up and took root. The comparison holds if you switch Marihuana with potatoes.
That's the synthesis: Christmas.

But there are modern events too that sculptured the holiday we know today. In the 1980s American oil experts made Norway into one of the world's tightest moneybags. A country full of dimwits had turned into a country full of very rich dimwits, and the red-blue scale of politics soon tipped to the right, which resulted in even more presents. I can still remember the first battery-powered racetrack that my father brought home for Christmas, and that we occasionally were allowed to use as well. In order to keep up with higher demands Santa Claus - a Byzantine Saint and sovereign ruler of the North Pole financed by The Coca Cola Company - allegedly fed his flying reindeer with "pure snow". To this day Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer stands as an ominous icon of international drug trafficking with active arrest warrants in four of five continents.

To distance themselves from American imperialism, Norway's socio-democratic government added some of Santa Claus's voluptuous traits to the Norwegian Nisse, a mythical protector and jokester of old Norse farms believed to have originated from Roman ancestor worshipping; and the angels fell from their extra-terrestrial, holy positions only to become his bitches. A similar degradation can be found in Russian's Father Christmas, who are now accompanied by an entire group of young women where it originally was only one homeless girl of good heart. From 2007 however, the angels have become a trademark of a derelict renegade of the Royal House who's pimping them for what they're worth. But apparently they still sing Christmas carols in her head all around the year.

Apart from the traditional food and all the trimmings (which are actively debated every single year), the Christmas Tree is the only thing not tainted by the violent history of our ancestors and inspirators. Where it stands tall and erect in all children's homes it still serves as an ancient representation of the virile manhood and potent fertility that brought us where we are today, in most basic natural terms. So when you climb up the stepladder to put that shining star on the head of the sex symbol, and your offspring's' eyes glitter with innocent joy; remember that whatever your general media would like you to believe, or what the priests says in church, or what your grandmother tells you when she's been sucking on the egg liqueur, that science proves them all wrong.

Christmas is about food, survival and fornication. Like any other day of the year, really. You just happen to have a strategic advantage. And this is truly the gift of science in true Christmas spirit! ..Then again, if you have a fake plastic tree, you're practically worshipping a dildo.

In any case, have a great X-mas!

Ya'll know me, I'm Sigg3, and this is just another weblog. But most of you wouldn't know about Sigg4. Neither did I until yesterday, when I came across his bebo.com profile and thought: «OMG, there's a Sigg4?! Is there a Sigg5 too? How many Siggs will there be? Will Humanity ever forgive me for what I have begun?»

Link of the day: Sigg4 - "2 Hot + 2 Cold = Sigg 4"

Sigg4 writes:

Whats up. This is your boy sigg4 simply known as SIGG. If anyone knows me u know that I am a cool person. U know I love being in the spotlight.

I checked for a Sigg3 on that myspaceish page, but couldn't find any. Previously I have been mistaken for Swedish labradors (puppies) and Russian missile components, but this namegame is entirely new. If people can only keep their numbers in ordnung, then maybe I won't have to fear someone snatching my online identity.

Friday night was awesome, Saturday night more so. I won't write much about it, because I get imaginary hang-overs whenever I try to remember what happened when I was drunk. Let's just say that Friday was a dancing-kind of party and Saturday a talking-kind of party, and they both went hand in hand to make a good weekend out of it. I also met a couple of girls from up North, then I met Kekepower & the Wife and their friends, not to mention their shaggy-looking one-eyed dog and exotic aquarium fishes. Both parties ended around 6 o'clock in the morning so it took a man to fight the hours. But it helps when your cousin puts out the XO Braastad cognac.. and has a bed ready made for you, in yellow sheets smelling of fabric softener, and with smiling dinosaurs on them. It's great to wake up in a little bed with yellow dinosaur sheets. They even had a new toothbrush I could borrow. Much obliged.

After this weekend I was trying to get my daily rhythm back on track, so yesterday I stayed at work until around 10 pm before I went home to cook dinner. I was very happy to find my kitchen looking like this:


There are plenty of hazards where I live. Some of you might remember my incident with a toaster and last week I was almost burned to death by the vacuum cleaner. It's true! And now this mess to top it all off..

..but I coped, and after a wee while I was gorging on the carcass of a homemade cheeseburger with salted fries and an icy lemonade. I read through the news feeds on my cellular phone while listening to BBC's World Service around midnight when one of my co-habitants returned home. I knew she had just completed her exams and lo and behold! there she was clinging to her boyfriend like a giggling little gnat. I guess she thought she deserved a hard'un afore Christmas.
..and good for her! Well deserved!

..but my paper-thin walls contributed to little defense from what was supposed to be a delightful evening setting the rhythm straight. Oh, they kept the rhytm straight all right. She's a librarian, so all kinds of pornographic scenarios apply, the starved little vegetarian thing turned ferociously hungry from what I could hear. I am writing this in the hope that her grandmother reads it.

And a few feet away from all the action was I - trying to get some sleep - a shivering, anxious little bunny with hallucinations, gnawing on my pillow so as not to die. I was trying to read Hegel's Ethics of Recognition but I could barely recognize Hegel through all the banging. I finally managed to fall asleep by suffocation, under the duvet. (Had to look up that word in the dictionary. "Continental quilt", WTF is that anyway? Sounds like a Scotsman in Nazi Germany.)

This morning I got up at the right time, pretty pleased with myself, lit a cigarette and spilled a cup of coffee, and jumped into the shower. I usually turn on some music when I'm getting dressed to set the mood for the day, and since 'twas only minus three degrees Celsius (26.6°F) outside I put on some French New Age jungle music called Deep Forest. This must have triggered some kind of uhm, trigger, because when I went to get a second cup of coffee they were at it again, banging each other's brains out like Teletubbies on Viagra, just like the night before.

This completely ruined my mood, and with 2 Pac's Military Minds and Eminem's Hellbound blaring on my headphones I set the record straight walking to work. I just don't know how much more I can take of this shit. How long before the anxious little bunny 'comes a Donnie Darko murder rabbit?

Today I got up early before this X-mas' julebord. The Julebord is a pagan tradition from the Viking era (or before) when you gathered all your relatives and neighbours to eat up all the food and drink all the beer that couldn't be stored through the winter. It was one helluva party, and this tradition has continued ever since, with minor modifications.

For instance, our women do not collect our urine for wool colouration anymore, which is a bit sad. I mean, how cool wouldn't it be to know that the colour of your t-shirt or boxer shorts stemmed from the piss of your neighbours? And today? What a terrible waste.. In addition we do not sacrifice to Tor and Odin anymore (vinterblot)! The guy with the hammer and the man with the plan (and a fetish for birds) were substituted for a pretty violent interpretation of Jesus who severed the heads of those who did not submit to the Christian faith. Good riddance, then. Today we make due sacrifice to the Gods of The Internets, smear ourselves in lotion to honor the Facebook Deities and put on musk perfume to belittle ourselves in awe of the MTV Saints.

Before I went to work I had to perform number two, as per my usual modus operandi, and without going into minute detail let me just say that there was a KNOCK! on the door. Two KNOCKS! actually. "It's the police!" I thought. "Damn! I knew they would find out about that horrible, horrible day in '78 and what happened in that parking lot. But we didn't know what we were doing. We were so young. And all. that. blood... Wait a minute, this is a literal copy of a CSI episode! You can tell by the poor quality of the script!" and then I remembered that there was a fire inspection in every single apartment that morning. Damn again.
By the time I was finished #2'ing, they had already gone. Triple Damn.

I had to wait until 11:30 before they finally re-appeared to have a seven second "review" of the fire safety, which is practically non-existing. Also non-existing was the extremely dangerous fireplace and chimney which was the reason for doing the check up in the first place. It wasn't until I got to work at around noon that I saw this:



Apparently it's some sort of nude- I mean new champagne that they're advertising for. I like the shot. I think that they bring out the best in each other, while at the same time avoiding the tacky "by buying this product you agree that you are sexually frustrated" EULA thing too. Brings a whole new dimension to the old skit Mr. Bean in Paris. Thumbs up!

So tonight there's julebord after which I will be wasted, and tomorrow there's Kekepower's birthday after which I will be wasted also. In short, it's another weekend being wasted coming up, and I don't mind at all. After what Joxum thinks he revealed about Norwegians I'd like to see him beg to differ from his own point of view. And that sentence just barely makes any sense. So I'll do my best!
In the meanwhile, have a better weekend folks. Mahna mahna!

I thought I'd do my best to ruin your weekend, and what better way to do it?

Song of the day: Mahna Mahna! (mp3) Video clip (youtube)

You should also check out Sandra Bullock in the Phenomena tribute!

Denmark is a country where having a good time has not lost the essence of good.



This picture entitled denmark.jpg that I stole from the internets is characteristic for the typical Danish personality. Denmark has cheap beer, allows a pint during lunch, shrugs at anti-social legislation and provides 'sex help' for its disabled citizens. If it hadn't been for restriction of immigration, Denmark would be the Netherlands. Cheers!

Sometimes when a client comes with a request for aid you're all like: WTF?
From a scientific viewpoint it's always interesting to see what kind of shady stuff that lurks beneath the surface of quote unquote normal people. But when you're just trying to handle your overfilled schedule it's not interesting, it's not welcome, and it's all like: You want me to do WHAT?

This girl sharing the open office with me just came and ask me if I could have a look at a stationary computer. It is not her computer, it is one of the lesser people's computer. And what was wrong with it? It is making noise.
The fan, it is making noise, and noise is terrible.

..right! If you just want me to manipulate the laws of physics (thermodynamics), why don't you just ask me to create a separate universe for you instead? It would be a lot easier, theoretically speaking. Because, and this is just an observation I've made, whenever I open a window to cool things down or - God forbid - get some air into the building, a particular someone will immediately close it again. Not that it would make much difference, but cooling the atmosphere is the essence of your request.

Funny thing is, when she exited the room, the fans had cycled through and went silent again. I told her I'd look into it.

And so we're back with this years LASTEST MOST EXCLUSIVEST Truckin' feature of year 2007. And what do you know? I'm featured this month too, and this time; a whole-hearted stream of consciousness for your shaky x-mas nerves. If you ask me I'm quite impressed. And if I ask you, well, you will have to go and read it first! .. and the other writers too of course. Here's what Pauly has to say in his defence:

This year end issue has a couple of holiday themed stories including a spicy tale from Betty After Dark. Johnny Hughes returns along with everyone's favorite Norwegian writer Sigge S. Amdal. This issue also features the debut of two new authors Gary Cox and Dwayne Williamson. And I have a little Santa story as well.

Santa by Paul McGuire
Santa nodded off on the subway. He did that often, always after he copped. Friends would often tell him that they saw him passed out on the subway. They’d try to get his attention, but he was in his own world...

Christmas Eve Dinner by Betty After Dark
Her legs still weak and her stance a bit wobbly, I wrapped my arm around her and led her out of the restaurant. The hotel was just a few blocks away. She was shivering. Was it the cold air or the orgasm?...

Kelso McQuire by Johnny Hughes
The gamblers always stand in the back at West Texas funerals. In the middle of Kelso McQuire's funeral, Ice House Henry was whispering around and telling this fifty-year old story about Kelso, that not one living, breathing soul had ever heard before...

Scared Santa by Dwayne Williamson
This amorphous blob of blood red fabric and snow white hair would release these grunts from its maw that shook my rib cage, causing me to tremble even more violently than before. Because Santa Clause scared the holy hell out of me...

The Hunt by Gary Cox
When the son was young, the Father went deer hunting every year for a week at a time, right before Thanksgiving. The boy badly wanted to go with him, but was never considered old enough. He saw in his Father’s eyes how much he enjoyed that time, whether it was the actual hunt or the solitary time spent out there in the woods...

Monday Evening LIVE in Theater! by Sigg3
A middle-aged, disillusioned, smack-ridden woman in a wheelchair bemoans her disability when the subway seems one step too far. By the touch of a button she whirls off into the distant tunnel like the depart of an ancient ghoul...

That's it for this week, it's time for me to grab a pizza and a six-pack to celebrate my exams. As the Good Lord told his creation: «See you on Monday!»

I read about this on BBC News and because I immediately could substantiate a couple of memories for their research, I headed over to their website to contribute. Listening To Birds is an anthropological study conducted by the Dept. of Anthropological at the University of Aberdeen. This is a two year project investigating how people perceive, identify and make sense of bird sounds. So whether you like Cocks or Tits, give them your best!


Link of the day: Listening To Birds - survey

Please drop in and tell them about your experiences with bird sounds or songs. You can chose to not grant publicity to your data, and the level of anonymity. Help them with their research. On my part, I told them about my childhood traumas invoked by Seagulls, and how the tits of the spring always put a dreamy smile on my face..

Yesterday
In light of being a philosopher I must accept the description of myself as being a little slow. It never fails that I, for instance, arrive fashionably late only to learn that I'm not in synch with current fashion. This is all right, 'cause I do hold the classics in higher esteem anyway. The case was no different when I discovered that the home exams had been released three weeks before and I only had one week left to do it in. Then, having handed in a viable, though not excellent, paper on Donald Davidson and George M. Wilson I found myself suffering from several symptoms of post-examination stress syndrome (PESS). This means that the high level of concentration, the sadistic grip you've had on your consciousness, which you have constantly upheld during the period of writing have not yet ceased. And, having no subject matter to focus on, the intelligent becomes the fool.

For instance, a lady asked me for directions "to the center", when I was standing outside one of my regular hangouts the other day. «Analytically?» I asked, and continued, «in any case it would be in the middle», which at the time seemed like the most natural response to an irrational request.

I was going to buy myself an orange soda, Coca Cola's Fanta or the Norwegian Solo, but spent nearly six minutes in internal conflict because they both had the same colour. I then picked out a bottle of Fanta, went to the cashier, changed my mind, went back and got a Solo instead.

For some reason I got the idea, by logical abduction, that what I was experiencing is akin to what women go through when they are pregnant. I mean, first they've been put through the horrifying aspect of performing sexual intercourse with a male member of the species (to my mind, every women is an undecided lesbian anime character), and then, adding insult to injury, they're reduced from a once sought after sexual object to a mere baby-making factory. Deep down they are aware of this, and many pregnant women get depressed, which is why people are so nice to them; «Here, have a cookie» and that sort of thing.
And I also received a cookie from a kind waitress at the very same day.
But two hours later, after a thorough pit stop, I was neither pregnant nor depressed. Or a woman, for that matter.

After careful deliberation I have come to accept that I, in my present state and all things considered, am simply absent-minded. But given the value of truth to those matters of fact in the world that would make such a proposition valid; where has it gone? And, more importantly, how can I get it back before the exam tomorrow?

Dear diary, I deduce from my empty head 'tis all due to getting up at eight o'clock in the morning. It is wholly unnatural. And tomorrow I will have to get up before seven a.m. viz. 6:30 a.m! I don't know how you do it. But then, you're a damn book.

Today
And today I successfully completed the semester! My attended exam ("school exam") was handed in at exactly 12:42 pm. I wrote about rationalism versus empiricism instantiated by messieurs René Descartes and David Hume with regards to their respective analytical methods and the results yielded thereby. I anticipated this topic, so I was well-prepared, and I had a good feeling when I left the premises.

To be honest, I was more worried about getting up so early in the morning than the actual exam. Had to train for a couple of days to even perceive the task surmountable. But it paid off in the end.
When I walked out of there, my penis was totally enormous.

Doing my exams: 1) History of Modern Philosophy and 2) Philosophy of Action
Also: KekePower is down, faulty PSU. The hiatus affects some of my images.



In this picture you will find: my alarm clock, August Strindberg, coffee, the now obsolete Siemens MC60 cellphone, chocolate, stress-reliever device, candle light, Breton's most famous work, Sarah Connor, eye wear cleaning rag and spray, and the ruled Moleskin notebook akin to Hemingway's - legendary, as it were, and made by underpaid moles. The laptop is the same I use at work. There be Windows XP.