Anonym blogger om blogging

Stay up-to-date: Follow blog on Facebook

You may have noticed that it’s possible to follow my blog by way of email updates whenever a blog post is published, but there is another, far less invasive way, as I introduced a blog-exclusive Facebook page last autumn, that you’re free to follow, if you’re at all interested in staying abreast of my online musings.

If so, please visit the Nedtegnelser Facebook page – and like, s’il vous plait.

Could prove useful for my Facebook friends, too, as my blog took Facebook’s place completely last autumn, and blog posts – or anything else – are rarely shared by way of my personal Facebook account.

Nyweb i kjømda

I erkjennelse av at arbeid for én fast oppdragsgiver ikke gir avkastning så man har til nevneverdig salt i såret, for en skarve frilanser udi kommunikasjon og sådant mere, er man kommet til at visse tiltak formodentlig er på sin plass, av hvilke en slags extreme makeover av eget nettsted var på høy tid. Og da sikter jeg rimeligvis ikke til herværende blogg, men Pettersons portefølje, så kalt, hvis eneste formål er å fremme mine tjenester innen journalistikk, grafisk form, oversettelser, reklame og alt som ellers favnes av kommunikasjonsbegrepet.

Å gape for høyt? Kanskje, men har man engang akkumulert kompetanse innen fagets samlede disipliner, tjener tilbakeholdenheten liten hensikt, syns. Følgelig og derfor og så videre …

Sving gjerne bortom og si hva syns.

Det er forresten meget mulig at De også har registrert denne logoen hist og her:

Jarle Bates Når alt kommer til alt

Den har selvfølgelig sin historie, idet byrået hvor man en gang i verden tråkket sine første reklamesko (den som hadde hatt noen!), Ted Bates, takket for seg her om året (skjønt navnet da var Bates United) – og det ville være aldeles for galt om ingen førte arven videre.

Ted Bates

Og for all del, kjenner De til noen som behøver medial bistand, om det så bare er en bokoversettelse, er jeg her – om noen skulle være klar for the full Bates treatment – for prisen av én.

Resten av påsken går i sin helhet med til å stable på bena nettsted for en oppdragsgiver – hvis adresse inntil videre må forbli en hemmelighet. Det er en betydelig større utfordring, alle meninger, forventninger, og visuelle preferanser tatt i betraktning. Hvorom allting er:

God påske, da, De!

Toppfoto: Pettersons portefølje i fletta ny drakt. Eget foto.

To sjeler, én tanke. Antagelig.

Aftenposten 7. april 2017:

Erna Solberg på Den himmelske freds plass. Tegnet av Aftenpostens Inge G.
Erna Solberg på Den himmelske freds plass. Tegnet av Aftenpostens Inge G.

Nedtegnelser 2. april 2017:

Erna Solberg på Den himmelske freds plass. Bloggers montasje. Kina
Erna Solberg på Den himmelske freds plass. Bloggers montasje.

Som gammel Aftenposten-journalist skal jeg imidlertid vise storsinn. Aftenposten, you’re welcome!

We are no longer amused

My apologies for my failure to make witty remarks at U.S. President Donald J. Trump’s expense lately, but I seem to have reached the point where I have concluded that it can always get worse, and it would seem that it invariably does.

In other words, should I be tempted to react jokingly – or shocked, even – to any of his outrageous statements or actions, we can always put our trust in his ability to trump (!) it on the following day (although more likely the same day).

It simply isn’t fun anymore, and I have ceased to be shocked, so find myself left with jaw constantly in a dropped position (may need to have a doctor look into that), unable to react, due to the surreal qualities of current goings on.

I’m dead serious, you know. If it can help you understand, the situation is best compared to a sitcom in which things get more than just a little out of hand. Or a farce, if you will. They’re never really entertaining.

Photo: U.S. President Donald Trump. Detail from official White house portrait.

Du vet du har forsømt din indre tabloidblogger, når du begår en bloggpost om landsens homser og øl, under overskriften “Storm i et ølglass” – og kunne ha skrevet “Gay på landet”.

Disgusted by the blogosphere, blogger reverts to … blogging. Blogger's elf portrait.
Herværende blogger.

Did I remember to tell you that I have an art blog?

It may not be much, but I do.

No, seriously.

Sleep well!

For about a week or so the Nedtegnelser blog has been all about utter non-sense – or quick visual posts with perhaps a deeper meaning, but with an air of apparent indifference, which is all-too true, I’m afraid, as the political posts have been modest attempts at contributing to the prevention of certain developments, rather than moaning over them in retrospect.

Which would explain the blog’s incessant attention to this merry band of nationalists in particular:

While a warm defender og western values, I can see no reason why I should defend the attitudes and actions of the western world’s most powerful leader. Of course, that is so because he’s everything but a champion of western values. In short, when ever a leader, or any politician, for that matter, show strongman or national and isolationist tendencies there’s much cause for alarm.

So far we’ve seen them succeed, which may very well be all it takes to bring about dark times the likes of which we haven’t seen for over 70 years, but their European henchmen aren’t about to stop, in what we know to be a crucial election year for Europe:

No rest for the wicked

Leaving yours truly – and, hopefully, you – with no option but to carry on. Chances are we’ll lose this battle, too, but shouldn’t use that as an excuse to relax. The battle may be lost, but the war?

Hell no!

Which is where I’m compelled to recite Norwegian poet Arnulf Øverland’s (1889–1968) 1936 anti-fascist poem Dare not to sleep (translated to English American by Lars-Toralf Storstrand):

I was awakened one morning, by the quaintest of dreams
‘twas like a voice, spoken to me
It sounded afar – like an underground stream,
I rose and said: Why do you call me?

Dare not to slumber! Dare not to sleep!
Dare not believe, it was merely a dream!
Yore I was judged.
The gallows were built in the court this evening,
They’ll come for me — 5’ in the morning

This dungeon is teeming,
And barracks stand dungeon by dungeon
we lie here, awaiting, in cold cells of stone,
We lie here, we rot, in these murky holes.

We know not ourselves, what does lie ahead
Who will be the next one they’ll reach for.
We moan and we shriek: But do you take heed?
Is there none among you who’ll hearken?

No one can see us,
None know what befalls us.
Yet more:
None will believe – what the day will bring us!

And then You defy: This dare not be true!
That men can be utterly evil.
There has to be some one with merits pure
Oh, brother, you still have a great deal to learn

They said: You will give your life, if commanded
We’ve given it now, for naught it was handed
The world has forgotten, we’ve all been deceived
Dare not to sleep in this hour – this eve.

You oughtn’t go to your business hence,
Or think: What’s your loss – or what is your gain?
You oughtn’t attribute your fields and your kine,
Nor say you’ve enough – with all that is thine.

You oughn’t abide, sitting calm in your home
Saying: Dismal it is, poor they are, and alone
You cannot permit it! You dare not, at all.
Accepting that outrage on all else may fall!
I cry with the final gasps of my breath:
You dare not repose, nor stand and forget

Pardon them not – they know what they do!
They breathe on hate-glows, and evil pursue,
They fancy to slay, they revel with cries,
Their desire is to gloat, when our world is at fire!
In blood they are yearning to drown one and all!
Don’t you believe it? You’ve heard the call!

You know how infants will soldiers remain,
While dashing through streets, fields, chanting ‘bout pain
Aroused by their mothers‘ assurance of glory
They’ll shelter their land – and they’ll never worry

You know the fatality of the lies,
that glory and faith and honor abides
You discern the dauntless dreams of a child,
A saber, a banner, he’ll flaunt them so wild,

And then they’ll leave home for a rainfall of steel,
‘Till last they hang ragged on barbed wire will,
Decaying for Hitler’s Aryan call,
That is what a man’s for – after all…

I couldn’t imagine – too late now it is
My sentence is just: The verdict’s no miss
I believed in prosperity, dreamt about peace
In labor and fellowship; love’s fragrant kiss
Yet those who don’t die on the battlefield,
Their heads for the axeman, will certainly yield

I cry in the gloom – if only you’d knew
There is but one thing – befitting to do
Defend yourself, while your hands are still yearning,
Protect your offspring – Europe is burning.

***

I shook from the chill. To dress, up I rose
Without stars were shining, so far, yet so close
‘twere simply a brilliant ray in the east,
Admonishing warning from the dream that just ceased

The day that soared up from earths furthermost strand
Augmenting with blood — and with firebrand
It grew with terror – like a breath that was lost
It seemed like the starlight – was slain by the frost.

I weighed: Something is imminent – and it’s dire
Our era is over — Europe’s on fire!

Ringing truer today than at any given time after WW2. While Russia, Turkey and America are lost, for the time being at any rate, I’ll have to carry on, then, incessantly as ever, and to those among you who have simply had enough of my restless ramblings:

Sleep well!

Top illustration: Norwegian, now mostly dismantled, Soldiers of Odin marching. Blogger’s drawing.

Fake news so yesterday’s news

You’re not very likely to see this blog divulge or attempt to reveal and expose fake news when ever I stumble upon it, simply because the blog is more about what people do not – or do not want to – know than what they already know (or are prepared to realise).

And let’s fake face it, in fake news times I find legitimate, truthful news so much more sensational.

RT Sputnik Russia Kremlin propaganda Vladimir Putin
Fake news and propaganda. Watercolour by way of Waterlogue combined with blogger’s graphics.

As for the rest of you, please feel free to point out the falsehood in fake news when you see it. Chances are you are going to be very, very busy. I, on the other hand, prefer to choose my battles with care, presuming each and every piece of news potentially post-factual, treated with the normalcy it deserves, which is to say total disregard.

P.S. Truth be told, after years and years of warning against RT, Sputnik and numerous other fake news outlets, one has succumbed to a certain level of fake news fatigue, now that it’s finally on everybody’s lips. But I will say this: It feels strangely good, somehow, to have been the guy crying “Wolf!”.

Hitherto zip, zilch, nada, zero and absolutely no visitors today, reports baffled blogger at 8:20 pm, suspecting Sino-Russian DDOS attack.