The 35th Precinct

I can tell I'm getting hormonal because this has been me all day today:

( Pissy Penis Kitty Hates You )



After I pointed out that I would gladly pay sixty-two dollars to stare at Richard's ass for an hour and a half, Roomie promptly reminded me that I had, in fact, paid XXXX dollars to stare at it. Twice. No, you don't want to know the actual sum; suffice it to say that were I took look back on it from the distance of ten years, I would likely call myself an idiot if I didn't understand for what it was that I truly paid. It was worth every penny, and yes, I will do it again when the next opportunity arises. It's addictive, that moment of perfect suspension, that freedom from pain and doubt and the blessed ability to breathe.


Does anyone know where I can find information about New Year's Eve in Germany? I've done research and have learned that cod is a traditional fish and bratwurst a traditional meat, and that they gift bread and marzipan pigs and like to consume pork as a guarantee of good luck and prosperity, and I know they predict the future by dropping molten lead into water, but I can't seem to find out if New Year's Eve parties are large affairs to which everyone and their uncle is invited, or if they're more intimate private events. Do young children participate, or is it more adult-oriented? Do they sing specific songs or kiss partners at the stroke of midnight?

And I know it would be a nightmare for my dental work, but those marzipan pigs are so damn cute.

I suspect--and very fervently hope--that my mother has moved back to Florida. She was supposed to return from overseeing the renovation of her latest acquisition before the Fourth of July, but decided at the last minute to remain in Florida. Today, we returned her call and found out that her phone and Internet had been disconnected. Not only that, but PC, who had returned yesterday, was only there to pick up some furniture and would be leaving again Friday. After years of bitching and bluster, it appears she had finally made good on her threat to leave.

On the one hand, this is amazing. This means that she will no longer be able to hound me at all hours and drop by unannounced to nag me about my lack of enthusiasm at her arrival or to warn me about the latest catastrophe to hit the local economy or the latest tidbit of gospel truth she heard from Glenn Beck. No more weekend mornings in my underwear interrupted by a pounding on the door just before she lets herself in or opens the garage in order to use it as a repository for all her unwanted junk. This also means that my plans to visit Germany can be made freely now, without fear that some blabby bank teller or travel agent will let them slip in a moment of idle gossip.

On the other hand, this means that she'll soon start pressing me to uproot my peaceful, ordered, financially-solvent life so that she can "feel better about having me nearby." Because everything is all about her, always. Especially me. If I'm happy, then I'm happy because of her loving guidance, but if I'm angry or sad, then it's obviously because I failed to take her advice. As soon as she's settled into her new rhythm, she'll start calling and cajoling and making empty promises she has no intention of keeping, and when I point out that she had me nearby for her peace of mind and chose to walk away from what she swore would bring her comfort, she'll hem and haw and make excuses and try to guilt me with, "Can't you make just one sacrifice for me after all I've done for you? Do one good thing as my daughter. I've never asked a damn thing of you." If guilt fails, then she'll proceed to threats, and if that proves to be of no avail, she'll threaten to disinherit me and trot out the "I don't love you and am only doing my duty as your mother" canard.

It's going to be a long few months.

Roomie was utterly unfazed by my intent to visit Germany. In fact, all he said was, "I figured you would eventually start Wile E. Coyote-ing a foreign trip. You've been talking about Germany for eons. Rammstein just pushed it to the front of your brain." It's hardly a ringing endorsement, and I think he has misgivings he hasn't articulated yet for fear of bursting my joyous bubble, but neither is it the vehement opposition I was expecting. Maybe it's because he knows that for now, the trip is in an indeterminate point in the future, and that there is still at least one more Rammstein odyssey to plan before any thought can be given to international travel. After two rounds of Rammstein mania, he is well aware that I'm incapable of thinking beyond them as long as they are on the table. Were I to try to organize a trip to Germany while the possibility of Rammstein was open, my brain would become an unnavigable morass of, "RAMMSTEIN! RAMMSTEIN!RAMMMMMMSTEINbills food bathing airline tickets car insuranceRAMMMSSSSTEIN! I suspect he'll worry in earnest after the 2012 U.S. tour.

I won'r do any serious planning or research until after the last Rammstein odyssey, but I've started poking about various travel sites, and the German proclivity for organization enthralls me. Berlin has a twenty-four-hour wheelchair emergency hotline. If your crip chariot bites the dust in the middle of the street, you can call them, and they'll be there to repair or replace it. Now, I'm sure the service isn't cheap, but the fact that it exists at all makes me jealous and a little dewy-eyed. If my chair crapped out here, my options would be, "LOL, you got a prescription for that repair?" or "LOL, I might get there in three days. By the way, you have a scrip for that?"

Berlin apparently also boasts an organization for wheelchair-using people in the city, and while their primary focus is to assist locals, they extend their services to gormless tourists, too. As per the aforementioned penchant for efficiency and organization, they have separate organizations for the blind, deaf, dumb, wheelchair users, and developmentally-impaired. By giving each group of disabled people their own organization, they can better tailor their services and direct their limited resources. It's so simple in its genius, and I really wish the U.S. would adopt this model instead of lumping all disabled people into one group and making people with such disparate needs fight amongst themselves for woefully-inadequate resources.

I have also decided that I can't leave Berlin without trying a Boulette.

Speaking of awesome German things:

( I Can See Your Religion From Here )

If Richard had a religion, I would be able to determine it from the tightness of those pants. Mmmm.

On the ficcing front, I decided to write a few interstitial stories from Calliope's POV to complement Sprache. They will be one-shots that can be read independently of the story proper. Their altruistic purpose is to help me flesh out Calliope as a character in her own right, divorced from Richard's besotted and biased view of her. Their not-so-noble purpose is to give curious readers a taste of my writing style, since a few mentioned that they don't read WIPs for fear of being burned. If they like it, then they can have something to look forward to when Sprache is done, and if not, then they won't have to waste time waiting for something they won't like in the end. A win for everyone.

Apparently, Joe Letz posted this on Combichrist's blog:

it's been some months since we've seen the RAMMSTEIN guys, so at about 12:30, trevor and i hopped in a taxi cab and headed on over to richard's house for... A SECOND BREAKFAST! FML! i was SO full. if i knew richard would be cooking one of his amazing mid day meals i would have waited, but i forced it down anyways. he makes on killer steak tartar, i'll tell ya THAT!... after hangin there for a couple of hours we headed off to paul's for some coffee and a tour of his amazing loft space which he pretty much built and decorated all on his own.... i love loft living, so i really appreciated the love he put into the place.

( Do Not Read While Eating or If Squeamish. Unflattering Description of Food )

Is the consumption of raw or rare meats common in Germany? Not long ago, schwester_grimm mentioned making Hackepeter brotchen. Well, I'd never heard of this, so I looked it up. It's raw minced pork mixed with onions and a raw egg and spread over bread. My American palate, which has been taught that raw pork is death in a cold lump of pig, seized and hid beneath the couch. Once I recovered from the visceral horror, I did a bit of further research and found that German pork has a much lower risk of pathogenic or parasitic contamination because it's often much fresher and the pigs are held in a cleaner environment. It said nothing about the safety of raw egg, so I'm assuming that they're just willing to accept the risk.

Aha! My German penpal threw me a curveball by sending me an email in German. My vocabulary is exceedingly limited, so I've only translated the first two paragraphs thusfar. He's explaining a holiday similar to Thanksgiving of which I have never heard. So far, he's proven quite prolix and seems a bit besotted of Americans if not our culture. He seems to think we're friendlier than Germans, and more open; it's funny because he thinks that Americans are more genuine than Germans in their friendships, whereas I find that Germans are more reserved but more genuine in their friendships. Perhaps we have idealized each other's culture.

( SPOILERS for Supernatural S6 )

On the other hand, CSI:NY is a lock to be a muddled, incoherent, sloppy pile of WTF written by ADD-addled laboratory monkeys, with heave-inducing dollops of Lindsay angst, whiny, dickless Danny, uber-righteous Mactimony, a Flack who's taken grooming tips from slovenly Messer, and an Adam trotted out to be the bumbling comic relief. I am bound to develop a rage-induced facial tic and pound the keys of this laptop like a chimpanzee who got a dose of PCP up the pooper as I enumerate the show's endless litany of failure. And yet, the show is my pile of incomprehensible shit, and I feel a battered, stubborn sense of loyalty to it. It's like the slobbering, two-legged German Shepherd that no one wants to pet or play fetch with. It's flawed and pitiful, but bless it, it struggles gamely on, tail thumping hopefully as I pass.

I suppose I could wait to see what the buzz on the S6 premiere of SPN is before I commit to one or the other...

One of the benefits of writing Rammfic is the opportunity to learn about German culture. So, while I was on Rosenrot the day before yesterday, I found this link to some differences between the U.S. and Germany as noted by a German expatriate.

Of particular interest to me was this small section under the Discrimination subheading:

* Virtually every public bus in the US is equipped with a lift for wheelchairs; this is not very common in Germany. It's also next to impossible for the disabled to take trains in Germany. (On the other hand: the handicapped can ride all trains and buses in Germany for free.)
* Handicapped children in the US are routinely educated together with normal children; this is also still the exception in Germany.
* All public buildings in the US are accessable by wheelchair, required by law. No such law exists in Germany and many public buildings are not accessable

Before I engage with the parts of this that trouble me, let me treat on the third statement and say that while I dislike it as a disabled person who would very much like to visit Germany before she shuffles off this mortal coil, I understand it. Germany is far older than the U.S., and though many of their historic buildings and architecture was damaged or destroyed during WWII, many of them remain untouched, and I don't think they should be gutted and retrofitted to allow access to disabled people. The castles are beautiful, and their historical value should not be compromised by guardrails and ramps and elevators. It's awfully hard to immerse yourself in the world of 16th-century Germany when you're staring at a hideous cement ramp battened onto the side of the castle like a 21st-century lesion. I do, however, wish that DVD tours of these castles and other historic buildings were readily available for those who like to experience history but cannot partake in the standard tours.

I also believe that any building built after the reunification should damn well be accessible. Wider doorways and a ramp are much cheaper and easier to accommodate during the construction process than after the fact. And I especially think that any retail business built after 1990 should be accessible. If you want a disabled person to give you money, than you can damn well make sure they can get over the threshold and to the counter.

Government buildings are problematic because while a disabled person should be given every chance to comply with the duties incumbent upon every citizen, most government buildings seem to be historic ones to boot. Does the government expect the person in a wheelchair to drag themselves up the stairs with a pulley system, or are there ancillary buildings and alternative sites made available to disabled citizens? What happens if a German in a wheelchair must go to court, for example? Does he sit outside and scream to his lawyer from the bottom of the front steps?

Now, on to the other observations.

Virtually every public bus in the US is equipped with a lift for wheelchairs; this is not very common in Germany. It's also next to impossible for the disabled to take trains in Germany. (On the other hand: the handicapped can ride all trains and buses in Germany for free.)

What? How does this even work? The buses and trains aren't accessible, but you can ride them for free? So...if you can pull yourself onto the train by your teeth or convince the stressed bus driver to tie you to the front of the bus, then you can ride free of charge? That is pure nonsense. Germany's rail system is renowned as one of the safest, cleanest, most efficient, advanced systems in the world, but it cannot have trains with accessible cars? Is this lack from a dearth of funds or one of thought?

Handicapped children in the US are routinely educated together with normal children; this is also still the exception in Germany.

This confounds me. From what I can glean from Googling, the segregation of disabled students seems to stem from the desire to protect the disabled students from the ignorance of their able peers, and to prevent the disabled students from slowing down their peers in the classroom. It also seems to exclude them from the opportunity to earn an Abitur and entrance to university. It might exclude them from earning a certificate altogether, which effectively renders them unemployable and dependent on the welfare system, thus perpetuating the belief that the disabled are lazy, stupid, useless, and helpless.

Why? Mainstreaming is a thorny issue, and not every disabled child is cut out for inclusion in regular classrooms. The profoundly brain-damaged who do nothing but scream and twitch and drool, for instance, have no place in a regular classroom, nor do those who cannot control their physical outbursts. It's not fair to place other children in a fearful, stressful environment where they must worry that Billy might start screaming and flailing and biting himself or others. But to exclude blind, deaf, and wheelchair-bound children from the educational process simply because they are blind, deaf or wheelchair-bound is unfair. It deprives the disabled student of the chance to experience the world outside the stifling bubble of their disability and an education and damns them to an almost certain future of isolation and institutionalization, and it deprives the able children of the chance to learn about someone who is physically different.

I'm not going to sit here and say that inclusion magically erases the stigma of disability; it doesn't. That will remain forever. We will always be different, Other, but inclusion in the educational process does lesson the stigma and helps both children learn to accept that not everyone thinks or acts like you, helps them cope with the adverse. I learned that the world did not revolve around my disability, and the other children learned patience. To isolate the disabled from their able peers fosters learned helplessness and dependence and makes us more burdensome to the system if and when our caretakers die. Exposing the disabled child to the real world in the relatively safe environment of school "toughens them up", forces them to learn self-control and consideration for others and tolerance for stress and inconvenience. Leaving them in isolation or segregation offers them none of this and produces damaged, timid, needy individuals who cannot function beyond the claustrophobic confines of Disability Land.

I suspect that the exclusion of the disabled students has just as many roots in the economic as it does the psychological. Integration is not cheap. Dedicated caregivers who can assist the student in the classroom need training in psychology and medical techniques. The teachers themselves would need additional training, and the outlay for assistive technologies could be formidable. Then there are the IEPs, which are a boring, tedious, and often inaccurate pain in the ass. But it can be done and would likely save money in the long run, since more of the disabled could enter the labor force and contribute to the country's coffers. There would still be obstacles, of course--the inaccessible buildings and transportation--but at least they could get out of the starting gate instead of languishing in homes and institutions and giving the able population the chance to cluck and shake their heads and bitch about what unfortunate drains they are.

Germany is a smart country, or so I'd like to think, and I don't understand why so many Germans cling to the broken status quo when it comes to disability. In a poll conducted in 2004(and I'll have to see if I can find the link), fifty-four percent of Germans admitted that a person with Cerebral Palsy made them "profoundly uncomfortable" and likely to "react negatively." Well, that doesn't sound terribly reassuring, and certainly doesn't bode well for my meeting Rammstein fantasies if half of them would run screaming from me, but it's not terribly surprising when one considers that many Germans have never been exposed to a disabled person on an interactive basis. God knows what they must think.

For what it's worth, the eight Germans I've met over the course of my life have all adjusted very quickly to me, and after a bit of staring and shuffling and diffident questions, they thought it over and got on with it. Most of them were lovely, friendly people who treated me just like anyone else. Only one avoided me, but she avoided my mother and my able friends, too, so I suspect my Americaness was more offputting than the wheelchair. The old Germans I met were as fascinated as schoolchildren at a zoo, but they also kept trying to stuff with sauerbraten and some awful, vinegary red cabbage, so it was really rather sweet, though my stomach hated me that night.

I don't have a proper summation for this, except to say that I find Germany a maddening, wonderful, perplexing country, and if I were ever given the chance to interview Rammstein, I would probably be more interested in that than what they thought of the porno chicks in "Pussy".