Pulp :: Die Verlorene Welt der Zeit! [2]

CRADLE OF THE WORLD

Fighting the power-drag of the time-warp Capt. Ames’ space ship Discoverer is again smashed back to Earth – this time into the dangerous days of the hard-clouting Cave Men.

By LIN DAVIES

THE space ship Discoverer hummed and groaned from the force of the shock. Half stunned, Captain Dexter Ames picked himself off the deck of the control cabin. Sprawled in the corner, Doctor Phillips, his second in command, was rising with a face distorted by alarm.
„It can’t be a meteor!“ cried Ames.
Phillips shook his head, as much as to clear his thoughts as to answer the captain’s question. „We weren’t able to break out of the time-warp,“ he muttered gloomily.
Ames set his teeth. „Let’s see what the damage is.“ He leaned against the speaking aperture. „Morgan! Are the motors dead?“ „As a door-nail, sir.“ came the muffled voice of Morgan. „We’re dropping, but slow – the gravity-resistors are still working.”
„That’s luck!“ breathed Ames, and hurried to the great telescope. He peered down steadily and gave a cry. „Doctor! It’s Earth again or am I wrong?“
The little scientist took his place and peered through the great quartzite lenses. He blinked. „Yes, that’s Europe and yet the land outlines don’t seem just right! Do you know, Dexter, I have a feeling that we’re journeying back into an older age!“
„Not the Ice Age, I hope,“ grinned Arnes with a dubious grin.
„Decidedly not the Ice Age,“ reproved the scientist. „You should remember that in those times no such land configuration was possible.“
Ames nodded. „Well, whatever it is, we’re stuck with it.“

THE Discoverer, battered and bent, sank into a long, narrow valley hedged in by snow-capped mountains. Engineer Morgan and his experts began their work at once.
Ames told off a scouting party, hoping to replenish the ship’s dwindling food supply. „Remember,“ he warned. „Keep together, and each man in communication by space phone with the ship.“ The twenty, led by Gunner Hatch, trooped out of the great door.
They climbed a gentle slope above a winding river. No man or beast appeared, and the scouts disappeared from Ames’ view.
Two hours later a lookout cried out. Men of the scouting party had appeared on the brow of the hill. They were moving fast, as if in retreat. Another appeared, and then two who were helping an injured man. Hatch ran up as Ames stepped from the ship.
„We were attacked,“ he gasped. „By giants! Cavemen!“
Ames and Phillips exchanged a glance. „Centuries!“ cried the scientist. „We’ve slipped past centuries of time.“
Ames had been counting heads. „You’re two men short,“ he rapped.
Hatch nodded. „And one man hurt. He was hit by a great rock thrown by a giant. The others are dead.“
„How were they killed? Hit by rocks?”
Hatch’s face bore a strange look as he spread his hands. „Nothing hit them. They just dropped after we shot one of the giants. Nothing hit them!“
„Nonsense!“ cried Ames, but as he saw the stubborn lines in the Chief Gunner’s face he wondered. „Come on, Doctor, you and I will do a scout.“
He picked six men of proved daring and discretion, and the eight followed the tracks of the food hunters. One man sighted a goat, but Ames shook his head. He wanted to see those bodies – the two slain shipmates and the giant – if they had not been dragged away.

FIRST they found the airmen. Doctor Phillips studied the unmarked still faces with pursed lips, then bade the men strip both. There was not a mark on them. The doctor, shuttling his hand through his thinning hair, said not a word.
A little farther away lay the giant. His death was no mystery. The ray of a ship man’s pistol had caught him fairly in the face.
„We’ll pick up our men on our way back,“ decided Ames. „Now for food.“
They had caught four goats before the giants appeared. One, the nearest, seemed to be a sort of leader: He carried a great club, swung on his shoulder above a craggy. scowling face framed with a mat of long hair. His only garment was a bear hide hung off one shoulder and caught at the loins with a piece of bone. He came on slowly, teeth bared, club balanced for a crushing blow.
Ames gripped his pistol. At that instant another giant leaped from underbrush to make a flank attack on the party. The menaced ship man fired his ray pistol. The giant’s arms fell, the great body slumped.
And then a stratling thing happened. The ship-man beside Ames gave a little sigh and sank to the ground. Ames and Phillips knelt by him and saw that he was dead.
„Ah!“ cried the doctor, his face working. his eyes gleaming. „Captain. I –“

THE leading giant had paused, astonished by the sudden death of two men. His scowl had left his face, and a thrill coursed through Ames’ whole being. Why, this Caveman’s face resembled his own! His pistol wavered from its target as he marveled.
Two giants leaped forward then from a fringe of woods. Three ray pistols spat, and they fell. And as if by magnetism, three of Ames’ party slumped and lay still.
„Ames!“ cried the little scientist in anguish. „Stop them! Stop the firing! And don’t shoot that big leader!“
„Cease firing!“ roared Ames. He turned wildly to the Doctor. „He looks like me, that Cave Man.“
„Of course,“ babbled the doctor. „Don’t you see? The time-warp! These are the First Men! That’s why our men died!“
Ames passed a hand over his brow, half lifting his pistol as the giants slowly advanced. „You mean–“ he cried incredulously.
„Our men shot their own ancestors!“ cried the doctor. „And so, without ancestors, how could they be alive? They died!“
„It’s crazy!“ cried Ames.
„It’s the law of time!“ retortcd Phillips.
„And that big fellow–“
„Is your ancestor!“
Shuddering, Ames holstered his pistol. „Fall back!“ he ordered his men. They paused only to lift their dead, and retreated toward the ship. Ames looked back. The big leader had stopped, and stood, leaning on his club, staring stupidly after Ames.

Erstveröffentlichung in "Planet Comics" #8, August 1940, Verlag Fiction House (defunkt)

Pulp :: Die Verlorene Welt der Zeit! [1]

LOST WORLD OF TIME

Caught in a terrific time-warp. Capt. Dexter Ames and his gallant spare-ship crew turn their ray-rifles on the shaggy Hun-hordes of Attila.

By LIN DAVIES

CAPTAIN DEXTER AMES, biting his lip, stood spraddle-legged in the control cabin of the space ship Discoverer, facing his chief engineer. Beside him, pale of face, the second in command of the Earth expedition, little Doctor Phillips, ran a trembling hand over his brow.
„You are sure.” Ames asked Engineer Morgan, „that our motors must be repaired before we can try to return to Earth.“
The engineer nodded. „The pirate’s blasting shells wrecked our batteries. We can reach a planet by careful use of the motors, and if the atmosphere is favorable we can soon make repairs.“
Ames nodded. „Give us what speed you can.“ Another nod dismissed the engineer, and Ames turned to Phillips. The little scientist was already poring over the stellar chart. He looked up suddenly.
„This is strange,” he exclaimed „The chart is vague about this corner of the heavens. But the asteroid Medona lies yonder.“
„Let us make for it, then.“ Ames spoke through the tube, and heard Morgan’s grunt. He gave the course to the helmsman, and the space ship swung, awkwardly, like a crippled thing, on her new course.
As it hurtled through space a strange feeling came over Ames. Halfway to Medona, he began to sense a mystery in their surroundings. He was pacing the deck when the lookout cried out in alarm. „Planet ahead, Sir!”
„It isn’t Medona, sir,” stammmered the lookout, stupified. It’s Earth!“
„Earth!” repeated Ames. „Why, man, Earth is two million miles away!”
For answer the lookout stepped away from the great telescope, and Ames took his place. He took one look, gasped, and shouted to Morgan. „Reduce speed!”
Phillips ran up. Ames waved him to the telescope. The scientist squinted through the great quartzite lenses, and his jaw fell.
„Earth!” he muttered.
„Are we all drunk, Doctor?“ asked Ames, smiling for the benefit of the terrified lookout. Panic would sweep the ship, he knew, if this evidence of some strange doom were to be followed by similar disclosures.
Phillips was blinking rapidly, thinking hard. „Ames“, he said solemly, „can you stand a shock?“
„Try me.“ grinned Ames. He winked at Phillips, indicating that the lookout should not hear.
Phillips lowered his voice, but the lowered tones could not hide his excitement. „It is Earth, Ames, but not the Earth of our time! It is Earth of some other day! We have slipped past a time-warp!“

AMES nodded slowly, his eyes widening. „So that’s it!“ He glanced ahead where the planet was still invisible to the naked eye. „What time period, then?”
„Ah, that we’ll know when we land,“ countered Phillips. „If,“ he added hopefully, „we are to land.“
They swept down to see a vast range of mountains, snow-peaked. The Alps, Phillips thought. They turned south, and found the land stretching away in a plain, cut by winding rivers. They swept lower, and could make out a vast army, moving southward.
„There are beasts, and men,“ murmured Phillips.
„An army“ prompted Ames.
Phillips nodded.
„No need to land among them. Ames declared. „We’ll go farther south.“
„But as they cruised, more armed columns appeared. Then they saw the first sign of pitched battle. The army streaming south was overwhelming the defenders of the land. They swept still farther south, and Ames gave the order to land.
The Discoverer slid to a landing in a flat valley, where a bright sun gleamed on white walls. A fort lay at the far end of the valley, and scattered houses dotted the ground near them.
„Italy!“ cried Phillips. „The Roman Empire!“ added Ames. He ordered a landing party to arm. The great doors rolled back, and he stepped forth from the hull of the Discoverer. Behind him came Gunner Hatch and twenty Earth-men armed with ray-rifles. They moved to a well-paved road, and cautiously moved toward the town under the fort’s walls.
Suddenly from a declivity in the land a javelin whistled. It struck Ames’ helmet, and glanced off. The Earth-men raised their rifles.
„Don’t fire!” Ames warned. He raised his voice, first in English, then in Latin, the tongue of the old Romans. „Ho! We come in friendship!“
Instantly a head appeared above the stonework. Sun glinted on a bronze helmet of the sort that Cesar’s Centurions wore. „Speak, if you are a friend!“ the strange officer growled.
Hatch muttered a warning. But Ames stepped forward alone. He saw the centurion was supported by a mere score of soldiers, all in the helmet and breastplate of the old Romans. Short swords and spears and shields were their armament.
„Who attacks you?” asked Ames.
The centurion growled. and his men muttered in astonishment. „All the world knows,” cried the centurion, „that Attila the Hun rides on Rome.“
Then Ames knew. This was the time into which the Discoverer had flown!

„LET us aid you against Attila,“ he urged.
The centurion looked doubtfully at the space ship. „You are demons?” he asked at last.
„Not we,“ Ames assured him. He made no effort to explain the magic of flight to this grizzled veteran ol old Rome. „Where is the Hun advance guard?“
„Not more than a league away,” responded the centurion. He pointed. „They will march into sight in one turn of the hour-glass. We cannot hope to hold the valley but we must fight to the last.”
„Then,“ decided Ames, „we shall help you.” He wheeled and shouted orders to Morgan to begin repairs.
The Romans marveled as more men poured out of the great hull and began to bore into the motor compartment. In an hour the sound of trumpets was heard. The centurion was looking askance at Ames, as if to remind him of his promise.
Ames pointed to his men. „Let us march ahead,“ he proposed. „We will meet Attila’s scouts.“
The centurion nodded. „Let there be no treachery,” he warned darkly.
Ames nodded, gave a command, and the twenty men of the Earth of the new day set out to battle for the Earth of an ancient century. They met Attila’s advance in full view of the fort and town.

FIRST came shaggy ponies, carrying bearded giants in helmets crowned with cow’s horns. They spurred when they sighted the little party. The Earth-men waited, undismayed by marveling at the long swords high in air, and listening to the wild cries. The Huns charged.
The ray-rifles spoke. The Huns tumbled from their saddles, five, ten at a time. Twenty fell as if struck with one blow. The rearmost Hun pulled up. They retreated.
„By Jove!“ cried the centurion when he had run up. „You fight like demons, whoever you may be!“ He embraced Ames. „The Emperor will surely make you a prince. Look! – the commander is coming to give you thanks!“
Sure enough, a glittering procession was issuing from the fort. But at that moment Morgan came up. „Repairs are made, sir,” he said simply.
So Ames turned with regret to the centurion. „We must go.“
„How now? Go?“ the centurion was offended.
„It is duty,“ Ames explained.
„Oho! That is another thing,“ the centurion admitted. And he stepped aside to permit Ames and his men to embark once again for Earth.

Erstveröffentlichung in "Planet Comics" #7, Juli 1940, Verlag Fiction House (defunkt)

Pulp :: Raumpiraten des Neptun!

THE STAR PIRATES

Homeward-bound with his vital secret of Sun control, Captain Dexter Ames of the Space-Ship Discoverer runs into pirate trouble!

By LIN DAVIES

YES, there were three specks in the stratosphere, far off to the right. The quartzite lenses did not lie. Captain Dexter Ames of the Earth-ship Discoverer drew hack from the squat telescope with worry furrowing his forehead.
Three space ships! Where did they come from? Were they friends or enemies of the exploring craft hurrying home wilh fateful news? He pressed a button to summon his second in command, and in a moment Doctor Phillips was at his side.
„What is it, Captain?”
Ames focused the telescope and gestured. „Take a look.“
The little scientist squinted through the space-revealing tube and exclaimed in alarm. „What are they?“
„They’re not Earth-ships,” said Ames grimly.
„Perhaps they’re Inter-Planet patrol craft,“ suggested the doctor hopefully.
Ames shook his head. „They don’t cruise in threes.“
The little doctor glanced worriedly about him, as though seeking the cause of their trouble. His eyes fell on the great figure sprawled upon a bench in the wing of the control cabin. Ames, too, glanced that way, his eyes running over the ten-foot giant. and suddenly his eyes gleamed.
„I’ve got an idea, Doc!“ He gestured to the helmet, made of metallic coils, on the doctor’s head. „Let’s show the Prince the ships in the scope, and you test his thought-reaction!“
The doctor rubbed his hands. Quickly he led their amiable guest-hostage, the Prince of Alpha Astra, to the glass. The big fellow stared while the doctor fiddled with the tubes of his though-transference helmet. When the giant straightened there was a glitter of hostility in his eyes that made Ames’ pulse beat faster.
The doctor’s eyes were halfclosed, his lips parted as he strained to catch the drift of the giant’s thoughts. Then, „Ames! Ames!“ he cried excitedly. „I’ve got it! The Prince identifies – apparently with some doubt in his mind – those ships as pirates from Neptune!“
„Pirates!” whistled Ames. „We’ve had no word of pirates in these parts!“
The doctor pushed the helmet of his wrinkled brow. „You think they’ll attack us?“
Ames shook his head. „Don’t know. But they certainly will if they’ve any idea how much they could win by blasting us to dust.“ He turned to the speaking tube and his voice roared with clear command „Attention! Battle stations!“

THROUGH the listening tube came the sounds of quick movements, a swishing of soft-soled shoes on metal decks in the far recesses of the ship. Then came the responses. „Guns ready, sir!“ That was Chief Gunner Hatch’s clipped quick voice. „Engine-room standing by, sir,“ Chief Engineer Morgan drawled down in the bowels of the motor-room. Behind the captain a door popped open and the communications man poked his head out. „The board’s dead, sir, but we’re trying.”
The captain nodded. „Watch it carefully. Try to tune in on the Neptune band, and report instantly if the three ships off the starboard bow try to speak to us.“
„Three ships, sir!“ The communications man’s eyes popped wide. „Yes, sir!“ He vanished.
Ames watched the gunners in the shoulders of the control cabin at their job of ranging the big proton guns on the tiny targets ahead, calculating speed, debating projectile types. At the scope the little doctor fidgeted. „They’re bigger, Captain. You’d better take a look.“
Ames took one look and nodded to Doctor Phillips. „We’re in for it. Those are the Neptune pirates.“
The doctor paled. But he nodded matter-of-factly. „Perhaps we have the speed of them.“
Ames compressed his lips. „I doubt it. The Discoverer was built for a long cruise, not for fighting. However –“
He paced the bridge. The next few minutes might spell their safety or doom. Everything depended he fought his ship. Could he give the pirates the slip, or, failing that, trounce them in battle? It was three to one and those Neptune craft looked like war craft.
They came up fast, flying at a tangent that would put them on his starboard quarter. But no – they were crawling up, showing a speed that made the Discoverer look like a cripple. Ames barked into the speaking tube. „Morgan! Are you getting all the speed you can?“
Back came the answer, „The last gasp, Chief!“
The lean space-devils loomed larger. Ames could make out the ports where the muzzles of proton guns gleamed. Suddenly the leading ship fired.
Ames slammed the elevators hard down, and the Discoverer dived. As the great space ship slipped out of her course a dull boom sounded through her length, and she shivered. Ahead, a bright glow appeared. A shot across the bows – a warning to heave to!
Gunner Hatch’s voice sounded eager and quick. „We have the range, sir!“
„Not yet,” warned Ames. „Don’t fire. When you do, take that leading ship first.“

HE FLUNG the Discoverer of her course, seeking to elude the pirate trio. But the move gained only a few seconds. When he scanned the rearward air again, the third pirate ship had crept up on one side. „Hatch!“ he shouted. „Take that one – to port!“
„Aye, sir!“ And the port sternchaser spoke with a stunning concussion. Staggering, the pirate ship fell off, and Ames heard the gunners cheer. But in the next instant a crashing blow struck the Discoverer, hurling Ames to the deck, where he lay senseless.
He knew nothing of the motors’ futile thrumming as the Discoverer, her rudders jammed by the hit, swung into a giddy circle. Or of how the two unhurt pirate ships, matching the Discoverer’s speed, came alongside. He roused to see, dimly, the port and starboard bulkheads crashing in under the fire of the pirates’ protons, and a swarm of lean-faced hot-eyed Neptune men pouring through the breaches.
Four of them rushed into the control room, herding little Doctor Phillips before them. The leader surveyed the spacious control room.
„We can use her,“ he jeered in slurred Earth-language. „for cargo. And as for you–“ he jabbcd Ames with a ray pistol, „–you and your people will slave in our laboratories.” He gestured to the guards, and Ames and Phillips were jostled aft, into the half-empty cargo hold. The bulkhead slammed, and quiet fell in the big chamber.
Ames rubbed his throbbing head, and looked about him. The whole crew was gathered here, despair on their faces. In one corner sat the giant Prince, broodingly fingering a great gash on his forehead; evidently he had been stunned belore he was captured.
The ship rolled, and Ames knew that the course had been changed. The realization stirred him to frantic thought. „Once we’re on Neptune, we won’t have a chance,“ he told himself. „No, if we ever make the break, it must be now.“
But below him was a metal deck. Walls and ceiling were just as impregnable, and as for the door – he shook his head.
Then he sighted the giant again. Those broad shoulders –
Ames jumped to his feet. „Men!“ he cried. „Let’s try a break! If we can force that door, it’ll be split-second work to capture the prize crew. Are you ready?“
Morgan gave Ames an odd look, glancing sidewise at the ponderous door. But Hatch was on his feet. Ames tapped the giant on the shoulder. „It’s up to you. Prince.”
The giant of the First Star shook his head at the unfamiliar words. But his eyes gleamed when Ames rammed his shoulder at the door and then stood back. In a flash the ten-footer was on his feet. His first thrust made the stout door tremble, while he caromed off it as if he had been a cork on water. But his second try cracked a hinge, and the crew gave a suppressed yell. On the third plunge the giant Prince laid the door flat.
And over his sprawled body the Discoverer’s crew raced. In two minutes the ship was safe from stem to stern, with the prize crew of surly Neptune men in irons.
„Well, Doc!“ cried Ames. „Earth’s alliance with Alpha Astra is working already. Hey, Prince?“
The ten-foot Prince of the First Star grinned understandingly.

Erstveröffentlichung in "Planet Comics" #6, Juni 1940, Verlag Fiction House (defunkt)

Pulp :: Echsenmenschen des Ersten Sternes! [2]

SLAVE OF THE LIZARD-MEN

Ravaged by quakes and floods, Earth send Captain Dexter Ames through outer space to discover the mysterious secret of Sun-control.

By DON VARICK

CAPTAIN DEXTER AMES, guiding the spaceship Discoverer out of gloomy canyon walls for a survey of the mystery planet Alpha Astra, wheeled eagerly when Doctor Phillips, his second in command, sputtered in amazement as he stared groundward through the powerful, squat telescope in the wing of the control cabin.
„Well, Doc?“
„There! Down there – among the Lizard-Men!“ stuttered the little scientist, staring.
„What!“ exclaimed Ames. „More of the scaly devils? Like the ones we fought off in the canyon?“
„Yes, yes,“ snapped the doctor. „But that’s not all!“ He fidgeted at the scope. „There he is! A giant, Captain, a giant!“
„A what?“
The bald little doctor danced a jig about the scope. „See for yourself! An amazing fellow! He might be an Earth-man like us, but for his size.“
„Sure the light hasn’t fooled you?“ asked Ames, stepping to the scope as Chief Gunner Hatch took over the controls.
„No! The Lizard-Men are all around him, rearing up to their six feet. You can judge his height hy them!“
It was so, Ames saw. Down on the level plain a horde of the scaly green Lizard-Men swarmed about a great plattform. And chained to the middle of the platform was the doctor’s giant.
Ames’ eyes sparkled. „A giant!“ he cried. „There’s other life, then, on the oldest star of them all! A giant! Perhaps it’s his people who know the secret of Sun-control – his people who just now are touching off quakes and floods on Earth!“
„If we can rescue him,“ the doctor began. „and take him aboard–“
„We’ll rescue him, all right,“ snapped Ames. „Our ray-guns can take care of those Lizard-Men. We proved that in the canyon.“

Pulp :: Echsenmenschen des Ersten Sternes! [1]

THE LIZARD-MEN OF ALPHA ASTRA

Piloted by Capt. Dexter Ames, 21,000 A.D. outward-space Columbus, the rocket-ship lands on the mystery-planet of Astra, only to be overwhelmed by the rodent-faced Lizard Men.

By LIN DAVIES

CAPTAIN DEXTER AMES caught his breath. The swirling vapors, miles in depth, had blown clear, and through the magnifying transparent shield of the space ship’s control room he could see the feared mystery planet straight ahead. He turned exultantly to the white-haired man beside him.
„There she is, Doctor! Just where the Observatory plotted her!”
Doctor Phillips smiled wistfully. „And you think we can succeed in finding the secret of Alpha Astra’s control over the Sun?“
Ames clapped a hand affectionately on the older man’s shoulder. „I hope so, for all our sakes.“ There was meaning in his voice, and unconsciously his gaze shifted to the slim figure of the girl who stood a few paces away; staring at the strange newly-discovered Alpha Astra, First of the Stars.
„There may be great danger ahead – dangers that we of Earth have never known,“ Dr. Phillips reminded the captain.
„We’ll have to take our chances,“ said Ames soberly.
The doctor turned to join Ames in an avid survey of the great star, whose form grew in size – even though the space ship was coasting through the heavens. Now that they were getting close, young Captain Ames wished that Cara Phillips, the doctor’s daughter, was back on Earth, for the landing on Alpha Astra bade fair to be a memorable one.
He sounded the alert. „Stations!“ he called through the control tube. „Prepare to land!“
As he adjusted his ray pistol the girl moved to his side. „Good luck, Captain“
„And to you, Cara,“ Ames rejoined. „Stay with the ship.“
She nodded, her eyes troubled. Then Ames turned and took the controls himself for the landing. He shot the rocket ship into a narrow but straight canyon and set her down with hardly a jar.

Werkstattbericht 2017-09-07

Wie aus gut unterrichteten Quellen zu hören ist, ist inzwischen "Digital Burnout" ein großes Thema, und am meisten brennen die Menschen momentan die sozialen Medien durch. Also, warum nicht wieder bloggen, oder ganz steinzeitlich, ein Egozine raushauen? Ist es nicht großartig, im 21. Jahrhundert zu leben? Wir können die komplizierteste Technik aller Zeiten nutzen, aber wir können es auch sein lassen. Freiheit!
Und ja, ich habe auch keine Lust, Alibipostings zu veröffentlichen. Warum nicht mal ein nichtssagendes, aber interessantes Photo*?

* Immer Photo, immer Phantasie. Es sieht einfach besser aus**. Geheimnisvoll. Romantisch.
** Ich bleibe dabei, ein versales "ß" ist einfach nur eine dumme Idee.

Werkstattbericht 2017-07/08-19

Herzliche Grüße von der Nordseeküste, aus den mythischen Gefilden von Zollern am Meer, aus den letzten Tagen des Sommers, oder wie man hier sagt 'dem irgendwie herbstlichen Schmuddeltagen'. Die vielen interessanten Dinge der letzten Wochen haben meinen Aufenthalt in den weiten Welten des weltweiten Webs etwas kurzgehalten, und ich bin froh, dass ich niemandem wie Warren Ellis einen regelmäßigen Newsletter versprochen habe. Die enttäuschten großen Augen all der Milliarden von Lesern hätte ich nicht ertragen. Andererseits, leider bin ich auch nicht Warren Ellis, es sei denn, ich schaffe es doch noch eine Zeitmaschine zu bauen und ihn zu ersetzen, bevor er bekannt wird. Dann müsste ich allerdings auch trotz Grippe oder Alkoholvergiftzungen, oder womit er sich auch immer sonst die Zeit vertreibt, jede Woche einen wohlformulierten Newsletter zusammenschustern, der irgendwie Sinn macht. Welch ein Glück. Da bin ich freier. Dies hier muss keinen Sinn machen. Nur irgendwie amüsant.

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Thema der Woche
Alte Bücher, alte Texte, Diebstahl oder Rettung aus der Anonymität der Public Domain?
"EDITION RETRODOMAIN" läuft langsam an, aber ich werde hier darauf nicht rumreiten. Ein kleines, unschuldiges Seitenprojekt, mit dem ich vor Jahren angefangen habe und das dieses Jahr seine Früchte tragen wird.
Andere Autoren habe ich dafür nicht begeistern kennen. (Vielleicht wissen sie mehr als ich? Näääh...)
Außer Peter Stohl.
Peter Stohl ist ein besserer Mensch als ich. Und fleißiger.
Wenn die Retrodomaine wenigstens dafür sorgt, dass mehr Texte von ihm veröffentlicht werden, hat es sich schon gelohnt.

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Zitate der Woche
"Und wie in der materiellen, so auch in der geistigen Produktion. Die geistigen Erzeugnisse der einzelnen Nationen werden Gemeingut. Die nationale Einseitigkeit und Beschränktheit wird mehr und mehr unmöglich, und aus den vielen nationalen und lokalen Literaturen bildet sich eine Weltliteratur.“ (Karl Marx und Friedrich Engels, "Manifest der Kommunistischen Partei")

"Stephen Oppenheimer in The Origins of the British shows evidence that there was no genocide of ancient Britons by either Celtic or Anglo-Saxon incomers. Genetic sampling shows that 75-95 per cent of the pre-1950 population came from neolithic Iberians who walked here after the last glaciation receded and we were joined to the continent. We are, most of us, descendants of the elves and witches. When you see a photo of a drunken, tattooed yob vomiting in the gutters of San Antonio, watched by a spaced-out chick in a weird hat capering about with a spliff in one hand and bottle of sangria in the other, it’s not decadence, merely modern British elf and witch doing their midsummer solstice thing." (Robert Carver, "Magic mushrooms and the roots of witchcraft")

"Besonders der Charakter des Pierrot, der in den Darbietungen der commedia weniger als aktiv Handelnder denn als vom Geschehen isolierter, gewitzter Kommentator agierte, avancierte dabei zu einer Identifikationsfigur für die Künstler der Boheme. Verträumt und sensibel, minunter auch mit makabren Zügen, erschien Pierror als Innbegriff des modernen Lebensgefühles und blieb zugleich ein sozialer Außenseiter." (Barbara Martin, "Zwischen Verklärung und Verführung: Die Frau in der französischen Plakatkunst des späten 19. Jahrhunderts")

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Irgendwo im Datenspeicher:

yanacu huema nahibita cume chipaliqe oquoye iribobi?


Ein Zitat aus einer inzwischen vergessenen amerikanischen Sprache, das ich unheimlich witzig fand, obwohl ich danach eigentlich nur gesucht habe, um Hintergrunddetails für eine  Kurzgeschichte um Randolph Carters okkulten Mentor Harley Warren zu sammeln. Abgesehen, dass kein Mensch weiß, wie man es ausspricht, sollte man es auch nicht. Obwohl es sich bei manchen Situationen anbieten würde.


Soundtreck bei Nacht