Even Karl Marx looks a bit happier than usual.
Books to give away
I think they have become useless.
Admittedly, these are somewhat older editions. But law school was one Cold War ago.
I also ask you for a minute of silence for the US State Department lawyers, who, with much creativity, might have come up with some justification for the US attack on Venezuela, if only the President hadn’t held a press conference like a Mafia boss after a heist.
Posted in Books, Law, Military, Politics, USA, Venezuela
Tagged Donald Trump, international public law
5 Comments
The last sunset of 2025
My father sent this photo from Kastl, a village in Bavaria, not far from where I grew up.
It’s actually one of the nicer villages in the area, with an old monastery in Romanesque style, and with ample opportunity for beautiful hikes in basically any direction. The only sad thing is that it’s no longer served by the railroad.
The Wisdom of the Zen Master
As I hear the news from Venezuela, I am reminded of the ending of “Charlie Wilson’s War”.
We’ll see.
Brain biopsies, they are everywhere!
When I got an e-mail with the subject line “help sueing the german government”, I thought it was concerning another lawsuit for delayed processing of a citizenship application. Which I get a lot, and in which cases I am happy to help. After all, if you meet all the requirements – or maybe the loss of citizenship was illegal in the first place -, you shouldn’t be waiting up to four years for the German government to even look at your application.
But this e-mail was about something quite different:
Hi, wish you a great new year. I also wanted to send you a message. My name is […] and I am a person targeted by the intelligence service for unauthorized human experimentation and death. I know it will sound weird
Indeed it does.
but the Pentagon and intelligence team (Army, Navy and even police) have behaved weird throughout decades with biopising people forcibly and still do nowadays. without purpose, by force and killed several by performing brain biopisies and other organs with and in some cases without anesthesia and out of consent disrespecting elemental human rights and people say no but when they are selected they are knocked out with injection screaming most and are brain biopised anyway, without any clinical indication for it some died because they sampled too much of the brain or performed it poorly and cruel. Any brain biopsy means impairment for life hence it only possible in cases where that is strong clinical evidence of necessity. Whoever knows wishes out of the countries. They claim that its for theoretically for research purposes that are hardy fulfilled because most are just stored poorly and lost,
What a shame. All those beautiful brain biopsies, and then they get lost in some archive.
turning it in a sincere nuisance. and that is their so called corporation career dream of nothingness. All because their great model BS contract with the Pentagon with full allowance of the United Nation Organization which also performs the same and protects and gives their blessing. Thus you imagine the truth it happens all over Europe United States, Great Britain Canada and Australia. They are utterly well defined as SICK people. If you can please spread the word and perhaps prepare to sue. They seal all files, but they are coming clean eventually soon.
Kind Regards
Ehm, I am not exactly sure whom you want to sue for what and why, but I’ll just say “no, thanks”. Because one of my New Year’s resolutions is to stay away from complicated people and hopeless causes. And from biopsies, I now want to add.
Posted in Law
11 Comments
The Spanish Christmas Lottery
In many countries and families, a battle is raging over whether December 24th or 25th is the real Christmas. The Orthodox churches in Eastern Europe are known to take their time and don’t celebrate until January 7th, leaving more time for cutting Christmas trees and baking cookies.
One country, however, is completely out of line: Spain, ostensibly a Catholic country, celebrates its Christmas on December 22nd.
If you are wondering “Why the hurry? What’s the rush?”, let me tell you that the Christmas rush starts as early as July. That’s when the tickets for the big celebration go on sale.
In every church I visited in Andalusia, someone tried to sell me tickets. First at the entrance, then came the sacristan, finally the priest. All of them: “Do you already have a ticket for Christmas?”
At first, I answered, truthfully, that I would no longer be in Spain by Christmas. That didn’t lead to any slowing of the sales effort: “It doesn’t matter, it will be televised live.”
I didn’t understand why I should buy tickets for something I could watch on TV for free. At some point, people became too insistent, and I changed my excuse: “Oh, thank you very much, but I already have a ticket.”
That should get me off the hook, I thought.
But far from it: “Buy another one!”, I was encouraged.
An invitation apparently followed by the whole country, as the long lines in front of the sales points demonstrate.
At some point, I understood that in Spain, Christmas is not celebrated with trees, presents and food, but with gambling. Christmas in Spain is synonymous with the lottery.
And everyone has to participate! “Have you already got your lottery tickets?”, I was asked again and again, even by friends who didn’t want to sell me anything.
To avoid getting into lengthy discussions, I simply said: “Yes.”
But that’s when the questions really started: “What number do you have?”
“Why is that important?” I wondered.
I mean, I understand the principle of a lottery and that the number is important for winning. But I don’t understand why my lottery number would be of interest to others.
“Well, maybe we have the same number!” the friends exclaimed enthusiastically, as if that meant some kind of blood brotherhood.
A lottery selling tickets with the same number multiple times? That seemed like a scam. Maybe that’s how the Spanish Civil War had been triggered, when one day, two people with the same numbers came to collect the grand prize.
But then, I was enlightened:
The Spanish Christmas Lottery, proudly existing since 1812 and not interrupted by world or civil wars, nor by flu waves unfairly named after the country, is the largest, most important, most valuable and the most superlativest lottery in the world. Every Christmas, several billion (!) euros are played out.
But, tradition is tradition, the tickets may only have five digits. Thus, there are only 100,000 possible ticket numbers (from 00000 to 99999). A bit few for a country with 47 million people, because after all, every citizen wants at least one lottery ticket.
Other countries would switch to six- or seven-digit ticket numbers, but Spain is more creative: They print the same ticket numbers multiple times. And if the ticket wins, you split the winnings. It’s that simple. Sharing is fun!
Stop! That’s how it works in stingy countries, like in Germany. In Spain, on the other hand, where social justice is a constitutional priority, multiple winning tickets mean that every ticket holder gets the full prize. Here, there is no division, there is multiplication, as if we were living in the country of the magic money tree.
And since the lottery company belongs to the government, the state simply finances any deficit. Now you know why Spain has just secured 140 billion euros from the EU Corona reconstruction fund. Although I think there are always enough tickets sold to fill the pot sufficiently. Last year, each number was issued 170 times, for a total of 17 million tickets.
Theoretically.
Because now it gets really complicated. I had to have this explained to me three times, in order to be able to describe it to you to some extent. But all information is subject to error!
Because 17 million tickets are still not enough for 47 million people, the tickets are divided. And not internally or by secret agreements, but they are chopped up in the truest meaning of the word. The lottery company has no objections to this, but offers each ticket number in each series as a sheet with ten coupons, which can be torn off and bought and sold individually.
However, the profits attributable to these coupons, unlike the profits attributable to the same numbers in different series, are then divided according to this formula:
In Spain, many pocket calculators are sold before Christmas.
In return for having to share the profit, each coupon costs only a tenth of the price of a whole ticket. This is very considerate, because a whole lottery ticket costs a steep 200 euros, which no one can afford. So, someone buys the whole sheet and resells nine tenth-coupon tickets. That’s why you’re approached at the train station, in the park, while washing your hands, at the airport, at police checkpoints, and especially in every bar, asking if you wouldn’t like to buy a coupon.
This is what a coupon looks like: In the center, the five-digit ticket number (88485), in the upper right corner, the series (168), and below that, the number of the coupon (1 of 10). And the price of 20 euros, which is why I never treated myself to this exciting pastime.
Because, as I’ve already lamented, 20 euros is still a lot of money, the coupons are split once again. But now we are sliding from the official to the unofficial betting business, because you are not allowed to cut up the coupons. Instead, you meet people in the park who sell photocopies of their coupons and promise to give you a share of the profits. So you buy a copy, with the seller of course telling you the participation quotient, and you leave your phone number with the traveling salesman, who will give you a call on Christmas, informing you of your winnings.
People in Spain are very honest.
These participation deals (which you can think of as mutual funds) are especially common among groups who want to rejoice together on Christmas Eve: Families, work colleagues, the regulars at a pub, sports teams, the crew of the International Space Station, inmates of prisons or nursing homes.
Incidentally, there is nothing complicated that cannot be made even more complicated:
To prevent counterfeiting, the lottery company has to keep track of which tickets with which numbers from which series it has delivered to which of the 3,420,591 points of sale.
Now, there are people who want a specific ticket number. Maybe their date of birth. Or the number that won last year. Or a number that has never won. Or the numbers that the fortune teller in the street behind the bull-fighting arena told them – in exchange for a share of the profits, of course.
Because the lottery company is state-owned and because the administration in Spain is very service-oriented, you can call them and ask to which kiosk in the enormously vast country (which, as we know, also includes areas in Africa and in the Atlantic) the desired numbers have been delivered. Many Spaniards then take advantage of summer vacation, fall vacation, strike days, sick days or early retirement to drive around the country and buy up the desired lottery tickets.
Another form of lottery tourism occurs when a retail outlet sold the big, fat winning ticket (“El Gordo”) last year. I don’t know why, but hundreds of thousands of people then drive to that very outlet in the current year to deposit at least 20 euros.
And if the winning ticket was sold at a gas station, then that gas station won’t sell any more gas the following year, because no one wants to stand in line with a bunch of gamblers for 3 hours just to pay for diesel.
In this case, it was particularly extreme because the gas station is located on Tenerife. Many Spaniards flew to the Canary island from the mainland for that one purpose. God forbid if the lucky ticket ever comes from Melilla.
And on December 22nd, the lucky numbers will be drawn.
It will be broadcast live on television, with ratings beyond those of the World Cup, with cries of joy and heart attacks throughout the country.
A special feature is that the winning ticket numbers, as well as the respective prizes, are sung by children from San Ildefonso High School in Madrid. Orphans have been used for more than 200 years – not the same ones, obviously – because there is no danger of their parents inciting them to cheat.
And thus it goes on for more than 2000 prizes, all day long. But in other countries, people don’t do anything useful for Christmas either.
Links:
- More Christmas stories.
- And more reports from Spain.
- If you read this too late for this year’s drawing (or if the orphans cheated you), here is another way to become a millionaire.
Treating Winter Depression with Expressionism
Allegedly, around 10% of the population suffer from winter depression or “seasonal affective disorder”, to give it its proper name, because scientists find it funny to name depressions in a way that their acronym reads SAD. I guess the numbers vary from region to region, with more people affected in Canada or Finland than in Ecuador or the Philippines. Because as its name suggests, Ecuador is located right on the equator and thus has no winter at all, which I personally find much more depressing than anything else. Maybe that explains the high murder rate there.
To preempt any concerned phone calls or messages right away: I am not personally affected, at least not at the moment. At some point, I realized that I have nothing against winter itself, but rather against Christmas and other end-of-year celebrations, so I focus on avoiding those. I actually find the atmosphere at this time of year quite cozy, especially if, like me, you are lucky enough to live in an arrondissement that particularly accentuates the romantic touch of this season.
Some people swear by light therapy to alleviate winter depression, while others try homeopathy or pharmaceuticals. Psychotherapists could possibly help too, but no one has ever been able to get an appointment with any of them. They are even harder to come by than vaccination appointments. And, to be honest, psychiatrists are often a bit nuts themselves.
One thing that helps me when I sense gloom looming around the corner is art. Expressionism in particular. Intense colors, bold brushstrokes, no getting lost in the details. That’s why I like to go to museums during the winter months and soak up some bold colors to counteract the gray November drizzle.
Fortunately, I live in Chemnitz, the European Capital of Culture 2025, which offers wonderful museums, galleries, and exhibitions, even before and after this eventful year. Here are just a few photos from the Art Collections at Theaterplatz and the New Saxon Gallery:
Nirvana
In the child custody case of an American family that I am litigating before the Kaiserslautern Family Court, the opposing lawyer in her brief lists all the places that the family have lived at since they married:
It took me a while to realize that “Nirvana” is supposed to mean Nevada. That’s the problem with speech-recognition software, I guess.
On the other hand, when I take the train from Chemnitz to Kaiserslautern, it really seems as far away as Nirvana. This time, I will be in Kaiserslautern from 26 to 29 November, just in case anyone wants to meet up.
Links:
- Speaking of Nevada, I had one of my coolest internships there, with Clark County District Attorney’s Office.
- The reason I get to spend time in fabulous towns like Kaiserslautern is that I am an expert on military divorces/separations.
Antifa
Whenever someone wants to “ban Antifa”, I have to think of this photo. It shows the liberation of the concentration camp in Mauthausen by the US Army in May 1945.
Looking at the banner with which the Spanish prisoners welcomed the liberators, it becomes evident that Anti-fascism is nothing negative. Quite the contrary.
The abbreviation “Antifa” became popular in post-war Germany, where hundreds of “Antifa Committees” had been established in spring and summer of 1945. People tend to overlook this, because it was quickly overtaken by further events, but for a few months in 1945, the old order (Nazi Germany) was gone, but the new order (Allied control) had not yet been established. This void, which in other post-war scenarios could have led to total chaos, was filled by local “Antifa Committees”, who took it upon themselves to organize daily life (especially food, housing and transport), to remove the Nazis and their collaborators from public offices, to take care of millions of refugees and homeless people, and to begin reconstruction of German cities and the economy.
The Antifa movement was a grassroots movement, which covered a wide range of people: Resistance fighters, former prisoners of concentration camps, with a focus on organized labor and the trade union movement, but also people from the political center.
In the towns where the old elite had fled (because they were too obviously Nazis), it was sometimes the local Antifa Committee that handed the town and the city hall over to the Allied Powers, peacefully of course. In the early weeks of the liberation/occupation, the Allies at times cooperated with local Antifa Committees.
But this came to an end soon. The Allies decided that rebuilding Germany quickly and the upcoming Cold War were more important than meticulous Denazification. In public administration and in the courts, the focus was now on keeping experienced staff, instead of building up a new system from scratch. Still in 1945, they dissolved the Antifa Committees, instead allowing the re-establishment of political parties.
Even then, Anti-fascism was the broad consensus, from the left to the right.
Admittedly, that poster from January 1946 may be less indicative than it seems, because it was only used by the CDU in the Soviet sector. (In subsequent years, East Germany used the term “antifaschistisch” so much that it fell out of fashion in West Germany. We have since adopted “Bekenntnis zur freiheitlich-demokratischen Grundordnung” instead, which rolls of the tongue more easily anyway.)
But even the CDU in West Germany, the conservative party which provided the first three chancellors of the Federal Republic, had contacts to the most radical elements of the Antifa, those very small parts that resort to violence. In 1967, they went so far as to nominate a Supreme Court justice who had previously tried to blow up a plane, personally putting the bomb on the aircraft.
I should clarify, though, that most Anti-fascists don’t blow up planes or commit any other acts of violence. In fact, some of them don’t even eat meat or beat their children. (I know, it’s wokeism gone mad.) Whenever I have time to attend an Antifa event, it is usually about history or culture of remembrance. They do a lot of great work on local history projects, for which universities or other academic institutions just wouldn’t have the time. They also conduct very comprehensive research on neo-Nazi networks, often putting together reports that are more detailed and up to date than anything else on that subject.
In any case, Antifa is not some centralized, organized structure. I would hope that most people are Anti-fascists and that Anti-fascism is something that most people can get behind, from lefties to conservatives. Historically, more and earlier Anti-fascism certainly would have been a good thing.
Historical Ignorance
I am always a bit disappointed when my clients show little enthusiasm, as I explain to them that the finely balanced inter- and sometimes counterplay between federal laws, the state judiciary and municipal executive power in Germany actually has its foundations in the Holy Roman Empire.
Equally surprising: The prevalent indifference of my clients at the Family Court in Nuremberg, when I try to cheer them up with the information that they are getting divorced in the same building where the Nazis were once hanged.
The Happy Hermit 