And now something about Ryanair:
“The low-cost airline Ryanair announced it was considering flying a route from Tel Aviv to Krakow, the southern Polish city situated near the former Auschwitz death camp.
The announcement Monday came one month after Israel’s government decided to allow new flights to Europe.
“It seems that every Israeli child has to go to Poland to go and see Auschwitz. We can help them with that,” the Dublin-based carrier’s deputy chief executive, Howard Millar, said at a news conference in London.
A Ryanair spokesman on Tuesday confirmed to AFP, the French news agency, that the airline “has had discussions with a number of Israeli airports, but they are purely exploratory at this time.” Some 25,000 Israeli teenagers visit Nazi death camps in Poland annually in trips organized since 1988 by Israeli high schools and Israel’s Education Ministry. Parents pay about $1,500 per student, with some $580 going to cover flight costs. In 2010, the ministry spent approximately $30 million on trips to Poland.”
(Read the complete article in Ha’aretz here.)
There is obviously something perverse about turning Auschwitz into a (more or less) secular religion. I would even say that it comes close to denial.
But more important: the Education Ministry in Israel should improve the school system instead of sending Israeli children to camps in Poland.
Two of my nieces in Israel have been to camps in Poland, but they barely speak English or any other language besides Hebrew.
(The least the Education Ministry could do is to send Palestinian and Israeli kids together to camps in Poland.)
Emily Witt on love, pornography and San Francisco in N+1:
‘Soon, the music was silenced (Kink had its own music, cleared of rights, to play). The bartender removed his gingham shirt and his tie and suddenly was wearing nothing but his waistcoat. Donna came out to make some announcements to the assembled crowd, which was well on its way to getting soused.
“You might think we are doing things to the model that are mean or humiliating, but don’t,” said Donna. “She’s signed an agreement.” According to the agreement, the crowd had permission to poke the model, fondle her, and finger her, but only if they washed their hands and had neatly trimmed fingernails. A fingernail trimmer was available if necessary. “I’m going to be watching you like a hawk to make sure you’re not doing degrading things to her pussy,” Donna said. She continued: “You’re allowed to spit on her chest but not her face. You can give her a hard spanking but you are not allowed to give her a hard smack.” She pulled her production assistant over to her physically. “If Kat is the model”—here Kat bent over obligingly—“this would be a reasonable distance from which to spank her.” Donna mimed responsible spanking practice.
The model, Donna went on to explain, could not leave the set bruised because she had another shoot coming up this week. Donna said that therefore at some point she might have to forbid certain practices to ensure Penny’s body remained unmarked.
Donna concluded her speech with a more theoretical exposition. The whole point of Public Disgrace, she explained, is that it’s supposed to seem spontaneous, and that “you guys are not supposed to know that we’re coming here.” Taking video was forbidden, photographs with phones were fine, but the most important thing: “Don’t ignore us. I’m going to walk her in with a sign that says I’M A WORTHLESS CUNT. So react to that.” She repeated that nail clippers and files were available for anyone who wanted them and reminded the audience to wash their hands in the bathroom before touching the model. Then she returned to the back room.’
(Read the complete article here.)
A prerequisite for an ethical orgy: nail clippers.
Or to put it differently, kinky sex starts with a manicure.
For a long time I believed that the food served by major European airlines in economy class was slightly better than the food served by their American counterparts. It’s all anecdotal evidence of course, but in my experience especially Air France did make an effort to serve rather decent food on intercontinental flights.
Today I took a Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt to JFK and I was served the saddest salad I’ve seen in my life. We have all heard that American Airlines got rid of the last olive on its salad a decade ago or so but my salad today went far beyond the absence of olives.
This salad reminded me of dry grass rejected by sick cows.
Of course this salad may pay the shareholders of Lufthansa bigger dividends. And since I’m both a shareholder of Lufthansa and an occasional customer I was in an awkward position.
But money is not an end, and therefore both as a shareholder and an occasional customer I’d like to tell Lufthansa: improve your salad.
Ten years ago I spent a few days in Hotel Falkenstein Grand Kempinski.
In the meantime I have been back for some coffee or a supper but I never stayed in this hotel again, till this weekend.
Ten years ago I swam in the swimming pool with a girlfriend, this time I swam in the pool with my godson and I got sunburnt.