Benutzerprofil von Pan
Benutzerprofil
...die du einst bei uns gefunden!
Grüße,
Horst
(ich habe noch zwei Jahre Sütterlin gelernt)
Pan hat auf das Thema RE: Gendern (geschlechtsneutrale Sprache) in der heutigen Gesellschaft im Forum Schwarzes Brett geantwortet
Einen ausserplanmässigen Beitrag dazu:
Ich hatte mal eine Kollegin, die in Gesprächen,
in denen das Wort "man" vorkam,
stets das Wörtchen "frau" einsetzte.
Es war ihr nicht klar zu machen, dass dieses Pronomen
nichts mit geschlechtsspezifischen Aussagen zu tun hatte!
Horst
Ich hatte mal eine Kollegin, die in Gesprächen,
in denen das Wort "man" vorkam,
stets das Wörtchen "frau" einsetzte.
Es war ihr nicht klar zu machen, dass dieses Pronomen
nichts mit geschlechtsspezifischen Aussagen zu tun hatte!
Horst
Pan hat auf das Thema RE: Wie Korrupt sind deutsche Beamte in Libanon ? im Forum Internationale Politik geantwortet
Das Zentralorgan der "Besserwisserorganisation" ließ verlautbaren, dass ...
Und sofort ist der Knüppel draußen und dann »auf ihn mit Gebrüll«!
Es widert mich so an, dass über solch einen Schmand gestritten werden muss!
Boah
Und sofort ist der Knüppel draußen und dann »auf ihn mit Gebrüll«!
Es widert mich so an, dass über solch einen Schmand gestritten werden muss!
Boah
It amazes me. You speak of "words of wisdom."
Who then gave you the enlightenment that it is indeed "wisdom"
that you find there? Every subject in the world has a subject
diametrically opposed to it! Name me a single person who would
be wise. I would pay homage to him like a god!
In diesem Textabschnitt sind drei absolute Fehler,
die auf jeden Fall i m m e r als solche angemerkt wurden!
Das lange "s" gehört auf jeden Fall korrigiert. ST, SCH, Sp
wurden stets mit diesem S geschrieben, vor allem als Anfangsbuchstabe.
Das "runde s" als Schluss-"s"
Mit Gruß
Pan
That you simply assume here that it would be copied - that is embarrassing!
In your head turns probably allses only around such points of criticism?
I found such criticism already several times in your comments ...
In your head turns probably allses only around such points of criticism?
I found such criticism already several times in your comments ...
My dear friend - you are completely wrong! The history, which you indicate there, is from ME! I have written that myself, so refrain from such remarks!
I will never publish something that is not from myself. If you can read something like that, then check the authorship: It is always from me!
Horst Lux
I will never publish something that is not from myself. If you can read something like that, then check the authorship: It is always from me!
Horst Lux
"What are you doing," the little boy asked the old man sitting on one of the park benches. Astonished, the old man looked at the little boy. He thoughtfully turned a stone he was holding around and around.
"I'm looking back in time," he then said.
"How does that work," the boy asked, "are you a time explorer?" The man smiled. "Hmm, maybe I'm something like that. Who knows exactly what he is. Doesn't sound bad, though: time researcher! Time researchers."
"What does that mean?" The little boy looked inquiringly into the old man's face. "Time researchers, too. Don't you go to school yet?"
"No", said the boy, "not until next year. Grandma says I should rest a little longer, everything else will come soon enough."
"What about your parents? What do they say?"
"Don't have any more. Are up there!"
He points up to the feathery clouds painting a pattern on the cerulean blue of the sky. "Oh!" The old man fell silent, concerned. The boy looked at him, "Well, I didn't know her. And I have my grandma, after all!"
"Yes, that's just as well. Everyone needs someone they can trust when they feel alone. It's bad when there's no one there. I know that."
"Are you alone too?" the boy asked.
"Yes, sometimes, but I have my time to talk to!"
Without understanding, the boy looked at him. The old man smiled again. Then pointed to the stone in his hand.
"See this one? It can tell me so much. It was born when there were no people living in this world."
The little boy laughed heartily. "But stones aren't born, what nonsense are you telling me."
The old man also laughed quietly to himself, but then, handing the stone to the child, said:
"Like this, you mean? --- Stones are born, too. Not like people and animals, of course. Stones are born from fire and embers and magma that live deep beneath our feet inside the earth. Then, every now and then, when these embers come to the surface, they become solid, and later, that's a stone. Like this one!"
The boy turned the stone back and forth, looking at its grain. "I think it's pretty. And so smooth, it feels good."
"Would you like to have it? I was given it many years ago by an old woman who lived up in the mountains. I'll give it to you, too!"
"But, - but this is your stone, with which you can look into time. Didn't you say?"
The old man nodded at the boy, then smiled mischievously.
"Oh, you know, I've known time for many, many years now, and it knows me, too. And I already know it all by heart now. But you, you still have to learn it, that time."
The little boy looked at him in confusion.
"How can you learn time? You can't."
The old man stroked the boy's hair, then asked again, "Will you accept my gift?" Wordlessly, the little boy just nodded several times.
"That's fine," the man said. "So you think time can't be learned? Oh yes, you can. I've learned to have time, too. You know, it's often the case - you'll learn this - that you don't have time. Or it just runs away from you!" The little boy nodded his head in affirmation, "That's what Grandma says sometimes, too: time just ran away from me!"
"Yes, that's how it is then."
The old man continued speaking. "You can sleep through time. You can kill it!"
The boy laughed out loud. "Grandma always says time is precious!"
"Which she's right about," the old man said. "It really is precious. You shouldn't just drive it away, either. You know, some people say they have to pass the time!"
The little boy nodded. "I've heard that, too. That's called passing the time then!" The old man nodded. "Yeah, that's right, you pass the time. And then it does just that, it lets itself be driven away, and suddenly it's gone! Gone simply because you've driven it away. Isn't that bad?"
Questioningly, the boy looked at the old man.
"I think it is bad. And then? Do you get them back?"
"No, never." The old man said with a startling determination. "No, you don't get back lost time. It's gone. And then you have no more time, no more time to do all the things you used to want to do, but you had no time then either! And later, when one would have time, like I have now, there is none left! Because it is used up, the time. That's why you absolutely have to learn time, my boy, because it is precious, as your grandma says. Take time whenever you need it, don't let it rush you. Always remember the stone in your hand!"
The old man rose from the park bench, took his walking stick, stroked the boy's hair once more, and then walked slowly along the path. The little boy looked after him for a long time, then whispered softly, "Bye, take your time grandpa!"
"I'm looking back in time," he then said.
"How does that work," the boy asked, "are you a time explorer?" The man smiled. "Hmm, maybe I'm something like that. Who knows exactly what he is. Doesn't sound bad, though: time researcher! Time researchers."
"What does that mean?" The little boy looked inquiringly into the old man's face. "Time researchers, too. Don't you go to school yet?"
"No", said the boy, "not until next year. Grandma says I should rest a little longer, everything else will come soon enough."
"What about your parents? What do they say?"
"Don't have any more. Are up there!"
He points up to the feathery clouds painting a pattern on the cerulean blue of the sky. "Oh!" The old man fell silent, concerned. The boy looked at him, "Well, I didn't know her. And I have my grandma, after all!"
"Yes, that's just as well. Everyone needs someone they can trust when they feel alone. It's bad when there's no one there. I know that."
"Are you alone too?" the boy asked.
"Yes, sometimes, but I have my time to talk to!"
Without understanding, the boy looked at him. The old man smiled again. Then pointed to the stone in his hand.
"See this one? It can tell me so much. It was born when there were no people living in this world."
The little boy laughed heartily. "But stones aren't born, what nonsense are you telling me."
The old man also laughed quietly to himself, but then, handing the stone to the child, said:
"Like this, you mean? --- Stones are born, too. Not like people and animals, of course. Stones are born from fire and embers and magma that live deep beneath our feet inside the earth. Then, every now and then, when these embers come to the surface, they become solid, and later, that's a stone. Like this one!"
The boy turned the stone back and forth, looking at its grain. "I think it's pretty. And so smooth, it feels good."
"Would you like to have it? I was given it many years ago by an old woman who lived up in the mountains. I'll give it to you, too!"
"But, - but this is your stone, with which you can look into time. Didn't you say?"
The old man nodded at the boy, then smiled mischievously.
"Oh, you know, I've known time for many, many years now, and it knows me, too. And I already know it all by heart now. But you, you still have to learn it, that time."
The little boy looked at him in confusion.
"How can you learn time? You can't."
The old man stroked the boy's hair, then asked again, "Will you accept my gift?" Wordlessly, the little boy just nodded several times.
"That's fine," the man said. "So you think time can't be learned? Oh yes, you can. I've learned to have time, too. You know, it's often the case - you'll learn this - that you don't have time. Or it just runs away from you!" The little boy nodded his head in affirmation, "That's what Grandma says sometimes, too: time just ran away from me!"
"Yes, that's how it is then."
The old man continued speaking. "You can sleep through time. You can kill it!"
The boy laughed out loud. "Grandma always says time is precious!"
"Which she's right about," the old man said. "It really is precious. You shouldn't just drive it away, either. You know, some people say they have to pass the time!"
The little boy nodded. "I've heard that, too. That's called passing the time then!" The old man nodded. "Yeah, that's right, you pass the time. And then it does just that, it lets itself be driven away, and suddenly it's gone! Gone simply because you've driven it away. Isn't that bad?"
Questioningly, the boy looked at the old man.
"I think it is bad. And then? Do you get them back?"
"No, never." The old man said with a startling determination. "No, you don't get back lost time. It's gone. And then you have no more time, no more time to do all the things you used to want to do, but you had no time then either! And later, when one would have time, like I have now, there is none left! Because it is used up, the time. That's why you absolutely have to learn time, my boy, because it is precious, as your grandma says. Take time whenever you need it, don't let it rush you. Always remember the stone in your hand!"
The old man rose from the park bench, took his walking stick, stroked the boy's hair once more, and then walked slowly along the path. The little boy looked after him for a long time, then whispered softly, "Bye, take your time grandpa!"
Pan hat auf das Thema RE: Fachkräfteeinwanderungsgesetz für Deutschland im Forum Innenpolitik geantwortet
Das Thema wurde nun von allen Seiten beleuchtet. Klug geworden ist höchstwahrscheinlich niemand so recht. Liegt aber auch in der Natur der Sache! Zwei Punkte möchte ich dennoch erwähnen:
1.) Es wird stets vergessen, dass Deutschland nicht mehr das »Tal der Seligen« ist. Die Zahlen der Statistik sprechen da eine andere Sprache. Auch wenn ein Vergleich mit den Schwellenländern kaum möglich ist - es wird nicht mehr lange dauern, dann ist »D« der Staat, dem geholfen werden muss! Man muss kein Hellseher sein, um das vorauszusehen. Bereits in den 60er Jahren des letzten Jh. gab es Hinweise, die man dann in den Wind geschlagen hat.
2.) Der Fachkräftemangel steht nicht nur bei uns auf der Dringlichkeitsliste. In allen Staaten der EU hat dieser Wettlauf bereits begonnen, wer wollte ihn bremsen? Ich möchte noch darauf hinweisen, dass dieses Anwerben von solchen Fachkräften auch das »Abwerben« aus den Ländern fördert, die diese Menschen im Grunde genauso dringend brauchen! Das widerspricht m.E. jeder vernünftigen Entwicklungshilfe - denkt man darüber einmal nach?
Wie man es betrachtet - es bleibt immer ein Wagnis. Solange bei uns im Lande nicht genügend Nachwuchskräfte nachwachsen, wird dieses Problem stets ein Problem sein!
In einem Punkt jedoch können wir beruhigt sein: Es werden immer genügend Politiker vorhanden sein, um die Bankreihen des Bundestags auszufüllen! Hierfür - und das ist nicht ironisch gemeint - haben wir noch genügend Kräfte im eigenen Land …
1.) Es wird stets vergessen, dass Deutschland nicht mehr das »Tal der Seligen« ist. Die Zahlen der Statistik sprechen da eine andere Sprache. Auch wenn ein Vergleich mit den Schwellenländern kaum möglich ist - es wird nicht mehr lange dauern, dann ist »D« der Staat, dem geholfen werden muss! Man muss kein Hellseher sein, um das vorauszusehen. Bereits in den 60er Jahren des letzten Jh. gab es Hinweise, die man dann in den Wind geschlagen hat.
2.) Der Fachkräftemangel steht nicht nur bei uns auf der Dringlichkeitsliste. In allen Staaten der EU hat dieser Wettlauf bereits begonnen, wer wollte ihn bremsen? Ich möchte noch darauf hinweisen, dass dieses Anwerben von solchen Fachkräften auch das »Abwerben« aus den Ländern fördert, die diese Menschen im Grunde genauso dringend brauchen! Das widerspricht m.E. jeder vernünftigen Entwicklungshilfe - denkt man darüber einmal nach?
Wie man es betrachtet - es bleibt immer ein Wagnis. Solange bei uns im Lande nicht genügend Nachwuchskräfte nachwachsen, wird dieses Problem stets ein Problem sein!
In einem Punkt jedoch können wir beruhigt sein: Es werden immer genügend Politiker vorhanden sein, um die Bankreihen des Bundestags auszufüllen! Hierfür - und das ist nicht ironisch gemeint - haben wir noch genügend Kräfte im eigenen Land …
I had not walked this way so often, today it had to be. This way to the small station outside of the place was already arduous, particularly since it would have been better on this uncomfortable winter day to remain at home in the warm four walls.
The trees of the poplar avenue were already hibernating with their bare branches, certainly dreaming of the warming days of the still distant spring. Fog rose from the lowlands and wrapped the fields and meadows in a gray cloth with filigree fringes. The cold winter air crept quietly through the tall dry grasses, many of which were interwoven by white-silver spider webs.
It was silent. A perfect calm had settled over the land. The birds of summer had retreated, they would now fall silent for a long time. There was a real sense of farewell in the air. The lightness of summer simply disappeared. This mood laid itself crushingly on earth and mind of the people and held them in their spell.
A stone's throw ahead of me, an old man was walking the same path. His steps were slow and ponderous. His left hand was deep in his jacket pocket. The right swung around, occasionally reaching into space or gesticulating. It seemed as if he was discussing with an invisible person. Whenever his hand reached to the right, he also turned his head in the same direction. Then his steps also seemed somehow lighter, more buoyant.
I had been walking behind this man for quite some time. I watched him curiously for quite a while. I adapted my steps to his pace and soon we had arrived at the small station. On the narrow platform already, some persons waited for the small red railcar, which had to arrive shortly.
This station had seen better times. In the past, it was a popular meeting place for the people of the small town. At times, even express trains stopped here to transport passengers to the big city. Today, with its morbid Gründerzeit façade, it not only looked dilapidated, it was. The plaster had come off the wall in many places and lay in ugly little heaps at the edges of the building. It was as if life here had finally taken its leave of time. For a long time now, only the regional train used this station as a stopping point.
Over the consideration of the platform, I had passed the old man unintentionally and stood now some meters beside him. His whole life was readable from his face. The look appeared dull, dark rings framed the eyes. Deep wrinkles stretched through his face as if notched. Coming closer, his eyes seemed less tired. It seemed almost mischievous when he looked to the side and kept glancing to the right. He whispered softly and placatingly to an imaginary person.
When he noticed me, he apparently felt caught, gave me a friendly nod, and said softly with a smile in his eyes: "You know, she's about to leave for her mother's!"
At my astonished look, he then added, "We've never been apart in 60 years. She's a little awkward there. But I'm here!" With that he winked at me with a smile and then looked into the void beside him with a reassuring look. At the same time, his right hand tenderly stroked the air. We stood a few arm's lengths apart. I could hear him whispering, but could not understand his words.
The gray fog hovered like a veil over the station and the tracks, swallowing the sounds almost beyond recognition. I would even go so far as to say that it also settled on my mind. I became very thoughtful at the sight of the old man. The short regional train finally crept out of the curtain of fog. I got on, saw the old man still standing on the platform and looking into a compartment window. His face in the dim light seemed frighteningly gray. Tears were running down his cheeks. Then he slowly raised his right arm and began to wave. His gaze looked into the void - into infinity.
On the seat in front of me sat two young people who had also just gotten on, I noticed them shaking their heads in amusement:
"Look at that crazy old man! He's standing there again and waving. Yet his wife has been in the ground for two years!"
With teary eyes I looked after the old man when the train started again.
I had been walking behind this man for quite some time. I watched him curiously for quite a while. I adapted my steps to his pace and soon we had arrived at the small station. On the narrow platform already, some persons waited for the small red railcar, which had to arrive shortly.
This station had seen better times. In the past, it was a popular meeting place for the people of the small town. At times, even express trains stopped here to transport passengers to the big city. Today, with its morbid Gründerzeit façade, it not only looked dilapidated, it was. The plaster had come off the wall in many places and lay in ugly little heaps at the edges of the building. It was as if life here had finally taken its leave of time. For a long time now, only the regional train used this station as a stopping point.
Over the consideration of the platform, I had passed the old man unintentionally and stood now some meters beside him. His whole life was readable from his face. The look appeared dull, dark rings framed the eyes. Deep wrinkles stretched through his face as if notched. Coming closer, his eyes seemed less tired. It seemed almost mischievous when he looked to the side and kept glancing to the right. He whispered softly and placatingly to an imaginary person.
When he noticed me, he apparently felt caught, gave me a friendly nod, and said softly with a smile in his eyes:
"You know, she's about to leave for her mother's!"
At my astonished look, he then added, "We've never been apart in 60 years. She's a little awkward there. But I'm here!" With that he winked at me with a smile and then looked into the void beside him with a reassuring look. At the same time, his right hand tenderly stroked the air. We stood a few arm's lengths apart. I could hear him whispering, but could not understand his words.
The gray fog hovered like a veil over the station and the tracks, swallowing the sounds almost beyond recognition. I would even go so far as to say that it also settled on my mind. I became very thoughtful at the sight of the old man. The short regional train finally crept out of the curtain of fog.
I got on, saw the old man still standing on the platform and looking into a compartment window. His face in the dim light seemed frighteningly gray. Tears were running down his cheeks. Then he slowly raised his right arm and began to wave. His gaze looked into the void - into infinity.
On the seat in front of me sat two young people who had also just gotten on, I noticed them shaking their heads in amusement:
"Look at that crazy old man! He's standing there again and waving. Yet his wife has been in the ground for two years!"
With teary eyes I looked after the old man when the train started again.
©by H.C.G.Lux
