Morning Stories

For a long time, Kurt had slipped from my memory. But here in 2026, he's back: Kurt Tucholsky, the passionate, pen-wielding fighter against war.

"Stand up! Right now!" How can anyone resist such an enticing and friendly invitation? After all, it's not every day you're graced with such a request. And yet you do it anyway — that whole standing-up thing. Who wants to be known as someone who was "left sitting" or "left lying around"? Exactly.

“Oh boy! Cott the crap!” That’s how I used to understand the word boycott, at least when I heard it from an English-speaking mouth. And even clearer understanding dawns when the thing called a boycott actually takes effect.

Good grief – how inspiring were the boyhood years, when cowboys and Indians populated the black-and-white, tiny little television screen. When Colts were constantly smoking, the Bonanza Ranch hosted the first men's group home, and the giant John Wayne was busy cleaning up the Wild West. Good grief – how discoloured and yellowed this romance appears today. Isn't it?

A day never has enough minutes to stay silent in thought and remembrance. To offer someone the quiet, respectful tribute they deserve. Silence is sometimes louder than any speech — or any scream.

My subconscious must have been busy last night. I fell asleep with The Boss — and woke up because of - the boss.

In bright, glittering letters, her T-shirt read RESIST. The shirt — and the woman wearing it — celebrated resistance. Ah yes… but resistance against what, exactly?

“Don’t say that!” “Hey, you can’t say that anymore!” Remember when free speech was still free of panic? When talking came with a hint of manners, maybe even ethics?