19.12.2013
Ave atque vale
All good things must come to an end. After ten years, it is time for me to leave Debattierclub Stuttgart. The memories and experiences, the successes and challenges, and most of all the friends will stay with me forever. Thank you for everything!
18.12.2013
Abmahnungen in Deutschland
Mal unabhängig vom konkreten Fall, in dem vor allem die Herkunft der abgemahnten IP-Adressen (über eine Phishingseite namens retdube?), die von interessierter Seite propagierte und von auch im Jahr 2013 noch in der Lochkartenära steckenden Gerichten abgesegnete Auffassung, dass Streams wegen ihrer Speicherung in Caches unerlaubte Vervielfältigungen seien (dann wären es alle Internetvideos), und die anscheinend bewusste Hintergehung selbigen rückständigen Gerichts durch IT-Technobabble als besonders problematisch hervorstechen, also mal unabhängig von diesen Fragen, die alleine schon Bücher füllen könnten und in dieser mal speichelleckenden, mal devot Stichworte gebenden Farce eines Interviews höchstens in byzantinischer Verklausulierung angesprochen werden ...
... sind Abmahnungen an sich ein nützliches Rechtsinstrument, um teure und mühsame Verfahren zu vermeiden. Zum Problem werden sie dadurch, dass die selbst bei Lappalien hohen Streitwerte das Honorar der Abmahnanwält:innen bestimmen, das in jedem Fall von dem oder der Abgemahnten bezahlt werden muss, und die Streitwerte von den Anwält:innen selbst bestimmt werden. In Verknüpfung mit der Existenz des Internets bedeutet das, dass findige Kanzleien einfach die Praktikantin oder den Praktikanten z.B. "Veronica Ferres Trompete" (willkürlich gewähltes Beispiel) googeln lassen und alle gefundenen Seiten wegen Verletzung der Persönlichkeitsrechte mit einem Brief aus Textbausteinen abmahnen, für sagen wir 10.000 Euro Streitwert, also 1500 Euro Honorar. Aufwand = Praktikant:innengehalt (400 Euro/Monat für 60 Stunden/Woche), Ertrag = €€€. Wetten, dass die Große Koalition nichts daran ändern wird?
... sind Abmahnungen an sich ein nützliches Rechtsinstrument, um teure und mühsame Verfahren zu vermeiden. Zum Problem werden sie dadurch, dass die selbst bei Lappalien hohen Streitwerte das Honorar der Abmahnanwält:innen bestimmen, das in jedem Fall von dem oder der Abgemahnten bezahlt werden muss, und die Streitwerte von den Anwält:innen selbst bestimmt werden. In Verknüpfung mit der Existenz des Internets bedeutet das, dass findige Kanzleien einfach die Praktikantin oder den Praktikanten z.B. "Veronica Ferres Trompete" (willkürlich gewähltes Beispiel) googeln lassen und alle gefundenen Seiten wegen Verletzung der Persönlichkeitsrechte mit einem Brief aus Textbausteinen abmahnen, für sagen wir 10.000 Euro Streitwert, also 1500 Euro Honorar. Aufwand = Praktikant:innengehalt (400 Euro/Monat für 60 Stunden/Woche), Ertrag = €€€. Wetten, dass die Große Koalition nichts daran ändern wird?
11.12.2013
Fake interpreter, real hustle
You gotta feel for this dude. With unemployment that high in South Africa, he immediately jumped at the chance when his buddy said that there might be a position and asked him whether he knew sign language. Sure he did, or at least he would know it until he had to sign for the first time at an ANC event some time ago. He bought some books. But boy, this was hard. Time was running out and there was still so much to learn, practically everything to be honest. Who knew sign language was so complex? So he got on stage at that first event with a heavy heart and signed away the best he could, which wasn't much, but at least he put in some effort. As he gestured, he expected to be called out, to be exposed as a fraud on the spot, or at least later on, behind the stage. Perhaps he would even be jailed.
But no one called him out. No one exposed him, and no one put him in jail. In fact, people seemed to like his work, his visible effort for inclusion. He was booked again, for a conference a few months later. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he vowed to really learn sign language until then. But what with having a job now, buying things, living his life, somehow he didn't find the time. And when he signed at that conference (in between sudden bouts of panic), again no one said anything against him, and this time even more people seemed to like what he did. Some even seemed impressed, a few young ladies among them. The bookings started to roll in now.
This dude lived the high life. Working for South Africa's ruling party, fighting for inclusion, standing next to important people. Sometimes, he skimmed some YouTube videos about signing, to assuage a tiny nagging doubt in his mind, but mostly, he didn't bother and just moved his hands and arms as he thought appropriate. Wasn't this a form of signing too, perhaps a more efficient, more elegant one? He felt that he was working hard. That he was earning his salary.
Then the day after Madiba died, the fateful call came. Someone at the ANC had recommended him for the big memorial, and was he free on that day? To sign the speeches of Jacob Zuma, some world leaders he did not know, and even the President of the United States? There was this tiny fear again which never seemed to go away, however much he tried to drown it in luxuries. But mostly, there was immense joy, pride, giddy elation. He called his parents in their humble hometown. Their boy, next to Obama! He had finally made it. Right away, he went to buy a new suit. He had to look his best. This would be his great day. Beamed onto millions of screens worldwide, his face in every home. He would do his thing, and he would be set for life. The Mandela Memorial Interpreter, at your service for a little fee. Perhaps he would even think of marrying now. What could stop him? What could go wrong??
But no one called him out. No one exposed him, and no one put him in jail. In fact, people seemed to like his work, his visible effort for inclusion. He was booked again, for a conference a few months later. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he vowed to really learn sign language until then. But what with having a job now, buying things, living his life, somehow he didn't find the time. And when he signed at that conference (in between sudden bouts of panic), again no one said anything against him, and this time even more people seemed to like what he did. Some even seemed impressed, a few young ladies among them. The bookings started to roll in now.
This dude lived the high life. Working for South Africa's ruling party, fighting for inclusion, standing next to important people. Sometimes, he skimmed some YouTube videos about signing, to assuage a tiny nagging doubt in his mind, but mostly, he didn't bother and just moved his hands and arms as he thought appropriate. Wasn't this a form of signing too, perhaps a more efficient, more elegant one? He felt that he was working hard. That he was earning his salary.
Then the day after Madiba died, the fateful call came. Someone at the ANC had recommended him for the big memorial, and was he free on that day? To sign the speeches of Jacob Zuma, some world leaders he did not know, and even the President of the United States? There was this tiny fear again which never seemed to go away, however much he tried to drown it in luxuries. But mostly, there was immense joy, pride, giddy elation. He called his parents in their humble hometown. Their boy, next to Obama! He had finally made it. Right away, he went to buy a new suit. He had to look his best. This would be his great day. Beamed onto millions of screens worldwide, his face in every home. He would do his thing, and he would be set for life. The Mandela Memorial Interpreter, at your service for a little fee. Perhaps he would even think of marrying now. What could stop him? What could go wrong??
03.12.2013
Nein zur Groko
Mein Nein ist unterwegs. Sollen andere Merkels Komplizen bei der Zerstörung Europas werden.
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