Who the hell even knew how to pronounce this fn decade anyway?

Jetzt mal ehrlich: die 10er-Jahre. WTF? Die 20er! Das klingt doch gleich ganz anders.
What is left to say about this decade of doom, eine Totgeburt von Jahrzehnt … wir verabschieden uns ohne jegliche Nostalgie. Nun gut, wir blicken dennoch zurück, etwa so:

Ein Blick ins Archiv lässt uns entdecken, dass das Jahrzehnt mit einem Besuch in Rom begann, genauer gesagt mit einem Verwirrten auf der Engelsburg und einem hunky angel:

But before we read on, some upbeat 2019-discovered music to ease the pain of this slightly ad-hoc blog post:

So, now we have some wicked japanese disco music on. And honestly: who wants to see Mr.B age throughout 10 years of vacation photos. Instead, lets have a look at some of the more bizarre moments of this decade. In the end, making everyone’s day a bit more bizarre is all we can achieve in this life.

That’s a nice one! Apparently taken at some nameless classical music festival in fn Nuremburg back in August 2010:

He is hot, and she’s his mum (we asked!). But wtf – how did they end up getting rich with the Dixi toilet business, and why is SHE wearing the glove instead of him?! Questions, questions, questions.
Which brings us to the topic of 2019 literature. What did we read? Here’s a sample:

And if we read Ursula attentively, we will find wisdoms like this: “To learn which questions are unanswerable, and NOT TO ANSWER THEM: this skill is most needful in times of stress and darkness.” Hear, hear! Lets find those questions during the 20s, … and lets not answer them!

Then came 2011. Boredome ensued:

But: your mama’s rich, and your daddy’s good-looking (oder so…):

And as so often, out of the endless spaces which boredom provides, opening the necessary freedom for creativity and novelty:

BAM! Drag.

Comes the time in the life of every man, when he asks himself: does it buy happiness? It appears the answer this time was yes:

And yes: inner beauty IS for amateurs.
And Schnaps is Schnaps and Kitsch is Kitsch, I know, but it is a blog of the senses, and, I beg your pardon, this WAS the fn best hotel and the best sunset ever, so here goes Faro Spartivento:

Before we go back to more bizarre moments and music, mind you, what would life be without a beer with dad every now and then?

Breathing the sulfuric exhaust of an ancient but alive vulcano – that’s name is “Vulcano”! – was among the slightly more bizarre, yet uplifting experiences of the decade that dares not speak its name.

Said decade is coming to an end fast! And I’m only … not even half way through! PANIC! I promised bizarre music. I have no choice but to employ the ultimate weapon. Icelandic music. Dj. Flugvél Og Geimskip to the rescue!