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Varia

Prostitution and the internet, more bang for your buck

How new technology is shaking up the oldest business

WARNING: We rarely feel the need to alert readers to explicit content. But our discussion of the online sex trade requires frank language, and some may find the topic distasteful.

FOR those seeking commercial sex in Berlin, Peppr, a new app, makes life easy. Type in a location and up pops a list of the nearest prostitutes, along with pictures, prices and physical particulars. Results can be filtered, and users can arrange a session for a €5-10 ($6.50-13) booking fee. It plans to expand to more cities.
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Prostitution, a personal choice

The internet is making the buying and selling of sex easier and safer. Governments should stop trying to ban it

STREET-WALKERS; kerb-crawlers; phone booths plastered with pictures of breasts and buttocks: the sheer seediness of prostitution is just one reason governments have long sought to outlaw it, or corral it in licensed brothels or “tolerance zones”. NIMBYs make common cause with puritans, who think that women selling sex are sinners, and do-gooders, who think they are victims. The reality is more nuanced. Some prostitutes do indeed suffer from trafficking, exploitation or violence; their abusers ought to end up in jail for their crimes. But for many, both male and female, sex work is just that: work.
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Click-bait: 6 Lessons In Management That Everyone Should Know.

Lesson 1:

A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the nextdoor neighbor. Before she says a word, Bob says, ‘I’ll give you $800 to drop that towel.’ After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob, after a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves. The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, ‘Who was that?’ ‘It was Bob the next door neighbor,’ she replies. ‘Great,’ the husband says, ‘did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?’
Moral of the story: If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk with your shareholders in time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable exposure.
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there once was a little boy

There once was a little boy, not barely one year old, all cute and cuddly
that vomited over a meter far, up the walls because there was a muscle blocking the exit of his stomach into his intestine (Pyloric stenosis). My mother was of course quite upset but the GP had said little babies can often vomit somewhat.

In her typical fashion she ignored this outside advice and forced my dad to go to the hospital, which we did. There they operated my little baby belly and took care of the issue, after which someone in the hospital had said; if you’d been an hour later he might have died from dehydration.

me and my sister

The resulting scar grew with me as I aged.
is that how the story starts perhaps?

Or does it start somewhere before that, with how my parents met somewhere in 1965 or 66 I guess. My mother made a little sequence of it:
one year they met and fell in love
then a year later they got engaged
another year later my sister was born (not sure what happened to marrying)
then another year later there was me
the next year came my little sister
and a year later they got divorced,

maybe that is where it starts