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calloutdicksjerksandthelikes · 3 years

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Emil the Thief Whose Brother is a Judge at a Court in Poland

I love Kieslowski’s movies, I love Polish as a language of music and songs, and I really like Polish people. But everywhere there are exceptions and unfortunately I met one.

In December 2020 we contracted a company that sent two Polish workers to paint the walls and ceilings in my apartment. They were about 25-35 years old. The smaller one was a deeply honest workman, calm, considerate. The other was about 180-185 cm tall and chubby and his name is Emil. As I was soon to discover, Emil wanted to talk all the time. He knew to make conversation in German.

When you have your flat painted at short notice, you have to collect your items and store them in one of your rooms while the painters do their job. I had my possessions piled up in the middle of a room, so that the walls were free for work. The painters came at 8 am and for three days, and they worked until 5 pm. Upon arrival, they placed their backpacks and their jackets on my possessions in the living room and then they dressed for work. And I served them coffee and milk on a tray that they would take with their sandwiches.

Emil needed attention. First, attention from his colleague. Then that was no longer enough. He tried to get my attention. But after the first comments he made, I sought to avoid conversing with him. He was boastful. He said that his brother was a judge at a court in Poland. He said that his parents’ house was very big, that he had several siblings. He said he had painted his living room walls in the same color he was about to put onto my walls. He made me very uneasy.

His colleague, a quiet man with a very open smile, caught all my attention. He emanated honesty and integrity. At one point I helped him when Emil tried to have yet another conversation with him. He joked about Email driving him crazy with his chitchat. I grinned and laughed a bit.

They worked on and off in the same room, or in separate rooms. I was not always present in the flat.

At one point Emil turned around some of the paintings I had stored in the living room. He had placed his backpack right next to them every day, right between my paintings and the kitchen item box. He made some condescending sound and gesture when I showed him one.

I remember looking at the box with my kitchen items and thinking: Where are my coffee grinders? Then I thought that I must have packed them into another box.

They left after three days.

A good while later I needed a coffee grinder and I tried to locate it in the kitchen box. I went through all the boxes that still stood in the living room, next to the paintings. Then I searched the entire apartment twice. I could not find them. Then it hit me: Emil had stolen them. A day later I realized why I had searched for my color mixing manual in vain for several weeks: Emil had stolen the manual as well, I had it stored with the paintings.

I remembered suddenly his reaction to my painting. His boastfulness. I realized that he had stolen my items under my eyes. It was meant to hit me, to hurt me. He had stolen them while his colleague was working in another room, while I was not in the flat. And he had let me know that he would get away with it: “My brother is a judge at a court in Poland”. By taking one of my paintings and making a condescending gesture. By rolling his eyes at my heavy wardrobe. By claiming that organic produce is the same as regular produce. Now I wonder if he had also stolen items at the produce wholesale business, where he had worked for a year before starting the job as a painter some months ago. I never asked for any of this information, but fortunately Emil thinks he is so superior that he talks way too much. He thinks he is a great, friendly guy who gets along with everybody. He tried to talk himself really tall, all while he shrank further and further.

Emil does not respect women, at least not women who are not interested in him as a man. He takes revenge by stealing from them.

My coffee grinders were antique, they had been heirlooms in my family since more than half a century. They are made from warm bright shades of brown wood: honey-colored wood. They look like new - that is how good care my family took of them. They measure about 5 cmx10cmx13cm. One of them had a sign in front “Zussenhaus” or a similar company. They had handles on top where you would insert the coffee beans and then use the handle to grind them.

So if you are in Poland or Germany, and you know someone called Emil who is Polish and gave you as a Christmas or Easter gift or just as a gift an antique coffee grinder recently, be aware that it is a stolen good. Be aware that Emil does not give it to you because he values you, he gives it to you because he wants to appear important. Be aware that I will miss my coffee grinders and never forget them because my grandparents used and took care of them. Be aware that I much desire to have them back. Know that you can hand them to the police with a note that they were stolen in Germany and that a police report has been filed. The police report is with the Police of Hesse, Germany, case number 161857966222.

All you need to know about Emil is that he is 180-185cm, chubby, likes to talk, and likes to boast. He sure will have told you about his brother who is a judge at a court in Poland. He believes himself to be cool and superior.

Theft can be a form of hate crime, an assault on a woman, especially if it is done with malicious intent such as giving hints to the victim that only make sense later. It is a way of trying to signal to a victim-woman that the offender-thief is superior to her. No, he isn’t. Emil was always much inferior to those around him and will always be. And deep down inside, Emil knows this. By stealing he reveals his disrespect, his rejection of others. Meanness is the only thing he has to respond to his own inadequacy.

April 2021

©calloutdicksjerksandthelikes

Emil der Dieb dessen Bruder Richter bei einem Gericht in Polen ist

Ich liebe Kieslowski’s Filme, und Polnisch als eine Sprache der Musik. Und ich mag Polen im allgemeinen sehr. Aber Ausnahmen gibt es ueberall und leider habe ich eine getroffen.

Im Dezember 2020 haben wir eine Firma beauftragt, die Waende und Decken in meiner Wohnung zu streichen. Die Firma sandte zwei Polen, ca. 25-35 Jahre alt. Einer von beiden war etwas kleiner, sehr ruhig, bedacht, mit einem wunderschoenen warmen Laecheln in den Augen. Der andere ist 180-185 cm gross, etwas wohl genaehrt, und heisst Emil. Emil kann genug Deutsch, um leichte Konversation zu machen.

Wenn man in letzter Minute Maler ins Haus geschickt bekommt, hat man keine Zeit zu packen. So habe ich meine Gegenstaende in offene Kisten gepackt und in die Mitte der Zimmer geschoben, damit die Maler die Waende und Decke bearbeiten konnten. Sie kamen jeden Morgen um 8 Uhr, blieben bis 17 Uhr, drei Arbeitstage in Folge. Morgens legten sie ihre Rucksaecke im Wohnzimmer auf meine Kisten und Gegenstaende und zogen dann ihre Arbeitskleidung an. Ich brache ihnen jeden Morgen Kaffee und Milch auf einem Tablett, den sie dann mit ihrem Fruehstuecksbrot zu sich nahmen. Am ersten Tag machte meine Mutter auch noch belegte Broetchen, aber sie sagten, sie bevorzugten die mitgebrachten.

Emil brauchte Beachtung. Zuerst versuchte er immer wieder, Gespraeche mit seinem Kollegen zu fuehren. Als sich die Gelegenheit bot, dann mit mir. Aber nach kurzen Wechseln versuchte ich, Gespraeche mit ihm zu vermeiden. Er war aufschneiderisch. Sein Bruder sei Richter an einem Gericht in Polen. Er habe viele Geschwister. Seine Eltern haetten ein grosses Haus, das jetzt so gut wie leer steht, weil seine Geschwister dort nicht mehr leben. Die Farbe, die er auf meine Wand auftragen wollte sei genau dieselbe, die er in seinem Wohnzimmer habe. Ich fand ihn merkwuerdig.

Sein Kollege, ein ruhiger Mann mit einem tiefen Laecheln, hatte meine ganze Aufmerksamkeit. Er strahlte Ehrlichkeit und Integritaet aus. Als ich ihm kurz half, versuchte Emil ein Gespraech mit ihm anzufangen. Er gab mir zu verstehen, mit wenigen Worten, dass Emil ihn mit seinem Geschwaetz in den Wahnsinn treiben wuerde. Ich lachte. Er sagte auch, dass er und Emil schon seit einiger Zeit zusammen arbeiten wuerden.

Sie arbeiteten mal zusammen mal getrennt in meinen Raeumen. Ich war nicht immer anwesend.

Einmal nahm Emil eines meiner Bilder und drehte es um, betrachtete es und machte eine abwertende Geste. Jeden Tag legte er seinen Rucksack genau zwischen die Kiste mit meinen Bildern und die Kiste mit meinen Kuechenutensilien.

Ich erinnere mich daran, wie ich einmal auf meine Kiste mit den Kuechenutensilien sah und mich fragte, wo meine Kaffeemuehlen sind. Ich dachte ich haette sie vielleicht in eine andere Kiste gelegt.

Nach drei Arbeitstagen in Folge war die Arbeit beendet und sie gingen weg.

Eine gute Weile spaeter brauchte ich eine Kaffeemuehle. Ich ging zu meiner Kiste, die noch immer im Wohnzimmer an derselben Stelle stand, so wie die Kiste mit den Bildern, und durchsuchte sie. Dann durchsuchte ich alle uebrigen Kisten, dann jedes Zimmer in der Wohnung, zweimal. Dann erkannte ich:: Emil hatte sie gestohlen. Einen Tag spaeter verstand ich, warum ich mein Farbmischhandbuch nicht finden konnte, das ich schon seit Wochen immer wieder suchte: Emil hatte es auch gestohlen, ich hatte es mit den Bildern in der Kiste gelagert.

Ich erinnerte mich spontan an seine abwertende Geste zu meinem Bild. An seine Angeberei. Ich verstandt dass er mich vor meinen Augen bestohlen hatte, absichtlich. Es sollte mich verletzen, bestrafen. Er hatte sie gestohlen waehrend sein Kollege in einem anderen Zimmer arbeitete. Als ich nicht in der Wohnung war. Und er hatte mich wissen lassen, dass ich ihm nichts anhaben koenne: “Mein Bruder ist Richter bei einem Gericht in Polen”. Indem er abwertende Gesten zu meinem Bild machte. Indem er zu meinem schweren Schrank die Augen rollte. Indem er behauptete, bio-Lebensmittel seien genau dasselbe wie normale Lebensmittel, er wisse dass, er habe im Gemuesegrosshandel gearbeitet.

Jetzt frage ich mich, ob er auch beim Gemuesegrosshandel gestohlen hatte, wo er ein Jahr lang gearbeitet hatte, bevor er vor ca. Mitte 2020 den Malerjob antrat. Ich habe nie nach diesen Informationen gefragt. Aber gluecklicherweise schwaetzt Emil sehr viel und sehr gerne von sich selbst. Er versuchte, sich selbst wirklich gross zu reden, waehrend er immer mehr schrumpfte.

Emil respektiert Frauen nicht, zumindest nicht solche, die von ihm als Mann nichts wissen wollen. Er raecht sich an ihnen indem er sie bestiehlt. Vielleicht macht er das auch bei Maennern, von denen er sich nicht respektiert fuehlt. Vielleicht.

Meine Kaffeemuehlen sind antik. Sie sehen wie neu aus. Sie sind aus Holz in hellen warmen Toenen: eine ist aus zwei verschiedenen Hoelzern gefertigt, die andere aus einem. Honigfarbenes Holz. Eine hat vorne eine Marke der Firma, “Zussenhaus” oder aehnliches. Beide haben oben eine Hantel mit der man die Kurbel bedient, die die Bohnen mahlt. Sie sind ca. 5cmx10cmx13cm gross.

Wenn Sie nun in Polen oder Deutschland leben, und jemanden namens Emil kennen, der Ihnen kuerzlich zu Weihnachten oder zu Ostern oder einfach nur so eine Kaffeemuehle geschenkt hat, so sollten Sie wissen, dass es sich um Diebesgut handelt. Sie sollten auch wissen, dass Emil Ihnen gestohlene Ware geschenkt hat, nicht weil er Sie schaetzt oder mag, sondern weil Emil sich wichtig machen will. Sie sollten auch wissen, dass ich meine Kaffeemuehlen vermisse. Meine Grosseltern haben diese Kaffeemuehlen benutzt und gepflegt, deshalb sehen sie so gut aus. Nehmen Sie bitte auch zur Kenntnis, dass ich meine Kaffeemuehlen wiederhaben moechte. Und auch, dass Sie die Kaffeemuehle oder Kaffeemuehlen zur Pollizei bringen koennen mit dem Hinweis, dass es sich um Diebesgut handelt, und dass in Deutschland eine Strafanzeige gestellt wurde. Fall Nr. 1618587966222 bei der Polizei in Hessen, Deutschland.

Alles was Sie ueber Emil wissen muessen, ist, dass er 180-185cm gross ist, gut genaehrt, und wirklich gerne redet und angibt. Er hat Ihnen ganz bestimmt erzaehlt, dass sein Bruder Richter am Gericht in Polen ist. Und er haelt sich fuer cool und ueberlegen, wie Sie bestimmt schnell gemerkt haben.

Diebstahl kann eine Art von Hassverbrechen sein, ein Angriff auf eine Frau, insbesondere when er mit boeser Absicht durchgefuehrt wurde, wie beispielsweise dem Verteilen von Hinweisen die erst hinterher Sinn machen. Es ist eine Art, der Opfer-Frau zu signalisieren, dass der Taeter-Dieb ihr ueberlegen ist. Nein, ist er nicht. Emil war schon immer denen um ihn herum unterlegen und wird es auch immer sein. Und ganz tief drinnen weiss Emil das auch. Durch Diebstahl offenbart er seine Verachtung, seine Ablehnung der anderen. Gemeinheit gegen andere ist das einzige, was er seiner eigenen Unzulaenglichkeit entgegensetzen kann.

April 2021 ©calloutdicksjerksandthelikes

Po Polski - Coming soon

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calloutdicksjerksandthelikes · 4 years

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Compliments

location: near Frankfurt, Hesse, Germany

Some years ago in September I went out around 1.30 pm to take photos of hay stacks a farmer had just made. Yellow on a blue sky. I walked into the agricultural space that extends in a size of roughly 4 km by 10 km around the city; almost all the crops were in, a farmer on his tractor was working a field at a distance of some 200 meters. No people, I noticed. I left the path to get closer to the hay stacks. I took photos. Then I noticed him. He was naked except for short, tight black boxer shorts, white sneaker socks and black sneakers; a black backpack. There was something about him that made me sense danger immediately.

I am not someone who can sense danger well. But he was highly marked as danger. Call it animal instinct. He looked like a lot of trouble. The very short-cut hair did not conceal the air of troublemaker he exhaled. It was inscribed in his body, the finely toned muscles, the spotless outfit. A giant contradiction. This was not someone easy-going, proper, polished, educated. I looked around, still nobody anywhere in sight. I hesitated between running toward the farmer on his tractor , not knowing if I could get close enough before getting caught, and pretending I did not notice. So I settled for pretending I did not notice him and hoped he would just pass by.

The next time I looked around, very carefully, I saw him coming toward me, he had left the path. I turned around and started yelling at him “Stop immediately!” “Do not come closer!” several times.

A smear in his face, he walked up to me. He stood at a distance of 10 cm, face-to-face. He said something, followed by an insult. He spoke non-native German with a mumble. The insult ticked me off. He turned around to walk away. I had a fraction to decide: take a photo or not.

I decided to take a photo. He noticed. He raced back, pushed me to the ground. When I tried to fight him off, he sat on top of me and tried to take away my cell phone. Another fraction later, after I had tried to scream for help and he had noticed the farmer, I let go off the phone. The farmer would not be able to hear me, his tractor making a lot of noise. And I did not know how far this criminal psychopath would go, maybe strangle me? I let go off the phone. He took it, stood up and walked off. As soon as a safe distance emerged, I took off running for help.

It took me less than 5 minutes to run to a house and get someone to call the police. It took the police an hour to come, on a weekday, daytime. Their excuse was that they “had more important things to do”. It would have been so easy to capture him, on foot, almost naked, in an open field, no bus, no cab in sight.

Half a year later a police inspector came to my house. If I could help identify a suspect. He showed me a video still. There he was: almost naked, except for the black boxer shorts, the white socks and the black sneakers. Another day and month. He had done something worse to a woman in a pedestrian zone. He likely had done something a lot worse to a woman aged 18 traversing an open field years earlier. In the same time period he had insulted me, wrestled me down and stolen my cell phone, he had insulted women walking in an open space on two or more occasions. I told the officer that I had thought about the incidence, that I believed the suspect to be living here within walking distance; I argued that he is using the connection of two subway stops that are within city boundaries to avoid being charged the significantly higher fare for suburbs. The inspector was startled, then he demanded that I don’t think too much about it and not do anything about it. Suppression. Don’t make the police look dumber than they are. That’s why it takes so long to arrest a criminal.

At then end of the report taking, the policeman said to me that I should expect at least one of the charges against him to be dismissed. What? A cow deal? Where are we? Germany, a country were social harmony is valued higher than justice. He violated my constitutional right to my body, my habea corpus. And I am supposed to see him get away with less than he earned?!

Back then I posted fliers in public spaces offering a reward for any info that leads to his arrest. A few weeks ago I realized how right my hunch was about his clothing. I mentioned to the police officer then taking my report, that I thought his way of dressing very unusual, and I was mocked by my brother who had accompanied me. For years I had forgotten about the incidence, just to realize now how crucial that was: dress code and time of day. Somebody who does not work regular office hours. Somebody who routinely walks home from a more distant subway stop. I suddenly figured that he highly likely worked at a uni; and given that one incidence happened in a pedestrian zone, I know now which uni most likely. I visualize him walking to a subway station after work, via the pedestrian zone where there a plenty of distracted women; he chooses this path because he is foraging, it is not the closest subway station.

They still have not caught him. No hurry, right, so much more important things to do. Just a few chicks complaining about indecent behavior, so what. A rape, oh come on, why didn’t that chick just take away his knife, right?

All the policemen I had to deal with in this case where male. One of them asked me why I had not attempted to scratch him with my finger nails. State of the art subject matter expertise, right? I reported that I believed the suspect did body toning. I had to explain to the policeman what that means. The policeman discarded it as him just being “young”. Let nobody look better than the average guy, German cultural mantra. Zero tolerance for individual differences.

Since when are women supposed to view it as a compliment when a man makes an unwanted advance?

What kind of psychopath, other than a narcissist or sociopath, would make an unwanted advance or pass on a woman?

Call them by what they are: psychopath.

We women need to make sexual harassment socially unacceptable by calling it out. Don’t count on the police to resolve any of this, they won’t.

No, it won’t go away. It does not matter how old you are or how ugly you are or where you live or what you do where and when.

Men like him need to gain control over a woman, even for only a second, to make them feel worth anything. That is how spiritually impoverished they are. They are the abyss. They are the scum of society.

Women have lost ground every decade since the 1980ies, so don’t count on +time+ to take care of it.

If you don’t let everyone know, you are on your own.

Call them out for what they are before the law: criminals.

©calloutdicksjerksandthelikes2020

UPDATE:

I have kept thinking about how to launch a search for the suspect. With Covid-19, all business activity including unis have restricted access and canceled plenary meetings. I want to appeal to people to think of the 18-year old he raped, to think back if they knew or saw somebody around that time who fits the description.

In 2014 I told the police inspector that I think the suspect resides in Stierstadt, an eastern borough of Oberursel. I meant Stierstadt and the adjacent part of Weisskirchen, where there are high rises. It all happens in an area that can be thought of as a large triangle, with 3 rail express/subway stations on one leg, and the fourth station in the angle of the opposing leg.

He raped the 18-year old in an open space that is adjacent to a subway-stop called ‘Oberursel-Stierstadt’. There are actually two subway stops with this name, one served by a streetcar, the other by an overland express train. In between these two stops, with identical names, is the open space field where the 18-year old was raped, some years before 2014. Now in 2014, when he physically assaulted me, insulted me and stole my phone, he traversed a huge open space connecting the streetcar station ‘Niederursel’ to the station ‘Oberursel-Stierstadt’ which can be accessed on either the streetcar or the overland express stations. This is the area where he insulted women around the same time. Probably not a coincidence; after the rape, he might have avoided using his original destination, for fear of being recognized, rather than saving money. As I said to the police back then, he resides in Stierstadt or that western part of Weisskirchen that melts into Stierstadt. He uses a narrow connection across a village street to access one open space area from the other, like all the horsemen do when they ride their horses in the fields.

The day he assaulted me, I hang up reward fliers at all the express rail and subway stations in the area, as well as all bus stops and supermarkets. What I don’t know is if he had already committed a crime at the express rail station ‘Oberursel-Steinbach’, the closest station to the high rises in Weisskirchen.

Back then it outraged me that the police were unable to find a man I was certain to live in Stierstadt, a tiny village of nothing, not even a high-rise, a village of older and newer single family houses with very few apartment blocks. All there is in this small village are two bakeries that have been there for decades. It is as dead-ended as any place can be. I had hoped in 2014 that a friend or family member would betray him to cash in on the reward.

If I had not had so many negative reactions - from the police, from my brother - I would have continued to think about this in 2014 rather than now. Women get victimized and to make it complete, to ensure social control, men then make sure to invalidate their testimony, their memory, their perceptions. This is how women always end up on the losing end of matters, by systemic discrimination.

I came across Europe’s-Most-Wanted yesterday and checked out the offenses and verdicts. One of the most horrifying discoveries: criminals with massive records of sexual abuse get less prison time than drug dealers. There is one guy with sexual abuse convictions for abusing dozens of children, and a verdict of 6 years total. He should have gotten 6 years for each child he raped. I don’t think anything speaks more clearly to the low status of assault crimes than the prison sentences handed out all over Europe. Something is profoundly wrong in a society where a sexual offender gets a much lower or even the same sentence as a drug dealer. This is probably why the police are not really interested in sexual assault or plain assault cases; they built their careers on drug dealer arrests.

Update Q1 2021

There have been reported incidences of sexual harrassment in this town. A smaller man on a bike sexually harrassed women in an open space on two occasions. And a taller man, also on a bike, sexually harrassed women in an open space on at least four instances. All these crimes occured within a few weeks in Q1 in Oberursel.

Copycat crimes? Possibly.

Cowards? Definitely.

Mysogenists or hate crime offenders? Absolutely

Catch them - trial them - jail them. Extradite them where possible.

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calloutdicksjerksandthelikes · 4 years

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Office Hour

Location: a uni in Germany

Our professor at uni wanted to see us, me and my friend. My friend is gay, and I never told him about this incidence. We attended his introductory course. There were only 4 students in the course, myself included. I appeared at the indicated hour at his office door, it stood wide open. He talked about nothing of any relevance for a minute or two. Why did he ask me and my friend to come? At the end, I stood up as did he. But then he closed the door and moved toward me, way too close, I backed away. I was 25. Some angel working on the same floor violently and loudly pushed open the door to his office. He jumped back, I escaped.

So where is the equal opportunity in higher education?

It took me many years to realize to the full extent that someone had pushed the door open because he already had a reputation as a harasser. I intuitively sensed back then that he must have attempted that before and his coworkers were aware of it. What I did not grasp at the time is the equal opportunity violation he committed.

I never showed up again in his course.

That is one way by which men eliminate women as competition in the workplace.

He probably thought of me dropping out as collateral damage in his pursuit of sexual pleasure. Two decades later I heard a familiar argument: women don’t make career in academia because they don’t have the stamina, the resilience. That is what a prestigious professor at an even more prestigious uni pronounced in front of me. Like not fulfilling a male professor’s expectation. Rigid quota is the only way to go: as many female professors as there are female students per field. Incidentally, I studied many sub-fields of my chosen field except the one where I had the early incidence. Up until last year I thought that a coincidence, but then I learned that the sub-field attracts male academic failures like no other. Got it.

No accounting, no billing. Could the uni be held liable, they would have held him liable.

When male predators see a female student, one of a few things happen: he declares her a highly probable failure in a subject, hoping that she will come running to him for help during the office hours (uni Tuebingen - no coincidence, the very sub-field with all the academically failing males as professors); he declares that she needs to do extra study work that won’t be accredited (the professor needed constant female admirers in his daily routine); he declares that her academic performance isn’t worth the fellowship money spent on her, because he does that every year with more than one new student so that he can sort out people that aren’t to his personal taste (Johns Hopkins - he had a favorite female student he couldn’t marry and a charge as a sexual harasser at another uni); he tells her that he cannot recommend her to a post because her research is not up to the level (he wanted to get hired himself at that same uni, and he was an outspoken mysogenist; he expected favors in return for award money); some female students say that sexual harassment is the defining feature of a male professor in some fields.

The entire educational system is skewed to favor male participants. From the lowest level up to the highest. Professors are predominantly men not because they are so intelligent or gifted, but because the system is there to shield them from female competition. And that system includes the collusion and collaboration of other male professors.

So there are the gender discriminators all over academia, males whose actions go un-surveilled, un-assessed, un-punished, all under the cover of merit. Call them out for what they are: gender discriminators. Little mean spirits depleted over years of eliminating competition by means other than skill and knowledge.

The others:

Call them out for what they are: sexual harassers. They are also total failures as males. They are everywhere, and in Germany they can feel safe: a culture placing justice below conflict avoidance.

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