With only weeks left to the right, often incomprehensible polar music prize – when a dead millionaire is pouring millions of other millionaires – can you think about how much money there is in Sweden to donate to various practitioners, be happy for their own marketing. But for the most part in the culture, it is actually practitioners that need the money. The practitioner who gives the nation the vital cultural activities of various kinds (if you're not talking with vulgärhögern), to the purely insulting fees and fees.
thus, It is not belöningssummorna that it is fun to watch in the prisvärlden, without spectacles. Jippona. The parties as well. Högtidskvällarna. Then a horde of people, preferably without interacting with anything at all of it that is rewarded, to pitch something to culminated, but satan is so expensive and the bars of the way to the party where they can laugh empty as in an oil barrel.
the funniest book, ”My rates”, describes just this. The prices allocated to them under their deed as an author and how he had been thrown between the hatred towards the preciösa of both the issuer and recipients and their own need of the money, which is often included. That when he buys a suit, go to the academy of Sciences in Vienna and happens to behave very badly. He just makes the wrong.
another literary figure, that it goes even worse, is the poet Enderby who shall be awarded a prize at a potentatlunch on a ”fearsome london hotel”. He shows himself first then, ”most of the modern poets in that not only was acceptable, clean but downright modest,” while he himself looks much like something the cat dragged in. But he also needs, in the highest degree, the money, so he gets himself a costume and go there.
Bad idea. In tacktalet happen to he of nervousness and difficult gases in the stomach to waive both the medal as prize money and severely offend so many people present that his publishing house is furious afterwards: ”you are Trying to ruin us, maybe?!” Scandalized, total horrified of himself, he is left then abandoned in the subsequent drinkstunden.
by Anthony Burgess. Thomas Bernhard is real. But in heaven, unite in the wonderful observations about it so many times absurd in prisgalaeventen.
In all industries are awarded, the prices for everything possible and all the possible. Who knows, maybe held a gala under the auspices of Galvanized skruvproducenters association? Good a googling away is increased, however, the eyebrows above the maximum of actual prices, which Försvarshögskolans Siegrothska the price to the one that has been extra good at training soldiers. Or the same university Hugo Raab prize, if any activity which has proven to hold exceptional scientific quality, as it is called.
Eslöv municipality's price to the joy of the christmas gifts for Our associations, is also quite fun. But really, no häcklas more than any other, in all sectors, this is done in order to draw attention to specific actions and in all industries in the form of a ceremony, where the marketing in all directions is the primary – recipient, utdelarens, watched media.
Perhaps the most skojigast are the galas that rewards the ”best dressed”, whose offence consists only in having been born with a beautiful face, possibly also a gooseneck, nicely sculpted legs and a flowing hair. And I say this not just because I'm full, no I mean the ugly, and then sportlovsmästerskapen in childhood have never been awarded with any recognition whatsoever.
Perhaps it is at all nothing to mourn. Like Enderby I had, of course, embarrassed me completely, and been told the same thing: ”Now trampled everything in the keyboard, man.”
Read more texts by Niklas Wahllöf, for example, if all the ”livscoacher” that has suddenly become big in the talarvärlden.