Author's notes

The author should probably begin by stating that all persons, actions, and events, wherever they did not actually happen or befall the author, are entirely invented and therefore fictional. Any resemblance to living, dead, or undead persons is therefore purely coincidental, and in the latter case, highly surprising.

It should come as no surprise that the people in all the autobiographical texts actually live or have lived—even if, for good or bad reasons, some of their names have been changed. It should probably be noted in the same breath that some of these real or imagined events, viewed in retrospect—and not infrequently under the influence of alcohol, which the author ruefully admits, admonishing his possibly young readership not to follow suit—have been slightly to seriously distorted, which can be attributed to forgetfulness, a penchant for rambling, or simply the poetic license of writing.

However, it was by no means intended to mislead the esteemed reader in any way, or even to portray the author as a special hero or bon vivant, although he would like to see himself as such. Were it not for the disconcerting fact that the former usually lie in beautiful marble tombs and the latter quite frequently find themselves in prison.

Thirdly, the author should mention that this book is a collection of texts, some of which have already been published on his website and in computer journals, which will cause some frustration for loyal readers. Paradoxical as it may sound, this pressure provides more enjoyment for the disloyal, i.e., new, reader than for the loyal reader who already knows the texts from the newspaper or the internet.

It is to be hoped that one day a psychology student will scientifically treat this phenomenon of the reader-psychological paradox and its impact on authorship at the beginning of the twenty-first century (including propaedeutics and proof of economic viability for the publishing industry) and thereby win his master's or even doctorate.

And since the publisher has already been mentioned, the author should also mention, fourthly, that the constant knocking on doors of good or less good publishers got on his nerves from the start, and that he therefore took the — presumably not so — unconventional route of self-publishing; despite sluggish PC software and a stubborn laser printer, he repeatedly tackled the text until he was mentally and electronically exhausted, until it was typeset and, thanks to the help of a publisher friend, could be printed and sent to the bookbinder.

Thanks must also be given, without a doubt. To the author himself another time, but first to his children and the women who shared his life with him (and he theirs with them, too).

His life also meant reading his texts.

Heartily praised.

Be careful with your criticism.

Very carefully.

The children were hit particularly hard, without a doubt. Usually, when an exciting television series was on or their friends were chatting online, the author would appear at the door, his glasses fogged with sweat and his hair (thin, admittedly) blowing in the wind, to urgently request his dear children to perform the inexhaustible task of proofreading. He was being very insistent. Naturally, thanks must also be given to the VCR, which simultaneously recorded the exciting television series while the children performed their duty to their father.

Thanks also to all those who were friends of the author (at least up to that point) and who read his texts, helping to shape them with their opinions. It would be right to thank each and every one of them individually, but the author acknowledges his mistakes and simply refrains from doing so. Those who are still his friends already know this anyway, and as for the others, well, to hell with them.

Unconventionally, the author will now also thank the characters in the story (even if they are purely fictional), simply because he has never heard of an author thanking their protagonists (which, admittedly, might also be due to our author's deafness). Did William Shakespeare ever write a single word of thanks to his Mercutio, or Agatha Christie to her old Hercule Poirot, huh!?

So what!

Finally, the author has the honor of thanking all those who have met him on his life's journey and who have remained in his memory with this or that small or large event (or who have given him one or another quirky thought or even the idea for a funny, bizarre or serious story).