They said Prenzlauer Berg was a yuppie hellhole. They said it was gone, lost to gentrification and exorbitant rents. They said only “certain types” of people lived there. For the record, all of it is lies. I was afraid of The Prenzl, mainly because of what ‘they’ said. I fear gentrification and its effects on average people. So I swallowed the lies and lived in Friedrichshain for the bulk of this year. That neighborhood, my friends, has been sold to The Devil: Yuppie be thy name. F’hain is the doomed ‘hood, the one which is being sucked down the pipe by the real estate demons who lurk beneath the slimy surface of all that purports to be, ahem, ‘hip.’ But what I found when I left The Hain to move into my new P’berg flat was that the people in Prenzlauer Berg were not yuppies and not average, they were worse: they are all a bunch of God damned BREEDERS.
I don’t know why every other person in P’berg is a mother pushing a stroller. I can’t figure out why the only entry for Prenzlauer Berg in the TTG wiki has no actual information about the neighborhood except that it is “fertile.”
http://www.toytowngermany.com/wiki/Prenzlauer_Berg
Perhaps it is in the water. P’berg water is lukewarm from the tap even after being run for several minutes. If city water isn’t icy cold from the tap in October I just don’t trust it. If it doesn’t come from deep enough in the earth, it’s as if it’s been circumvented, redirected, adulterated and redelivered. Or maybe it isn’t a PROconceptive agent released into the water, but more of a psychotropic substance which, when applied to the water supply and the bloodstream of a healthy female P’berg resident, causes sporadic and unnatural advancement of the biological clock. Skip the prom, the drugs, the fun; go directly to motherhood. Fuck. In. Ell. I hope my girlfriend’s birth control can hold out against the chemical onslaught.
Or maybe it is in the System itself. I can’t verify the figures, but I get the distinct impression that the German government pays people to breed. Yes, there is this thing called social welfare, or Hartz IV, and some people say it pays punk rockers to party, while others say it is a much needed antidote to the Berlin economic sickness. In layman’s terms: no work, no worries, the rest of Germany pays.
It doesn’t matter to me personally what the wymyns choose to do with their uteri, or what the German Government does with its peoples’ tax money. But I will go on record: the next white trash bitch who slams her stroller into me and shouts at me to move will have her progeny ripped from the pram, weighed, measured, processed and barbequed right there on the sidewalk. Turkish kebabs ain’t got NOTHIN’ on my baby back ribs…
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Yet Another Friedrichshain Protest
ROWDY YOOTS FULL O' PISS N VINEGAR GATHER;
MATING RITUALS ENSUE
The Mohawks gathered round Friedrichshain the other day and made some noise. Again. Apparently ‘They’ weren’t listening to the Mohawks. Again. But that’s okay, that won’t stop kids full of piss and vinegar from grabbing some fabric and spray paint and waving their flags in an open invitation to compare Mohawks. The hawks were awful purty at this particular shindig: blue ones, red ones, pink ones and black ones were everywhere. I caught several rows of kids with the same color hawk; rows of pink Mohawks held up a bright red banner which read ‘Brunnen Bleibt’, which means literally ‘Pink Mohawk Social Club.’ Rival factions of blue-and-black-haired punks held up a black sign with letters which were so unclear that several members of the club were caught scratching their heads trying to decipher their own messages.
But what are the Crips without the Bloods to counter them? The various colors of Mohawk gangs milled about waiting for any conflict that might be on its way from what the Punx like to affectionately refer to as
‘der schweinenmenschen’ or literally ‘The Pigs’, aka the Fuzz, the Heat, Five-Oh, Bacon, Cops, or your friendly neighborhood Berlin riot control officers. I’ve seen a few of these Berlin protests before. The Berlin police like to fence the punks in with a nice row of Paddy Wagons. Usually about 25 riot vehicles, or roughly 1 vehicle for every 3 protestors. I mean it is complete overkill, the police presence. At this particular protest they even brought in the van of geek cops with laptops and satellite gear. Apparently, you’ve got to keep one step ahead of these pink, blue and black haired devils. They even brought in the Super Soakers: huge water tanks on wheels with twin nozzles for spraying the unruly mob. My girlfriend asked why the nozzles were so narrow on the ends. She thought if fired the cannons would only yield but a drizzle. I explained the effects of concentrated water pressure through a very narrow opening. A standard, S.F. hippy protest would have Super Soaker vehicles with standard sized water cannons and wide nozzles. The purpose of this was to give the stinking hippies a much needed group bath. However, the Berlin cops like to fire the same amount of water with great pressure through tiny twin steel nozzles. This not only gives the Berlin punk squatters a much needed group bath, but the pressure from these babies will literally knock them to the ground and roll them across the street through a brick wall.
And after all, being flung about like a sack of beer-soaked taters by the Super Soakers at a Berlin riot is the Number 2 Requirement for membership in the Pink Mohawk Social Club.
MATING RITUALS ENSUE
The Mohawks gathered round Friedrichshain the other day and made some noise. Again. Apparently ‘They’ weren’t listening to the Mohawks. Again. But that’s okay, that won’t stop kids full of piss and vinegar from grabbing some fabric and spray paint and waving their flags in an open invitation to compare Mohawks. The hawks were awful purty at this particular shindig: blue ones, red ones, pink ones and black ones were everywhere. I caught several rows of kids with the same color hawk; rows of pink Mohawks held up a bright red banner which read ‘Brunnen Bleibt’, which means literally ‘Pink Mohawk Social Club.’ Rival factions of blue-and-black-haired punks held up a black sign with letters which were so unclear that several members of the club were caught scratching their heads trying to decipher their own messages.
But what are the Crips without the Bloods to counter them? The various colors of Mohawk gangs milled about waiting for any conflict that might be on its way from what the Punx like to affectionately refer to as
‘der schweinenmenschen’ or literally ‘The Pigs’, aka the Fuzz, the Heat, Five-Oh, Bacon, Cops, or your friendly neighborhood Berlin riot control officers. I’ve seen a few of these Berlin protests before. The Berlin police like to fence the punks in with a nice row of Paddy Wagons. Usually about 25 riot vehicles, or roughly 1 vehicle for every 3 protestors. I mean it is complete overkill, the police presence. At this particular protest they even brought in the van of geek cops with laptops and satellite gear. Apparently, you’ve got to keep one step ahead of these pink, blue and black haired devils. They even brought in the Super Soakers: huge water tanks on wheels with twin nozzles for spraying the unruly mob. My girlfriend asked why the nozzles were so narrow on the ends. She thought if fired the cannons would only yield but a drizzle. I explained the effects of concentrated water pressure through a very narrow opening. A standard, S.F. hippy protest would have Super Soaker vehicles with standard sized water cannons and wide nozzles. The purpose of this was to give the stinking hippies a much needed group bath. However, the Berlin cops like to fire the same amount of water with great pressure through tiny twin steel nozzles. This not only gives the Berlin punk squatters a much needed group bath, but the pressure from these babies will literally knock them to the ground and roll them across the street through a brick wall.
And after all, being flung about like a sack of beer-soaked taters by the Super Soakers at a Berlin riot is the Number 2 Requirement for membership in the Pink Mohawk Social Club.
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