Thursday, January 20, 2011

German Toilets, Emasculation and Film School for Scheisse Videos

It was only a matter of time before I broached the subject.   I was going to breach the subject, break on through to the other side; leave it leaking, as it were.  But my deliberate malapropisms merely confuse people.  Perhaps it’s the redneck accent in which I deliver the news.

I’m avoiding again; sorry.  Okay:  shit, piss, pinkel and sheisse.  There, I’ve gone and said it.  I’ve had to drink and eat large amounts of beer and donuts while living in Berlin.  As a result, I’ve had to look at the ridiculous sticker on my toilet lid for quite a while now:  the silhouette of the peeing man with the line through him, the ‘don’t pee standing’ sticker, or the ‘keinenpinkelnbestandungschweinhund’ as it simply said in simple German.  Of course this must have been left by the previous tenants, no doubt a fine German family of upstanding social status and non-standing pissing status, a family with a large, strong woman who beat her poor, emasculated-post-war-Moby-maybe-man with her terrible swift loo brush.

Then someone told me that it was normal for German men to sit down while peeing, that it was necessary to avoid the splash of urine onto the sacred seat above.  Right.  The country known for its uber-efficiency in ALL OTHER THINGS designed this paltry device:  The Trophy Toilet.  It’s that peculiar flat shelf directly in the center of the toilet where normally there would be a wide open space full of a gallon of water.  It’s what we in the West have been using since the barn and the outhouse.  We went directly from crapping in a hole in the ground to the Powerflush 2000.  I once read that a measure of a culture is in the way it deals with its waste products.  A lot can be said about a culture which moves too quickly.  Perhaps we missed a great deal of culture when we decided that it was better to mask, drown and dispose of our waste as quickly as possible.  Maybe the Germans were onto something when they decided to keep their waste hovering directly below the lid for easy inspection and diagnosis of all the nut and corn content of their fibrous feces.

Sure, it had to be a logical, medical, holistic reason that the flat shelf was there, hoisting my gawdawful anal progeny high above the low water mark where it can choke me with the stench, or when standing to pee, splash back with a thrust in direct proportion to the amount of beer I had consumed.  There can be no other explanation for this uber-inefficiency, this blatant disregard for culture from the culture who gave us so much, y’know….culture.  UNLESS…

American Culture Answers German Culture: The South Park German Sheisse Video.

[person speaking German on "cliteris" website]
Kyle: Dude, it's a lady getting pooed on!
Stan: Whoa! Is it Cartman's mom?
Cartman: Oh, very funny!
Kyle: Hey! It IS Cartman's mom!
Mrs. Cartman: [man speaking German on computer] All righty then!
Cartman: SON OF A BI...
Cartman: AHHH!
Ike: [bounces in] Ba ba ba ba.
Kyle: Get out of here, Ike. You're too young for this stuff!
Ike: Bullshit.
Stan: What's she doing now?
German: Essen meine scheisse.
Mrs. Cartman: Okey-dokey!
Kyle, Stan, Cartman: [they see something gross] AWWWWWW!
Stan: [pukes] Click it off, dude, click it off!
[Kyle clicks it off]
Stan: Dude, what the fuck is wrong with German people?

I am not educated enough to tell you why the Germans can give us buttloads of composers, philosophers and all of modern psychology and NOT give us a proper fucking toilet.  But I’m just going to assume that German men are not all emasculated, simpering fools who sit down each and every single time they have to take a piss.  I don’t believe that the treaty that ended the war had the clause “and you shall give up your arms, weapons, military bases, delusions of Aryan grandeur, nationalism and the God given right for your men to stand up to urinate from here on out.”

I am starting to be convinced that the Germans LOVE their sheisse--and not just because it made it all the way over to South Park, U.S.A.


Kackel Dackel, the crapping daschund toy for KINDER!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Douchebags and Donuts: A Little Leary

I am now chock full o’donuts and coffee.  I always want my goddamned donuts on Monday, but the Deutschbags at my favorite bakery (Siebert Konditorei, the finest bakery in P’berg and possibly Berlin, reviewed by my damn self here) like to close for THREE FUCKING DAYS.  Saturday, Sunday and Monday there is no joy in Donutville; the commies take a long weekend.  So on Tuesdays I overcompensate, jamming about 3 of those tasty fuckers down my gullet, washed down with a SECOND large cup of Turkish coffee.  And let me tells ye:  I make coffee strong enough to kill an African Bull Elephant on crack.  It is basically 4 heaping spoons of the strongest espresso I can buy, thrown into a bowl-sized cup with boiling water; stir thoroughly.  Et voila:  productive human.

Well, wired and goofy anyway.  I just watched the latest episode of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart; Denis Leary was his guest.  He was double plugging his new toilet reading book AND his upcoming stand up special “Douchebags and Donuts.”  A man after my own heart, I must say.  Not because I am a donut muncher of clinically dangerous proportions, not because his use of the words ‘douchebag’ and ‘donuts’ together is strangely similar to a Dunkin’ Berliner rant about Deutschbags and donuts (every other blog post, really), but because I happened to be munching on my donuts while watching him do his shtick.  Not planned, just one of those random moments of epiphany; a moment of clarity that donutoholics refer to as ‘total fucking coincidence.’

I am curious how Leary’s latest rants will be handed down to us mere mortals.  After a decade of his bad self getting famous ranting on the joys of cigarettes, on being an asshole, and being accused of stealing Bill Hick’s style and stuff—I just wanna see if donuts are the new cigarettes.  Cuz, y’know, I’m curious like.  I would like to imagine loads of people clicking on the ‘buy me a donut’ link (above right, hint hint) so much that my local commie bakery would be FORCED to stay open all weekend AND Mondays just to keep up with the new demand.  I would also welcome many stories of donut addiction, treatment centers, condolences on my ‘affliction’ and spam about a miracle cure to donutoholism.

But really I’m just hoping someone will say “HEY, LEARY!!!  You stole your routine from Dunkin’ Berliner!”