tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52567071454946454882024-03-13T22:52:51.688-07:00DUNKIN' BERLINERDunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-48055522048958354822020-04-01T08:34:00.001-07:002020-04-01T08:34:54.985-07:00And the Winner of Best 404 Error Goes To...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xWaINpVMdy0/XoS0XH_0nmI/AAAAAAAAAq8/6jHkwpWP9q0qf1ofZUHu-PEEeFDwPXIcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/donut-know.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="779" data-original-width="1600" height="310" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xWaINpVMdy0/XoS0XH_0nmI/AAAAAAAAAq8/6jHkwpWP9q0qf1ofZUHu-PEEeFDwPXIcgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/donut-know.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-91022601738521702642019-03-09T09:18:00.000-08:002019-03-09T09:18:45.768-08:00Vitamin D<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5PngAvuwu1M/XIP1HUcbvwI/AAAAAAAAApI/Jtqdnnq9Pn4RtnRU1t6ACuTvWHmsxdq1wCLcBGAs/s1600/vitamindonuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="425" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5PngAvuwu1M/XIP1HUcbvwI/AAAAAAAAApI/Jtqdnnq9Pn4RtnRU1t6ACuTvWHmsxdq1wCLcBGAs/s1600/vitamindonuts.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-25183985590676833032018-07-04T04:06:00.000-07:002018-07-04T04:06:47.579-07:00C.I.L.L. Da Landlord (Part Zwei)Best Berlin quote since 'Ich bin ein Berliner.'<br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #3b3b3b; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Quicksand, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span> </span></span><strong style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Quicksand, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">“Hey, I know you’re charging me too much, and I’m finally doing something about to because, as per law, I can do just that (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Arschloch!)”</em>.</strong><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://berlinlovesyou.com/mietpreisbremse-berlin/" target="_blank"><img alt="http://berlinlovesyou.com/mietpreisbremse-berlin/" border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1021" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DBnx1wXcYEo/Wzypi8z8E7I/AAAAAAAAAo0/Ph3V5JiFkE4V1RT6qrJiqV7nWKeqjAr1ACLcBGAs/s640/berlin-rent.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-78444260267142605492018-06-14T08:33:00.000-07:002018-06-14T08:33:39.446-07:00A Wicked Game Indeed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/zGaqQiKYOF4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zGaqQiKYOF4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-40871223067215052272018-01-18T03:19:00.000-08:002018-01-18T03:23:28.161-08:00You Had Me At 'Bacon Donuts'Even though I left Berlin after 6.5 years (hipsters drove me out) and now live in Prague as a <a href="http://widebodyjetsetter.blogspot.cz/" target="_blank">Wide Body Jetsetter</a>, I STILL miss mein dunkin' berliners. Therefore, I will continue to post about All Things Donut. Because once a Dunkin' Berliner, always a Dunkin' Berliner.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Q-M1oZMbEKw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Q-M1oZMbEKw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-78173559711964930232018-01-12T08:14:00.000-08:002018-01-12T08:15:22.387-08:00Attack of the Killer Donuts!<h4 style="text-align: center;">
It was only a matter of time...</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
</h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rqsi--bQS2g/WljebCZkbJI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/Grt6skZdEL4Mxe_6kUA5J2bFOzrJhCi1ACLcBGAs/s1600/Attack-of-the-Killer-Donuts-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1417" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rqsi--bQS2g/WljebCZkbJI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/Grt6skZdEL4Mxe_6kUA5J2bFOzrJhCi1ACLcBGAs/s640/Attack-of-the-Killer-Donuts-poster.jpg" width="451" /></a></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-57094597481622283112017-05-19T01:32:00.000-07:002017-05-19T01:32:01.063-07:00Donut Worry, Be Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3GxnFe28qp0/WR6tPt-wktI/AAAAAAAAAns/H0q11dWMYHoqghHhIZp4hdFSwgSoz20tgCLcB/s1600/donutworry.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3GxnFe28qp0/WR6tPt-wktI/AAAAAAAAAns/H0q11dWMYHoqghHhIZp4hdFSwgSoz20tgCLcB/s320/donutworry.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-37321185498927523962017-03-28T12:24:00.001-07:002017-03-28T12:24:49.455-07:00Donuts: My Ball and Chain<img alt="No automatic alt text available." src="https://scontent-frt3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/17498396_1166299150158528_1020086711561475367_n.jpg?oh=e4e4213faee5ed75249df5bef26e6b31&oe=596BA47A" />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-91910241322528243862017-02-28T11:09:00.000-08:002017-03-11T08:18:14.607-08:00Mmmmmm.... Donuts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwdGshtRNu2SAiUyyMJBjXlCPg6cTftJJ_ci_GJ4bxVzHq0t5u3DkQlFOG-5HzXrAxCIAq7DoMRFAqHal6aNA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-31822914817112776642015-12-07T03:10:00.002-08:002015-12-07T04:41:46.043-08:00NEW BLOG!!!<span style="color: magenta;"><b> </b><b>The Dunkin' Berliner Rolls South to Prague; Gathers No Moss</b></span><br />
<br />
In case you were missing a dose of my usual silly-ass bitching (Brit Eng: humourous whinging), you may find my lardy ass at my new blog, which promises to share all the travel stories which barely fit into a standard airline seat at:<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></b>
<a href="http://widebodyjetsetter.blogspot.cz/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: large;">WIDE BODY JETSETTER</span></span></b></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Now <a href="http://widebodyjetsetter.blogspot.cz/" target="_blank">GO</a>.Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-42068033533398746882015-06-23T16:43:00.000-07:002015-06-23T16:50:18.164-07:00This Is The End<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="213" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/116336220" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe><br />
<br />
The desk fan goes whuppa whuppa whuppa in the humid Berlin bog. I take my donuts in my left hand and prepare to leave the place where thousands have come and gone before. I stuff them in my mouth, verily, one at a time, in remembrance of Berlin. The thousands first, then the donuts. I am voracious.<br />
<br />
Where? The Next. The next cheap place where creative people go to piss about and throw fairy dust at the sky while waiting for the wrecking ball. We won't be assimilated. There was a respectable time in human history wherein one could live and die in fields or coal mines. Now there is only the sad promise of a sad cubicle in a sad office space. Moving up? Nosir. Moving down. Give me black lung disease, motherfucker. At least my body will die before my brain.<br />
<br />
The Next Place will have donuts. Yes, they will be the death of me, but I choose a glorious, deep-fried, jelly-filled sugar coma. Alcohol will be my anesthesiologist. He's the only one I trust. I will go there, to The Next Place, and start another blog.<br />
<br />
Maybe it will be titled something like Notes of an Old Fart. I'm pushing 50. It would be a good time to give up the donuts and go for the laxatives.<br />
<br />
This is the end, my friend.<br />
<br />
But only of my life in Berlin. In the past 20 years in England, Ireland, Czech Republic and Germany, it has always been a bit unsettling when The Big Change comes round. Then I settle in. Then I move on.<br />
<br />
There will be other lives in other cities.Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-62900722032436175922015-06-20T10:39:00.000-07:002015-06-23T16:37:31.032-07:00A Rolling Donut Gathers No Moss<h3>
</h3>
<h3 style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: magenta;">Dunkin' Berliner's Last Few Weeks In
Berlin</span></h3>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: magenta;">
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NNYjVmZEhJE/VYWjWUgIqhI/AAAAAAAAAms/U6k3E6ynZb0/s1600/donut.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NNYjVmZEhJE/VYWjWUgIqhI/AAAAAAAAAms/U6k3E6ynZb0/s320/donut.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The time has come. This is The End, my
friend. Leaving Berlin. There, I've said it. I'm not the first and
I'm not the last. Every year I proclaim This Is My Last Year and
then I stay. Six and one half of them have come and gone. 1492
donuts have gone down my tubes (probably more, I don't really count)
and I am none the wiser. Perhaps donuts aren't brain food after all.
I'm waiting for the pendulums of science and medicine to swing in my
favor, much in the way that in one decade they declared that
chocolate and wine will kill you, then turn right on around and say
the same killers will now feed your brain and libido and you will
live and love long time. Science is a fickle bitch, so I wait for
her to tell me to eat three donuts per day.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I haven't posted much recently because
I saw The End coming and I was numb. Mostly from drinking wine and
waiting for the veritas. Haven't found much. Gentrification sucks,
as always, mainly because the rents go up and the wages do not. What
was once a cheap, barren, sandy beach for feckless, creative nomads
(like me) is now fertile soil for money trees. Trustafarians and
hipsters take the places of the old guard. They are multiplying and
growing to fuse into one large beardbeast. There are now even
subgroups within the hipster underworld, the most hilarious of the
bunch being dubbed <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/fashion-and-style/11237548/Dont-call-me-a-lumbersexual-despite-my-beard-and-check-shirt.html">Lumbersexuals</a>.
Those are the ones, usually German, who wear blue jeans, hiking
boots and red plaid shirts in addition to the ubiquitous big black
glasses and beards. I'm guessing that Lumbersexual is a mashup of
lumberjack and metrosexual. Perhaps they were cut out of the Woody
Allen Sexcapade film featuring the room with the man getting it on
with a large rye bread. Perhaps the Lumbersexual was next door
having rough sex with rough wood. Splinters are not for everyone
(ouch). Bollox. I call them Lumberjackoffs.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: magenta;">The Bellevue Saints</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Today I was riding through Berlin for
several hours on S and U bahns doing my weekly photo job for a tour
company. Every Friday morning between the hours of 10 and 11 in the
Ay Em, The Saints get on the S7 at the Bellevue Station stop. You
will know them by the trail of dead lyrics. A band of gypsies with a
beatbox on a hand cart and 3 guys playing trumpet, saxophone and
accordion launch into the worst version of When The Saints Go
Marching In you will ever hear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nuLsoudSW6k/VYWjhUk_OCI/AAAAAAAAAm0/tbtma3sz3m8/s1600/accordion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nuLsoudSW6k/VYWjhUk_OCI/AAAAAAAAAm0/tbtma3sz3m8/s200/accordion.jpg" width="200" /></a>"AAAAAAAhhhh Win da sints</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Gah Martian inn,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Aaaaaaaah win da sints</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
gaa Martian inn,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Uuhhhh wah wan</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Beeeee end dat numm-zah</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Win da sints gaaaaah Martian inn!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Evvy botty nah!"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then they clap and dance and shake
their fucking cups in your fucking face. JAY zus. In over one year
of seeing the same fuckers doing the same fucking song on the same
fucking S7, not one coin goes into the cup (nor do they learn the
lyrics). People stare forward in apathy, even when the gnarly McD's
soda cup is shaken so vigorously under numb chins that soda crust and
tobacco lint fly with the coins. And they do not. Change. The tune.
They play exactly one verse, badly, then get off at Tiergarten
Station. When they venture too far from Bellevue, their halos begin
to tarnish. The trains run back and forth. The broken record spins,
hiccups, repeats, repeats, repeats...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If that ain't dedication I don't know
what is.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: magenta;">Dueling Douchebags</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the crux of the tunnels
under the Berlin streets the accordions squeeze filth through their
flapholes. With the unholy mantra of the Bellevue Saints still
echoing through my early morning brainfog, a new earworm wiggles
through my auditory canals. Yes, you guessed it: Dunkin' Berliner
hates accordions. Not because the accordion isn't a real instrument,
not because they are only played by drunken gypsy polka rejects in
the dark tunnels of Europe—but because they are simply the most
cheesy instrument on the planet. Even the shitty plastic recorders
played by first graders high on Cap'n Crunch don't hold a candle to
this shit. In the dark annals of history, someone glued a tiny piano
keyboard to a fucking bellows, handed it to a gypsy and said 'Go
forth!' (read: get the fuck out of town!).</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Two accordion players plied
their sleazy/cheesy trade. What is worse than an accordion? Two.
One played 'rhythm' MEHHH...muh....MEHHHH...muh while the other
lounge lizard's greasy fingers were slip-sliding away over yellow
plastic keys. Sweaty armpits pumped away. I wanted them to stop,
face each other, and give challenge. Yes, I wanted them to stop
torturing commuters with dungeon dreck and start the duel. Like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myhnAZFR1po">the
scene in Deliverance</a> with the guitar, the banjo and the Tard. I
believe that when two hideous, backwoods instruments come together,
they must duel. Dueling douchebags on accordions. Now THAT's
entertainment. Maybe next year they'll even rise from the bowels of
the U bahn, ride high over the city on S rails and topple The
Bellevue Saints.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: magenta;">Building A Shorter America</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Dunkin' Berliner
Observation: Amis are getting shorter by the year. Each season when
a new gaggle of Ami chicks pours out of the planes, trains and
automobiles, I notice the shortness. The voices are still loud, and
the ubiquitous LIKE has been newly adorned with UM and RIGHT? But
they are losing an inch every year; the batch I saw today must have
been around 5 feet 4. Last year they were 5 feet 5, the previous
years 5 feet 7—you get the idea. So how is America breeding
smaller people? Science (that fickle shit) tells us that tallness is
a sign of a country with a high standard of living, and that the
Nordic types are the tallest. So what happened to the standard of
living in the U.S.A? Where are the Amazons? Sure, a lot of
short-assed Mediterranean types dumped their genetic ooze into the
American genepool, but there just aren't enough of them to shorten
the entire population. Maybe it's the diet. I blame the kale.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: magenta;">Wild, Drunken German Yoots</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One thing hasn't changed in
all the time I've lived in Berlin: drunken teens on public
transport. Passing through Hauptbahnhof today, a group of them were
so loud in their drunken shouts, hoots and sieg heil—uh... hoorahs,
that the entire train could hear them through closed windows. I'm
guessing that they had just graduated high school and were letting
off a bit of steam. There's where I envy the Europeans: a dozen
boys barely old enough to shave board the S-bahn, drop a case of beer
on the ground and begin the festivities. In the States the cops
would be legally authorized to call in SWAT and hose 'em all down.
One of the yoots is a boy of about 5 feet tall, whith a curly green
mop on his head (maybe he's just finished a breeding tour in the
U.S.). He hooks up a little amplifier to his phone, the beat rages,
and the whole group joins in drunken falsetto: EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
And they do, as jiggy as their wobbly legs will allow. Green moptop
looks a bit green in the face as well, and slumps back into his seat
until the next chorus of EVERYBODY DANCE NOW strikes up.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lTmr62WaKE/VYWj0CNzlpI/AAAAAAAAAm8/jvrfVX7kob0/s1600/kindl.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lTmr62WaKE/VYWj0CNzlpI/AAAAAAAAAm8/jvrfVX7kob0/s400/kindl.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
How will I find such
entertainment in one day anywhere else? Where will I go next? Stay
tuned.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-10291373223682351282015-03-10T12:19:00.000-07:002015-03-10T12:25:36.901-07:00Happy Happy. Joy Joy.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VEsaF8XvjEs/VP9CXj6dvVI/AAAAAAAAAmc/YKhRsBsFcNw/s1600/JustRen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VEsaF8XvjEs/VP9CXj6dvVI/AAAAAAAAAmc/YKhRsBsFcNw/s1600/JustRen.jpg" height="200" width="122" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I’m happy to live in Berlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, I rant and rave about gentrification
and rising <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">rents on my various Blogs, but I am still proud to be living in a
city in the midst of change. </span>Yeah, the
old hole-in-the-wall joint I used to eat/drink in has become a yuppie hellhole
of yoga and whatnot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there are other
holes in other walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later they will
become assimilated by the Yogaborg, but at least I WAS THERE. BEFORE.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Sadly, this is also the hipster mantra: ‘Um, like, I did
this stupid ironic thing that I’m doing, like, WAY before it was, like, cool.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">As much as I hate hipsters and yuppies, I do realize that
whenever an area in any given city is cheap enough, cool enough, and available
enough—it is doomed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I might as well
enjoy it while it lasts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am REALLY
surprised that I have lived here this long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Every year I take inventory of my meager accomplishments. Every year I get
drunk and proclaim to all my (few) friends that This is the Last Year I Will
Live in This Yuppie Shithole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we
all have a laugh and we all have a drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am STILL amazed and the breadth and depth of my hypocrisy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Still I am here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Still, like a beat-down, son-of-a-middle-class-bitch, I rise.</span></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-34805782857018118582015-02-21T06:18:00.000-08:002015-02-21T06:47:52.691-08:00The Overpriced Organic Grapes of Wrath<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Food seems to be a big concern in rich countries
recently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that they’ve run out, not
that they’ve sent it all to the starving African chilluns out of white guilt,
but the worry is that They are putting Shit into The Food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And We all know who They are: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsanto" target="_blank">Monsanto</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, our very digestion is at
stake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If We eat food grown from seeds
by Them, We are unwittingly condemning ourselves to bowel cancer on an
apocalyptic scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, apparently, They
fuck with The Food.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I’m no stranger to food scares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back when I was a starving student (O how I
miss those days and so does my waistline) studying in London
(I spent all my dough on the flight; hunger followed), I found a way to eat for
free from time to time: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hare. Fuckin. Krishna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the midst of the infamous SoHo
red light district in London lies a
Hare Krishna temple-slash-vegetarian restaurant-slash-your-hair-into-a-baldy-pony-tail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dragged my hungry ass there to sit and
listen to their Krishna chanting and the rumbling
bellies of others for an hour or so until they would feed us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was happy with this arrangement as I was a
vegetarian at that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody tried to
convert me or cut my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I believe
I caught a few of them looking at my long, flowing, hippie student pony tail
with lust.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then I took some friends there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then some bastard said to me: <span style="color: magenta;">‘You know They
fuck with The Food.’</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;">‘Waddaya mean, Bugsy?’</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I says to the mook.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">‘They put Salt Peter in the Krishna
food.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;">‘What the fuck, Chuck?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">‘Salt Peter makes yer wanger go all doughy like, see?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">At the time I was more concerned with my empty stomach than my
salty peter, so I threw that particular conspiracy theorist on the woodpile
with the rest of them who dared to disparage the starving student vegetarian
life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Back to The Now. Now people say that They are fucking with
the global food supply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to take
issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My food supply is constant and
unrelenting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have the 300 lbs to prove
it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">‘The Evil Monsanto is doing evil things to poor little
plants and making them into Frankenplants!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Genetic modification, boooooo!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Like what?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">‘Fish DNA in tomatoes and
shit like that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mllleeegggghfffft!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don’t eat tomatoes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">‘But THEY.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shouldn’t
PUT. SHIT. In our FOOD!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">They pump all sorts of hormones in milk and beef and the
women are milky and the men are beefy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What’s your problem now?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">‘I !<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DO NOT! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>EAT MEAT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OR DRINK
MILK!!!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TYhwb9uXuP4/VOiSehtODGI/AAAAAAAAAlw/MdxW--3cWQM/s1600/stop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TYhwb9uXuP4/VOiSehtODGI/AAAAAAAAAlw/MdxW--3cWQM/s1600/stop.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Ok, now I’m starting to get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re one of those silly little vegan fucks,
aren’t you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, good luck with the
micro-organic diet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going to get a
STEAK AND GUINNESS PIE and wash it down with
EXTRA STRONG MICRO BREW STOUT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please
enjoy your puke green wheatgrass tea and raw cabbage with the other sad little
fuckers in the corner over there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take a
sad selfie while you’re at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then post
it on a Change the World website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silly
Rabbit. Don’t you know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we suddenly
stop eating meat, all those cows and pigs will wander into traffic and be
killed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And here you say you care for
animals.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Yes, I get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re
worried about genetically modified foods, though your reasoning is about as
sound as any twitching, undernourished hippie’s could possibly be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem is with uber-Capitalism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bigger the farm companies, the more
profits they need to make (rather than just food), so the more they need to
tweak things to produce larger crop yields and larger profits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re not spending millions on genetic
plant research just to fuck with some uppity vegans (as entertaining as that
may sound).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are ‘probably’ (don’t
really know and don’t really care) just trying to build a better tomato, one
which is resistant to pests and maybe even allows the use of less pesticide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or it doubles the output and profits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you don’t like this idea, you could always
grow your own veggies in a community plot outside of a squat in Berlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You won’t even need salad dressing; all of
the puke, piss and vinegar from the punks will coat your sprouts for ya—in both
chunky ranch and balsamic.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;">The Overpriced Organic Grapes of Wrath</span></h3>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p-db1MT5iks/VOiSrbfv2kI/AAAAAAAAAl4/PrO-9Afed9c/s1600/Jayzus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p-db1MT5iks/VOiSrbfv2kI/AAAAAAAAAl4/PrO-9Afed9c/s1600/Jayzus.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">Veganism started off as any religion does, with strict rules
and practices. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: small;">eat this, eat
that; dress this way, don’t dress that way. Fuck this way, not that way, and
only this type of person—but only after this ritual. </span></span>Then it starts to propagate, like some
bacteria in a Petri dish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon it gets
on some lab assistant’s coat, leaves the lab and now you have an epidemic trend
on your hands.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">When you walk into one of those organic / bio food shops,
you’ll notice the price of this particular religion is quite steep. Who in the
flying FUCK can afford these prices?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe the twitchy little vegans in the corner taking selfies aren’t
skinny from the vegan diet—they just can’t afford the fucking thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you seen the prices?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a huge scam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The label says ‘bio’ or ‘organic’ so it costs
double.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because the lack of pesticide use cuts the
crop in half, thus doubling the price?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because the whole organic
thang is trendy, followed by trustafians, yuppies and other vapid individuals
who like to think that paying more for something is better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do you know it’s organic?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">says so on the label? </i>Damn, there really is a sucker born every
minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any fool with a computer and a
printer can make a label.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no way
to certify if something is truly pesticide free and organically grown as they
say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The government does not get
involved in verifying marketing claims—they only occasionally check the rat
turd levels in the sausages (which are tasty, by the way; that rich, smoky
flavor makes EVERYTHING tasty).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">So the big trend is to slap a BIO
label on something and charge double.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And the suckers suck it down like tequila-swilling Tijuana
whores. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, it wouldn’t be so funny
if it wasn’t so goddamned stupid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve even
seen a kiosk in P’berg selling (ahem) ‘Bio Currywurst.’<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">So apparently, vegans aren’t the only fools
falling for this </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">BIO</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> bollox.</span></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-87300812672981058292015-01-09T10:27:00.005-08:002015-03-31T15:04:59.002-07:00Nostalgia Ain’t What It Used To Be<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">The other day I took a stroll down memory lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t ever do that, I’m telling you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">The familiar old neighborhood of Prenzlauer Berg was home to
me and my lovely wife for 5 years before we were banished to the Berlin
hinterlands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only mention that my wife
is lovely so you will feel sorry for us when I tell you how we got railroaded
right on out of there by the gentrification scumlords.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it were just grumpy old <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moi</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">myself
und</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ich</i> (or me and an ugly wife) who
lost a place to live, you might just think ‘GOOD! Get rid of the grumpy old
ugly fucks and let the new Rich but Sexy Berliners move in!’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As one does.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zU4HfRye7zI/VLAandUTNBI/AAAAAAAAAkw/u9FYYhWM21A/s1600/Pberg01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zU4HfRye7zI/VLAandUTNBI/AAAAAAAAAkw/u9FYYhWM21A/s1600/Pberg01.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I initially went down to my old Helmholz kiez
(Danziger-Duncker-Prenzlauer Allee) to pick up some second hand lights for
sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A nice, waiflike couple was
sitting in their empty commercial space waiting to sell me their old lights so
they could embark upon their new voyage of their new image in their new
commercial space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still don’t know
what in the flying fuck they were selling. There was a counter, a mini espresso
machine and some dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And a cat. Their
website is just as mysterious. Apparently that’s all you need in Berlin
if you are a Trustafarian. The lights weren’t as advertised and I couldn’t use
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I thanked them for wasting my
time (I did it in a very smooth way, I’m telling you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The couple looked fragile and earnest, and
this combo can still the harshest of tongues. Even mine.) Off I went.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x9lwXNSN26A/VLAa7rvx8bI/AAAAAAAAAk4/SZHyhIS5PzM/s1600/Pberg03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x9lwXNSN26A/VLAa7rvx8bI/AAAAAAAAAk4/SZHyhIS5PzM/s1600/Pberg03.jpg" height="320" width="237" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I passed the closed Café Lyrik and remembered the spell cast
by the Witch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Free ‘music’ (using the
term loosely) with overpriced drinks and a performance sounding something like a
steel kitty in a blender (complete with metallic screams and feverish, glass
scratching death knells), followed by a donation cup shaken so vigorously in
our faces that everybody had to stop drinking and stare to see how much we WERE
NOT putting in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently 15 EUR was
NOT enough for the avant garde scheisse we were watching. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Witch told me so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the Deutschbag at the next table scoffed
out loud when I refused to give more. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
won’t say don’t go there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are NOT
a brain dead, self important Trustafarian with delusions of grandeur, you
probably already have the good sense not to (Dunkin’ Berliner flash mob idea:
everybody cram into that tiny ‘art/music’ space, don’t order a damn thing and
then dump a sock full of pennies into the collection plate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smack those bitches up). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I continued my walk down memory lane (aka Danziger strasse)
and passed the empty windows of the Fuss-feti-fisch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a place where you can stick your feet
in a fish tank and have swarms of little fish eat the barnacles and toe jam
right off your sunken feet. There are aquariums in the windows full of feet
sucking fish, lights and signs and benches with towels, but that place is NEVER
open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meaning: MAFIA MUTHA FUCKAZ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t go there either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, if you need your toe jam eaten, let me
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know poor artists who will eat your
toes out on a stage for loose change, I’m tellin’ ya.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">No trip down Memory Lane
is complete without a visit to your old flat, the place you used to call home,
the place where some yuppie fucks are now living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gentrification is a BITCH.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to see the type of quality human
beings who could possibly replace my loser ass, who could possibly be a better
tenant than me, who in the HELL would want to pay more than 600 EUR for a studio
apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It couldn't be yuppies; they only live in large lofts, not studio apartments. This I already knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I tend to read ahead in the script, so it was
no surprise that the new tenant was just a number:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my old
buzzer simply read ‘60’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, most
of the flats in our old building were now part of the <a href="http://www.citylab.com/cityfixer/2012/09/berlins-invisible-gentrifiers/3144/" target="_blank">growing scourge of holiday rentals in desirable hoods</a>. They weren’t even hiding it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A large
banner now hangs above Dunckerstrasse 90A and proudly proclaims BERLINER LEBEN HOLIDAY
RENTALS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nine of the 12 flats in our
building were already owned by Das Leben when we moved in. When we lived there,
I do recall an ungodly amount of suitcases thumping up and down the stairs and
late night screams in Mediterranean languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were happy to endure it as proud members of the multi-kulti Berlin
life (aka Berliner Leben). But we were forced out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When our contract was ready to be renewed,
they refused us (after paying rent on time every month for a year), saying in
writing “It is a free market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can
rent to whomever we choose.” Harsh words from harsh cunts. Why have regular
tenants at a fixed rate when you can kick them out and charge 70 EUR per night
as a holiday rental?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is now only
one of our original neighbors left in our building:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riewoldt (pronounced ‘revolt’). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I recall, the door to his flat had been
kicked in a few times and there were blatant splinter/spackle/patch jobs done
on the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fight da powah, Herr
Riewoldt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d392AB7VVUc/VLAbszBXcNI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/54Js1a7ovHc/s1600/Pberg04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d392AB7VVUc/VLAbszBXcNI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/54Js1a7ovHc/s1600/Pberg04.jpg" height="200" width="183" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">There is a growing resistance to these types of predatory
rental investors (scumlords, et al) and laws are being drafted as I write this.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was doing my due diligence
(Googling), I discovered a fact that would be shocking if I were able to be
shocked at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The busy-bodied
little man who dogged us the entire time we lived at Dunckerstr. 90A (saying he
was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hausmeister</i>) was in fact the
very agent provocateur behind the Berliner Leben tenant ousting: Marcus
Buthmann (whom we called Buttman) was talking seven shades of scheisse to the
press about his proud holiday rentals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s right: the same Buttman who helped us out the door; the exact
same cocksucker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s not libel—the
man does indeed suck cock.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.thelocal.de/20140801/two-thirds-of-berlins-tourist-flats-now-illegal" target="_blank">http://www.thelocal.de/20140801/two-thirds-of-berlins-tourist-flats-now-illegal</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">In a city that changes as much, as often and as constantly
as Berlin, nobody seems to notice
that a very large rug is being pulled out from under our feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, sluggish student paralegal interns are
rising from their hangovers to wave the flag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Too little, too late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
scumlords are winning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fZ30hyQnrKs/VLAbawXSSTI/AAAAAAAAAlI/NFPos9vs_w0/s1600/Pberg02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fZ30hyQnrKs/VLAbawXSSTI/AAAAAAAAAlI/NFPos9vs_w0/s1600/Pberg02.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I crossed the street with the mixed emotions of knowing I
was right and being powerless to do a damn thing about being wronged. Skinny
old American fucks in suits talked on phones in lofty voices while a German
teenager in hip hop attire trudged by in high swagger mode, oozing anger in his
neo-yuppie hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the small
courtyard recreation area across the street from my old digs was being torn
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ruins of the ping pong tables we
used to play upon were lying on the ground beneath the plows of the machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CAT
operators smoked and laughed in the midst of the mayhem.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I switched to high swagger mode and trudged past the usual
sushi bars, trendy cafes and yoga holes of Yuppie Central.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even my old hole-in-the-wall kebab joint had
been renovated and neon-ensconced. Dunkin’ Berliner truth: the smaller and grungier
the hole in the wall, the better the food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The bigger the space, the more neon cacti, the more bland the food, the more yuppie it is.
Period. This area used to be commie, punk rock, artist, drifter, and
dreamer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it is just another
non-threatening place for yuppies and breeders to take root and grow money
trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because that’s what
gentrification is all about: rip out the old, plant the new, harvest the money
crop. We who choose to live our lives in pursuit of something other than money
are not worthy of living in a cool neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t stand a chance. Because we have
neither money nor power; nor do we want anything to do with any of that shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So They win. Again. Always.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe one day, one of us will snap. Necks.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-72044683244710720982014-12-14T05:28:00.000-08:002015-03-31T15:00:17.555-07:00The White Lights<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WzFK6JTzWVQ/VI2N2RSQr2I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/b95KjpF0I6g/s1600/whitelights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WzFK6JTzWVQ/VI2N2RSQr2I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/b95KjpF0I6g/s1600/whitelights.jpg" height="186" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I never thought I would celebrate Christmas again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put the kibosh on the whole charade 20
years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe in neither God nor
holiday capitalism, so what was the point?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A religious family which was dogging/godding me at every turn did not
make for pleasant digestion, so I would spend my Eves at dive bars commiserating
with the lonely barflies and spend my Days hung over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The way it should be.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then I got The Love, The Marriage and all dat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My baby wants to celebrate Xmas, so why
not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why let the Miserable Bastard ruin
her Xmas?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year she went completely
Christmas crazy: baking dozens of batches of cookies in dozens of styles,
combining ancient Czech recipes with ancient Google ones--and even rummaging
through the forest for pine needles to make a hand made wreath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In a good way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then came the Xmas lights. One day last week, a cheap
handful of small colorful lights were dropped on my lap with the orders to hang
them somewhere festive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There they hang,
in the side window of our garden cottage, just bright enough for the next door
neighbors to witness our seasonal solidarity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then came the most unpleasant part, the ugly beast which I
had sworn I had slain:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Christmas
Shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, you can’t just have
one of those fucking potato chips; you have to eat the whole bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eight scrawny lights in the window weren’t
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We needed to bedazzle this
bitch, apparently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eight hours of
shopping in at least 8 different places yielded the same result: no colored Xmas
lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently the colored lights hanging in our window were a one-off shopping deal at a small market. Undaunted, our search raged on. We even ran the foul and
frenetic gauntlet at IKEA with the other Saturday rats in the maze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think IKEA makes a gazillion dollars
because their pseudo-balsa-wood furniture is so goddamned chic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They make a gazillion dollars because they
FORCE you to walk through a sense-addling maze and view EVERY SINGLE FUCKING
THING THEY SELL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the ‘shortcuts’
are a ruse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just go back to another
part of the maze you wanted to avoid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You can’t get out of there without spending at least 50 EUR and that’s
the trap.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]--><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We
noticed a trend in </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Berlin</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">; maybe it’s the same in the rest of </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Germany</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> outside of our island of weird: all of the Xmas lighting is white. Try and try, walk and walk, bitch and bitch
as I may, nobody had the goods. When my
baby asked the tall Aryan man in the IKEA vest where we could find colored xmas
lights, he responded—in a loud and proud voice, I might add—“Nur weiss! (Only
white!).</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JbRF32Q8Q70/VI2OETGRxsI/AAAAAAAAAkY/neaVadZb3AA/s1600/nazisxmasornaments.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JbRF32Q8Q70/VI2OETGRxsI/AAAAAAAAAkY/neaVadZb3AA/s1600/nazisxmasornaments.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">I’m not sure what is was that made that seem odd to me;
maybe it was his blond hair, his blue eyes, or his square jaw hoisted in the
air when he said ‘Only white!’ with pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>White pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe I’m being
paranoid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was the 8 hours on my
feet with my goddamn dogs barking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
he did not in fact mean ‘You are here in Germany.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All we have to offer you are white
lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Und you vill like zem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Colored lights are for other countries with
colorful persons and colorful personalities.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">You can have your xmas lights in any color you want--as long as it's WHITE.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WbASpMdeASg/VI2OQ9Cx5QI/AAAAAAAAAkg/Rd-7k0tiWVs/s1600/schultz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WbASpMdeASg/VI2OQ9Cx5QI/AAAAAAAAAkg/Rd-7k0tiWVs/s1600/schultz.jpg" height="200" width="171" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">But there is something weird going on here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we were dragging our defeated asses home
with no lighting assets (and 10 EUR worth of IKEA shit we hadn’t planned on
buying—HA-HA! We didn’t spend 50), we noticed that the very few houses on our
block that had Xmas lights had only white ones.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Goddamn racist bastards.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-3092370389783044942014-11-12T08:45:00.000-08:002015-02-21T05:39:40.074-08:00THREE STREIKS, YER OUT MUTTA FICKA<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;">S-bahn Strikes Rip Berlin Apart, Piss Off Donut Munchers</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;"> </span></h3>
<br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-agGFMhww_ZM/VOiIS5cLxQI/AAAAAAAAAlg/5wsVvlEH56o/s1600/S-bahn-Strike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-agGFMhww_ZM/VOiIS5cLxQI/AAAAAAAAAlg/5wsVvlEH56o/s1600/S-bahn-Strike.jpg" height="178" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I try to love the Berlin Bear in spite of all the damage it
does me when it hugs. It’s a love/hate
thang. I get dazzled by the <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2013/03/brandenburger-whore.html" target="_blank">tutu dance</a>,
and then suddenly I want to set fire to the fur and watch it dance the Watusi.</span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Twenty five years after the Bear kicked the Commies out,
dropped a wall and reunified a nation, they still. Have not.
Got their shit together. In this
particular case I am referring to the <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-29930422" target="_blank">crippling S-bahn strikes</a> (German: STREIK!
with an exclamation, screamed aloud for effect). I think this blog post might be the hat trick
for the number of colossal fuckups perpetrated by the BVG, Deutsche Bahn and the
S-bahn. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iG_fVwHwa4E/VGOM03_X7oI/AAAAAAAAAkA/6tEoJaBkKmI/s1600/luckystreik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iG_fVwHwa4E/VGOM03_X7oI/AAAAAAAAAkA/6tEoJaBkKmI/s320/luckystreik.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Your transport ticket may cover all modes of transport in
Berlin (S-bahn, U-bahn, trams and buses), but this in no way covers the
frustration, anger, missed meetings and lost time encountered when one of these
independent-and-oft-uppity modes of transit goes terribly awry. I’m talking constant construction (often more
than once on the same stretch of the same line—in the same year), delays, and
sudden failures of a particular line on a weekly basis and the general
breakdowns. And that’s not even counting
when the Umbrella Corp shuts down one branch under its own soggy roof for (I’m
not making this up) failure to do weekly train wheel inspections.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">German efficiency, my pimply white ass.</span></span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And
the cheeky motherhumpers have the SACK to raise the ticket prices once or even twice
a year for 5 years in a row. If I had a
goat to get, this would be what got it.
I have been tempted to ‘ride black’ (a nice little Germanism for riding without a ticket; probably with some inherent racsim) in protest, but this is a hard
position to back up in the face of groups of ticket controllers in your face in
a cramped metal box hurtling toward the next station—where Gestapo and dogs
await. They shake you down for money on
the spot (especially and specifically if you are an <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2014/07/dunkipedia.html" target="_blank">ausländer</a>).</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What I suggest is this:
since there seems to be no end to the gross incompetence inherent in the
Berlin transport system, we need
to get together. <i>Solidarity, mein soldaten.</i>
I propose that we gather in groups the day after the next time they have a 3 or
4 day strike and ride <i>en masse</i> (to confuse them with French) and Schwarz (black as the Ace of Spades,
baby). When the Ticket Kontroll goose-steps
up to us, we give them The Fury Finger.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When we are asked to meet the Gestapo and their canine
backup barkers in the next station, we’ll hold up signs saying FAHRER STREIK!
KEIN GELD FUR SCHWEIN! (Riders strike! No
money for pigs!)</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
Maybe they’ll even treat us to the super soaker
water cannon tanks they usually reserve for riots and/or unwashed punk rockers.</span></span><br />
<br />
<h3>
</h3>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: orange;"><i>Note: the blogger lives in the Berlin hinterlands and the only transport services available to his cranky ass are S-bahn service and some slow-ass buses to rely upon. That and he is middle aged and probably hormonal due to Manopause.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Image credit: <a href="http://www.catdeleon.com/" target="_blank">Cat de Leon</a>, painting 'Lucky Strike.'</span></span><br />
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-1866741794933568302014-10-01T11:27:00.000-07:002015-02-23T09:12:20.701-08:00Swiss My Ass! Fear and Loathing at Zuri Faescht<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
</h3>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
</h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">(With a nod to the late <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hunter_S._Thompson" target="_blank">Hunter S. Thompson</a>)</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="color: orange; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Journalism is not a profession or a
trade. It is a cheap catch-all for fuckoffs and misfits — a false doorway to
the backside of life, a filthy piss-ridden little hole nailed off by the
building inspector, but just deep enough for a wino to curl up from the
sidewalk and masturbate like a chimp in a zoo-cage.”</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">- Hunter S.
Thompson, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fear_and_Loathing_in_Las_Vegas" target="_blank"><i>Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas</i></a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTc6W61bPqc/VCxBq-DU-bI/AAAAAAAAAio/wOYtOMUxPTA/s1600/ZuriFaescht05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTc6W61bPqc/VCxBq-DU-bI/AAAAAAAAAio/wOYtOMUxPTA/s1600/ZuriFaescht05.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">We were circling somewhere between
</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Basel</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> and </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Zurich</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> when the booze began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a
bit light headed; maybe the Captain should land…” And suddenly there was a
terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge advertisements
for chocolate, uberexpensive watches and little red pocket knives with endless
accessories; the plane screens flashed crass consumerism in cramped tin
compartments hurtling in a 666 km/h descent on Zurich. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus!
Who are these goddamn animals?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">We were greeted in grand
style in the Swiss Airlines airport lounge.
And by ‘grand style’ I mean there were a half dozen of us in the lounge;
none of the other feckless fools standing outside with their noses pressed against
the glass were allowed in. I pushed
passed the greeting committee and went straight to the bar. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Singapore</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> Sling? <i>No</i>.
</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Long Island</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">? <i>No</i>.
This was getting worse by the second.
<i>Goddamn it, you swine! I’m a doctor of journalism!</i> The barman poured me a white wine and I gave
him a <i>‘this had better be chilled, or
I’ll sick my Samoan attorney on you’ type</i> of look. It was.
So I didn’t. They dragged me out of the lounge after only 15 minutes and
two rapidly swilled white wines. They pointed to their uberwatches and The
Schedule.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">There was no welcome wagon,
no van and no minibus. We were given a 3
day public transport ticket and taken to a crowded train. I stuck my head into the Swiss Airlines swag
bag and spied the little chocolates. There was a moment of chaos while the
cabin pressure, the pre- mid- and post flight booze were wearing off, then a moment
of clarity and a sudden burst of snorfling sounds as I sucked down the whole
bagful of chocolate. Next we had to
transfer to a street tram to complete our journey to the hotel. What kind of atavistic Hun made this
schedule?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">I was told by my editor to
‘be on my best behaviour.’ But since he
included the British ‘u’ in what We Who Use the Modern English call ‘behavior,’
my inner attorney advised me that I had the perfect loophole to unleash the
Gonzo Beast on these Chocolate Clock People.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">We arrived at the hotel, a
gaudy, modern monstrosity in a barren, treeless suburb. There were strange, crudely drawn critters on
the interior walls and a reception desk hidden beneath a godawful concrete
stairway. I started to see lizards
crawling everywhere. Then they wanted to
put a lien on my credit card. <i>To cover the extras, </i>they said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">“Extras? What extras? Like room service?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">“We don’t have room service,
sir.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">So I refused to give them my
card. How can a ninja go Gonzo and
stagger around the hotel room with a snorkel full of Margarita if there are
personal consequences? After a spell, I got
a pass from the Swiss Miss in Charge with a promise to only raid the mini bar
if she was invited. <i>If only I had the time, Missy. </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">I lugged my own bags into
the room. This was a ‘design
hotel.’ Which meant you didn’t get room
service, bellhops or any other of that other superfluous shit. But you got a room with enough critters drawn
on the walls to elicit the most heinous hallucinations and flashbacks. The only
thing for it was to dive headfirst into the mini bar. The ‘mini bar’ had only
two tiny bottles of beer and a huge amount of useless mineral water. They were clearly fucking with me now. <i>Big mistake,
Bubba.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Cocktails with True Grit </span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“But our trip was
different. It was a classic affirmation of everything right and true and decent
in the national character. It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic possibilities
of life in this country—but only for those with true grit. And we were chock
full of that.” <span style="color: magenta;">- HST</span></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">After only 15 minutes at the
hotel the cattle wrangler stuck the electric prod in. We snapped to attention at the shock
and were taken to meet our next guide.
His name was Marc and he was introduced to us as The King of Night
Clubs. I saw my chance. Maybe this trip wouldn’t go completely tits
up after all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pA6cJt0ucqk/VCxCYW1uvLI/AAAAAAAAAiw/VlrZKHpHl9s/s1600/ZuriFaescht03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pA6cJt0ucqk/VCxCYW1uvLI/AAAAAAAAAiw/VlrZKHpHl9s/s1600/ZuriFaescht03.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">Marc welcomed us into a big
dirt parking lot with </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">stacks of shipping containers everywhere and </span></span>a sign reading <a href="http://www.fraugerold.ch/" target="_blank"><i>Frau Gerolds Garten</i></a>. He insisted it was an open air bar. There were people seated on skip furniture
laughing giddily with drinks in their hands, so I chose to believe him. Minutes later we had two liters of Margarita
in front of us, strawberry and raspberry.
He showed us the gardens from which the strawberries and raspberries had
sprung and how the Swiss love nature blah blah blah. I missed his speech while I was spitting a
gob of fruit seeds into the bushes. I
wasn’t being rude; I was recycling.
Those seeds would take root and grow a Margarita plant one day…</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">We climbed up some makeshift
steel stairs attached to the side of a huge shipping container. On top of this was a smaller shipping
container with the front cut out to make a bar and a large sun deck filled with
many humans drinking. Marc explained
that the area was once a major industrial area full of warehouses and
(apparently) shipping containers. I
looked around: train station, warehouses
and tall buildings. Yup, it looked exactly like </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Detroit</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> in 1970. I
needed another drink. A line of gin and tonics appeared with sliced cucumbers
and whole chunks of black pepper corns floating on top. I horsed mine down and looked at my squeamish
British compatriots. <i>What?
You don’t like flotsam and jetsam in your drinks?</i> I took the one slid over to me and horsed it
down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R6gaZ8mDbZU/VCxCjdRoq4I/AAAAAAAAAi4/gcElThxBykU/s1600/ZuriFaescht02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R6gaZ8mDbZU/VCxCjdRoq4I/AAAAAAAAAi4/gcElThxBykU/s1600/ZuriFaescht02.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">After leading us through
liters of margaritas and ginormous amounts of gin and tonics, our fearless
leader was showing signs of the drink; his tour jive started slowly sinking
into complaints about the costs and hassles of running the bar. “Why should I pay 30,000 EUR to make the bar
containers fireproof? I mean…they’re
made of METAL…” Marc mentioned that he
was a lawyer. “As your attorney I advise
you to drink up and forget,” I offered.
“And don’t spare the gin, Jeeves.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">The evening continued very
much in this manner, with Marc showing us one bar after the other. At one point one of the Limeys mentioned the
schedule. And dinner. Marc apologized for the lack of food at one
of his river bars and ordered us some pizza.
“That’s ok, Marco,” I offered, “You don’t have to feed us. You have to get us DRUNK!” Those were apparently the magic words. A whole bottle of gin, a bucket of ice,
bottles of tonic and a cup of black peppercorns appeared. The Limeys stared cross-eyed at the
pepper. The….horror. The…horror. I reached for the bottle of gin and the ice. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Smoke on the Water (and Fire in the Sky)</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8PcdH5FR0Wo/VCxFSaZ5B5I/AAAAAAAAAjo/j6OS95cILsM/s1600/ZuriFaescht04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8PcdH5FR0Wo/VCxFSaZ5B5I/AAAAAAAAAjo/j6OS95cILsM/s1600/ZuriFaescht04.jpg" height="320" width="215" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">After what seemed like a 10
mile walk, we wrapped up our evening with a fantastic fireworks show over </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Lake</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Zurich</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">. We flopped
down on folding chairs flung against a wall of the <a href="http://www.seebadenge.ch/wp/" target="_blank">Seebad Enge</a> badi bar: a day
time lake / swimming pool throws the hip waders and kiddy toys into a shed and
rolls out the booze barrels at night. My
imagination staggered at the possibilities: drunks, darkness and water. I dove into the booze and skipped the
water. Bottles of sparkling wine appeared
and disappeared. I did most of the heavy
lifting; I owed these Huns for the excessive frog marching. I guess they figured on ‘helping us’ by
having us walk 3 miles between bars to sweat off the toxins. Well, baby, I need to KEEP my toxins and the
bastards now owed me double in recompense.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">The fireworks filled the sky
as techno music shook the speakers.
Somebody said something about sync.
I don’t see how you can match lake cannons with speakers squawking 120
beats per minute.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">- Brit Blogger #1: Does anybody think this (techno) is music?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">- Me: Only pitiful, young, ecstasy-addled fools.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Our first guide abandoned us
to the lake creatures and empty bottles.
I glared at her as she walked away.
How in the holy hell were we supposed to get back to our nondescript
concrete bunker in the suburbs without a semi-sober guide? Sensing my confusion and discontent, Marc the
Night Club King grabbed me by the elbow and led me in a wavering line up some
fancy steps leading to a swanky nightclub with a killer lake view. Swank has guards. In this case, a muscular
thug in a tight fitting tuxedo and an earpiece.
Marc began arguing with the well dressed goon when he stopped us at the
entrance. The Swiss words began to flow
like fondue: hot, cheesy and heavy on
the wine. Marc insisted that he was
partner in the nightclub in question—in fact, the bouncer’s boss—and that he
would have no compunction whatsoever to drink champagne out of his empty
fucking skull if he didn’t let us in (or my imagined Swiss equivalent). The bouncer was having none of it, and I
feared our Night Club King would get crowned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">‘Way-HAAAAYYYY! Marc!’
I interrupted, ‘Don’t sweat it, man!
As a rule I never drink in any establishment with large, well dressed
thugs at the door!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">He flashed me a drunken
smile and apologized for the arrogant brute at the door. As we staggered away, it became clear that
nobody would be able to guide us back to our hotel. In fact, only 2 of our original group were
still in tow. The others had fucked off
to bed like proper working journos. They
would miss most of the booze and the entire bouncer thug story. Poor bastards.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xzVJWx8Peqc/VCxEJCJV7QI/AAAAAAAAAjU/vkXwd3ee7ZI/s1600/ZuriFaescht01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xzVJWx8Peqc/VCxEJCJV7QI/AAAAAAAAAjU/vkXwd3ee7ZI/s1600/ZuriFaescht01.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Clockwork, My Ass</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy
the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than
what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion:
Tune in, freak out, get beaten.” - HST</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">The whole city of </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Zurich</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> ground to a halt for their little festival. Public transport was stopped in the city
center after dark. It was pushing </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">2am</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> and nobody had told us. They had flown us there, stuck us in a weird
hotel in the industrial suburbs and abandoned our drunken asses by the
waterfront. Clearly they hated bloggers. That could be the only explanation. Did they think we wouldn’t write about
it? Did they think we were legally and
morally bound to blow sunshine up their kiesters just because they gave us
chocolate and booze?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">I won’t go into detail about
the trip back to the hotel—which I will call The Horror Show—but suffice it to
say, there was no working public transport and a metric fuckton of
walking. I got back to the hotel at </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">4am</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Four full hours of sleep
later and the next tour guide was knocking at my door.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">A sweet and hesitant female
voice ventured: “Craig? We’re leaving in
20 minutes!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“FUCK OFF, YOU SWINE!!!” </span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">I pulled my underwear off my
head and put it back on my behind. I
have no idea how it migrates. I blame
evil hotel gnomes. And Nixon. I stumbled
downstairs for the coffee. Midway
through my 2<sup>nd</sup> cup I loaded up a plateful of breakfast buffet and
sat down just as the other bright-eyed and bushy tailed morning people were
getting ready to leave. <i>You’re not journalists or even bloggers. You wake up early and you like it. You are librarians at best.</i> When our new guide (<i>how many do we need?</i>) tried to beckon me to the door I wrapped my
arms around my plate and growled like a badger with a bad hangover. They backed away slowly and told me they
would meet me at the second tourist trap on the schedule. I would miss the chocolate factory tour. Well,
fuck me. But as much as I love Oompa Loompas, I love my coffee and greasy bacon even more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">After the third tour guide
had come and gone I noticed a trend:
Spanish, Italian and other Mediterranean ladies led us through the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Zurich</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> streets for the weekend. <i>Where
are the Real Swiss? Where are they
hiding? What are they hiding? Give me a stout, blonde, yodeling mountain
man with steel blue eyes and one hand on the alpine goat teat and the other on
the secret stash of Nazi gold. HE and
only HE will take us to the treasure! Show me the hidden gold. Fuck the fest. YOU know what I’m talking about: the vats of golden Jew teeth rattling around
beneath these pristine streets.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Town and City</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">I plowed through the old
streets of </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Zurich</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> alone as I am wont to do. Nobody guiding me, nobody telling me what to
do, to see, to eat, to drink. I decided
that the best way to salvage this Swiss story was to do it as Frank said, My
Way. To its credit, Old Zurich is most
charming and beautiful. But the
romanticism of the narrow, curving, cobblestone streets is stifled by the cold,
antiseptic sting of the price tag. Once
you’ve spent ten years staggering and stumbling through lantern-lit Old Prague
nights full of 50-cent-per-pint beer you are ruined. No other suitor of any price or class has
even half a chance. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Zurich</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> has cleaner water, though. In fact, it is the clearest water I have ever
seen in my life. In a continent full of
thousand-year-old cities with mucky, medieval rivers winding through them, the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Limmat</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">River</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">
runs crystal clear and clean. You can
even see the rocks and pebbles on the bottom of the stream. But no gold teeth; I strained and scanned for
naught.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">If only their banks were this
transparent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-os2enUCmBkI/VCxDtrqbwmI/AAAAAAAAAjM/Rwz57oCOhMw/s1600/ZuriFaescht06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-os2enUCmBkI/VCxDtrqbwmI/AAAAAAAAAjM/Rwz57oCOhMw/s1600/ZuriFaescht06.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">The rest of the trip was
fraught with the usual peril: walking
until the feet were numb, passing hundreds of street stands selling crap that
will kill you, followed by the inevitable abandonment at the water’s edge. While Americans are well known for their loud
complaints, by the end of the second day of this holy hell even the stiff upper
lips of the British contingent were twitching like chipmunks in a mustard gas
attack. On my last night in Zurich I was ready to pack it in, go back to my
concrete bunker and drink that mini bar mineral water. But my erstwhile comrades in arms, the stalwart
British bloggers, wiping mustard gas from their eyes and picking peppercorns
from their twisted, yellow teeth—convinced me to stay. As I sat on a wooden bench I filled my
swollen feet with as much alcohol as would trickle down my long legs, the Saturday
night lake show was about to begin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">And then something truly
magical happened: I began to enjoy
myself. We were in the eye of the storm
and it was indeed peaceful. The giant
speakers and the stage were set. The sun
was down, the moon was up and everyone looked to the sky. We heard some <i>whuppa-whuppa-whuppa</i> sounds and the choppers were over us. Fireworks began to shoot from below us and
the helicopters were weaving between them.
One of the chopper pilots was clearly out of his mind. He seemed to be flying lower than the others,
faster than the others and closer to the exploding fireworks. It was like a grandiose scene from Apocalypse
Now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">“If they play Wagner’s ‘<a href="http://vimeo.com/72609411" target="_blank">Ride of the Valkyries’</a> right now I am going to shit my fucking pants!” I yelled at my British Blogger chum.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">“If he flies any closer to
us I will shit mine!” he replied.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mS9zLdO3QHI/VCxFJ9HUSxI/AAAAAAAAAjg/iKFSBsXdKBs/s1600/ZuriFaescht08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mS9zLdO3QHI/VCxFJ9HUSxI/AAAAAAAAAjg/iKFSBsXdKBs/s1600/ZuriFaescht08.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">The helicopters swooped
upward out of the fury of the fireworks into the empty night sky. And then the parachutes opened in a flash of
red lights. The music cued to the action
perfectly as the Bond film theme “Skyfall” boomed from the stage speakers. Dozens of tiny white umbrellas lit up in red
circled the lake and began their swirling descent through the exploding
fireworks and down to the water. Soon
they grew larger and you could just make out the humans dangling on strings; puppets
dancing in red light. The Swiss had
finally done it: they showed me
something I had never seen before and would never see hence. They did not play ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ and
I did not shit my pants. But after the
whole ‘Skyfall’ experience, I may have let slip a drop of pee.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Conspiracy</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Once again, the long journey
home was like picking up my own teeth with broken fingers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Then there was the morning
after. Some atavistic Hun had decided
that this was to be the way it was: more
endless walking, more abandonment, more pain.
It was in these sporadic failures in the schedule that I was forced to
see through the kaleidoscope that was placed in front of my weary eyes. When suddenly left to my own devices, I could
see what a horrible money pit I was stuck in:
10 EUR beers, 5 EUR water, 12 EUR snacks. It was as if the entire Swiss Tourism Board
was fattening bloggers up for the slaughter of future tourists. After waiting
at the previously agreed meet point for an hour all alone, it seemed abundantly
clear that they wanted to teach me something; maybe patience; maybe
perseverance in the face of gross incompetence. In any case, it was
working: my plane was leaving in one
hour and I was nowhere near the airport.
Phone calls to our Mediterranean guides fell on deaf voice mails and
text messages went unanswered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">In spite of all their
attempts to waylay and befuddle my progress, the Swiss lost. I made it to the airport with minutes to
spare, swore jovially at my British Blogger chums as I ran past them in their
check in lines, and I wondered to myself if Nixon was laughing at me in the
middle of this chocolate-coated clusterfuck.
Sure, Tricky Dick. You were looking
up from Hell on me while I was walking on the same cobblestone streets which
cover the buried fortunes of the entire Right Wing from Hitler to…well, <a href="http://www.sandiegoreader.com/news/2012/jul/18/citylights1-nixons-swiss-stash/">YOU</a>. And I was too distracted by the Big Golden
Chocolate Clock Festival to notice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sx4asWX1PKM/VCxFePU8UhI/AAAAAAAAAjw/vDo-N9P5m4w/s1600/ZuriFaescht07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sx4asWX1PKM/VCxFePU8UhI/AAAAAAAAAjw/vDo-N9P5m4w/s1600/ZuriFaescht07.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-610483702504821802014-09-13T04:58:00.001-07:002017-05-30T02:02:20.436-07:00Danke. Dankeverymuch.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<h3>
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]--><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A
donut donation from The Honourable Husband at <a href="http://www.deutschlanduberelvis.com/blog/" target="_blank">Deutschland über Elvis</a> caused the
Dunkin’ Berliner to buy a whole box of donuts, dress up like Elvis and stuff
those tasty puppies into his Viva Las Vegas face.*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buh-huh huh.</span></span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;"><i>Achtung! The following blog post contains excessive food
porn. And Elvis impersonation.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;"><i>You have
been warned.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-73WGiF87YPc/VBQuhB20i4I/AAAAAAAAAiQ/uKVwHDuQcGM/s1600/DunkinBerliner01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-73WGiF87YPc/VBQuhB20i4I/AAAAAAAAAiQ/uKVwHDuQcGM/s1600/DunkinBerliner01.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">A well my hands are shaky</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">and my knees are weak,<br />
I can't seem to stand on my own two feet,<br />
Who do you thank when you have such luck?<br />
Thanks, Honourable Husband (burp),</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">I’m all sugared up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: small;">Buh-huh huh. Ooh. Yay-uh-yeeaaaaah, yeah!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I created a donate donut button (TOP RIGHT. Can you see it? Dontcha wanna press that puppy RIGHT NOW?) on this site. That little hound dog takes PayPal and/or
credit cards. In the <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2009/11/buy-me-donut.html" target="_blank">blog post introducing my donation button</a> (called Blog Whore or something), I stated that “If
you send me some donut money (like a buck or two), I promise to stuff it in my
face and start a fresh fury of feverishly fluff filled blogging that only
a man with hypoglycemia and too much time on his hands can unleash.” Or something like that. I have received a few donut donations (mostly
from my mommy, Thanks, ma!) over the years and I am very thankful that people
care enough to reward this barely employed writer/photographer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I’d like to up the ante and state here and now and for all
to see:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: small;">Any and all blog donations will be met not only with the
aforementioned fresh fury of feverish fluffery, but in addition, you, your name
and your website will be named, thanked and linked. Maybe even in that order. And I will take photos of me stuffing the very donuts that YOU BOUGHT for me into my face. I might even wear a costume.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;">Today’s thank you goes out to:</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Honourable Husband</span></span>, <span style="font-size: small;">whose blog</span> <a href="http://www.deutschlanduberelvis.com/blog/" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;">Deutschland über Elvis</span></span></a> <span style="font-size: small;">is
not really a blog about Elvis at all, much in the same way that my blog (JFKFC
for the Masses) is not about Kentucky Fried chicken or JFK conspiracy
theories. I just like the mashup of JFK
and KFC. <i>Waitaminit. I started this paragraph thanking
someone. How did it get back to me?</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Anywho, I’d like to thank the Honourable Husband for his
kind blog donation of exactly enough money to buy a whole box of donuts. You are a gentleman, a scholar and a cunning
linguist. (Ahem. At least when <a href="http://www.deutschlanduberelvis.com/blog/2013/03/english-on-the-march-push-up.html" target="_blank">he talks about tits</a>. ;)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h2cBnY8Lx3w/VBQu9eMq9EI/AAAAAAAAAiY/9RjziW5Rsqc/s1600/DunkinBerliner02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h2cBnY8Lx3w/VBQu9eMq9EI/AAAAAAAAAiY/9RjziW5Rsqc/s1600/DunkinBerliner02.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;">In the immortal words of Private Elvis Presley stationed in Munich:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;">“Danke.
Dankeverymuch.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Buy a sad Elvis impersonator a donut today; save an old lady from a purse snatching tomorrow.</span><br />
<br />
-----<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-size: x-small;">Elvis impersonator:</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">
Me, aka Dunkin’ Berliner, aka Melvis.
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd6ZmrDTalE" target="_blank">Melvis is my karaoke stage name</a>.
Buh-huh huh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: orange; font-size: x-small;">Costume:</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Some Czech chick;
probably named Jana or Petra (Hey,
it was along time ago, man. I forgot).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: orange; font-size: x-small;">Photography:</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Gabriela
Sarževská</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial";">*Ok, I didn’t eat the whole box at once;
whaddaya, nuts? That could kill a Bull
Moose elephant. I divided the box into
two 3-donut dances. Oh yeah!</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: magenta;">Every superhero has his origin story.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: magenta;">See my other blog, Wide Body Jetsetter <a href="http://widebodyjetsetter.blogspot.cz/2017/05/melvis-is-my-stage-name_29.html" target="_blank">for more Melvis action</a>.</span></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-25309321576059680802014-08-15T07:55:00.000-07:002014-08-19T02:45:53.279-07:00RATS!!!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;"><i>“Just like the Pied Piper led rats through the streets, we
dance like marionettes, swaying to the Symphony of Destruction.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Megadeth ‘Symphony of Destruction’
(Concerto in D Minor)</i></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XIE64GkHIB0/U-4eJgqBhtI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Pn41qTjuxz0/s1600/Rat-tastic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XIE64GkHIB0/U-4eJgqBhtI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Pn41qTjuxz0/s1600/Rat-tastic.jpg" height="247" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="color: orange;">photo by Gabriela Sarževská</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
It was one of those Sundays where I was completely open to
suggestion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually this is followed by
waking up in a strange place with a strange person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as a happily married man, those days are
happily over.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I woke from my S-bahn snooze and found myself in
Neukoelln.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never go to Neukoelln if I
can avoid it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is one of those New Hip
Berlin Hoods where American accents flow over tongues stultified by overuse of
the word ‘like’ while Berlin is slowly being buried in thick black glasses and
ridiculous beards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile, angry
Turkish eyes watch the gentrification process with extreme prejudice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
The café advertised that it would be taken over by
rats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d had enough of the mice
skittering about in the crawl spaces under our roof, so we thought we would
seek the entertainment of free range vermin instead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I sat across the street from the café with a bottle of beer
in my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wifey went inside the
café for a cappuccino.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of
those bloody useless cafes which sell only non-alcoholic beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spotted the first rat by the S-bahn station
waste bin; a middle aged man was standing with a straw hat and a cane and a
hugely-exaggerated rat costume:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>double
hula hoops for hips and a stuffed tail so long it dragged across the street
between cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two female rats appeared
on my left, one making sniffing sounds and sticking out front teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little Sharpie-whiskered nose sniffed my
bottle of beer and turned up in disgust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The things that will disgust a rat are beyond me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a Rathaus Pilsner for fuck’s sake.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
A swarm of costumed rat menschen scurried around the crowded
outdoor seating of the beerless café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
finished my bottle and headed over to the <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2014/07/dunkipedia.html" target="_blank">raucher kneipe</a> next door to the artsy
café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The usual daytime drunks were
holding up an outdoor table and a white picket fence separated the howling hooch
commandos from the artsy-fartsy hipsters at the café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing the white picket fence was
erected by the café owners to keep the drunks from oozing into their space. I
joined the drunks and scoffed at the hipsters along with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raspy-rum-and-cigarette voices slurred and
shouted at the performing vermin while uptight art fags and their devoted fag
hags gave them the stink eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smirked
and was tempted to join in the drunken jeers—only my tank of liquid courage was
half empty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Eventually my wife got tired of drinking cappuccino amid
hipster poseurs and joined me on the Dark Side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A female rat was rapping in German at the café patrons while another rat
banged on a trash can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The quaint, cute,
warm and fuzzy idea of a watching a troupe of amateur actors dressed as rats
while drinking cappuccino was quickly eclipsed by the need for beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or so I thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
“Let’s get out of here before they ask for donations,” my
wife pleaded. I agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing
more sinister in Berlin than the
promise of a free event followed by the heartbreak of a change cup shaken in your
face.</div>
</div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-88509334276395639992014-07-31T13:45:00.000-07:002015-06-23T16:37:03.808-07:00DUNKIPEDIA<h3>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--></h3>
<h3>
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
</h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;"></span></h3>
<i><span style="color: orange;">(My 100th post! So, please, for the love of God, somebody <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2009/11/buy-me-donut.html" target="_blank">BUY ME A DONUT</a>!)</span></i><br />
<br />
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;"> </span></h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;">The Dunkin’ Berliner Glossary of Zee Deutsch</span> </h3>
<h4 class="MsoNormal">
</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Have you ever read one of those Paris
expat writers’ books where they drop a French sentence on every page, expecting
us to know what the fuck they are parlez-vous-ing about?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maddening, isn’t it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, I realized that I may have taken for granted that some
of my gentle readers don’t live in Germany
and/or have just arrived and wouldn’t know a Deutschbag from donut hole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I’ve put together a Dunkipedia, a glossary
of sorts—not just for the occasional Deutsch bomb I may drop; but for any and
all of the local slang I may resort to or even make up when I’m soaking in
beer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So grab a donut, a bratwurst or a beer (or all three if you
live on the edge), and dip/dunk right on in…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GvsLfY_QcoU/U9qpq_292rI/AAAAAAAAAhw/HLoqYGsa5Z0/s1600/mmmm...donuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GvsLfY_QcoU/U9qpq_292rI/AAAAAAAAAhw/HLoqYGsa5Z0/s1600/mmmm...donuts.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Altbau flat:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘old
building’ apartment, usually built pre-war (both).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thick bricks and wood floors, oh yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Preferable to the soulless, Soviet-style
housing blocks with concrete floors and cardboard walls (see Plattenbau).<br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;">Ausländer:</span> 'outlander' or 'foreigner.' The single word that goes through every German's mind when they encounter you--even if Berlin is the most liberal city in Germany. I've heard catcalls of 'DEUTSCH!' uttered and even shouted when walking by groups of feckless German yoots while speaking English with a friend. Some of these Deutschbags have even got t-shirts proclaiming 'You are NICHT ein Berliner!'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Berliner <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/search/label/berliner%20jelly%20donuts" target="_blank">pfannkuchen</a>:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: orange;"> </span>
</span>the raw fuel for this here blog, a jelly donut, apparently first made here. Everywhere else in Germany
they call them Berliners; in Berlin
they simply call them pfannkuchen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Berliner Schnauze:</span> the special sense of humor of the
average Berliner, characterized by curt, sullen quips, ironic or black humor
and an apparent lack of common courtesy in any public place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In any other language or culture, see ‘Rude
Fuck.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Bratwurst:</span> a low grade sausage with mostly grease and
filler found everywhere beer is sold outdoors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Bullscheisse:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ami-German swearing, Dunkin’ Berliner style.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One Deutschbag even criticized me for writing
the word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loser.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Currywurst:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
official food of Berlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly it is just a garden variety boiled
hotdog cut into pieces and soaked in ketchup with a tiny pinch of yellow curry
powder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like most Central Europeans,
Germans are total pussies when it comes to spice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or flavor in general.<br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/search/label/Deutschbags" target="_blank">Deutschbag</a>:</span> part douchebag, part Deutsch; not all Germans are Deutschbags, just as not all douchebags are German. A Deutschbag is like a douchebag, with more anal retentiveness and slightly fewer social skills. And in some cases, sporting a Hitler moustache. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/search/label/Friedrichshain" target="_blank">Friedrichshain</a>:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>F’hain, The ‘Hain, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
neighborhood in former East Berlin characterized by gentrification, yuppies,
hipsters, groovy punk rock squats and a flat previously occupied by a grumpy
old American writer who drinks too much beer and eats too many donuts (I didn’t
lose the flat, dammit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know where it
is!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just that when I go there now
some yuppie fuck is living there).<br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/search/label/Berlin%20gentrification" target="_blank">Gentrification</a>:</span> not a German word; rather, an international word meaning 'fuck you' from developers and landlords. A <a href="http://einstellung.so36.net/en/ps/524" target="_blank">purposely planned and engineered plot</a> for the rich to squeeze the poor out of their very homes. It is the reason rents went up 900% in the last 10 years in East Berlin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Kebab:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the second
official food of the average Berliner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Available anywhere there is a street with people on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes there are even five kebab joints in
a row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go to the ones which sell
beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they don’t sell beer, they are
probably strict Muslims who don’t believe in alcohol and are probably sending
all their kebab money to Uncle Al (Qaeda).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why else wouldn’t they sell beer?<br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;">Kiez</span> (keets): a superkuhl way to say 'neighborhood.' A bit like the way those who speak Ebonics say 'hood for short. But kiezes (kiezen?) have only the bullets of gentrification ripping through them--and the hip hop is in Deutsch (ouch). <br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;">Kneipe:</span> an old Berliner pub. Meaning it's mostly full of old Berliners. With mullets. And enough smoke to choke a donkey (see RAUCHER KNEIPE).<br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;">Kreuzberg</span> (xberg): the only hip neighborhood in West Berlin, characterized by punk rockers, Middle Eastern hordes, students and the uberhip. You will never find a flat in Kreuzberg because you are not cool enough. And by 'you' I probably really mean 'me.'<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2015/06/a-rolling-donut-gathers-no-moss.html" target="_blank">Lumberjackoff</a>: Not a Deutsch word, but most certainly a Deutschbag. A sub-group of Hipsterus Loserus also known as Lumbersexuals. They dress like lumberjacks with hipster glasses. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Plattenbau:</span> Soviet styled concrete housing blocks full of mleh.<br />
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/search/label/Prenzlauer%20Berg" target="_blank">Prenzlauer Berg</a>:</span> The Prenzl, P’berg, Parentslauer Berg, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A neighborhood in former East
Berlin characterized by breeders, gentrification, yuppies,
hipsters, and for five years, home to one grumpy old American writer who drinks
too much beer and eats too many donuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Until they gentrified my ass right out of there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
- <span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/search/label/Berliner%20raucher%20kneipe" target="_blank">Raucher Kneipe</a>: </span> 'smokers pub.' A real experience, like a visit to the inside of a coal mine or a factory chimney. They refuse to open the windows, even in summer. Berlin avoided the public smoking ban common in most other German cities by simply saying 'fuck off.' And putting a sign in the window saying 'Raucher.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Scheisse </span>(shit):<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>the single most common word out of the mouths of Berliners from cradle to
grave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even more commonly heard than
‘guten tag.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- <span style="color: orange;">Spaetkauf (<a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2012/01/best-spaeti-in-berlin.html" target="_blank">spaeti</a>):</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: orange;"> </span>
</span>‘late shop’ - open late convenience store specializing in the
basics:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>beer, booze and smokes, often
with outdoor bench seating filled with mullets.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-7803803996511289742014-07-08T13:34:00.000-07:002014-08-06T07:05:49.655-07:00The Milky Way<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve managed to survive pretty well in the Age of Political
Correctness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been threatened,
cajoled, derided and ostracized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
that was just for using the word ‘chick’ instead of ‘womyn.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jesus F. Christ, bitches:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>GET OVER YOURSELVES.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now we can get
back on track: the tenuous and tricky thang we call human relationships. We’re
all in them, donut and non donut munchers alike.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other day, my lovely wife called upstairs to ask for my
help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was playing with the Social Media
and I was playing with the Video Games.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hit pause.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">She:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some chick (Heh.
I taught her well) just wrote and told me how I shouldn’t use the word ‘tit’
and furthermore I am some sort of bimbo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She said she had the right to breast feed her baby any damn where she
pleased and how dare I use the word ‘tit’ instead of ‘breast’ and so NYEAH.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4X0YJf6022Y/U7xVBhoPBqI/AAAAAAAAAhY/bxG0EWgcCLk/s1600/breastfeeding-allaitement-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4X0YJf6022Y/U7xVBhoPBqI/AAAAAAAAAhY/bxG0EWgcCLk/s1600/breastfeeding-allaitement-logo.jpg" height="331" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Me:</span> Honey Bunches of Oats, may I formulate your reply?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Dear Earth Mama,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We understand that Berlin
breeding hutches like Parentslauer Berg, Wedding and Neukoelln are home to all
sorts of uppity cows who think they can roll their prams over people’s feet and
scream at them for saying ‘boo.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
also feel that you can haul your bloated breastages out and schluck your leechy
bambinos on right then and there in public.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And we’re supposed to forgive that shit; hell, enjoy it as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BTW: my wife is not a native speaker of English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare you call her names just because she
used the word ‘tit’ instead of ‘teat?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In your case, I’m sure she meant to use the word ‘udder.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFzSekk-dLY/U7xVMdT9ZZI/AAAAAAAAAhg/hB-t1SquiX4/s1600/udders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFzSekk-dLY/U7xVMdT9ZZI/AAAAAAAAAhg/hB-t1SquiX4/s1600/udders.jpg" height="337" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">She:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, that seems a
bit strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think she will be
offended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said I should just avert
my eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Me:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So she can offend
you and call you names, but…?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">She:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to
start a war of words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Me:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I DO.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: magenta;">BREEDERS:</span> you choose to have babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big fucking deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are nothing special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are an open-legged receptacle for the
baby batter of a monkey man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing
more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want to celebrate the joy of
creation; I get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you also want to
foist it on everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WE. DON’T.
CARE. Your baby is ugly, shriveled and
red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>JUST
LIKE ALL THE OTHER BABIES.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you are all hormonal and shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you would like to kill me right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take a deep breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Realize you are a hormonal cow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then get over it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: magenta;">CHOICES:</span>
I’ve seen cafes with names like Milch Bart (milk moustache/beard... EEWW) in P’berg full of
milk m<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">ä</span>dchens
just like you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone’s got the udders
out and all the babes are tapping that shit in broad daylight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I averted my eyes when I walked by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That wasn’t my turf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when you CHOOSE to bring your little milk
vampire into a RESTAURANT during DINNER hours:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How dare you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you white
trash?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were you born in a barn?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A trailer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What gives you the right to spoil my dinner?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>seeing a breast feeding mother in public turns my stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would really like to be more tolerant and
shove my coffee mug under a lactating teat and get the cream of the crop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I like my coffee like I like my President: strong and black.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Earth Mama:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: orange;"> </span> </span>Fuck you,
male chauvinist pig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t believe you
are intolerant of something as beautiful and natural as a loving mother sharing
the milk of her bosom with her darling angel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Me:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: orange;"> </span> </span>Yes, breast
feeding is a natural biological function.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will take back everything I said and apologize for any offense, IF:
you will allow me to urinate in a bucket under the dinner table while you
watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Biological function and all; fair
is fair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Earth Mama:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PIG!!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;">Me:</span> Oh yeah!</div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-22053194668817996182014-04-25T15:33:00.000-07:002014-04-26T01:31:45.684-07:00Fresh Hell: Finding a Flat in Berlin<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh yeah, this entire blog has been a thinly-veiled anti
gentrification rant:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Impending
Gentrification of Berlin, The Hipster Invasion, Landlords aka Fucklords, and
The Current and Very In-Your-Face Gentrification of Berlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This blog is a redneck swamp hat with a wide
brim shading very angry eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Donuts
dangle from strings around the brim.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s Fucklord time again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After yet another one year sublet, we found ourselves looking for another
flat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not because we paid the rent on
time every month for the entire year, not because we never had any neighbor
complaints, not because we have money in the bank and a spotless rental history—but
because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘it is a free market and we can
rent to whomever we choose’</i> sayeth the Fucklord.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh yes, our hauptmieter gave up her contract behind our
backs and the Fucklord saw the chance to kick us out as well, saying ‘you are
not our tenants.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hauptmieter told
us from her year abroad in France
that she was sorry that the Fucklord hadn’t chosen us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t anything personal, you see, they
‘probably just want to raise the rent and get a commission from the next
renter.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nothing personal? </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus fuck.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So off we went into the thick of things again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time we try to get another flat the
rents go up 50%, the lines outside the flat viewings get longer and the new
metric fuckton of additional paperwork fells another rain forest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UGAKvJnek9g/U1rhXbr89qI/AAAAAAAAAhA/akMKd9TjOiQ/s1600/capitalistpig.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UGAKvJnek9g/U1rhXbr89qI/AAAAAAAAAhA/akMKd9TjOiQ/s1600/capitalistpig.gif" height="235" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you are looking for a flat in Berlin,
watch out for the poisonous sentence ‘the viewing will be on such-and-such date
at such-and-such time.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This means you
will be standing outside the flat (most likely in the rain) waiting for a
beady-eyed bald man (most likely in the pub) with a group of 30-40 feckless
feckers just like yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you
choose to view a flat that is NOT in Prenzlauer Berg, Friedrichshain, Mitte, or
Kreuzberg, you will have to wait outside with slightly fewer feckless
feckers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe only 10-20.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were waiting outside the shabby, dreary-looking 1940s concrete
slab down the road from Mauerpark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
usual suspects gathered:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hipsters,
students, Italians, Spaniards and Spanish-Italian hipster students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beady-eyed bald German appeared late as
usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He led the group of 30 up the
stairs and held out his arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If he says ‘Heil Fucklord!’ I will strangle
him with his own belt and take his keys</i>, I thought to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead he had us all wait in the stairwell while he showed people in
one or two at a time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This thing must be a
tiny fucking shoebox!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only 2 at a time
can view it!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first couple came
out after only 2 minutes and the next pair was let in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first couple was grasping an application
form in their sweaty hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They dropped
to the ground in the stairs and started filling out the form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time it was our turn to get into the
flat, it was in fact a bit of a shoebox.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But there was no reason to keep us waiting; 7 or 8 could have easily fit
inside at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it is the Fucklord’s
market in Berlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Fucklord can arrive 30 minutes late and
make 30 people sit in the stairs filling out paperwork while mumbling <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moo-hoo-ha-ha-haaaaaaaaaa</i> under his
fetid breath.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I went to look at the living room I saw why there was a
flat tour limit:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a pregnant woman sat on
the couch watching television with a very sour look on her face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know,
honey:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>German tv is pretty scheisse.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I asked if we could submit the form online by email, and the
beady-eyed Deutschbag smiled and shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“In the
STAIRS!”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we wanted it badly
enough we would have to cop a squat, open up a vein and write it with our own
blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pens were not provided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided we were through with this dog and
pony show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We told beady baldy that we
would not be sitting in any fucking stairs to apply for any fucking shitbox for
any over-inflated price. On the way down the stairs the usual suspects scrawled
on their papers in the stairwell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What
do I put here?’ one hipster asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘That’s your boss’s info’ said the other hipster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t get around them; even though they
are skinny fucks in skinny jeans, side by side they are a minor roadblock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I tried to step over them, my boot hovered
for a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I stepped too far too
fast, my bum ankle would send me crashing down on the poor Italian couple below
the hipsters.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UPo-h-2FYAA/U1rhtSP8rKI/AAAAAAAAAhI/KvqC5KpYPFs/s1600/backdoorhipster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UPo-h-2FYAA/U1rhtSP8rKI/AAAAAAAAAhI/KvqC5KpYPFs/s1600/backdoorhipster.jpg" height="320" width="261" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My boot hung in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
tempted to put my size 13 right in the middle of the hipster’s application—or on
his empty fucking skull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the
hipsters looked up and saw the impending danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They shimmied to the side just slightly and
let me by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then they returned to their feverish
scrawls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would get this flat. Oh yeah.</div>
Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-83595639912403247482014-04-17T11:02:00.000-07:002014-05-17T15:31:36.517-07:00American Style Pizza in Berlin<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;">Gentrification got you down?</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;">Greedy, weasely landlords throwing you out in favor of the uberhip?</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;">Grab a fat slice of American style pizza!</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: magenta;"> </span></h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rQHbfg13If0/U1AWJtAhUvI/AAAAAAAAAgo/fVca0o91_sw/s1600/pizza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rQHbfg13If0/U1AWJtAhUvI/AAAAAAAAAgo/fVca0o91_sw/s1600/pizza.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We need the comfort food. The taste of home that you can't quite get anywhere else: pizza be thy name. Everyone in Europe seems to hold the thin, bland, soulless Italian pizza in the highest regard and use it as the litmus test. Then they go and fuck it up even further by putting corn, ruccola, potatoes and all manner of godawful shit on it.<br />
<br />
Sure, thin, crispy pizza with a flavorless tomato stain and 10 strands of cheese might appeal to those with peasant taste and the appetite of a little girl, but when we Yankee Doodles haul out the pizza, we try to kill ourselves by exploding our guts. We order XL pizzas and a 12 pack of beer, pass out on the couch and wake up and eat the cold remainders for breakfast. And drink the remaining beer as well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vj6J7GOygo0/U1AWTPoI4sI/AAAAAAAAAgw/ugAh6SLy-VI/s1600/pizzaslice.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vj6J7GOygo0/U1AWTPoI4sI/AAAAAAAAAgw/ugAh6SLy-VI/s1600/pizzaslice.png" height="320" width="207" /></a></div>
American pizza is not just thick crust; it's like a fluffy pastry which is crisp on the bottom and chewy in the middle. It has so much cheese and toppings on it that you can't see the sauce or crust under it. The sauce is rich, thick and flavorful. And we make the pizzas in at least 4 sizes. Boo-yow. <br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: orange;">I FOUND THE PLACE:</span></b> Manhattan Pizza on Monumentenstr. 26 (xberg near Viktoriapark). The Chicago Pizza is The One. It is so good I think about it all the time. It is perfection served out of a tiny hole in the wall on a back street. And it comes in 5 sizes. The small pizza is thick enough to choke a donkey.<br />
<br />
Don't be fooled by the names: it won't be like a New York style pizza or a Chicago pie. But it's about everything else they throw on that makes it right: the aforementioned perfect crust, the rich, zesty sauce and the piles of cheese and toppings that will make your Yankee flagpole rise. I'm drooling as I write this. I won't mention my flagpole.<br />
<br />
The one called Chicago has salami, onions, ham, bacon and extra cheese. Go there in the middle of the day and you will have the whole place to yourself. They are mainly a delivery business, but damn is it a good pizza. I didn't believe it, so I went back 4 times. Then I ordered the second largest one they had (45cm), ate half of it there, then took the rest all the way home on the bus, pissing off everyone with the smell.<br />
<br />
Then, gentle reader, I ate it cold that night for a late night snack. Then I reheated the last piece for breakfast. Yes, I am a fat bastard. But a happy one.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.manhattanpizzaberlinmonumentenstrasse.de/" target="_blank">Manhattan Pizza</a>: Monumentenstr. 26, Berlin-Kreuzberg. Closed Mondays.<br />
<br />Dunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5256707145494645488.post-85654086013054671532014-03-02T14:42:00.000-08:002014-03-02T15:00:50.264-08:00Sucking the Jelly Out of the BerlinerA provocative title indeed, one which suggests either:<br />
<br />
A) I've been too busy to post because I have embarked on a lucrative career in the Poor But Sexy city of Berlin, one which precludes any rants on counter culture and/or general annoyances on the lack of proper salsa for my boo ree toes.<br />
<br />
B) I've finally given up my creative dream and have begun a career of sucking. Something or someone.<br />
<br />
To answer those 23 of you who have followed my scratchings thusfar:<br />
<br />
NONE OF THE ABOVE.<br />
<br />
Still here, still doing The Thang, but less of it. I did in fact suck down <i>drei pfannkuchen mit kirsch</i> last week; it was the first time in months. Apparently I'm too fat. My wife keeps telling me that.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah! I also got married on Thanksgiving Thursday, November 28, 2013 in Gibraltar. I didn't pick that date. They did. We took it. We're thankful.<br />
<br />
Coming to the end of another apartment lease, I have to wonder:<br />
<br />
A) Has our time come? Have the hipsters and yuppies/yummies finally got a stranglehold on all the available rentals left in Berlin?<br />
<br />
B) When you ask for a reason why you can't renew your lease, your landlord replies "It is a free market. We can rent to whoever we choose," do you think there's some sort of underground conspiracy going on?<br />
<br />
C) Should I get medieval on some asses? <br />
<br />
D) Where's the next city/country/haven?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wko1cYeqVGo/UxOykeZ7M9I/AAAAAAAAAfc/sxcQ8YBkvcc/s1600/Depressed+Bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wko1cYeqVGo/UxOykeZ7M9I/AAAAAAAAAfc/sxcQ8YBkvcc/s1600/Depressed+Bear.jpg" height="200" width="180" /></a></div>
I don't care that they blame the hipsters and creatives for ruining Berlin. Hell, I do the same damn thing on every other blog post. I do a sticky-sweet donut post, then I do a sour, bitter rant to balance it out. Maybe that too is a conspiracy; one which plans to lead my very few readers on a bittersweet up and down rollercoaster ride which ends in them clicking on the bipolar pill advert on the right.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, <a href="http://dunkinberliner.blogspot.de/2012/07/normal-0-microsoftinternetexplorer4.html" target="_blank">they kicked me off the ad program for foul language</a>. Well, at least I kept my fucking dignity.<br />
<br />
I can't say much more except to say that someone has said it all before--and better--than my humble self.<br />
<br />
One such example of How Things Got Fucked in Berlin:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://thebaffler.com/past/sacking_berlin">http://thebaffler.com/past/sacking_berlin</a><br />
<br />
Read it and weep. Or come here and buy a fucking condo. Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.<br />
<br />
dbDunkin' Berlinerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09541403455344448362noreply@blogger.com5