Get Behind Me Darwin

There are stupid people everywhere. This is a fact. It is often not very obvious who these people are. In the case of the American President, it has been made abundantly clear. However, today’s post is not about him and how stupid he is. It’s about some German Dummkopf I met yesterday.

As I was at the gas station filling up* I noticed two guys standing on the sidewalk in front of the gas station, about 10 yards away. One was a German soldier in uniform, the other was a short prollig meat head with CZs in his ears. Both guys were smoking cigarettes. Hmm. I guess it was far enough away to not be a huge explosion risk, but it still made me nervous. Maybe a hot ash could get flicked off and carried by the wind towards the pump. He might put his butt out on the ground and it might roll over towards the pump. Unlikely, but theoretically possible.

As I am taking out the nozzle and putting it back in the pump, the meat head walks over to his car which is about 3 yards away from me. WITH HIS FUCKING CIGARETTE IN HIS HAND!

I point at his cigarette and say in my friendliest German, “Uh, hey dude. Not too clever.”

His response: “What this? Pfft, whatever. It’s far enough.”

I remarked while moving quickly away from the pump: “Your standing next to a gas pump with a lit cigarette! You fucking idiot!”**

He muttered something in Proll-Deutsch and got in his car and left.

I’m all for people Darwining themselves out of the gene pool, but I’d prefer they not take me out with them.

*Americans, stop bitching about gas prices. €1.40/liter ≈ $7.30/gal
**“Du fucking Idiot.” If I really mean it when I swear, I don’t say it in German.

And Some Bonus Links

US Publisher Turns away from Cartoon Nudity

The drawings are harmless really. But a US publisher has decided not to publish a series by children’s book author Rotraut Susanne Berner. The problem? Cartoon breasts and a half-millimeter-long willy.

That little fella has more balls than Boyds Mills Press.

German Labels Search for the Real Sound of America

For three decades, the German labels Bear Family Records and Trikont have rescued classic American music from obscurity. From hillbilly to deep-fried Southern funk, anything goes — as long as it’s got soul.

One of such fortuitous discovery was a lost version of Johnny Cash singing “Ring of Fire” in Spanish, which Weize found after listening to an unmarked master tape in a California studio.

That probably sounds better than it does in German…
“Und es brennt, brennt, brennt. Der Ring aus Feuer, Der Ring aus Feuer.”

Couch Follies

Finally got my damn couch yesterday. It was such a fucking ordeal. They sent one about a month ago (after already waiting 2.5 months for deleivery) and it was the wrong layout and the wrong color. When we complained they said that it wasn’t even available in the color we wanted although we were assured 4 fucking times that it was when we ordered it. In their defense, they did try to make it all better by giving us a chandelier in which M had expressed interest.

So after waiting 3 weeks it finally came. It is the correct layout and it is the correct color, albeit second choice. After unwrapping it and putting the feet on, I tried to hook the 2 pieces together using these hook things on the side. They didn’t line up properly at first so I had to drill new holes in the couch and reattach them in the correct position.


Anyway here it is with a cute German girl asleep on it. It may be hard to get her out of my room with this gemütliche couch here.

Stay tuned. The next post may be about Rossameisenen. It’s exciting!

Tag Team, Back Again

I went back to the US for family reasons already alluded to in the 2 previous posts.

On my trip I saw Yness and baby Lucas. Must fight urge to procreate. There, all better.

I dropped in on palndrom23 for a surprise visit. I was only in CT for a few days and didn’t really plan on going to the city. Marina stopped by to discuss her trip to Germany. We decided last-minute to drive down to Brooklyn to see a friend of hers. We ended up taking a wrong turn and crossing over the Williamsburg Bridge. Suddenly I noticed we were right by palndrom23’s place. So we stopped in. Actually I rang his doorbell 3 times and then called his phone after stopping in at an internet café to find his number. He was pissed because I woke him up but that anger soon subsided because he thinks I’m a swell guy and doesn’t get to see me that often. We had a few beers across the street and had some laughs. I think he was pretty surprised to see me. I’m full of surprises like that.

This guy sure got a surprise. Hey-yo!

Every time I go back to the US, it gets stranger. Or is it me?

I gotta go to bed. I just spent hours updating and reconfiguring Pro Tools and Live. I’m beat.

A Long Hard Day

Today was emotionally draining. Here’s a little something I found…

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says;
“There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad
“Here she comes!”
And that is dying.

Henry Van Dyke

Banana Splits

When I was younger I had somehow gained the impression that a banana split was the ultimate ice cream experience. I am not sure how I came to that conclusion. Maybe it was from a cartoon or a friend. Maybe it was just the name, Banana. Split. That still sounds so…ultimate, so cool. I really had no idea what it was other than it was the best and that someday I was going to have one.

At some point in my childhood I remember that my Aunt Sue and her first husband Terry had their own ice cream shop. I don’t remember this being as huge of a deal as it should have been though. I just remember one day we went to an ice cream shop and my Aunt Sue was allowed to go behind the counter. First of all, that was cool enough. Ice cream shops were owned by some secret cabal of ice cream makers that drove the trucks and lived in the North Pole or something. To find out that somebody I knew, a relative, Aunt Sue, had an ice cream shop…whoa. It blew my mind.

As we got settled in the booth, Aunt Sue asked, “So kiddo, what do you want?” The answer was obvious. One banana split, coming up. I think my mom was unsure if I would be able to handle the sheer awesome that is a banana split. I remember her trying to convince me to get something smaller. Nope, sorry, thanks. Nothing was going to stop me.

When it came to our table, I remember being surprised that, OMG! there is actually a banana in the plastic boat/bowl thingy and it is actually split down the the middle. It was cover with ice cream, and not just one but 3 DIFFERENT FLAVORS!!, and whipped cream and nuts and Chocolate!! I remember thinking how amazing it was to serve ice cream like this. Why had they kept this from me for so long!?

I don’t remember much more after that. I guess we drove home. Maybe that was enough excitement for me for one day. I don’t remember what she said as we were leaving, but I bet it was, “So long, kiddo!” She always said that to me when we parted. I have lots of memories of my Aunt Sue, but whenever I imagine her saying good-bye, she almost always said it the same way. Even 2 years ago when I visited her in St. Louis.

That was the last time I saw her.

Aunt Sue died this morning after a long and painful battle with cancer. I spoke with her briefly on the phone in April. She had just gotten the all clear from her doctor, that the cancer was in remission and she could go on with her life and her family. Not even a month ago, the cancer had suddenly returned with such a merciless ferocity and it had spread all over the place. I wish I had talked to her a little longer, but it was just a quick hello, howya doing type of thing. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

Whenever I think of banana splits, I always think of Aunt Sue and her ice cream shop.

So long, kiddo.

I’m going to miss you , Aunt Sue.