The following account was sent to us by a contributor who wishes to remain anonymous (all names in the accounts have been changed to preserve anonymity).
Today's topic is Germany. Germany is a country where the youth either denounce their organic cultural heritage, or become so obnoxiously proud of a 12-year period exulting it (the "Nazi era"), they become the caricature of how that twelve-year period is disparagingly presented.
Everything to an extreme.
I expected Germany to be "extreme" in other respects - for example, "extreme"-ly orderly; after all, next to automobiles and engineering, it's part of the country's reputation. Yes, order is indeed still a thing there; for example, the streets are clean and, yes, while everyone complains that the trains are never on time, this is because punctuality is still valued and, to some degree, expected. But, as we will see, order - in a social and moral sense - has completely disappeared.
Perhaps that is simply what happens when you take away the social mores of a highly religious society (Germany used to be over 90% Christian), bomb everything to pieces, tell everyone they are evil and simply import Hollywood and urban American ghetto culture values. But some degree of accountability is also required on Germany's behalf.
Today's topic is Germany. Germany is a country where the youth either denounce their organic cultural heritage, or become so obnoxiously proud of a 12-year period exulting it (the "Nazi era"), they become the caricature of how that twelve-year period is disparagingly presented.
Everything to an extreme.
Perhaps that is simply what happens when you take away the social mores of a highly religious society (Germany used to be over 90% Christian), bomb everything to pieces, tell everyone they are evil and simply import Hollywood and urban American ghetto culture values. But some degree of accountability is also required on Germany's behalf.
Incidentally, that ties in with much of what this report will cover: accountability. See, in Germany, you might smash a bottle during a heated verbal dispute with your boyfriend, approach him with said bottle and leave the guy option of subduing you with a sleeper hold. Then, when you awake, you might call the German police and claim that your boyfriend had assaulted you. At least that's the story of two people who we will call Erika and Steve. Erika, a German girl, would later shrug and rationalize her behavior by saying she was "mad".
Now let me point out: Germany deserves some credit here. Because, in the US, police would knock down the door to rescue the damsel reporting her distress; if Erika would continue to claim she had been assaulted - either to "get back" at Steve or play the innocent victim - Steve would be in jail. What instead happened is the police allowed Steve to explain himself, show the broken bottle and laugh about it together. If I remember the story correctly, they may have also had a beer together. Already, you can get a sense of where the problem in German society is - and isn't.
Once, I was at a posh resort party. I was leaning in to talk in the ear of my female friend, who we will call Mara. I specifically wanted to say that a mutual friend was offering us a ride. But before that could happen, a fist hit me in the jaw out of nowhere - yes, somebody had tried to punch me in the face, telling me, in German, "she did not want to speak to you" - and the person who that fist had belonged to was a girl. Apparently, it had not crossed the girl's mind that my female friend and I knew each other; after making her own judgment of me, this random girl who I had never seen in my life had decided to decide for Mara who could take up their time. Granted, she knew Mara and perhaps was trying to protect her. But even if I had been some random guy flirting, which had obviously been her conclusion - something common at a setting like this - was her behavior really acceptable behavior?
Mara was also shocked.
"wtf? uh, bist du ok?!", she inquired in German.
Mara looked at me, turned around to her friend and then back to me. She leaned forward to be in range of my ear.
"It's really loud in here. I will talk to my friend. Your German is bad"
Yes, Germans are very direct, didn't you know? Just then, a friend of mine from Australia came up to me and put a beer in my hand. It had been his turn to get drinks and he had returned just in time to see the end of the spectacle.
Mara was also shocked.
"wtf? uh, bist du ok?!", she inquired in German.
Mara looked at me, turned around to her friend and then back to me. She leaned forward to be in range of my ear.
"It's really loud in here. I will talk to my friend. Your German is bad"
Yes, Germans are very direct, didn't you know? Just then, a friend of mine from Australia came up to me and put a beer in my hand. It had been his turn to get drinks and he had returned just in time to see the end of the spectacle.
"What a bitch! What was that, mate?" he yelled.
I started to say something but realized the music was too loud for me to be heard. So, I moved closer, within inches of his ear, and told him it was a misunderstanding - surely, he could understand what I had said. But he grabbed my shoulder and motioned with an upwards nod of the head for us to go to the side of the room. Perhaps he wanted more details. Everyone loves a good story, I guess.
Incidentally, I did in fact forget about Mara - at least, long enough to explain the situation in a bit more detail to my Australian friend and look up to see a crowd had taken over where I had been standing. Ughh. I decided to try to call Mara, but my battery was almost dead. It did not matter. Her already was, too. Incidentally, Mara ended up totaling her vehicle that night in a state of complete intoxication.
One time I was on a date with a German girl who we will call Antje. We were walking along and her phone started to ring. She looked at it and told me it was another guy. She laughed about how many times a day she had not picked up a call from this number. Yes, I get it: girls sometimes give out their number only to find themselves constantly pestered by someone they do not want attention from, which is why fake numbers or ten thousands excuses are sometimes offered up instead. But, with her words and tone, I got the impression that she was using the man, his call and his likely frustration - which she laughed at - as a prop to elevate herself. That, of course, could have all been in my head. And, even if it was not, the conclusion is not necessarily negative. After all, was she not on a date with me, giving me her time and presenting what could, potentially, be a subtle suggestion that I was worth her time or she was worth mine? Well, don't get too cocky: how she relates to others can be an indication as to how she will one day relate to you when something new, interesting and shiny comes along. Which brings me to "Munich-Berlin" girl..
Early in my travels, I met "Munich-Berlin" girl. She told me that she regularly commuted from Munich to Berlin and would be in Berlin for the work week. She gave me her phone number and exclaimed nonchalantly that it was a number her boyfriend did not know of. Now, for someone to have such a number, probably for such a purpose, I suspected the girl was trouble. Plus, I was interested in an actual relationship. So, I chose not to pursue her. Little did I know that this type of girl, and her behavior, was the norm and anything else highly unlikely. I would soon find out.
Once, I went out for the evening with a female colleague of mine we'll call Sara. We had a few drinks and Sara told me that she was having threesomes with other guys behind her boyfriend's back. She even showed me the website she had used. Total LOL, because I had just met her boyfriend a week earlier when the three of us had a nice ordinary dinner together. As the night continued, she got more drunk and just started telling random people her vagina was really stretched and large. Bizarre. I never went out with Sara again and eventually she left the company.
Through a different colleague of mine, I found out about a German woman who had only been married for three months before having an affair. Three months?
The next story involves two different German woman and two different stories that end the same way: a woman in a "relationship" slutting around nevertheless, getting pregnant and deciding to pretend that their boyfriend is the father. In the one case, the child is now five and the boyfriend is still clueless. Wow.
Of course, if you are a German girl, you might consider a different approach. I say this because another girl I know of was cheating on her boyfriend for over a year with the same guy before she discovered she was pregnant with his child and spilled the beans to her family. Somewhat admirable by comparison to our last exhibit, I guess - at least until you get to the part where she cannot understand why everybody in her family is so disappointed in her. In her own words, "it wasn't like she had been cheating with just some random stranger". Wow.
Avoid the temptation of a "random stranger" actually seems to be a common problem. Once, some girl and her boyfriend were sitting at a table and a friend who we will call Robert was sitting across from them. The girl decided, right then and there, that she wanted Robert. So she started to rub his crotch with her foot, all in mid-conversation, as he sat there across from her. It's worth noting that, in the US, had the roles been reversed, Robert would be running the risk of having his relationship destroyed, going to jail for assault and having to register as a sexual predator for the rest of his life. But the girl in this situation had probably given her outfit for the day more consideration than such likely consequences. What is so interesting about this story is that, although Robert was certainly a decent looking fellow who was no stranger to getting women's attention, his ex-girlfriend just could not resist cheating on him - repeatedly. Eventually, she got so bold as to pursue a sex romp literally hours after we had - yes, I was there - left Robert's family home, where we had been laughing and grilling with his mom and little brother. Again, wow.
So was the girl she caught? Yes, eventually. Because one sex romp took place behind a bar as Mara - yes, remember her? It's the girl from before, the friend of mine at the posh resort - stood there watching in shock. In a rare W for the women I have met in Germany, Mara eventually broke down. Apparently, she could not take seeing Robert and his girlfriend together and knowing they had planned to get married and knowing Robert was blissfully unaware of his disloyal partner's sex romps. So, Mara asked me if Robert had ever been disloyal and, when I told her he hadn't, she spilled the beans to Robert. The burden of guilt about what she had known had been too much.
The next story involves two different German woman and two different stories that end the same way: a woman in a "relationship" slutting around nevertheless, getting pregnant and deciding to pretend that their boyfriend is the father. In the one case, the child is now five and the boyfriend is still clueless. Wow.
Of course, if you are a German girl, you might consider a different approach. I say this because another girl I know of was cheating on her boyfriend for over a year with the same guy before she discovered she was pregnant with his child and spilled the beans to her family. Somewhat admirable by comparison to our last exhibit, I guess - at least until you get to the part where she cannot understand why everybody in her family is so disappointed in her. In her own words, "it wasn't like she had been cheating with just some random stranger". Wow.
Avoid the temptation of a "random stranger" actually seems to be a common problem. Once, some girl and her boyfriend were sitting at a table and a friend who we will call Robert was sitting across from them. The girl decided, right then and there, that she wanted Robert. So she started to rub his crotch with her foot, all in mid-conversation, as he sat there across from her. It's worth noting that, in the US, had the roles been reversed, Robert would be running the risk of having his relationship destroyed, going to jail for assault and having to register as a sexual predator for the rest of his life. But the girl in this situation had probably given her outfit for the day more consideration than such likely consequences. What is so interesting about this story is that, although Robert was certainly a decent looking fellow who was no stranger to getting women's attention, his ex-girlfriend just could not resist cheating on him - repeatedly. Eventually, she got so bold as to pursue a sex romp literally hours after we had - yes, I was there - left Robert's family home, where we had been laughing and grilling with his mom and little brother. Again, wow.
So was the girl she caught? Yes, eventually. Because one sex romp took place behind a bar as Mara - yes, remember her? It's the girl from before, the friend of mine at the posh resort - stood there watching in shock. In a rare W for the women I have met in Germany, Mara eventually broke down. Apparently, she could not take seeing Robert and his girlfriend together and knowing they had planned to get married and knowing Robert was blissfully unaware of his disloyal partner's sex romps. So, Mara asked me if Robert had ever been disloyal and, when I told her he hadn't, she spilled the beans to Robert. The burden of guilt about what she had known had been too much.
Eventually, Robert questioned his girlfriend, who denied everything. It would actually take somebody coming forward, telling Robert they had actually been with his girl, for the saga to end. In the aftermath, Robert moved out of the house he and his girlfriend had been sharing. He moved in with some girl who was a single mom (shocking, right?), who he ended up in a brief relationship with. When that ended, Robert looked to move out, but ended up dating some girl who never went home with him. As I was told, she appeared to be chaste, and had told him she only wanted "something serious". As it turned out, though, this was her way of keeping Robert in the picture while she slept around with other people. Poor Robert had no idea.
One day, Robert heard the 'ping' of a text message delivery and looked over to see the girl's phone sitting on a table. It was a sext from some random dude. Concerned, he took note of the number and scrolled through the call history. He noticed that, just minutes after each time the girl had left their date to go home, the same number appeared. So, Robert decided to have some fun with the situation. The next day, when he saw the girl, he put his own phone on voice recorder and asked her if she was seeing anybody else, which she denied. So Robert nodded, walked away and, in private, called the number of the guy who had been sexting and ask if he knew, or cared, that the girl in question was seeing somebody else. The guy who had been sexting was shocked and angry. He didn't believe Robert, so Robert played the recording for him. What happened next was probably the best thing that could happen and, incidentally, incredibly German: they decided to talk out the situation over a beer. Ultimately, Robert decided to send a text to the girl, to tell her to meet at some place he was not at. After a few impatient texts from the girl, the other guy thought to try to make plans, too. And so it continued.
What other experiences might give you a peak behind the curtain? Well, let me introduce you to Vika. This is a fitting name because, although born in Germany, Vika is of Russian background. In any case, in a case of deja vu, we had been on a dinner date and, now back at my place, I kept hearing the unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating in her bag. Finally, with a groan of exasperation, Vika picked up her phone and answered.
"Hi Schatz..." (hi, darling), she said in a fake caring voice.
It was her boyfriend. Without the slightest bit of shame or insincerity in her voice, I heard Alexandra say she was on the way home. She was not.
 |
In addition to the sociopathic liars keeping their behavior from everyone, the number of women who are willing to at least admit to being disloyal is extraordinarily high in Germany. |
Next up in this clown show is "the girl who ran off to sleep with her ex although she was in a new relationship." She doesn't really need a name; all you need to know about her is it appears that she just "could not move on", yet she had already lined up somebody else she was seeing regularly who she was "dating". I am half convinced that these women would shrivel up and die if a day went by that they did not have the option of having somebody - or something - to have sex with. How ironic that Western culture attacks men for being pigs who only think about sex yet, for many men, the opportunity to even be so slutty as that is never even on the table.
Of course, from my experience, women in Germany tend to hone in on you if they realize you are in a relationship. That does not mean that they rip off their clothes to sleep with you, however. What it means is - well, let's have a look. Our next story takes us to a club where I went to get a drink for my girlfriend at the time, a girl we will call Paulina. Two girls were in the way and I asked if they were ordering something. The one said "hey" to me and called me cute and reached in to drunkenly kiss me. I laughed, but Paulina looked over in horror. I excused myself and went over to talk to Paulina. They laughed too - only this time, it was more like a cackle. Then, in one of the more bizarre moments of my life, I looked back at the girls and, I swear I saw one of the most mischievous grins I have ever seen in my life. Is it really that much fun to be the spoiler? Do they really feed off of this energy?
Paulina decided to pout the rest of the night - and get some "revenge" a bit later, at a festival, some weeks later. To do that, of course, she needed a prop. And, because she had decided to do what she had decided to do at that very moment, she could not be choosey. So, she started a conversation with a toothless, nearly 70 year-old man next to us and, at the moment I turned away, started kissing him passionately. I have pretty good peripheral vision, so I would not be lying to you if I told you I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Yet the thought was so bizarre, I almost had to second-guess myself. There was, of course, another reason for that. See, Germany has this thing called Glühwein season, which is basically an excuse to get together, drink fruity, sweet-tasting liquor and herbs at a hot temperature outside in the cold, and this may have been such an occasion. Basically, this is the long way of saying I may have had one too many. So I thought, for a minute, maybe I had imagined the whole thing. But it did not stop. I turned around and shoved the man away. For this, I got an earful from Paulina. Figuring that maybe I had indeed imagined what had happened, I stopped and backed down.
This apparently was the "right" mix of reactions for this German girl, because, no sooner had we left and arrived home, Paulina was all over me and I was wrapped in her moaning mess of sweaty, wild, orgasming craziness. Finally, she left for the bathroom. "I will follow you anywhere," she blurted out as she returned and collapsed. "Even Russia!" Huh? What? Why did you say Russia? Weird.
Ok, so maybe she could see into the future. Or maybe she was crazy. But up until that moment, nothing had occurred to give me that impression. She was an adult with a steady job who had graduated from a German "high school" and was attending a German college. She had a license, drove a car and seemed functional. She had friends and goals. She listed to the typical music and watched the typical shows that a girl her age in German would.
I decided to just pretend nothing had happened that crazy night. But, after some more weird drama over Christmas, suddenly it was New Years, which meant a new party and I felt obligated to go.
Paulina's next-door neighbor and best friend growing up, now a fat quiet navy worker, had invited us, so there we were. I decided to avoid alcohol, because I did not want anything to repeat and I did not feel like questioning my eyes and own sanity again. Paulina had different ideas. At one point, I motioned to go watch the fireworks but she refused. Later, her eyes lit up and something inside me told me something was about to unfold.
I looked at her with a puzzled expression and saw her wink. I looked over to see an Italian-looking guy across the room in a sleeveless white shirt. Paulina started to walk over to him and I looked at her and said don't do this. She pushed me away, moved towards the guy and started dancing with him. Obviously, because it was garbage hip hop music from America, the kind Germans tend to love, it only made sense that the next thing she would start to do was grind on the guy, as this was a good chance to either humiliate me or exercise her independence, or both. In any case, I pulled the Italian guy aside and indicated that I did not really want to start anything, which was and is true: if I can achieve my goals without fighting, I typically do. But what the Italian guy said in response, which was neither escalatory nor backing down, took me completely by surprise. He said he was not forcing the girl to do anything. I stopped, took a step back and realized he was right. All the provocation - it was hers.
At that moment, I made a decision: I saw no reason to start a fight, get kicked out and end the night like that because of this situation she was creating. Maybe she would be angry with me if I created a scene, or maybe she wanted me to fight for her. I could not decide, but I also could not decide if I cared. Who was this person I was fighting for? Was she worth this? Were any of these girls? I was starting to question that myself and thought about what I was going to do next.
I really did not want to be a wallflower, nor was I in the mood to mingle with random couples and find new friends. But what I was I going to do, take a cab, go home and try to fall asleep? Maybe I could have gone into the city - for example, to watch fireworks. But alone? Maybe I could have found company if I wanted, but...what about my coat? That's when I remembered my coat tag for the Garderobe (coat check area) and that Paula, her childhood friend and I had checked our items in bulk. Let that be a lesson: don't ever let anyone check anything for you.
So, on this cold January evening, I realized I could not leave unless I wanted to freeze in the cold or perhaps even risk never seeing a coat I liked again. I remember wishing that I was with my friends and I felt trapped and miserable. What could I do? I decided that I would just see where the night took me if I did not make any of those decisions and just went on autopilot. So, I decided to start drinking. Heavily.
At some point, I ran into Paulina again and she looked at me bashfully. I had not counted on that at all. "What the f* do you want?", I thundered out.
Somehow, I ended up sprawled out on a bed. I looked to the side, my head spinning. At that exact moment, I heard the rub of clothing and people breathing with restraint in the shadows, as if they did not want to be heard. There in front of me, from the other room, was the silhouette of Paulina on her knees, around the waist of the fat navy guy, her childhood friend. She was blowing him in near silence. It continued and I cursed at her. She said something to me in my incapacitated state and continued. I was starting to think she was exactly like my friend Robert's former girlfriend. Worse, it was presumably happening right in front of me and the precedent had been set that, if I ever thought I had seen something, the response could be that what I had seen was not real. Denial seemed to be the norm in every case of infidelity I had learned of so far, so why should I have expected anything else? The worse part was that, in my case, I was unable to trust my own eyes and was at battle with my own sanity. I remember calling Paulina a slut and leaving something in the morning to see if I could cancel the snowboarding vacation I had gifted her. To my astonishment, even though the Frist (deadline) to cancel had passed, the person on the other line was extremely sympathetic when I explained what had just happened and gave me a full refund along with words of encouragement.
But wait: could somebody else not have used the same excuse if they just wanted to cancel some random vacation? What did it mean if there was an unspoken understanding that people just did not do that? Was Germany such a high-trust society where people would not think to abuse the system - and perhaps even knew a story to be believable because of an unspoken understanding that its women are simply unfaithful and unthinking?
Some time later, I saw on Facebook that Paulina had become a supporter of an organization called Slutwalk, which basically stands for women doing whatever they want without the stigma of being called sluts. How unfair that women feel shamed by a word that appropriately matches their behavior. But we are in the West, and protesting against how somebody feels about a word that matches their behavior is something we are supposed to consider legitimate, stunning and brave. Should these women ever succeed in destigmatizing the word slut, it is interesting to consider what they have essentially accomplished: removing a barrier in their minds because of a word that, it seems, keeps their spontaneous and impulsive behavior in check. In this context, and with plenty of other examples behind us, we can begin to understand what is probably their larger objective, which is to be able to do whatever they want to everyone and anyone, however they like, at any moment without judgment and, probably, without consequences.
Eventually, instead of the Italian or the 70 year-old guy being the prop for some girl acting upon the world, I found myself in the same situation. The characters we called Steve and Erika had just started seeing each other again and wanted me to join them in a night on the town. I noticed Steve was kind of nervous, which was unusual. But things were pretty normal until he left to go to the bathroom. Erika and I started talking. Then, suddenly, before I knew what was going on, Erika started kissing me madly and moved away just as Steve reemerged to see it. Perhaps this goes back to women enjoying being the focus of the room, or instinctually creating a scenario in which two men would now "fight to the death" for her. But none of this seems to apply, because Erika stormed off, leaving us to fight, never to see the outcome. Make it was some sort of impulse and joy, now malicious, just to tear apart two friends.
As Steve got in my face and pushed me a million times across the room, I tried to get him to understand I was just a prop in some stupid female game - perhaps even a German one, because I had not seen this anywhere else, and it kept happening here. Interestingly, that is when some other girl appeared out of nowhere, got between us and actually put herself in harm's way to stop us. Neither of us knew her. If anything, it was the motherly instinct and, incidentally, the first time I had seen any such thing from a German woman. It would be years until I would see anything like that again. For the most part, all I saw in Germany was female sluttery.
Some time later, I saw on Facebook that Paulina had become a supporter of an organization called Slutwalk, which basically stands for women doing whatever they want without the stigma of being called sluts. How unfair that women feel shamed by a word that appropriately matches their behavior. But we are in the West, and protesting against how somebody feels about a word that matches their behavior is something we are supposed to consider legitimate, stunning and brave. Should these women ever succeed in destigmatizing the word slut, it is interesting to consider what they have essentially accomplished: removing a barrier in their minds because of a word that, it seems, keeps their spontaneous and impulsive behavior in check. In this context, and with plenty of other examples behind us, we can begin to understand what is probably their larger objective, which is to be able to do whatever they want to everyone and anyone, however they like, at any moment without judgment and, probably, without consequences.
Eventually, instead of the Italian or the 70 year-old guy being the prop for some girl acting upon the world, I found myself in the same situation. The characters we called Steve and Erika had just started seeing each other again and wanted me to join them in a night on the town. I noticed Steve was kind of nervous, which was unusual. But things were pretty normal until he left to go to the bathroom. Erika and I started talking. Then, suddenly, before I knew what was going on, Erika started kissing me madly and moved away just as Steve reemerged to see it. Perhaps this goes back to women enjoying being the focus of the room, or instinctually creating a scenario in which two men would now "fight to the death" for her. But none of this seems to apply, because Erika stormed off, leaving us to fight, never to see the outcome. Make it was some sort of impulse and joy, now malicious, just to tear apart two friends.
As Steve got in my face and pushed me a million times across the room, I tried to get him to understand I was just a prop in some stupid female game - perhaps even a German one, because I had not seen this anywhere else, and it kept happening here. Interestingly, that is when some other girl appeared out of nowhere, got between us and actually put herself in harm's way to stop us. Neither of us knew her. If anything, it was the motherly instinct and, incidentally, the first time I had seen any such thing from a German woman. It would be years until I would see anything like that again. For the most part, all I saw in Germany was female sluttery.
Do you remember your first time? Was it with somebody special? Maybe alone with that special someone under low lights, at a vacation house near the lake or while cuddling on the couch after school? Well, apparently Germans lose their virginity to some sandy stranger at the beach, in some strange foreign country at 13 years of age. That had been my other German girlfriend's story. And that seems to be somewhat normal; for the most part, sex in Germany carries as much emotional investment as buying a sweater. Or less.
A German girl may inform you, as I was once informed, that they are "out of that stage of random sex" - yes, a "stage of random sex", described like a progressive stage following speech and motor skill development. But, even more than that, German girls have a tendency to proudly proclaim that they are atheists. Well, duh. Of course they are; real religions have rules and people who follow them. These women, on the other hand, have no control over basic functions and could never follow the discipline required by religion.
A German girl may inform you, as I was once informed, that they are "out of that stage of random sex" - yes, a "stage of random sex", described like a progressive stage following speech and motor skill development. But, even more than that, German girls have a tendency to proudly proclaim that they are atheists. Well, duh. Of course they are; real religions have rules and people who follow them. These women, on the other hand, have no control over basic functions and could never follow the discipline required by religion.
 |
I am God: appease me and give me attention |
Don't think for a minute these behaviors represent just some low-class, cross section of the population. One of the random sex atheists I met went on to become a global manager at one of Germany's largest pharmaceutical companies. This is high society - only problem, it has been programmed to embrace low-class social and moral values. Classy-looking women here will tell you they're pierced in 5 places, rub up against you and, in a moment of hesitation, back off when they "remember" that they are already in a relationship. Oops. At that point, it is up to you to decide what to do. All I was doing to experience this situation was enjoying a warm coffee at a counter near the counter at a late-night eatery.
Did I ever tell you about my first day in the country? I was on a train getting barked at because I didn't know how to operate the strange, unlabeled "push-down-hard-and-twist" handles to open the train door. Later, as that same train was rumbling along, I had to go the the bathroom. So, I took a walk, opened the door - and saw a young German girl in the toilet stall giggling. Her clothes were askew, hair disheveled and some African teen was dressing himself, party undressed behind her.
Fast forward three years, through all of the debauchery I have covered thus far in this expose, and you also might start to wonder: what is the impulse? Is it just unchecked sexual drives? Is the sex drive among women in Germany really that strong? Or perhaps it is just a rush that they crave - and their behavior generates the rush. Perhaps that explains why, the other day, I saw a condom along the riverfront next to a dead fish...
 |
from BDM to BDSM: on the left side, we see a girl from a Hitler youth poster; on the right, a German adult star with identical looks and, yes, a thing for taking a dump on the floor |
In actuality, I have trouble believing that some girl had been so desperate for a rush that she jammed a fish into a condom and up inside herself because, hey, a rush. Well, she might as well have; what I mean is sex seems to carry no reproductive function in Germany anyway, because nobody seems to be having children - nobody. Out about two hundred people under thirty in Germany, I know of four couples with kids and, in each case, pregnancy was an accident. Perhaps somebody should remind the Germans that their sex organs can be used for reproductive purposes; after all, somebody is going to have to be working to keep the lights on and pay into the retirement pensions. The lack of native-born children at least partially explains the call for immigrants - and why Germany's capital city, Berlin, is now the largest city of Turks next to the largest city in Turkey, which is Istanbul. Generally speaking, Turks are Muslims and Muslims tend to have children - a lot of children. It does not take too many generations for this trend to affect a single city, even a capital; in time, the demographic affect will be felt nationwide, too.
Germans are under a lot of pressure to accept immigrants - mostly, because of the way German history is presented and because of those who seek to use that presentation to advance their own agendas which involve accepting immigrants. Nevertheless, behind closed doors - and after a few beers - many Germans I have met complain about the number of immigrants in the country. Now, I can understand the grief of living where increasingly fewer people speak German or value the country's native ways or traditional culture. But what culture are we speaking of here? The one of empowering childless and unhinged women who want to be alleviated of the psychological pain of words that describe their behavior? I don't recall ever hearing that this is the culture of Germany, so where is it coming from and who is promoting it? Furthermore, if Germany has too few workers to keep the country moving, as we are repeatedly told, then why the hell is this culture of childlessness not just what is promoted, but the only thing being promoted?
There seems to be very little accountability if the culture - or at least what is being presented as the culture - is contributing to the problem that keeps being spoken of. Instead, Germany seems to be on a spinning hamster wheel, doing whatever it can to import whatever it can so that the wheel keeps spinning. The problem goes even deeper when you see what else is part of the culture that is gaining mass promotion - even among the children of immigrants. Indeed: native German children, and children of immigrants, thanks to what is presented in the culture, grow up thinking that, for some reason, they should act like they live on the tough streets of New York and LA and listen to music about gangbanging, the ghetto and other foreign shit that "speaks" to them. Sadly, this "urban" culture is everywhere in Germany. It makes you wonder: how could people go from Beethoven, Bach and Wagner to emulating the import of this?
One time, I saw some immigrant who thought he was bad ass by "tagging" a German subway car with spray paint. Another time, a German in Hip Hop garb was about to tag a some outdoor structure. He saw me and ran away giggling like a child. It wasn't very "street" and "thug" at all - but of course not - what did he know of that?
 |
It seems Islamic Indonesia did not care how cool this German/Austrian Hip Hop "sensation" thought she was trafficking drugs.
She got the death penalty just like anyone else.
|
Briefly, I also had a German as a roommate who was into the whole hip-hop culture and look in a serious way. In the end, the dude stole my other roommate's credit card and went out to hip hop joints, strip clubs and casinos blowing money on drinks, girls and games. How did I know? Because he brought me with him and didn't say where he's gotten the money he suddenly started dropping. Apparently this grown man didn't think he'd have to pay anything back. Wait, isn't this supposed to be the land of Dichter und Denker?
Unfortunately, there are signs and symptoms of decline everywhere you look when it comes to Germany and its reputation. The country was also known for its engineering expertise, rigorous education system and prestigious centers of higher learning. But wait: Heidelberg, Germany's best-ranked university for 2011, did not even make it into the top 50 in the world.
Germany's reaction to the Fukashima nuclear plant incident also caught my eye. To recall, there was a nuclear disaster in Fukashima because Japan had built a nuclear plant along a fault line - in a country with frequent earthquakes to show for it and experiencing at least one tsunami a year. Predictably, disaster eventually struck and that is the legacy of Fukashima. In response, however, the Germans - young and old - allowed themselves to be whipped into a frenzy by the Green Party, an environment-conscious political wing, and started marching on the streets against all nuclear energy in Germany and basically anywhere. For two months, the Greens experienced unprecedented support in turn and even won the election in Baden-Württemburg, benefiting from the timing of the election there. Then, things went back to normal and the Green Party became largely irrelevant outside of the state that they had penetrated because of Fukashima. Intelligent people do not act so impulsively and are not so easily swayed by mob opinion and mass hysteria; they think about arguments, supporting facts and come to well-grounded conclusions.
Yes, I'm aware that the Germans have a soft spot for "green" and organic products (in German, Bio, pronounced bee-oh). And yes, I'm aware that this passion is the same whether it's connected to solar energy, wind energy, Smart Cars or low-power vacuums. But it's funny: for as health and environmentally conscious as Germans are supposed to be, they can't stop sucking smoke into their lungs and blowing it all over the place. Almost everybody in Germany still smokes, it seems. So, regardless what these people think of the environment, to fuel their cigarette additions, they treat their own bodies like shit. It's worth nothing how proud they are too, by the way, to be smoking tobacco in the cigarettes that they themselves roll - and will repeatedly tell you how pure it is, too.
Yes, I'm aware that the Germans have a soft spot for "green" and organic products (in German, Bio, pronounced bee-oh). And yes, I'm aware that this passion is the same whether it's connected to solar energy, wind energy, Smart Cars or low-power vacuums. But it's funny: for as health and environmentally conscious as Germans are supposed to be, they can't stop sucking smoke into their lungs and blowing it all over the place. Almost everybody in Germany still smokes, it seems. So, regardless what these people think of the environment, to fuel their cigarette additions, they treat their own bodies like shit. It's worth nothing how proud they are too, by the way, to be smoking tobacco in the cigarettes that they themselves roll - and will repeatedly tell you how pure it is, too.
 |
The sign reads: "Fukashima is a lesson:
Stop nuclear energy!"
|
Another observation comes from watching the staff of German state agencies (Behörden). They make a big fuss about having to use English with foreigners - some flatly refusing - even though this is the language Germans have learned since kindergarten. Yes, "we are in Germany", as anyone caught speaking English risks being told. But perhaps the people in the Behörden should consider the long list of languages that people in the world are much more likely to speak natively than German: Chinese, Hindi, English, Spanish, Arabic, Bengali, Portuguese, Russian or Japanese; further, by speaking English, most of the people who speak any of the other languages are already venturing outside of their own native accommodations in an attempt to communicate. What I mean is that most of these people are able to convenience the German Behörden by using English, the language nearly everyone learns from early on, so as to enable international communication. Yet for some reason that is a problem. It seems Germans expect everyone to learn perfect German just so they can visit their country.
Now, you would think that a people who insist on using their language would be happy to hear you use it. But not the Germans. Behind closed doors, I have seen plenty of Germans laughing at foreigners not speaking German "right" because the dialect is "off". Or perhaps an article is wrong. They might even go out of their way to make sure you now that. I knew a girl who studied in Germany and went on to become a teaching assistant for a German professor at an American university. She told me about the party she was at where she said she needed a spoon and said "eine Löffel", but then somebody looked her square in the eye and said "ein". "It's ein, not eine. Ein Löffel," the person repeated. The girl didn't know what to do, so she apologized. The whole thing is actually quite ridiculous when you consider the fact that the youth there are tuned into the "immigrant German version of the hip hop culture slang that, besides talking about drug deals and murders, murders the German language on a regular basis.
But perhaps the girl should have expected nothing less than outrage over ein Löffel. From my experience, Germans love to make small things into huge issues. Of course, some of the things I am addressing here to retell of experiences in German are also small. But having children, allowing the mainstreamed and destructive the chaos of unhinged women and, most importantly, securing energy in the future are a big deal. This brings us to another important point, because the people in Germany also seem to easily lose sight of the things that matter, while unimportant or accessory details are attended to. The pattern fits especially well with regards to German bureaucracy.
One example I can relate to you concerns the Führerschein - driver' license. If you want it to be valid for more than just brief tourist travel, you don't just need show that you have a license. You'll need a translation of that document, a notarization, evidence of some permanent residence somewhere, a copy of your passport, a verification that your foreign license was issued more than two years ago, a notarization of that verification, a translation of that verification, a translation of your license, and several other papers. After a six-month wait - if you are like me, that is - you won't even get a license with your name spelled correctly.
Now let's consider the rules when it comes to getting your picture for the license. The Germans are very strict. Not a single centimeter below a certain point of the chin may show, no remaining excess above the head, face fitting into the parameters of an oblong, pear-shaped oval that should be measured out. No bandanas, glasses, obstructive facial hair or dangling hair, no neck scarves, no clothes that blend into the background, etcetera, etcetera. So, what happens when the immigrant population shows up, wearing their ceremonial facial dress and garb? Well, exceptions have to be made. And many of those exceptions, incidentally, defeat the point of there even being a photo on the license in the first place. Anyone could pose as that person.
But perhaps the girl should have expected nothing less than outrage over ein Löffel. From my experience, Germans love to make small things into huge issues. Of course, some of the things I am addressing here to retell of experiences in German are also small. But having children, allowing the mainstreamed and destructive the chaos of unhinged women and, most importantly, securing energy in the future are a big deal. This brings us to another important point, because the people in Germany also seem to easily lose sight of the things that matter, while unimportant or accessory details are attended to. The pattern fits especially well with regards to German bureaucracy.
One example I can relate to you concerns the Führerschein - driver' license. If you want it to be valid for more than just brief tourist travel, you don't just need show that you have a license. You'll need a translation of that document, a notarization, evidence of some permanent residence somewhere, a copy of your passport, a verification that your foreign license was issued more than two years ago, a notarization of that verification, a translation of that verification, a translation of your license, and several other papers. After a six-month wait - if you are like me, that is - you won't even get a license with your name spelled correctly.
Now let's consider the rules when it comes to getting your picture for the license. The Germans are very strict. Not a single centimeter below a certain point of the chin may show, no remaining excess above the head, face fitting into the parameters of an oblong, pear-shaped oval that should be measured out. No bandanas, glasses, obstructive facial hair or dangling hair, no neck scarves, no clothes that blend into the background, etcetera, etcetera. So, what happens when the immigrant population shows up, wearing their ceremonial facial dress and garb? Well, exceptions have to be made. And many of those exceptions, incidentally, defeat the point of there even being a photo on the license in the first place. Anyone could pose as that person.
 |
At least they got its name right
|
The signs are eminent that Germany is a community in flux. The good news is this is normal; most things in the world are in flux. Unfortunately for Germany, though, this flux called decline. Although I am sympathetic to Germany's side of the story in many ways and have been many times, perhaps this time, when we talk about what is coming, the Germans actually deserve it.
