The more time you spend as an expat without any direction the more destabilizing effect it will have. The reason? Well. Things tend to not remain hunky-dory – in the cerebral cortex. Add to that the joys of life, i.e. divorce, bleeding bank accounts, being stuck in a place that has almost perfected the state of perpetual unemployment, no future, etc., and all is not well. The debacle of starting over in another land will ultimately return you to the misery and degradation you were trying to leave. Therefore. You must consider carefully where it is you go. Your status at home where life was supposed to be about being poor and without means will not change if you go to a place that is the same-difference. If you’re asking why I did it, the answer is simple. The complexities of this sort of social engineering go deep, deep, deep under the mantle of what one sees – especially as the greener pastures of hope overrule rational thought. Another thing that makes the mind condone something that is ultimately detrimental is the sheer joy of potentially living in a place where you don’t have to be worried about a neighbor running amok and killing you and twelve others while shooting like a happy banshee his extended magazine until he decides to shoot himself but probably misses because he’s as dumb as a doornail. So without throwing around too much praise. At least the commoners of eurowasteland have gun laws. So. Everybody get on a boat. Time to sail back to the old country. Or maybe not. Anywho. The trauma of expatriating to a place just because there’s less chance of being killed by amok-runners ain’t a good idear. Where it has no guns is has all the rest, e.g. Schadenfreude and reality television.
If you ever have to live among eurowastelanders there are three things you’ll need to know. And don’t forget, as babylonian as eurowasteland is, a third grade level mental capacity is all you need to understand everything. Knowing the various waste-state languages will only aide in your demise – so don’t bother. If you feel somehow compelled because of the atrocities of your upbringing – thanks Mom! – to actually learn some babel, don’t flaunt it. It will only lead to your understanding the insults and human degradation that old country commoners put on you. But. Let me say at least this one positive thing. The one advantage of expatriating to eurowasteland, other than the gun thing, is that you don’t have to master the babel. In the case of z’germanin, barking is more than enough. The frenchies? Just whisper your barks and perhaps add something melodic to it, like a whining puppy. The spaghetties? Just pray. Etc., etc. If you want or need to eat and maybe have a roof over your head learning at least some of the babel may be of use. If that sounds like a contradiction, it isn’t. But I’m getting off track.
So let me address three things that you need to know and understand in order to know everything about eurowasteland, how it functions and what it’s all about to expatriate here. The three things are:
• Schadenfreude (joy of witnessing bad things happen to others)
• Neid (envy, grudge, jealousy; this is where schadenfreude comes from)
• Speed traps
In part 1 I failed to address the frivolity of consuming too much television for the sake of avoidance, protection, learning opera or some other undertaking that provides escape from humanity. The point to it all is trying to face up to the reality that you are, not by choice, a participant in the madness of a match to insanity that really shouldn’t be called society but instead everybody vs. everybody-else. There is something else that you must keep in mind. There are limits to expressing the importance of trying to maintain some kind of hold on humanity and not let the reality televisions and the consumerism it now represents turn you fully into another automaton zombie with or without a career.
I’ve learned after so many years of expatriating that you shouldn’t give in to the whims of your host country and blatantly adopt its nationality and persona. (This is one of the reasons, btw, I love turks. They practically occupy a country and do not emulate their hosts. Go turks!) Even though it’s frivolous to mention now, especially since it’s been twenty years, it was not my intention to be an expatriate. And unlike my contemporaries I can’t blame my situation on want of a mortgage or a family or even a stable life. But the one thing I do regret more than all the other regrets is that I settled for this. Not only did I go in the wrong geographical and philosophical direction but since I was from the east coast of the united mistakes I should have gone west, more west, westerly – till I dropped off this flat place. Oh well. There is no sense in mooring over what they say about spilt scotch & milk.
So I’m here. I’m an expat. There is misery. Oh. I am an immigrant, too. Nomatter. For the sake of posterity, I’m leaving some of my experience behind. Somehow. Chaotically. Don’t worry. You can thank me later. Moving on.
Here’s something you should keep in mind when considering expatriating. No matter what they say or do, there is no such thing as a social market economy. There is only communism – or there is no communism. Technically the united mistakes of american’t – the bigger brother to eurowasteland – the place I ran from – is a communist state. But it has taken on the rather nebulous and sexy designation of a centralized capitalist economy. These two designations are the byproduct of mother-son, father-daughter or brother-sister relations that overstep all boundaries. Luckily it doesn’t matter what you call it. It’s all just fancy code for communism. So. The difference between social eurowasteland and the centralized united mistakes is that the welfare provided by eurowasteland is for the purpose of keeping the hordes that actually gave the world communism – and Mayday parades – at bay. The united mistakes’ uses its to prop-up the useless playboy rich who are by now in their second or third useless (de)generation.
Oh. And. Don’t worry. You can feel relieved. I’m not a communist. If you take one thing from this babel it should be: I am probably the only true capitalist that you will ever experience. So take heed. Mark it in your calendar. Send flowers. Occupy me. For. I live in communism but am a class-fighter in search of true capitalism. What a sad state of affairs, eh. So I say. Down with the useless and inbred classes. Rise up and resist the call of Schadenfreude. Which brings me back to my semi-thesis.
Schadenfreude and Neid. How to deal with them? They are the two things you will not be able to avoid. Of the limited amount of language that you need to learn those two words should probably be at the top. Have I made that clear in all this running-on? Another good word isFernweh but I’m probably confusing you by mentioning it here (it is one of my favorite words, though). You can reduce the physical and mental effect Schadenfreude and Neid have on you if you are careful. One way to do it is to give-in and be entertained. For that I refer you onward. The other way to do it is to drive. That’s right. Remember cars and television from? Full circle, with a few twists? And it all brings me to speed traps–the grand way to fill the coffers of the State. Nuff said there, eh.
In closing, and for those interested, below is what a German speeding ticket looks like. The good thing about getting such a ticket is that a policeman will never give you one. Nor will you, unless you drive to extremes – which can only be done if you can afford the horse-power – ever face a judge when you get one. All you do is drive, deal with a country that drives with the brake pedal and also that cultural phenomenon that is a cesspool of Schadenfreude and Neid. Oh, and don’t forget to smile for the picture is inevitable. The only thing that’s left is to wait a little while longer till the postman brings you this (see below). All is well. Good luck.