Girl Gurl Haters

Boy do they get this wrong. What’s especially wrong is utilizing a picture of the communist best gurl-friend turned capitalist-lover as an example of Eurowasteland equality. Germania is a patriarch society. Period. It is a boy-club and it means nothing that its political polit-büro leader is female. Having lived in anti-feminine Germania for the better part of twenty-plus years, I can say first hand that the country is no closer to gender equality than any other western country. It is as split, divided, partitioned and gender oriented as the best of them. The whole idear of “equality” is a joke at best and ery cynicism at least. But then again, I reckon showing a female world leader, who leads the best business-nation-state there is, is a good thing for some because it clouds the truth of how things really are. Don’t get me wrong here. Germania, compared to other business nation-states like the puritan US or submissive Japan, is pretty good at things like protecting a female’s right to choose or even enabling the over thirty-five crowd to be conscious of negative national birth rates. But put some teats in the office of Chancellor and it will never even be discussed whether or not a female can head Mercedes, Lufthansa, Deutsche Bank, etc., i.e. the only stuff that means anything in the business of business-nation-states. Nice try Salon. Rant on.

Gender quotas work better wherever people like rules |

When Blumen Weep

Team Germany Arrives At Berlin TegelSeriously. Hate to be a World Cup downer here. But I am worst-writer and not happy-writer. The article linked below starts with a reference (or is it a subtitle?) to ‘the bearable lightness of being’. I will worst-assume that the authors of the article for Spiegel International are playing around with the tried and true title The Unbearable Lightness of Being. But I could be wrong. Nomatter. Let’s go with this.

Germania won the World Cup–in case you’ve forgotten. And. When everything is great and everyone thinks it’s great, it usually isn’t–incase you’ve forgotten. And in this case, it’s ok… to have forgotten. Because there’s still room to have lots of fun. Eventually we all must get around the dilemma of frivolous happiness and joy and all-things run amok–but we can do that later–after we’ve all forgotten. So. Let’s dabble in literature, shall we? Let’s dabble so that we can better understand winning the World Cup and what that means for life, liberty and the pursuit of all things… Eurowasteland bourgeoisie.

In the book The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera explains the German word Schwer. It is a word, Kundera states, that means two things: heavy and difficult. Schwer is what Kundera’s protagonist Tomas must deal with thru-out the story which is set in 1968 Prague. Also, Schwer is both sides of a coin. It is the yin and yang, the salt and pepper, etc., of daily life of the story. Schwer is the trauma that Czechoslovakia has to deal with as it is engulfed in the Soviet machine that is the other side of the cold war (coin). Yes. No. Schwer. Heavy. Difficult. The lightness of being, dear worst-reader, is all about the intricacies of imposing a centralized, collective, authoritarian system on that which is meant to be light but doesn’t know that. Is that clear? But I digress.

The most chilling part of The Unbearable Lightness of Being are the people who, at their core, are the antecedent to the imposition they must face. Going about their daily lives, which is Schwer enough, they now must cope with a new brand of authority–a brutal and suppressing authority. Kundera’s characters are intellectuals–or at best they are thinkers. They are people that represent the other side of the two sides of Kundera’s coin. They are not worker-bees or automatons and they are most certainly not adherents of the antithesis of Soviet rule. Yet they are the story about that rule. One can only worst-ask about them: what do they mean? And so… If you haven’t, give Kundera’s masterpiece a read. Otherwise, skip the article below unless you would like to get a glimpse of Schwer in full blume, the flowers weeping, as the Germanins try to express themselves as Eurowasteland slash Germanin Champions. Or. Put another way. The Gemanins are now in a post World Cup 2014 state of mind and they are the third side of a coin. (I bet you weren’t expecting that one, eh, worst-reader?)

Indeed, dear worst-reader. The Germans won the World Cup. And they did so for the first time as a unified country. Unified NOT after the cold war but instead after the debacle of Eurowasteland reaching yet another pinnacle of top-down economic debauchery that can only be likened to its already well-read history, especially the part where Kings and Jacobins are beheaded. Germania also won the grand money exploiting tournament as a country that shines in all the gloominess that the west has imposed on the other stars of the blue and gold flag. You know, the stars that should be named austerity, recession, doom and deceit, etc. But why look at the stars, dear worst-reader? Why look at any truth that is far from the minds of the worker-bees and their guaranteed vacations, sick leave, pensions, procreation? For yes, the Automatons of Eurowasteland–at least the Automatons in the locomotive–are well and happy and besieged with the joy of championship. A well deserved championship–as I state here. Yes. No. Schwer. All is well schwarz rot gold. There is no Schwer anymore. Nuff.

How Good Can Life Get When Everything Else Crumbles Around You? | Spiegel International De

Rant on.


Wine Mis Advice

Above a label from one of four bottles of “Lisini” 1998 that I have rotting in my kitchen. That’s right. They are rotting. Once they were magical bottles of wondrous wine. Then the reality set in. To remind me of what Italian stuck-up wine makers have done to something as simple as wine, these bottles will rot till I throw them away with their un-open content. To hell with ’em.

Not sure what it is. The wine-thing lingers around me. And to think I/we spent less than a decade playing with it. You know. Driving to Tuscany at least once a year to fill up our Audio A6 with various bottles directly from the makers. Then we’d transport them via Swizterland, paying appropriate tax at entry, reclaiming tax at exit, etc. I never thought that something like wine would get old, though. I guess the drive there from Germania was a bore. But that ain’t all. Sadly. Boy did it get old. And not just any kind of old. It got ornery old. I almost hate wine these days. That doesn’t mean I don’t nip at it once a once. It’s just that I’m so cynical toward wine, wine makers, wine distributors, it ain’t funny anymore. It’s sad. Being in America the last few weeks grinds my bolts even more. The wine is even more stupidly priced here than anywhere else. I still don’t mind wishing that all them greedy, snobby, stuck-up wine makers drown in the mess they created–because they have turned wine into a commodity, which means it is handled like a commodity and also means that greed rules everything about wine. More on all that nonsense here.

The other day worst-writer got a request from old friend that moved from Wash DC to the Philippines. He moved because, like so many, he was/is fed-up with home. He had sold his business, broke up with wife and realized that all that was left was… Well, what is left for the few and the non-greedy in American’t? Nomatter. He couldn’t wait to find a way out after doing the right thing for so long and getting nothing for it. You know. Just like so many other Americans have to do. It’s called paying for your parents greed or paying for Baby Boomer comfort. Or something like that. And so. Getting a masters degree in History at fifty in the Philippines sounds like a pretty cool idear. The best thing about it is that he can easily afford it and live abroad for a short stint. What a great way to clear the head, eh! Get all the shit of American’t out of you. Purge. Start anew. Anywho. Years ago I would bring a nice bottle or three of stuck-up Eurowasteland wine for us to enjoy. The gathering involved some good looking company and some dastardly conversation that lead to all things intellectual and titalating. Or maybe not. But. The wine was good. So. To my surprise he sent me brief request for info recently. About wine. Even though he’s up-to-date on my cynicism. Obviously he’s got some dastardly things in-mind for the Philippines. Good for him. Here our brief exchange–for worst-posterity’s sake.

Old Friend: Hey worst-wine-drinker, i know someone going to Italy. Want them to pick up a couple bottles of decent, but not expensive (15 euros max per bottle) wine. Any suggestions. Reds of course.

Worst-Moi: As far as wine is concerned and as far as my cynicism about it, especially Italian wine, you probably couldn’t go wrong if you got a Chianti Reserve or any reserve wine. In my cynical opinion Italian and probably French wine makers are in deep trouble because they really pokered their prices high in the first decade of 2000. I’m not even sure of the prices anymore. As you may recall, I gave up on Italian wine a while ago. But the good thing is, like all things greedy, things never change! You might be able to get a decent bottle of wine for $15. But I think you’ll have to spend more for anything even half-decent. The best wine that I remember from the days I bought there is Brunello-Lisini. But very expensive. Sangiovese–which is the main grape in Chianti–is also very good and better priced. Wines from Moltepulciano are well known for being strong and robust–we enjoyed them. When in Italy, though, we only drank the expensive stuff on special nights–you know, the titallating nights. We sought out good, basic wines that locals drank. But here’s the thing about them. You know how certain things taste better when you have them where they’re from? Well, that applies to worker-wine in Italy. It’s like Chesapeake blue crabs probably don’t taste right in the Rocky Mountains. If that makes any sense.

So what’s up with this? You’re in an exotic place in the pacific and you want Euro-wines? Nip whiskey, man. I’m sure you can get some good whiskey there. If you get a good bottle of Maker’s Mark and nip at it–don’t just drink it–it’ll last a while and probably taste better than wine. Whiskey is probably better with the weather/climate there too. Hope this helps and doesn’t confuse.

Good luck old friend.


Weltmeister – Game of Face Punch


Gotta hand it to the Krauts. Even wore an old t-shirt yesterday that read, in red on black with a hint of gold, ‘Let’s Go Krauts’. But the truly amazing thing about the win was how the Germans conducted themselves through out the tournament. It’s that thing that turns me off the most about foosball. You know, the drama-queen falling down, the whining and the begging gesticulations, the gurly freakshow that so many players, for what ever reason, learn from the get-go when they first step on the pitch as kids. I really despise that part of the game. And don’t get me wrong. The Germans do it, too. Schweini might have even set a record yesterday for most delays due to ‘falling down’. Indeed. Yet. One of those fallings was so legitimate that I almost gave up on the game completely. It was when Schweinsteiger was literally punched in the face by balled up Argentinian fist. The two players were going for a head-ball. The German was a bit ahead of the Argentinian. So the Argentinian winds up his fist in mid-air, desperately trying to hide what he’s about to do–and hide from the fact that he was the lesser man!–and… BAM! He punches the German right in the face. No. Wait. In America, where all sorts of whiny-gurl behavior on the pitch or the field, in all sports, is frowned upon and spotted by other athletes, he cold-cocked the German. (One of the many reasons Americans are skeptical of this sport.) I couldn’t believe what I just saw. “This game is so shitty,” I yelled at the TV screen. How can a player, in a match like this, where billions watch from around the world–especially young people that will play the sport in the near future–so blatantly display that level of poor sportsmanship? What’s worse, he GETS AWAY WITH IT! And most soccer fans don’t even think twice about it. The ref was standing right there, he saw the whole thing. And then I thought about how Brazil won against Columbia. What a dirty, filthy match that was. (And how I laughed at Brazil when they deservedly got slaughtered in the semi-finals because of how they chose to play.) When I think about all the matches I’ve seen where teams perform at this level–which is literally condoned by FIFA–it turns my stomach and is the reason I’ll always be skeptical of it. (Even though I love the fact that you can watch a match without commercial break for forty-five minutes!) And I’m serious about that. As much as the Americans make fun of soccer, calling it a communist sport, or an un-American sport, etc., non of that matters. What matters in sport, what I learned when I played sports, was that your behavior during play was as important as your performance. Unfortunately soccer, especially world-class soccer, doesn’t give a hoot about that. And that deserves heavy skepticism. The consolation is, even though the Germans fall down like gurly-men, too, their performance, their behavior on the field, compared to their worst opponents, was pretty damn good. For that I worst-commend them. Gut gespielt jungs! Hut ab.

Rant on.


Germany Captures Something. | The Wire

German Global Might Determined By Fooball? Sure. | NYT

The Look of Champions, Adidas (9 teams) vs. Nike (30+ teams) = Adidas wins! | Deutsche Welle

Germany Wins |

Prediction #789

Today’s prediction, dear worst-reader, has to do with the extinct Germania snow leopard, spies and Germany finally stepping up to face the worldly role it has so gallantly been avoiding for the past twenty years. The Germania snow leopard was an animal that for a brief time in its history stalked the grounds between Kölnia and Düsseldorfia. This animal was used and abused by the Plebija–an elite group of assassin slash custom agents working for various corrupt customs officials–as a means of controlling the Rhine River. A very small cat-like creature, it was hidden in the dresses of desirable daughters so that when custom officials would demand a peek at what is hidden in those dresses, the docile animal, that sleeps nomatter what goes on around it, would cause such a shriek by the corrupt customs agent, that the daughter would be let go immediately–and most importantly she would be let go unchecked. It is rumored that some of the agents tried to question contents of well-off Germania girls but the issue was eventually let go because most of the officials were beheaded with a crude prototype guillotine-like device that would eventually find its glory in other revolutionary activity in Eurowasteland pre-twentieth century pre-world-wars. Which brings me to the (un)joke of this post. I, dear worst-reader, sincerely do get a kick out of what’s been going on between my beloved American’t and my host expat country Germania. You know, the silly spying thing. For you see, there is a well-endowed paranoia in Germania these days. Where that paranoia comes from can be seen with any brief look into recent Germania history. So I won’t bother with that here. Just let it be worst-said, spying in modern-day Germania is something not to be frowned upon. That is, it is taken very seriously. So serious, in fact, that spying is one of the unspoken laws of the guttural nation state and practical annexed business center for The West. In fact, spying is required by all Germanin citizens that have a soluble bank account. I mean. Come on. If Germanins couldn’t spy on one another where would the country be today? At the least, where would lawyers and government bureaucrats be today? Without every Germanin telling on other Germanins the society would be torn to shreds within seconds, resorting back to its hedonistic, neanderthal founding. Hence the old saying, In Deutschland ist jeder Deutsche ein Polizist aber gibts nicht weiter. But. Please. Allow me to get on to my prediction of the day. I predict, dear worst-reader, according to the public display of Germanias so-called elected officials, all of whom are trying to save face or be exposed as the puppets of American’t that they all are, will utilize the current “spy” scandals as a means to grant Edward Snowden asylum in the near future. The Germanins, again, trying to save face because it has come to light that all they do and say is being watched and recorded, will require not only that all American’t CIA spies leave but that America garantee Snowden that when he arrives in Berlin it will not be required to extradite him. For you see, here is the part where Germania tries to step-up and face its worldly responsibilities. Germania has its own spying problem which is best understood if one can understand the implications of incest on biology. The spying that makes Germania exist has to thin-out (or is it thick-up) its weakened blood supply. It needs ingenuity in its spying. It needs new spying blood. Snowden would be perfect for that. So. What do you say to that for a prediction? Nicht schlecht, na Schatz. Rant on.

Expulsion of Top Spy | DW English News

Wake Up Washington | DW English News

Germans Offer Olive Branch | DW English News


Wait. “Confliction” isn’t a word? Why not? Should be a word. Like… Oblivia. Nomatter. Something about recent Eurowasteland vote debacle. Wait. So maybe I should use the word debacle? Stop. Nomatter. Points of view in Eurowasteland is confliction. (Great sentence, eh?) Or is it parliamentary pseudo governance in Eurowasteland being buzzwords and not governance? Nomatter. Some articles to promote the confliction. (There I said it.)

Good luck with that.


Better Left Unsaid?

There are two things about the Borg… Sorry. There are two things about the Germanins that scares the beejeezus out of me. The first thing is the bureaucracy (of this my adopted home). The second is the politics that feeds that bureaucracy. Worst-writer learned quickly upon moving abroad how nations act not unlike individuals. That is, nations reflect basic human needs and desires just like individual human beings. Obviously scales are different but as history has shown nations, like individuals, can change. They can also be manipulated. So the worst-question of the day has to be: how do you see through what you are being sold?

Germaninland in 2014 is a monstrosity of bureaucracy. This bureaucracy is so overwhelming that Germanins can’t even see it. They don’t know this bureaucracy exist as it does. Nor do they know the Sophie’s Choice that is everyday life here. With that non-sense in mind, worst-writer is gonna go out on a limb. There is something in Germaninland that few question. That something are the atoms that make up the monstrosity, the individuals that make the monster machine of bureaucracy. Everybody here just goes with it because, well, it lets you buy shit, go on vacation, and drive around in über-expensive cars that are paid for by taxing the shit out of complacency. Which brings me to the sub-category of politics in Germaninland: the politicians. These men and women are the handlers of all. They flip the switches of all. They are the gatekeepers and just like the gated they too are oblivious to the wonders of the success that is the wirtschaft-wunder, unification and the acceptance that consumerism is now the new bratwurst, bier and hot Fräulein.

As a foreigner I’m actually eligible to vote in the upcoming local elections. My aunt has been all over me about who I’m gonna vote for–because I have been teasing her for years about her SPD loyalty. Ever since LaFontaine, Schroeder & Co, the SPD has been a laughing-stock. But I won’t get into that here. When I told my aunt I was gonna vote for the Piraten-Partei she laughed. And then I said:

Liebe Aunti, everybody, in order to wake up, should vote for any party that is not part of the 5% minimum of national politics. And yes, that includes all the extreme parties.


So watch the vid below carefully, dear worst-reader. In it a status-quo leader of the bureaucracy-machine of this stagnant but consumerist-success-story of a country tries to put a loud-mouthed protestor in his place. The protestor is calling the politician and his ilk a fascist. And the pseudo-fascist response is breathtaking. The sheer, unmitigated, atypical, only in Eurowasteland kind of arrogance spewed by this politicians is truly astonishing. From the beginning of the video to the end it kept reminding me of something completely opposite of what the SPD is supposed to stand for. Then again, confusion runs rampant where there is chaos. And if the soul (pun) worship of consumerism is as real as it feels, chaos rules–no matter what Steinmeier attempts to say or do here. And so. See the second vid–if you can. And remember:

Hitler was defeated in WW2 but fascism won. –George Carlin

First Vid of arrogant German bureaucracy maker using his big microphone against those who will never have a microphone.

Second vid that no one is required to watch but if you dare you might see some history repeating itself.

This post was motivated by this post who, as far as worst-writer can tell, should get credit for bringing these two videos together.

Rant on.


Anglo vs Germanin

Note 1: Post is incomplete, not very cohesive and w/out narrative. It’s worst than normal-worst. You’ve been warned. Good luck.

New & Improved Clans

I’ve been obsessing for a few years over of the idear that there’s a growing, alive & kicking chasm in the western world. This chasm is, in part, due to Das Volk’s inability to see impending demise. Obviously the euphoria of capitalism winning over communism has done more to blind eyes than the standard illusions and myths of the past. Add to that we are now living in Orwellian perpetual war and it’s no wonder a chasm the size of the Atlantic is forming. Ok. Maybe it’s only the size of the English channel. Nomatter. Here’s the thing: after so many years living abroad, worst-writer has finally come to terms with his advantage. I am an American’t living not by choice but by happenstance in Eurowasteland. It is exactly in this position that I am witness to the birth of a new era where geographical boundaries and political ideologies no longer determine the fate of Das Volk. Instead this era is a new & improved version of one from such a distant past that, historically and intellectually, it is beyond comprehension. For you see, it is commonplace these days to spew these words: we should learn from our past. And when Das Volk hear such words they immediately think of a new past such as the 20th century or, maybe, if a few have read a book or three then they might think of the 19th century. But guess what worst-writer is thinking of as he stares down from his pulpit above the Atlantic chasm? That’s right, you guessed it, I’m thinking of the 15th century. You with me? In order to not repeat the past we should all be thinking of the 15th century. Come on, let’s go.

Best Ever Made

Early to mid 1970s. It wasn’t a bad first job. I pumped gas at a local gas station. Heck, I even got to pump gas during version 2 of 1970s gas crisis. I worked at the only gas station on a northbound highway that connected rural and suburban hell with the big city, about an hour’s drive away north, which is also the capital of the united mistakes of Amerikan’t. Luckily the 2nd gas crisis ended faster than the first but all the terrapin soup had run out. And that’s neither here nor there. What was really cool about this first job was that the owner of the gas station was the only VW and Porsche specialist in the area. That meant I got to hang around a lot of interesting “foreign” cars. And once I proved my competence (I wasn’t a mechanic), I got to do basic tune-up stuff on all of those cars, which included oil, plug, filter changes, etc. The peeves of doing all this was that the shop owner and customers let me drive the cars. By the time I was seventeen I had driven Porsche 911’s, Speedster 356 replicas (yes, we built them) and the awfully-chilling and ravenous Karman Ghia. With all that naive and young-gun experience, worst-writer is confident in saying the following: The Porsche 911, before they decided to go the route of turning it into a “super car”, is simply the best all-around car ever made. If I had to pick a car to drive to the end of time, it would be an air-cooled 911. Of course, I am from humble beginnings, to say the least. Actually owning a 911 was (and still is) out of the question. And so. The engineers at VW had Das Volk like me in mind when they created the Porsche 914, aka the “VW Porsche” (which I actually couldn’t afford either). Mr. Lustgeier (pronounced “lust-gear”) loaned me his 914 VW Porsche once. So there you have it. 2nd best ain’t all that bad. But then Lustgeier died. Wait. He killed himself.

Dead Banker Cars

Since I can remember there are two types of Porsche owners beyond the ones that falsely made the “e” silent. One is the enthusiast. These were people that just loved the mystique of German auto engineering. The others were Suits. Mr. Afred Lustgeier was both. He was a big-whig at Riggs Bank in Washington, DC. He was also part owner in various local and interstate businesses. He owned several houses up and down the east coast and it was rumoured that he was looking to invest in a project that would put luxury houses on the Potamac River where people could then commute to Washington DC by boat. It was not actually known how many Porsches Mr. Lustgeier had but the shop I worked at serviced at least three of them that were stored at one of his houses nearest us, about a forty minute drive south.

Lustgeier’s gem was a brand new 911 Carrera Turbo that was painted in metallic sky-blue (it’s only fault, btw). Another was a grey 1969 Targa, grey being the perfect Germanin colour. But the one he “got a kick out of” was a yellow 914, aka VW Porsche. The latter two being the ones he kept nearby. One morning when he came in to pick up his tuned-up Targa he asked my boss if he could send someone to pick up his 914 to have it brought in and tuned-up. My boss offered that I do it and after a skeptical look or three Lustgeier agreed. I followed Lustgeier and his Carrera. When we arrived at his house he let me admire his new Carrera and then gave me the keys for the 914 to drive it back to the shop and he included the “door opener” for the gated community for when I would return the car.

Before I left Lustgeier tried to explain to me the odd gear placement of the 914. But I told him I was aware of it. After a quick pee in his house I started the Porsche and drove back to the shop. Two things stuck in my head during the drive. One was that Lustgeier’s house was completely empty. No furniture, no carpeting, no shelves, nothing. But there was toilet paper. The second thing was, since I had to pass through his house to get to the pisser, I noticed, through large sliding glass doors, his empty pool in the back yard. Well, it was empty of water. The pool was filled to the brim with what looked like everything that should have filled the house. In fact, after a short but intense glance, it looked like the entire innards of the house was in the pool, although I hadn’t been upstairs. I thought it all so strange that I didn’t bother to ask about it. Three days later I finally got the message that Lustgeier threw himself off the Potomac River Bridge and burned everything from the house in the pool, including the Targa. The Carrera was left on the bridge from the spot where he jumped.


And so, worst-writer’s obsession with the Chasm is that it seems to be growing out of the negative energy and rage of reactionary politics, greed and too much sugar extract mixed with hydrocarbons and doused with recourse and even less attention. But more importantly the mist and dust from the mechanics and geology of this chasm, that which has hid it from the gluttonous red-eyes of most consume-to-survive mortals, is breaking away. The chasm is coming now to full view. That it resembles a vagina might prolong it being empirically studied but that’s neither here nor there. What’s more important is finding examples of where the chasm rears its wrinkly face-head.

As best I can tell, there was a situation brewing in the hedge fund markets out of London in 2007 that best exemplifies worst-writer’s idear of the chasm. At the time Eurowasteland’s largest auto maker, VW, was in dire straights and needed saving. Of course, German industry and business ain’t much different than any other business in the world. It too is run by a mafia-like codec and it is commonplace within such a system that winners and losers are clearly separated from owners except when winners win, at which time, owners get their fair cut and when losers abound, participants either cry foul or do as it’s always been done, leave it up to taxpayers. Say what you will about this system of mafia-like and centralised economics. For a country like Germany it seems to work well, especially when one considers that the German mafia is so much more efficient than the Italian one. Have I opened a can of worms there? Nomatter.

By 2008 the situation with VW had gotten so bad that hedge funders thought this might be an opportunity to break the hold of the German mafia on one of its blue-chip corporations and short the shit out of some stock. Aim was taken at financially strapped VW. The British, or, better put, the  Anglo hedge fund managers thought they could actually short a Germanin blue-chip stock. Enter the chasm. None of these hedge funders based in London ever bothered to take into consideration what they were actually dealing with. That they all completely missed a loophole in Germanin law that allowed a company to buy a stock with out making the purchase public didn’t seem to cross anyone’s mind. While hedge funders shorted, Porsche bought. I mean, hedge fund managers are supposed to be the most scrutinising and detail driven financial experts there are. Or?

Now. I can’t say that VW and Germanin investors planned this from the start but in the end what happened to VW and subsequently Porsche was all a result of the chasm between the Anglo way of doing things and the Germanin way of doing things. The question I often ask myself after a few too many beers in the right bar is this: would this same blunder on the part of the Anglos had happened if the investment was about an Italian company? Or Spanish company? You see, those countries have all in some way or other adopted the Anglo mindset when it comes to running their economies. The Germanin economy, for whatever reason not to be addressed here, has never adopted the Anglo way of doing things. Long story short. In the end the Germanins won the stock shorting battle of VW. Porsche had been secretly buying VW stock when hedge funders were trying to short it. Billions on the Anglo side of this trade was lost. Which means anyone invested with these hedge funders also lost.


Enter Adolf Merckle. A Germanin that chose the wrong side. He bet against his clan! (You see, I wanted to connect the “clan” thing more in this post.) He lost and threw himself under a train traveling the speed of a Porsche! Once the bets were being called Merckle had to come up with a really exuberant amount of cash to cover his bets. Even though he was supposedly a multi-billionaire, he chose to throw himself under a train instead. Or, like Lustgeier from his bridge, these guys simply got caught in the chasm.

Yeah, the chasm.

Or something like that.


Note 2:. Other less extensive, confused and chaotic posts about the subject of worst-writer’s obsession with the Anglo vs. Germanin are contained in this site. I was and have been trying to develop a narrative that employs two things. One is the idear that there is an Anglo mindset and a Germanin mindset. I also believe that these two mindsets are at war right now. But I haven’t found that narrative yet and this is one of my first attempts at writing it down. And if you’ve read any or all of this post then you probably know that already.

Some further reading on the VW/Porsche and hedge fund disaster… Oh. Wait! It was only a disaster if you’re Anglo. Nomatter.



Rant on.


Losing Touch Inner National Socialist

Potential Subtitle: Will MILFs save Eurowasteland?

Disclaimer: I never quite finished this post. Part 2 was an attempt to finish it. Part 1 is where it all started. Sometimes, as hard as I fight to maintain them, idears just don’t cut it and I have to let them go. This post is the result of not letting them go.

Prelude: There is an urge deep inside me to attempt, however frivolously, to rename Europe. And why not. How many names has it had since this ultimate experiment came to pass? Ok. Granted. There haven’t been that many names – but isn’t more than one too much? Let’s see. European Union. European Community. The Continent. England’s Afeared Sister. The Other Side Of The Channel. Etc. (Btw, the word sister was chosen above brother to appease the French.) Oh. And last but not least (on my list), I think Europe should be called what it really is: Babel. Or maybe not.

FYI 1. I’ve already renamed Amerika. So. Without further postponement, here’s my suggestion for Europe’s new name – since Babel is a bit extreme.


No? Something else? Ok. Let me move on.

FYI 2. This post is the second iteration of a post that I wrote while blogging on wordpress in 2007. The whole IDEAR of this story begins after reading various articles that I found in some ill-fated research I was trying to do regarding how much Germany was mentioned on/in English language news sites. Of course, once I got through all the mentions of German economic prowess or it’s advocation of political hand-holding with France, I was actually surprised how much information is out there in English about some of the most questionably news worthy stuff. But when I looked deeper at what I had found, there was one other connection to be made. One of the articles that stood out at the time was on a TV news anchor named Eva Hermann. It was after reading about her and then seeing her actually mentioned on an English language website that I realized how important it is understanding boolean search in order to avoid being bombarded with hits about nazis.

And now. On to the show. Oh. And btw. I eventually came up with another name for Europe.


Part 2. (2010-07-02 03:33)

Nothing interesting happens in Eurowasteland. Seriously. This place is completely, utterly and totally boring. Obviously the Eurowastelanders love that. I’d even go so far as to claim they lavish in their own special cesspool of boredom. I guess, because of their history, being bored means all is well. And that has to say something. Or? If I were to look at it with my special pair of spite glasses – these same glasses are owned by most immigrants – Eurowastelanders especially love the fact that their boredom means that no one has to be part of starting wars so that oil companies can profit beyond imagination. It also means that one doesn’t have to concern his or herself with the antics of Das Volk and thereby control half the population’s choice of procreation and at the same time enhance the conservative wing-nut political base that is ultimately anti-female and pro-war. Then there’s Eurowasteland debt politics – which is ultimately a war of another kind against those who must work for a living in order to have a piece of the lie that is the Euro-pie? And the list goes on. Yet all is not lost. For. There is are two things exciting in Eurowasteland – that is, two things that are not boring as hell. These things amuse beyond the humdrum of all this almost-perfected socialism, also known as social market economics. What we are dealing with here are political discourse and – are you sitting down? – MILFs. Seriously. Following the antics of not just politicians but the few and far between neo-aristocrats and media personalities, there is something that transcends even the boredom perfected by a place that has given humanity practically all the world’s political evils.

Am I being to brash? Not sure. So let me focus first on Euro-politics. For you see, Eurowasteland is a place – due to circumstance I won’t get into – I have been forced to adopt. Since that adoption I have learned enough about the misconception and misuse of certain political IDEARS, such as the lie of social market economics. Eurowasteland opportunists aka politicians have long realized that there is an infinite source of empathy for all things that start with the word Social. This group of Automatons that are supposed to represent Das Volk seem to throw Socialism around like American’ts throw around  Patriotism. Odd how the controllers of the universe – on both sides of the Atlantic – are able to (s)pin opposing ideologies – that are ultimately the same thing – against each other. Brilliant.


Do Eurowastelanders do anything about this nothingness, this emptiness, this boredom that stems out of their love of all things political – and social? Of course not. Why should they? Most of them have long since acquiesced and accepted the lie of their Governesses, most of which are based on some form or another of aristocracy, hereditary privilege and/or the love of monarchy – and let’s not forget the goddess bitch named: nostalgia. Therefore none of Das Volk believe there really is a problem in their Euro-bubble because there is a direct comparison across the Atlantic that reassures them that bad isn’t has bad as the new bad coming out of American’t post George W. Bush. What a price the Automatons of Eurowasteland pay, though. But all is well because Eurowastelanders fill their politics with nomenclature. Take, for example, the word culture. Even though it’s a noun (just like the word Love) – it should be treated as though it is a verb. Indeed, Eurowasteland has perfected the noun-ification of everything – which ultimately means that there is no action left in anything. And so. Go to museums and look at things old and then convince yourself that they are aesthetic or their ultimate value is in a history devoid of individual responsibility. For you see, as a failed artist, I still believe that culture is something that must be infinitely renewed. It must be forever in flux. Culture must never stand still. Oh. And btw. If culture bores like life bores, then it’s time to address the free-flow of your economic juices. Oooops! I guess I’m way to late giving out that advice, eh?

Having been born and raised in the united mistakes of American’t, I really thought I had seen it all regarding how humans can consume so much – and more importantly living for the politics that facilitates and enables that consumption. But then I expatriated to the wonders of Eurowasteland – where consuming is the same difference – but with a megalomaniacal twist. Take the automobile as an example. According to research and some personal experience, about 60% of all luxury cars consumed in the Eurowastestate of Das Volk are paid for by government. That is, in order for all the fancy Audi, BMW and Mercedes to drive on the autobahn the government has to subsidize them first. What that means is, these cars would otherwise never be consumed. In other words, the costs of cars cannot be covered by the spendable income of Das Volk (period). Alone the impact of near zero car consumption is practically an unfathomable situation that not even politics could deal with it. This requires a bit comparison, perhaps. American’ts deal with the same problem (spendable income for cars) but their answer is increasing and/or manipulating consumer credit and allowing a centralized and privileged banking system to control it. The Eurowastelanders have long since nipped the banking trick in the bud (mostly in the form of controlling consumer credit but also negating the need for speculative banking to impose itself on the economy as a whole) and so Eurowastelanders redistribute the burden of financing consumption where there is no disposable income – in this case car consumption – to the tax payer. Ultimately the tricks both sides of the Atlantic use work well. What makes them interesting though is how far each system can go without the roof caving in. Brilliant, eh! – nomatter what side of the pond you’re on.

But the wonders of Eurowastelanders and their Governesses doesn’t stop with their love of taxation. Once Das Volk is able to get a car they have another problem. Imagine a government so big, so omnipresent, so (in)capable that it must arbitrate the legality of being able to wash a car, the existence of which could not be possible if it hadn’t controlled the taxation of its flock in order make that car in the first place. Think about what that implies – beyond the whole idear that Governesses control everything. Indeed, there is actually a law prohibiting washing cars on Sunday. (Why do I feel the need to repeat that a dozen times?) And do you know why you can’t wash your car on Sunday? Because if Das Volk could wash their cars on Sunday the entire “continent” would dissolve from the face of the earth due to the amount of surfactant the ground can (cannot?) absorb.

(On a little tangent here. Am I the only one to ask why is it that Das Volk, who have a tradition of building great automobiles, do not have one single alternative powered car on the road? Could it have something to do with that fact that electric cars probably in their first few versions won’t be able to go through a carwash anyway. It all has to do with those batteries, you know. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait for the first string of short circuits that awaits us all. Oh, and another thing while I’m on this tangent. Why is it that Das Volk does not have one alternative powered car while the Asians and American’ts do?)

Oh. I must digress.

So what am I getting at here with all these wild and incoherent rants about Eurowasteland, their cars, bad weather and their desire to noun-ify everything that could have political and economic meaning if the verb in it could be released? How ‘bout this: it’s all about dealing with the reality of Übergovernment. As a born and reared American’t and byproduct of a misconstrued generation that is between the boomer and the X-ers, there is something to the idear of wanting government to be… How should I put this so that any Eurowastlander will get it? (Short pause; take deep breadth.) You see, American’ts all believe in one thing and one thing only. I mean, it might be hard to believe, but they really do have one thing in common – other than that stupid pledge of allegiance. They want government to be… less. I’m not talking the same kind of mindless less that is propagated by the wingnuts of the political right in the united mistakes. The fact is, I’ve experienced both sides of the Atlantic and the Governesses the two can come up with – and it’s been an eye opening extravaganza, to say that least. Eurowasteland has a politic that is the best example yet of the Social lie fulfilled – including the lie of a functioning Übergovernment. In other words, Eurowasteland, in all her pseudo-communist, neo-aristocratic worship of heredity rights glory, has enabled and facilitated a comfort zone so great (subsidized corporate Audis for everyone – Jawohl!) that Das Volk can’t help but accept the monstrosity of a governess with huge, luscious milky teats that sometimes secrete really, really good wine.

In contrast, so that a bit of perspective can be maintained here, while the Eurowastelanders bask in their special kind of apathetic misery blinded by the shine of Audis and BMW trademarks, Das Volk from the united mistakes must bask in a similar misery of experimental political extremism where reality is so distorted that most American’ts can no longer tell the difference between purple clouds of the mind’s eye and purple unicorns running across pools of endless political hydrocarbons. Or. Put another way. American’ts are so politically stupid that they actually believe – as a contrast to Eurowasteland’s love of Socialism – that Capitalism is a political system.

OMFG! Have I lost you totally dear worst-reader?

I should admit now that I spend most of my time reading and studying about American’t Übergovernment because, unlike Eurowasteland, at least the American’t side – as bad and extreme as it is – has a left-right discourse which might be stupid but it ain’t boring. Beyond that, all the political discourse of American’t – especially post George Dubya Dispshit Bush – as blatantly ignorant and reactionary as it may be, at least exists inside a place that people can identify with. I wonder at times if the Eurowastelanders have all given up on politics because they have no connection to one another – or if Brussels is just so far away from the diversity that once was Europe. Eurowastelanders have attached themselves to renewed mother-state umbilical chords. They have no desire to challenge the consequence of so much apathy and submissiveness in the context of uniting as a people. They just stay hooked to mama and in the case of Das Volk, stay hooked to sauerkraut and state funded fancy cars. Yeah, baby. Comfort is good. Sucking on wine giving teats is great, too. Oh, and everyone has healthcare that they can drive to with their fancy new A4.

Another digression? Ok.

Let me try to get back to what I was hoping would be a thesis (but have obviously really, really screwed up). I am gallantly failing to address the idear of discourse and boredom and how Eurocrats have used it as a form of convention to tame what was left of the wildness prior to the great wars. Discourse and boredom are two things that obviously work well together when mixed properly (by three Shakespearean witches, of course). In the right context these two elements have taken on the same happy-face symbolism as a fat buddha or a shinning tao or a t-shirt that everybody wants to wear as though every work day were casual Friday. Of the major western industrialized countries, Das Volk of Eurowasteland has proven itself to be the ultimate locomotive of controlling the train of political chaos which should be the summit of socialism. It does this through a quelling of interest by saturating a highly educated but dumbed-down Volk with the infinite beauty of boredom embodied by the misconceptions of history and culture. In fact, everything has stood so still since the advent of Eurowasteland that perhaps a new form of life has emerged. This is a life form that has nothing to do with chemical reactions or biology. It is life in the form of an idear. Seriously. Anthropologists are getting doctorates in this stuff. There is reason behind the fact that, ultimately, it was Das Volk that gave the world Karl Marx and, of course, in the form of a German maternal grandmother conversion from Jew to Russian Orthodox, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. It seems that these two men and their essence, perhaps an essence that goes as deep as DNA, is impossible to purge. And so. Eurowasteland Governesses and of course it’s newly anointed coinage that is the evil-twin of the Deutsch Mark, is all that is left. Life bureaucratic anew. The idear has become real.  Culture is at a stand still. Yes. Germans lost the war. Fascism won. And the new Führer of everything is: Boredom!


Part 1. (2007-10-19 05:33)

Suggestion for getting Eurowasteland out of the sickening boredom that is the core to its political turmoil. Hot MILFs! Yeah, baby. Put them in charge of saving Eurowasteland? Let’s bring a little excitement into this mess that is Euroboredom. Let’s talk about something that Eurowastelanders have given the world. Mothers I’d Like To Fuck. But first. Do you know why the institution of marriage no longer requires official sanctioning by religion? I mean, the Eurowastelanders did start this trend – just most other superficial and meaningless trends that have only to do with how a person looks. The reason is simple. Religion has been replaced by law – which is code for big government. Once religion lost its hold on controlling people (thanks a lot to Eurowasteland for that, too!) something had to step in to replace it. Marriage is the perfect mechanism to prevent women from running around voicing opinions that are equally as stupid as men. The planet just can’t take double the stupidity. Marriage is the single best way of controlling the female voice, not to mention all the other stuff, including – and this is very important – married men. Marriage is also the single best way of turning the brilliance of life giving nature into a commodity that can be owned – and ownership is something that women seem to adore as a form of comfort and safety. It’s just like the laws governing property ownership. Seriously. The process of procreation, btw, and just like marriage, is a process enabled and meant not to serve the species but instead to serve the Governesses that rule everything. I mean, come on, think about it. What’s the best way to preoccupy half of humanity and thereby ease the control of the other half? Turn that half into something that is completely controlled by the unforgiving consequence of biology. Who is gonna stand up and emancipate from that? Are the feminists gonna do it? I think they’re busy with something else – and it’s probably called emancipation. Yeah, baby. The best way to assure that political discourse doesn’t get out-of-hand as, let’s say, Marx & Lenin caused it to get, is to make sure that females don’t cross the line established by patriarchy. So. Let’s blog about blond, blue-eyed, hot German MILFs and how they can add some fizzle to the boredom of Eurowaste State discourse.

The name of the anti-boredness? Eva Hermann. Talk about beauty. She has face that can make a statue cum. And. She is the author of books. A chick with a face like hers and she can write books? I gladly admit here, as statuesque as I am, she could even make a fuddy-duddy like me cum. (The book, btw, has a pink cover; just thought I’d add that for the sake of posterity.) Anywho. In 2006 Eva Hermann was promoting her newest book. Since she is a relatively famous news anchorwoman, half the promotional work was easy. The problem is, she forgot her place in the grand scheme of things. Like most stupid males that gave the world stupid (and boring) politics, our lovely MILF didn’t think twice about promoting Nazi family values in order to sell her book – which had something to do with women and children. These values, as she professed them, should be and subsequently have become part of the boring political discourse of Das Volk. Of course, my German girlfriend says, ”that’s not what she said”. What my German girlfriend fails to understand is that, often, and perhaps disproportionately, it is not what a German says that matters. What matters is what is perceived that a German says. Tough pill to swallow, eh. And most certainly not a boring pill.

Eva Hermann is running her trap on the back of a book she wrote that is trying to push the clock back on, IMHO, releasing half the population from the chains of political stupidity and thereby – hopefully – doing something positive for mankind. On top of that, during a TV appearance, she refused to apologize for remarks she made about how much better the Nazis cared for families. Now don’t go ballistic on me for judging her book even though I haven’t read it. For one thing, my book reading list is too long and I’m simply not interested in German MILF’s writing non-fiction books with pink covers. Another thing is, this is a blog where I can write anything I want and I really like bitchin’ about (having) to live in the lie that is Eurowasteland – which generously embodied by hot blondes that would be better off making old men cum by sending them perfectly glossed promotion photos.

I can tell you first hand that the females of Das Volk are in a pickle of a situation in this new century. Either they shut up and do what they’ve been trying to emancipate from for the paste 100 (?) years or they join the ranks of hotness that gives too many young men obsessed with Internet porn boners. Yeah, baby Euro MILFs could overwhelm servers like no other. And. I don’t think a woman like Eva Hermann are gonna help the situation that perhaps women don’t want to be placed in yet another useless corner of a political boxing ring fought by the other half.

Fortunately Das Volk has been reared by Weiber. These Weiber literally rebuilt a defeated and bombed-out nation. So it’s really no question who in the lie that is the family of Das Volk wears the pants. Having said that, many career oriented and ambitious Weiber (my girlfriend, my ex-wife, and various other Tussies from my past) are very dominating females. (What can I say, I dig chicks that for what ever reason act like men). And that’s probably a good thing – because it’s kept me from being the starving artist that I was meant to be. On the other hand, this is the reason I am in complete contempt of females trying to get old words of the past placed in the arena of the future and dressing up such a dirty deed by utilizing the aftermath of biology. Motherhood is not an entitlement – unless, of course, you believe in the social lie that is Eurowasteland – which my best guess is exactly what a female like Eva Hermann believes (even though the press might make you think that she believes more in Magda Goebbels). It’s also well worth mentioning my disappointment in the male portion of Das Volk. The anglo world needs to add more to it’s vocabulary in order to understand how things work among Das Volk and the males that occupy it. It’s not enough to watch car commercials and learn words like Fahrvergnügen or think of the near-past misinterpretation of the word Doppelgänger or Blitzkrieg. So let me provide a word for all: Schlapschwanz. Indeed. The Eva Hermann’s and Schlapschwänze are ruling Das Volk and subsequently the mess that is Eurowasteland. And to what end?

Oh my. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh my. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh my.

Women in Eurowasteland have to play more than a duel-role these days. I’m sure to the admiration of other pacified socialist countries, Das Volk is playing the globalization game with gusto and they are admired for it. Although I’m not sure other countries can put so many luxury cars on the road the same way the same way Das Volk does it. But it cannot be overlooked how Das Volk is managing their success. They do it by assuming, based on gender, that an outdated idear is the solution. And as the game whines down, as the apex of the pyramid lengthens and stretches and the base widens and becomes more dense, there is less and less of the pie to split between the extremes. And so. The easiest of all possible political routes is adopted. Men run to their role with the assumption that they are men. How archaic and devoid of merit; how exemplary and submissive. What a perfect fit in a place joyously obsessed with Übergovernment based on women who fail to realized that procreation is no longer a wonder but instead a disease. Gender determines politics and politics determines the boredom that rules everything.

The saying goes that the first casualty of war is the truth. If that’s the case then what is the first casualty of failed Socialism cloaked under the guise of favored Übergovernment? Isn’t it amazing how so many in the west are willing to give up the innate human right of choice and by default facilitate political boredom? In a period in history where you have to calculate whether or not you can afford a family, especially when there’s so much gluttony in our political and social system, I guess it’s no wonder that we’ve long since given up on progress and creating more and better choices (politically).

In terms of feminism, civil rights, habeas corpus…, the irony here stinks to the hilt! And so. Das Volk try to change the subject and avoid what really is important by perverted lust for cum driving faces. Eurowasteland is struggling so intensely with trying to keep the ”family” intact while misconstrued economic policies eat away at its foundation, that there is little choice anymore for the womb-laden to decide a fate. Men, who are wrongly running the show in Germany, are Schlapschwänze. And now, according to a MILF anchorwoman, females are rightly being ridiculed for saying that Uncle Adolf and his cronies enabled families to have a nice life because you could leave your bicycle unlocked on the street and it wouldn’t get stolen. Yea. The result of too much boredom has to be stupidity.

The whole of contemporary Eurowasteland is falling apart under the lie that is Social-Market-Economics. And all there is in the political discourse are MILFs who can run their trap a bit too much so she can sell a book with an ugly pink cover. Why doesn’t Das Volk deal with something more important? Like raise a few more taxes, create more ingenious bottle deposit schemes, or… say something very loud about why women in Islam have to be covered from head to toe. Oh. Eva Hermann, you dip-shit, why can’t you say something worthwhile to sell your book – something that might steer the political discourse in the right direction?


Rant on.