Note: This is NOT a comedian. It’s Thomas G. Hornauer, an entrepreneur who earned billions with phone sex lines. This documents his motivational speech after he took over an Austrian (?) TV station. He’s Suebian (German) though.

Too bad I missed out on this on TV – I saw him once in a concert once. I quite like how Stefan Raab is using German (and the fact that A.G. supposedly (?) doesn’t understand German) to crack jokes in a potentially uncomfortable situation.

Once again: A piece for the German audience – the classic sketch “Palim-Palim” (an onomatopoetic representation of the sound of the doorbell in a grocery store), also known as “‘ne Flasche Pommes Frites (A bottle of fries)”, starring Didi Hallervorden and featuring Gerhard Wollner. The sketch appeared in Hallervorden’s show Nonstop Nonsens, which was on air from 1975 to 1980 and is still aired occasionally. I guess that in a random group of Germans, at least three would still know it.

SPOILER WARNING!

Two inmates are bored by their daily routine of sitting on their bunk beds (“I’m bored… if only I had known this before…”). They decide to play shop, a shop in which the doors are always unlocked (that’s a pun). When they open they door, it goes “Palim-Palim”.
At first Gerhard is the shop-keeper. Didi enters the store and asks for a bottle of fries, an unexpected request for Gerhard. He tells Didi to try again.
Didi does his Palim-Palim routine again and this time asks for … a small bottle of fries. Gerhard suggests they swap roles so that Didi will learn how to act as a customer.
Now Gerhard enters the store, yet is asked by Didi whether the door bell was broken (no Palim-palim was to be heard). “Door’s already open”, Gerhard says, and proves it by opening and closing it (and making that sound) again.
Gerhard approaches the counter and says that he would like to buy some fries.
“Well”, Didi replies, “do you also have a bottle with you?”

Ahem. Maybe this is another example of German humour, but most Germans quite like that sketch. And if only for nostalgic reasons. Didi has indeed for years been one of the most anarchic comedians the country has to offer (and probably still is the most anarchic one, besides Helge Schneider, if you look at the current generation of German comedians).

Here is a transcript of the sketch.

De meneer Andrew vond het grappig om te beweren dat de Duitsers feitelijk ‘Dutch’ praten, en de Oostenrijkers Walloons. Da’s natuurlijk niet helemaal fout, en om hem dit de bewijzen zal ik nu voor een tijdje op ‘Hollands’ (Nederlands, ‘Dutch’) bloggen. Een goede oefening voor mij om mijn Nederlands niet helemaal kwijt te raken!

De heeer is er van mening dat ze met hun beetje Oud Engels in staat zouden zijn om dit te lezen en te begriepen. Welaan: Begin maar met je vertaling! Ik zal het zeker prettig vinden.

Het adres van mijn nieuwe blog, ookal heb ik er nog niet zo erg veel geschreven, is …iets met Piefke… – een Piefke is het woord wat de Oostenrijkers graag gebruiken om naar een Duitser te verwijzen.

… I have been starting a German blog, the URL of which I am going to post here when the time is right. Not that I didn’t have PLENTY of other things to do – yet I feel I need a German outlet, which is my native tongue anyway. It actually feels a bit odd to write a blog in German – surprisingly, kind of as if I was further away from myself, or at least putting on some kind of voice, in order to find the right on.

There seems to be a general consent that there are two kinds of bloggers, even if the lines and criteria of distinction are often dissimilar.

Greg Knauss, emulating Jason Kottke, thinks that the two kinds of bloggers are the referential and the experiential one:

The referential blogger uses the link as his fundamental unit of currency, building posts around ideas and experiences spawned elsewhere: Look at this. Referential bloggers are reporters, delivering pointers to and snippets of information, insight or entertainment happening out there, on the Intraweb. They can, and do, add their own information, insight and entertainment to the links they unearth — extrapolations, juxtapositions, even lengthy and personal anecdotes — but the outward direction of their focus remains their distinguishing feature.

The experiential blogger is inwardly directed, drawing entries from personal experience and opinion: How about this. They are storytellers (and/or bores), drawing whatever they have to offer from their own perspective. They can, and do, add links to supporting or explanatory information, even unique and undercited external sources. But their motivation, their impetus, comes from a desire to supply narrative, not reference it.

Aaron Brazell proposes that

There are two kinds of bloggers: those who blog for themselves, and those who write for others. The first kind of blogger writes as an outlet for themselves; the second type tries to meet the readers’ needs. The problem comes when the first type tries to be the second type and fails.

A chap who calls himself Sirbastian Manning takes a technological approach:

There are two types of bloggers.
1. People who use premade software. These guys usually have loads to write about.
2. People who make their own software to blog with. These guys usually have nothing to write about (some do though).
I fit into the last group of people but now I’m using wordpress so I should start writing more.
Maybe tomorrow.

And cartoonist Jeff Danziger knows the ultimate truth about the two types of bloggers

So which kind of a blogger are you? Which kind of a blogger am I? For the time being, I would simply describe myself as a blogger who has at one point made a resolution to write on post per today. That’s a statistical approach, but the rest follows from this. A certain quantity counts. And at the moment, I am also a blogger who considers reconsidering this resolution, as I feel I don’t really have the time for it – neither for writing about the things that do REALLY matter to me,

(e.g. about the annoying campaign of a club called Familiennetzwerk, i.e. family network, who are rallying to spread the word that day care children are severly traumatized and that there is no other way to protect a child’s sanity than by mothers’ giving up their jobs; recently on a television program, one of their spokes persons claimed that every third child in Sweden – a country where day care centres are not considered prisons, but a place of early social integration – was neurotic, basing her ‘research’ on just one Swedish publication by a woman who could, upon request, not produce any evidence for her findings; but the Familiennetzwerk doesn’t care, everybody can sing in their choir, for as long as they sing their tune… *grrrrrrrrr*)

nor for reading all the blogs out there that interest me. And if you have got just 11 blogs on your daily reading list, like I do, and you have another, presumably ‘real’ life to tend to, the demands of both tend to collide.

I am also considering writing in German – when I started, writing in English also meant to not align myself geography, which also lead me to the misspelling of the name of the province I live in, i.e. Vorradelberg. And know that I know that I am going to move away (relatively) soon, I might want to. Align myself. Geographically and linguistically. But then Cabbage, Lallopallo, Whetted and Nova wouldn’t be able to ‘read me’. Hmm.

As recommended by Jetsam: German football fans (a predominantly male species) regularly partake in a certain ritual which involves squatting on the floor first (1), engaging in a bit of antiphonious call and response (2) and concluding with bout of jumping up and down, clapping their hands and singing ‘Humba humba humba täterää, täterää, täterää’ (3).

The example below was recorded during the soccer world cup – German police men are not exactly known for their friendly attitude towards football fans, so this is a pleasant surprise. The guy sticking his head into the ‘green white partybus’ [one of the lines used in (2), green white being the conventional colour of German police vehicles] is using their electronic megaphone, with his chant blaring from the the roof of the car:-) Nice!

Heute ist mir nach einem deutschen Post zumute, wie auch anders, wenn mir Hans Sachs, der wortgewaltige Sprücheklopfer der frühen Neuzeit zwischen die Finger gerät:

Der Hans Sachs, der war ein Schuh-
macher und Poet dazu.

O-Ton Hans Sachs. Wer kennt ihn noch? In der Volkstanz- und Trachtengruppe meiner Mutter ist er wohlbekannt, dort spielen die aktiven Mitglieder (50-60jährig) den passiven Mitgliedern (70-90jährig) alljährlich am Dorfabend ein Hans-Sachs-Stück vor, dieses Jahr Das Kälberbrüten Selbiges Stück wurde auch schon Mitte der siebziger aufgeführt, wie Fotodokumente bezeugen, und sicherlich auch in der Zwischenzeit. Was allerdings kein gerechtfertigter Anlass zum Unken ist, auch nicht, dass die späteren Meistersinger ihr Regelwerk zur Beurteilung so streng angewendet haben, dass die Kunst im Keim erstickt wurde (mehr dazu in Wagners Meistersingern von Nürnberg).

108 Schauspiele, ca. 1800 Spruchgedichte und 4275 Meisterlieder soll der singende Schuhmacher verfasst haben – ein Meisterlied war ein Lied, dessen Text und Melodie der Autor selbst verfasst hatte, um es beim Zunfttreffen vorzutragen. Hauptsächlich Handwerker schlossen sich den Meistersingerzünften an – welch ein Luxus und wie schön wäre es, wenn Handwerk und Bildung im direktesten Sinn der Menschenbildung auch heute noch zusammenspielten:-)

Ich selbst liebäugele ja mit der Idee des Einrichtens einer Toastmaster Gesellschaft, auch wenn mir derzeit die kulturellen Ressourcen dazu fehlen. Zudem müsste ich mich in einer Gegend wohnhaft befinden, in der ich etwas von dem mir Angeeigneten an meine Umgebung und Umwelt zurückgeben wollte, und das ist hier derzeit nicht der Fall (würde ich auf dem Dorf wohnen, auf dem Mutter wohnt, würde ich wohl bald dem Volkstanz beitreten, um dort ebenfalls Hans-Sachs-Spiele zu spielen, aber ein solcher Umzug ist auch sehr sehr unwahrscheinlich in irgendeiner Zukunft)

Da in unseren Zeiten die Frage des Im Beruf Erfüllung Findens eine gar übermächtige spielt, wäre das nicht ein schöner Gedanke: Dienst ist Dienst und Schnap ist Schnaps, den Schuhmacherleisten am Tage und des Abends die Meistersingerzunft! Schon allein der Gedanke einer regelmäßigen Einkommensquelle, die einem erlaubt, die Freizeit zu verbringen mit ergötzlicheren Dingen wie der Wer war eigentlich Hans Sachs? erscheint mir wunderbar. In diesem Lichte bin ich immer noch erleichtert, dass ich den Doktoratsversuchungen nicht erlegen bin, wer braucht das legitime kulturelle Kapital? (Billige rhetorische Frage, den mit einem M.A. steh ich ja auch nicht als Waisenkind da).

Zurück zum Kälberbrüten: Ein ungeschickter Bauer, kaum ist die Bäurin aus dem Haus, lässt den Hof verkommen, die Katze das Fleisch fressen, das Kraut verbrennen, das Schwein in den Garten und das Kalb im Brunnen ertrinken. Vor Räue versucht er, es wieder gut zu machen – indem er einen Käse bebrütet. Bei den Eiern klappts ja auch. Die Bärtin hält ihn nun gänzlich für vom Teufel besessen und schafft es mit dem Pfarrer ihn von seinem Käsenest herunter zu holen:

Der Pfaff
Mein Hans, was wollst du brüten aus?
Der Bauer
(schreit, zeigt ihm einen Käse und spricht)
Kälber! Seht’s Wahrzeichen wohl,
Der Käs, der steckt von Maden voll,
Unten und oben, hinten und vorn;
Das wären eitel Kälber worn,
Hätt’ ihr mich nit davon gerissen.
Der Pfaff
Hans, ich wollt’ gern von dir wissen,
Wer dich die Kunst gelehret hat.
Der Bauer
Furcht, Sorg’ und Angst mich lehren tät,
Welche ich hatt’ zu meiner Frauen.
Der Pfaff
Sag’ uns die Wahrheit, laß’ uns schauen
Wie sich solch’ alles zugetragen.
Der Bauer
Die Sach’ mag ich euch gerne sagen:
Doch daß ich sicher vor dir sei!
Die Bäuerin
Ja, du sollst sein quitt, ledig, frei,
Ich muß doch sein mit dir erschlagen.

Das Fernsehen der frühen Neuzeit:-))) Den ganzen Text gibt es beim Projekt Gutenberg. Schöner sind die Texte bei den Wikicommons, da in Originalsatz erhalten, aber da gibt es das Kälberbrüten nicht. Aber auch hübsch: Der schwangere Pawer (der schwangere Bauer).

Last night I thought: I’d really like to design an “End Guantanamo” logo to stick on my blog and share with others. Just read an article in the Spiegel earlier about the ‘trials’ that have started now in Guantanamo and that seem to have more in common with a drumhead court-martial than with regular legal proceedings. Geneva Convention, anyone? It makes me sick to think that there are people who have been held in prison, tortured, humiliated for five years now, trapped in a legal black hole, by a country that claims to be the beacon of hope and freedom. Just imagine it were you now, held in Guantanamo, just because you did some translation work for the Afghan authorities, not knowing that some of them were Al-Qaida – like one of the guys the Spiegel article was about… it makes me so incredibly sick. Five years of your life… try to recover from that. If you ever get out, that is…

Being German, I also want to ask: Why doesn’t anybody use the term ‘concentration camp’ for Guantanamo? It _is_ the right term. And anybody who ever wondered how all those things could have happened in Germany, how millions could be killed without the German citizens noticing and reacting: Where is the reaction of American citizens now? How can Guantanamo exist, continue to exist, without anybody ever intervening? And why is there no decided response from the global community? Shouldn’t the USA be kicked out of the NATO, their citizens no longer be granted visa to other countries, US embassies be evicted, and presidents, prime ministers and chancellors of all countries declare their disgust with America’s delusion of grandeur? ‘Home of the free’? Dear my American friends who read this – I know what you think of Guantanamo (and if you didn’t we wouldn’t be friends), and so I trust that you won’t take personal offense. It just make me so sick…

I don’t think I’ll get my blogosphere chores done today either:-(

If I hadn’t started a blog and hadn’t stumbled over Neha’s Blog, then I would miss out on so many things in the arena of global popular culture! I still have no idea whether I will ever make it to India (I have the secret hope that a friend of mine who is going to get married to an Indian-American is going to celebrate twice and that I’ll be invited to the Indian ceremony:-) but nevertheless I love all things Indian. Today she recommended Nike’s new commercial, tailored to the taste of Indian audiences: Cricket Crazy!

Speaking of globalization: In the case of this commercial it seems as if some South American rhythms have crept into the tune. The downside: It’s great to have youtube, in particular if you don’t have a TV, but some things just have to be watched on a big screen to catch on. Silver screen would be even better – for comparison, I have also included the Nike basketball commercial which struck everyone when it first appeared in the movie theatres. The vibe doesn’t really come across on youtube.

Daily Lent (Day 11): I am now beginning to fantasize about food that contains sugar. A piece of classic German fruitcake from the pan would be the best, made from yeast dough covered with plums and with crème fraiche poured over the hot cake. Quetschekuche mit Schmand… drooooool… Actually, a cuppa tea with milk AND SUGAR alone would be really nice right now.