Cologne and the Ärtzfullernachtzenschaftenbürger
By Sam Schramski
The bulk of German cities have been utterly destroyed by the mean-spirited bombing of a few youthful militants who called themselves the Allies. I mean this not because I have any affiliations with the pretenses of the Axis powers, because I'm not fond of Hitler anymore than I'm a lover of blood boils and water moccasins, but because of the logic and the numerance of cultural understanding.
Had the Royal Air Force or its less regal American counterpart taken an introductory lessons in the volk of the Prussians, Bavarians, and other square-jawed Teutons, they would have understood that only beer has primacy over all things. Beer is more important than the life of one's wife, one's child, even one's God if you take the city of Cologne into consideration. Here a prominent crypt houses the remains of an ancient klobis or beer server who would perish the thought of sacrificing unto Jesus and Mary anything other than a soft, clean glass of kolsch. Thus, the War could have been won in an expeditious manner, with a minimal loss of lives and material resources, had the German beer industry been annihilated, from the fields of hops to the copper drum percolation system.
The war is merely a figment of the past and in my conversations with most Germans now, there appears to be a greater likelihood that a fascist revolution will take hold in Brunei than here in Deutschland. It is worth mentioning the city of Cologne again, however, for the prospect of a different kind of insidiousness that all should fear.
At one time a part of France and also the birthplace of the most dastardly female politician the Roman Empire ever bequeathed to the world, this city is a cell of clandestine corporations and guilds that have basically been founded upon the irascible goal of destroying each and every ethically driven life they come into contact with. For lack of a better word, this practice must be termed ärtzfullernachtzenschaftenbürger. I feel contented to have coined a German word without knowing the language in the least.
Ärtzfullernachtzenschaftenbürger is without a doubt manifest here. When I set foot outside my hostel, a torrid little joint full of recovering kebab shop monopolizers and pilsner addicts,
 I came face to face with the brutality of it all in the timeless shape of the Dom. This cathedral, the panoramic selling point for this city, whose restoration is one of the primary reasons there is no money in city coffers, is unquestionably awesome in sight. Its gothic imitators are countless. Its enormity, coupled with a sooty exterior and exoskeleton of scaffolding, moreover is the perfect domus for the criminal underworld. Ask Pope Benedict XVI why he chose it for his homily for the World Youth Conference. Nevertheless, there is a precedent here: In Italy the cosa nostra was and is often in collusion with the Catholic Church, and the Hari Krishna overlords, well disposed in their city streets/airport terminals/temples have expressed knowledge of all thefts in organic vegetable shops the world over.
Perhaps what you should be most concerned with is the fact that 11,000 virgins once died here as martyrs. More importantly, though, these are not the same 11,000 promised by Osama bin Laden to his faithful adherents.
|
|
|
(0 vote)
