This morning I did not know how to react.
Reminded me of a similar situation some weeks ago. We were driving in the late afternoon through bad weather, and all of a sudden the potatoesack said “kids like Lucian (let’s call him Lucian here) should be aborted, wenn man’s richtig nimmt. All the costs they create …”
Get it right – Lucian sitting right behind her, the others on their seats.
This is right out of the nazi textbook. I was petrified, and through my head went some things : “I slam this car into the next wall !” “I will from now on never tell this fascist pig anything about me, all she’ll get is lies.” “I shut up. Better than yelling.”
Do you know the German expression “anwanzen” ? As I understand it, it means to try to establish an understanding of company, like blinker the eyes and “we know, eh ?” A kind of unspoken understanding and acceptance.
The potatoesack did not stop after this statement, but continued along this line – “sure you agree, eh ?” So I told my first lie, and said “I am pretty catholic about this.” And because she is thick as a brick, she only understood that I am catholic, what I am not. Later she mocked this, my fake belief, in a pretty arrogant tone, and I just fixed her eyes, and she shut up.
Today is the 17th of January, the day the Red Army reached Auschwitz. And put an end to this hell on earth. It was in the news this morning, and promptly the potatoesack started whining along the good old fascist line “there must be put an end to this. We are not responsible – yadayadayada. And, of course, nobody speaks about German “Opfer”.
And again : “And you say nothing, eh ? Sure you agree ?!”
No, I do not agree. I said that I have Jewish friends, and that they may see this a bit different. Promptly she started backpedalling – she “knows Jews too” : In the end she saw a Jewish man in some place in Franconia. Oh no – never meant it “that” way …
Of course she did.
I have to share the cramped room of the vehicle with this person for another two-to-three weeks. I already have asked my dispatcher for another co-driver some time ago last year. He literally fell on his knees, and begged me to go on. It is possible that this will not work, maybe some day I will explode and throw her out in the middle of the woods.
Uneducated, un-reflected, manipulable like clay. I do not say that I am oh-so-educated, or that I would not be manipulable. And of course, my self-reflection could be better. But at least I know that these things exist. At least I try to use my brain.
This creature is brain-dead. Bauern schlau, of course, what possibly can be translated as “shrewd”, but I’m not sure. There is not one single trace of critical thinking, or imho, thinking at all left in this skull. All truth comes from fakbuk, no questions allowed, everything else is lie. Standard utterances are : “They do not tell us the truth !” “He’s a foreigner (or something else : homo, Jew, “so enner”), but I can’t tell nothing bad about him.”
There you go.
It is alive, it is here, I see and hear it every effing day.
How can you grow up in Western Germany, become nearly seventy years old, and talk so much crap ? And mean it.
I know that “truth” is a complicated thing, that every human being, in the end, creates its own version of “truth”. But I learned also that there is a way of communication, of civilised discussion, a way to hold these ideas (or illusions) of “truth” next to each other and compare them. There is (or better : should be) always the possibility of learning, understanding, accepting even.
But here is nothing. Not even proper use of the native language. This creature only reacts to likeness (in any sense, especially the fakbuk “sense”), to imagination unquestioned. Some of you, venerated readers, may know my family name, and it is not very “German”. When the potatoesack heard it the first time, she asked me “So, what are you …?” She said in the local dialect something along the line “un’ was bisd’n du für enner, hä?” I did not know what to reply, and finally said “Is the name of my family not German enough for you ?”
The answer was silence.
The creature is not even clear enough to communicate her prejudices in her own language.
I am sorry for this lang blah. Let’s get on with it, we need music. Heavy metal thunder ? Punk ? Bah – a peasant’s dance, with greetings to Herr BACH, the best antidote to the daily barbarism : Here is Jethro Tull’s Bourée from the 1969 album Stand Up.
I hope you like the music, may your daily grind be free from barbarians.