With a certain inevitability, the calendar creeps towards that special holiday where we all have to be fun-loving and jolly and yet peaceful and with goodwill to all men in our hearts (“goodwill to all people” would be more in keeping with our more egalitarian times, but doesn’t really sound right).
All of this is fine with me as far as it goes, but if you really want to put me off a festival, you only have to impose on me the sort of enforced jollity over a period of several weeks that makes me feel I’m somehow letting the side down if I have a bad morning. Suddenly, I go all cynical to the point where it’s fun to pointedly refuse to join in the fun.
Around here, people go slightly insane from the first Sunday in Advent, although it all begins as early as September when the first chocolate Santas appear in the stores. Suddenly, people are draping their houses in LEDs, inflatable snowmen and dummy Santas hilariously hanging onto rope ladders (if you want to burgle a house in Germany between Halloween and New Year’s, just get a Santa costume and practice moving like a lethargic sloth). Oh, and relentless Christmas music, most of it almost as old as me, is played at you everywhere (and while we’re on the subject, Last Christmas by Wham! is not a jolly Christmas tune, it’s a song about the break-up of a dysfunctional relationship).
Of course, it’s not Christmas itself I object to, but all the stuff leading up to it and the stuff you’re expected to do. My ideal Christmas would start on Christmas Eve, the house would be simply and tastefully decorated, there would be a nice meal, an exchange of small but meaningful gifts, and the next twelve days would be full of slightly more alcohol than usual, visits to and from friends and relatives I actually like and punctuated by a big party on New Year’s Eve.
Call me a killjoy if you will, but an even bigger killjoy is the Catholic Church in Germany. Every year in the run-up to Christmas (the new word for Advent), the Catholic Church has a campaign to ban Santa Claus. You see, Santa is an American tradition which has usurped the much more venerable tradition of St Nicholas, whose day is 6th December. The original German tradition is that St Nicholas brings small gifts for children on that day, while the big Christmas gifts are brought by the Christ Child on Christmas Eve, rather in the manner (we are led to believe) that someone having a birthday is expected to buy everyone a round of drinks.
Glossing over the fact that the Christ Child dispensing gifts in Germany is almost universally associated with a pubescent girl in a nightie and sporting angel wings, the Church sort of has a point here: Santa did get here from America. Having got to America from the Netherlands, and getting a bit confused with Father Christmas from Britain.
But how mean-spirited do you have to be to actually launch a campaign banning Santa from Germany? Demanding that shops remove their chocolate Santas and replace them with chocolate St Nicks (the only difference being that St Nick, being a bishop, wears a mitre) seems like a pointless gesture. Putting up posters with the face of Santa with a red diagonal stripe through it (“Say No to Santa”) is just spiteful.
So what if five-year-olds imagine their gifts are delivered not by a winged girl pretending to be a baby boy, but by a jolly fat man in red? Seriously.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Beer mugs: untold possibilities
Now, here’s a video that caused me more trouble than I’d expected. The actual filming and editing went smoothly: it’s not difficult, just me talking in front of a green screen with some small amount of technical wizardry. It’s just that when I uploaded it… closed captions weren’t showing up. Well, that’s sort of what happened; it’s more accurate to say that English captions were sometimes showing up in the track list in the video settings (at one point three copies), but not on the video at all, only to vanish again and then reappear. Eventually, the system got its act together and I was able to let the video go public.
But anyhow: the news report that inspired this video is typical of the sort of little article that finds its way into our local paper, and this being the sort of place it is, the police take this very seriously. It’s probably the most interesting case they’ve had to deal with in months.
But anyhow: the news report that inspired this video is typical of the sort of little article that finds its way into our local paper, and this being the sort of place it is, the police take this very seriously. It’s probably the most interesting case they’ve had to deal with in months.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Taking humour seriously
A while back, I made a video about German humour as it appears to non-Germans, especially Brits (since I am particularly qualified in that area). If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s this one.
Fascinatingly (if such a word exists), a great number of comments came from Germans pretty much proving my point by failing to notice the humour and talking it all too seriously. And then getting annoyed, thinking I’d just told them their humour sucked.
This is what prompted my latest video, a 16-minute run-down of just what it was I was trying to say. Which is quite the longest YouTube video I have ever made, so I hope everyone’s satisfied. I’m not upset, by the way; but I am very amused.
Fascinatingly (if such a word exists), a great number of comments came from Germans pretty much proving my point by failing to notice the humour and talking it all too seriously. And then getting annoyed, thinking I’d just told them their humour sucked.
This is what prompted my latest video, a 16-minute run-down of just what it was I was trying to say. Which is quite the longest YouTube video I have ever made, so I hope everyone’s satisfied. I’m not upset, by the way; but I am very amused.
Friday, November 25, 2011
I have a new toy!
It’s a Chromebook. Google nicely gave it to me ahead of its official launch in Germany in order to put it through its paces, and tell as many people as possible about it. And this is what I’m using right now to write this post.
For those who don’t know what a Chromebook is, it’s basically a netbook with an operating system consisting of a file manager and a browser. And that’s it. The idea is that most computers these days are pretty much exclusively used to connect to the internet, so all you really need is, well, a browser. And since pretty much everything these days is done on the web — e-mail, social networking, and even (thanks to Google Docs) word processing and spreadsheets — that’s all you need, most of the time.
I’m still finding my way around it, but it’s an interesting little tool. Some are skeptical about whether it’s really any better than a tablet PC or a smartphone, but I do appreciate having a proper keyboard (as “proper” as is possible on a netbook).
Since it hasn’t any need for a hard drive, or any drive at all, and the OS really is just a glorified browser, there’s precious little to boot up, a process that therefore takes a little under ten seconds. It’s also quite light — about the same as a medium-weight hardbound book.
I’ve been given the Samsung version (Acer also does a Chromebook). The version sold in the US comes with a Verizon chip for those times when you can’t get a wifi signal, but that’s illegal in Germany (it ties you down to a specific provider), so instead it has a slot for a SIM card, and it’s really difficult to get the SIM card in and out. There is a SIM card provided free with a German Chromebook, with free three months’ flatrate internet access, but the provider Google chose to team up with happens to have the worst HSUPA coverage in Germany, so in my village I can only connect via GPRS which is horribly, horribly slow. So thank you, German lawmakers: I can switch to a different provider (which I may do when my three months free trial is up).
But it is a nice gift from Google all the same. Thanks, fellas.
For those who don’t know what a Chromebook is, it’s basically a netbook with an operating system consisting of a file manager and a browser. And that’s it. The idea is that most computers these days are pretty much exclusively used to connect to the internet, so all you really need is, well, a browser. And since pretty much everything these days is done on the web — e-mail, social networking, and even (thanks to Google Docs) word processing and spreadsheets — that’s all you need, most of the time.
I’m still finding my way around it, but it’s an interesting little tool. Some are skeptical about whether it’s really any better than a tablet PC or a smartphone, but I do appreciate having a proper keyboard (as “proper” as is possible on a netbook).
Since it hasn’t any need for a hard drive, or any drive at all, and the OS really is just a glorified browser, there’s precious little to boot up, a process that therefore takes a little under ten seconds. It’s also quite light — about the same as a medium-weight hardbound book.
I’ve been given the Samsung version (Acer also does a Chromebook). The version sold in the US comes with a Verizon chip for those times when you can’t get a wifi signal, but that’s illegal in Germany (it ties you down to a specific provider), so instead it has a slot for a SIM card, and it’s really difficult to get the SIM card in and out. There is a SIM card provided free with a German Chromebook, with free three months’ flatrate internet access, but the provider Google chose to team up with happens to have the worst HSUPA coverage in Germany, so in my village I can only connect via GPRS which is horribly, horribly slow. So thank you, German lawmakers: I can switch to a different provider (which I may do when my three months free trial is up).
But it is a nice gift from Google all the same. Thanks, fellas.
Monday, August 15, 2011
I was not alive in 1945
I just thought I’d make that perfectly clear, just in case there was any lingering doubt. In other news, my trip to San Francisco grows ever nearer.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Germans are not calling for a ban on the workplace kiss.
“German call to ban workplace kiss” popped up on the BBC News RSS feed, which sounded scary enough for me to make me want to take a look. Not that I am in any way particularly fond of kissing at work — unless, of course, the other party happens to be my wife — but it’s not the sort of thing you want to see regulated by law. All sorts of scenarios present themselves, up to and including people being convicted of sexual harrassment for all sorts of minor infractions. Or worse, perhaps sexual assault is more common in Germany than I thought, with female workers constantly having to fight off the unwanted advances of their male colleagues.
In fact, as the article itself makes clear, it’s nothing of the sort. What it actually is is a society, with no legal status at all, politely suggesting that because the social kiss, common in countries like France, is very uncommon in Germany, it tends to make people a bit uncomfortable and perhaps it would be wiser to greet each other with a more traditional handshake, unless you happen to know that the other person is fine with a kiss on the cheek.
The “Knigge Society”, as the BBC calls it, is actually not a fan of bans, rules and regulations at all; quite the reverse, in fact: they’re trying to dispel the myth that Knigge was all about rules of etiquette. And what is Knigge? The BBC says “Knigge” translates as “proper behaviour”, thus neatly demonstrating that even the BBC occasionally gets confused between a “translation” and a “synonym”.
In fact, the correct translation of “Knigge” is... “Knigge”. It’s a name: specifically, that of Baron Adolph Franz Friedrich Ludwig Knigge, who lived in the 18th century and wrote a book called Über den Umgang mit Menschen, which can loosely be translated as “on dealing with people”, but is usually simply referred to as “Knigge”. The Knigge Society is fighting tooth and nail against the false perception that this was a list of rules of etiquette: instead, it was a dissertation on the importance of tact, and Knigge himself could probably be described as a sort of prototype sociologist. The problem is that various publishers have, for more than 100 years, been churning out rules of etiquette and using the name Knigge on the front cover.
“Let us put an end to the proliferation of inflexible rules of etiquette!” declares the society’s website. And then, referring to some of the more modern rules invented by random publishers in Knigge’s name, adds: “Anyone who wants to can say ‘bon appetit’ or ‘bless you’ and reverse these ridiculous exaggerations.” The society is not helped by a BBC article stating that the society has previously “ruled on the correct way to end a relationship via text message, and how to deal with a runny nose in public”. The society has “ruled” on no such subjects. The society has given advice to people who don’t want to cause unnecessary offence.
There’s a certain note of desperation in the words of the society’s chairman as quoted by the BBC: “We can’t forbid it,” says Hans Michael-Klein, but in vain because the author of the article still sees fit to state that society is calling for “kissing to be banned” in the very first sentence.
So, a group of people with no legal status or authority tackles a thorny issue that it determines is the result of a culture clash and suggests how people might avoid accidentally giving offence by sticking to the German norm unless both parties happen to be comfortable with the new fashion. That hardly amounts to a call for a ban.
In fact, as the article itself makes clear, it’s nothing of the sort. What it actually is is a society, with no legal status at all, politely suggesting that because the social kiss, common in countries like France, is very uncommon in Germany, it tends to make people a bit uncomfortable and perhaps it would be wiser to greet each other with a more traditional handshake, unless you happen to know that the other person is fine with a kiss on the cheek.
The “Knigge Society”, as the BBC calls it, is actually not a fan of bans, rules and regulations at all; quite the reverse, in fact: they’re trying to dispel the myth that Knigge was all about rules of etiquette. And what is Knigge? The BBC says “Knigge” translates as “proper behaviour”, thus neatly demonstrating that even the BBC occasionally gets confused between a “translation” and a “synonym”.
In fact, the correct translation of “Knigge” is... “Knigge”. It’s a name: specifically, that of Baron Adolph Franz Friedrich Ludwig Knigge, who lived in the 18th century and wrote a book called Über den Umgang mit Menschen, which can loosely be translated as “on dealing with people”, but is usually simply referred to as “Knigge”. The Knigge Society is fighting tooth and nail against the false perception that this was a list of rules of etiquette: instead, it was a dissertation on the importance of tact, and Knigge himself could probably be described as a sort of prototype sociologist. The problem is that various publishers have, for more than 100 years, been churning out rules of etiquette and using the name Knigge on the front cover.
“Let us put an end to the proliferation of inflexible rules of etiquette!” declares the society’s website. And then, referring to some of the more modern rules invented by random publishers in Knigge’s name, adds: “Anyone who wants to can say ‘bon appetit’ or ‘bless you’ and reverse these ridiculous exaggerations.” The society is not helped by a BBC article stating that the society has previously “ruled on the correct way to end a relationship via text message, and how to deal with a runny nose in public”. The society has “ruled” on no such subjects. The society has given advice to people who don’t want to cause unnecessary offence.
There’s a certain note of desperation in the words of the society’s chairman as quoted by the BBC: “We can’t forbid it,” says Hans Michael-Klein, but in vain because the author of the article still sees fit to state that society is calling for “kissing to be banned” in the very first sentence.
So, a group of people with no legal status or authority tackles a thorny issue that it determines is the result of a culture clash and suggests how people might avoid accidentally giving offence by sticking to the German norm unless both parties happen to be comfortable with the new fashion. That hardly amounts to a call for a ban.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Open letter to unknown cat owners
Dear unknown cat owners in Ortenberg,
I don’t know who you are, but my wife and I were in your lovely town today — although, if what we’ve heard has any truth in it, you probably don’t appreciate it as much as you probably should.
But I digress. The point is, walking through the old town, we met your two cats sitting on some steps with a blanket and a food dish. They were very friendly and clearly wanted to be petted, but when one of them — the little black one — stood up, we noticed that it had several nasty, suppurating open wounds on its back, where it can’t scratch. My wife reckons it must be a food allergy or, more likely, mites. I really don’t care, to be honest: the point is, it had untreated wounds and badly needed to see a vet. It did seem to be coping fairly well, under the circumstances, but it’s not nice to see and must be very unpleasant for the cat.
We were interrupted by the arrival of a little old lady: as it turned out, one of your neighbours. I’d describe her to you, but it’s unlikely you know her well enough. She told us to be careful with those cats, and explained why.
You see, the house on the steps of which these cats had been resting was her house, but they weren’t her cats: they’re yours. So how do they come to be in front of her door with a blanket and a food dish? You may well ask, but then, you know the answer to that, don’t you? It’s because you’re hardly ever home. Very occasionally, your little old lady neighbour sees your car, but normally she doesn’t see it, or you, from one day to the next.
She doesn’t want to take your cats in, for fear of catching something, and in any case she’s a little old lady and can’t really look after cats, especially when one of them clearly urgently needs the expensive attention of a vet. Although, to be honest, she’d be well within her moral rights to take the poor creature to the vet and get them to send the bill to you. But she’s a little old lady who lives on her own and wheezes when she walks: it’s really not her business.
Also, I’d say she has little experience of cats. She classes them as strays, which is why she won’t even touch them; but of course they’re not, because they’re far too friendly and affectionate. They were so clearly brought up in human company and belong in someone’s house and garden, not begging for food on an old lady’s doorstep.
And this little old lady, who doesn’t know the first thing about cats and who wheezes when she walks, feeds them. She feeds them not because it’s her job to do so, but because she has a spark of humanity in her and can’t bear to see them being left to their own devices, especially the little black one with the suppurating wounds. It’s a responsibility she can well do without, and there’s a reasonable chance the cats will outlive her, and then what?
It’s clear you don’t care one jot about them, because otherwise the little black one would have been to the vet’s and got the right treatment. If you’re almost never in Ortenberg, I can only assume it’s your second home, so it’s not as if you’re short of money. To be honest, if we didn’t already have cats, we’d have promised the little old lady who wheezes when she walks to come back next weekend and take the cats home with us. She’d thank us, and I doubt you’d even notice.
What happened, then? Did you acquire a couple of cute little kittens and not expect them to grow up? Did you honestly think that cats raised in human homes with humans would be able to look after themselves when they grew up? Or did you just get bored of them? What are they supposed to do in the winter? Do you know how bitter the winters up there in the Wetterau region are?
Not that you care (apparently), but I personally believe nobody should be allowed to have a pet cat (or dog, or anything) unless they know how to take care of it. There should probably be a test, like a driving test. Only if you pass it can you get your licence. Most importantly, if you do get a cute little kitten, you must be made aware that this is going to be a commitment for fifteen or twenty years. That’s comparable to the amount of time you can expect to have a child in the home if you add a baby to your family; only, unlike with children, you can’t get tax breaks and welfare benefit for cats. If you’re not absolutely certain you can sustain that level of commitment, I don’t think you deserve to have a pet at all.
I almost wish now I had instructed your neighbour to get somebody to drive the cats to the nearest animal shelter, where the black one will be treated by a vet and both given to a home that actually wants cats. But she’s a little old lady who wheezes when she walks, and I didn’t want to upset her, and I’m still too British to poke my nose into other people’s business.
Damn my Britishness.
Yours,
rewboss
I don’t know who you are, but my wife and I were in your lovely town today — although, if what we’ve heard has any truth in it, you probably don’t appreciate it as much as you probably should.
But I digress. The point is, walking through the old town, we met your two cats sitting on some steps with a blanket and a food dish. They were very friendly and clearly wanted to be petted, but when one of them — the little black one — stood up, we noticed that it had several nasty, suppurating open wounds on its back, where it can’t scratch. My wife reckons it must be a food allergy or, more likely, mites. I really don’t care, to be honest: the point is, it had untreated wounds and badly needed to see a vet. It did seem to be coping fairly well, under the circumstances, but it’s not nice to see and must be very unpleasant for the cat.
We were interrupted by the arrival of a little old lady: as it turned out, one of your neighbours. I’d describe her to you, but it’s unlikely you know her well enough. She told us to be careful with those cats, and explained why.
You see, the house on the steps of which these cats had been resting was her house, but they weren’t her cats: they’re yours. So how do they come to be in front of her door with a blanket and a food dish? You may well ask, but then, you know the answer to that, don’t you? It’s because you’re hardly ever home. Very occasionally, your little old lady neighbour sees your car, but normally she doesn’t see it, or you, from one day to the next.
She doesn’t want to take your cats in, for fear of catching something, and in any case she’s a little old lady and can’t really look after cats, especially when one of them clearly urgently needs the expensive attention of a vet. Although, to be honest, she’d be well within her moral rights to take the poor creature to the vet and get them to send the bill to you. But she’s a little old lady who lives on her own and wheezes when she walks: it’s really not her business.
Also, I’d say she has little experience of cats. She classes them as strays, which is why she won’t even touch them; but of course they’re not, because they’re far too friendly and affectionate. They were so clearly brought up in human company and belong in someone’s house and garden, not begging for food on an old lady’s doorstep.
And this little old lady, who doesn’t know the first thing about cats and who wheezes when she walks, feeds them. She feeds them not because it’s her job to do so, but because she has a spark of humanity in her and can’t bear to see them being left to their own devices, especially the little black one with the suppurating wounds. It’s a responsibility she can well do without, and there’s a reasonable chance the cats will outlive her, and then what?
It’s clear you don’t care one jot about them, because otherwise the little black one would have been to the vet’s and got the right treatment. If you’re almost never in Ortenberg, I can only assume it’s your second home, so it’s not as if you’re short of money. To be honest, if we didn’t already have cats, we’d have promised the little old lady who wheezes when she walks to come back next weekend and take the cats home with us. She’d thank us, and I doubt you’d even notice.
What happened, then? Did you acquire a couple of cute little kittens and not expect them to grow up? Did you honestly think that cats raised in human homes with humans would be able to look after themselves when they grew up? Or did you just get bored of them? What are they supposed to do in the winter? Do you know how bitter the winters up there in the Wetterau region are?
Not that you care (apparently), but I personally believe nobody should be allowed to have a pet cat (or dog, or anything) unless they know how to take care of it. There should probably be a test, like a driving test. Only if you pass it can you get your licence. Most importantly, if you do get a cute little kitten, you must be made aware that this is going to be a commitment for fifteen or twenty years. That’s comparable to the amount of time you can expect to have a child in the home if you add a baby to your family; only, unlike with children, you can’t get tax breaks and welfare benefit for cats. If you’re not absolutely certain you can sustain that level of commitment, I don’t think you deserve to have a pet at all.
I almost wish now I had instructed your neighbour to get somebody to drive the cats to the nearest animal shelter, where the black one will be treated by a vet and both given to a home that actually wants cats. But she’s a little old lady who wheezes when she walks, and I didn’t want to upset her, and I’m still too British to poke my nose into other people’s business.
Damn my Britishness.
Yours,
rewboss
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