At least I didn't mention The War
A weekend, or perhaps two, ago, my date leans over the table and whispers, over the din of the bar, that “The Germans have a really unsexy language.”
Completely oblivious as to why she would be saying this -- and why so low -- I could only assume it was a continuation of a conversation we had had perhaps 15 minutes prior, in front of a statue dedicated to those from the West Village who died in “The World War.” We had stood staring at said doughboy whereupon I broke the silence with, “They really came up with some good nasty names for Germans in that war, didn’t they?” And, flash forward, decided then and there in the bar to loudly catalogue those names again:
To which she immediately hissed, “Those are Germans sitting next to us!”
Today’s lesson: I mean, honestly, people: Blacks, Jews, Gypsies -- and yet it’s the friggin’ Germans I get caught for? How’s that for irony?
Completely oblivious as to why she would be saying this -- and why so low -- I could only assume it was a continuation of a conversation we had had perhaps 15 minutes prior, in front of a statue dedicated to those from the West Village who died in “The World War.” We had stood staring at said doughboy whereupon I broke the silence with, “They really came up with some good nasty names for Germans in that war, didn’t they?” And, flash forward, decided then and there in the bar to loudly catalogue those names again:
- Krauts
- The Hun
- Jerry
- The Boche
To which she immediately hissed, “Those are Germans sitting next to us!”
Today’s lesson: I mean, honestly, people: Blacks, Jews, Gypsies -- and yet it’s the friggin’ Germans I get caught for? How’s that for irony?
Labels: drinking, on the subject of 'Me', tales of ne'er-do-wellness
posted by Generalissimo Juan Flores at 4:07 PM
