Some would say I know a few things. Skills and magic. I'd respond, modestly, that 'I was thoroughly trained.' Especially at driving. I used to love driving.
Ich liebe Alles.
Tom Petty's "It's Good To Be King" fades into such a beautiful ensemble, drifts off, explores tonal realms... somewhere around the 4 minute mark. I rewind it a lot. On the road, even more so.
Leaves skitter across windy, cozily empty rural roads. Forgotten corn rots, no one cares, listens as we pass. Songbirds do their 'bird' things, tucking in for the night. Soon, I am in awe, jogging into the woods. Two Labs as lieutenants. Wet and cool and dark as the sun sets in the southwest. Inviting, in a Goth way. An owl moves silently under the canopy of spruce and fir, twisting between the trunks, air-lurking, wings splaying and contorting to make the turns. The rain tastes fresh dripping from the cedars, mildly reminiscent of rust, or perhaps salt from the Sound only a mile off to the west. Booted feet find familiar berms, the trail goes faster, and leaner. Remembered.
Then I woke up again. Fich.
Despite polling numbers, I must uncomfortably steer into a tirade... a type of crimson squall. (That'll stain the sails, I know.)
Think five years back or so...
An odd feeling crept through me - and I'm sure YOU felt the same way - as President W. the Shrub rubbed the German Chancellor's shoulders uncomfortably in the endless TV replays...
"It rubs the lotion on its skin..."
(Angela Merkel felt it. Bet on it. He HAS an underground bunker already! Frickin' Cheney's got some sort of Ring of Unindictability. Isn't anyone paying attention? The emperor has no smooth moves! Profound doubt ensued. And I already had issues with them after NYC.)
(Nein, nicht an der WTC.) (That's what She said. Ba doom pish.)
I know that I loved Germany when I was there. Clean. Autobahns. Castles. Rib-stickin' food. Beer. Frauleins. Hair gel. Trains on time. You can pee anywhere! An' Reagan watchin' our backs... How could anything be wrong? AND - Convenient enemy across the border, well-defined and evilish, practically junior varsity. The USSR/Warsaw Pact played that part so well for young idealistic US boys like myself... I KNEW I was good, so those guys MUST be bad. They were on the Other Side, right? (We were all like Luke and Hans in those days. Lukes and Hanses? Wait. Lukes and Hansens? Hansen und Luken? Fich!)
Oh, the 80's were a spectacle to behold in Europe. I can't paint a pseudo-rosy-enough picture of that time. We all knew it could come crashing down, so we enjoyed what oppurtunity we had. Time and Purpose found meaning there, and we got paid for it! We wore uniforms, but we thought 'ambassadors at 180 km/p/h...' (Our official fates were something along the lines of 'die in place here in your tank, defending Europe,' but that was good enough for us.)
Imminent nuclear conflict makes for fantastic parties. Everybody should have them. Do the neon/shaved head theme! Crack some glow-sticks!
I know I miss certain doom. It provides focus. A man on a tightrope is remarkably in tune, I'll warrant. Speaking of that...
"...Sometimes you wear 'L'air du Temps,' but not today."
I know I don't like those new blue-toned headlights. My retinas care even less for them. Oh yeah, they've been around for a few years now. These new ones are the color of 'ego.' They practically spell "a-s-s-h-o-l-e' with nothing but a blinding roar of paired 'Willy Loman' beams.
I almost wish they were always on Audis, because I somehow have a hugely negative reaction to them, as well. I see them in my rear-view mirror quite a bit, perpetrating nonsense. Less than foot off my chrome. Dichs. Arsehohle. (Add your own umlauts.)
Who buys a German car that's as cheap as you can get? Pretenders, that's who. (OhhOoh, you've got a fine European sports car! Nice tires? Orange dashboard lights, so cool... Quit tailgating me, hang up the phone, and wake the hell up! Drop the sandwich, honey. We're driving here!) (Do this and I won't call you in as a suspected drunk/drug addict. Deal?)
Germany. Renowned for its engineering and manufacturing talents. (Soooo precise. I'd love to see a German CSI show. "Ze man schpewed, und dann vee caught hims sex seconds later-hosen.") And masterfully political... oooch. (Only one war away from world domination, eh, Schatzen?)
I know I don't like people trying to make left turns in the city. They're holding up the whole world because they can't route-plan. Accidents happen, pedestrians get smished, all because people can't do their own direction-finding anymore. Three rights is less dangerous than one left. I'll bet the Germans have a saying for that Truth.
The German language has often been called the 'language of war.' I'm not even gonna look that up, I've heard it so often. But I didn't learn enough of it to feel that way. It was a way to get ice cream, pork, chocolate, 'Lucky Strikes.' Streiken mit Lucken? Fich!
I know I love clean water, golden light, beer, and cooked pigs. So I'll never have a problem with the Germans.
Plus we shared that 'doom thing' for a while.
Come to think of it, I may even have a medal that says that. Eine Cookenpiggenbeerenmedal.
"You will let me know when those lambs stop screaming?"
Oh, you bet.
But not today.
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