Concentration "Camp"

It's not easy to add a humorous touch to a story about systematic child abuse in a concentration camp run by ex-Nazi friends of Pinochet. I suppose the other shoe to drop will be the story on the retirement home where old Chicago blues men are forced to write headlines for BBC News.

Spongebob Squarestache

German dyslexics will find this picture really funny; everyone else can just go here to check out some cool QT3D panoramas of Artemis, Berlin's biggest brothel, as well as some other pfiffigen Berliner interior spaces.

Salt That Fatty Pork Slab, White Boy!

For centuries, Germans have terrorized arteries everywhere, hurling slabs of pork, lard, and butter on defenseless pieces of bread and calling it a snack. But let's not fool ourselves: the Fatterland is just a warm-up act for the real deal. I'm talking about the land of Arterial Inquisition, the Ham Homeland, El País del Porquemada: España! From the Spamiards point of view, any Hunny Boy can eat ladle out the lard, but how 'bout adding some salt to that lard, sí? Ham is to Spain what sausage is to Germany, and friends, Dr. S can testify that the pain in Spain falls mainly on the vein. Sí, sí, ham is already saltier than sausage, but why stop there? Let's dry that ham, call it jamón serrano, and make it the National Meat Product! Jamón serrano has truly opened my eyes even as it has closed my arteries — this is pork paradise! Madrid even has a goddamn Ham Museum, where you can not only eat the exhibit, but wash down the salty treasure with a fine selection of beer, wine, and vermouth, all on tap. Starting to sweat yet? Brace yourself: don't tell your arteries, but there are actually a number of museos del jamón conveniently located throughout Madrid. ¡Olé, olé olé olé!

In the Kingdom of Encased Meat Products: A Field Report

Breakfast in Mainz (raw pork and onion sandwich)





Lunch in Wiesbaden (bag o' saucissons alsaciennes)





Evening repast in Heidelberg (arteries now audibly hardening)





By dessert time, Magdalena needs to take over (deep-fried dumplings)

Bah, Blog-Glögg!

Taking inspiration from this Glühweinstiefel that the good Reverend kindly shared with me this week, I'm taking off tomorrow for a visit to the Heidelberger Weihnachtsmarkt (and don't ask me why there's an F1 on that page) with the ever-lively Sebastian, thence to Madrid, where apparently the newly extended bullfighting season has pushed Christmas into mid-January. I'm not sure I believe it, but it's a gamble I'm willing to take — anything to escape the incessant caroling of the basement lab rats.

Caveat lector, indeed!

This is a very strong claim to make, but: I think I've stumbled across the world's weirdest website. Masterminded by a husband and wife team, I first thought this was bad college humor, but a couple of clicks later, I realized these folks were on a mission; they even translate their hallucinations into four different languages. Be afraid.