Probably nothing much happened this week anyway in Germany. It never does, partly because political things are so slow, and partly because politicians always try and do as little as possible. Not because they’re lazy, but because the less they do, the less we’ll notice that they’re not doing anything – it’s one of those paradox thingies.
Politicians have effectively locked themselves in with Schrödinger’s Cat, hoping that no-one opens the box, and you’ll recall Mr. Schrödinger never said anything about a cat litter, so whoever’s in there is gonna come out smelling like shit. So, accordingly, the biggest story this week was a non-story – in that Thilo wasn’t kicked out of the SPD.
The fact that the dunderheaded SPD hadn’t made this decision within, say, a minute of Sarrazin’s lecture in amateur genetics is already condemnation enough. That they’ve waited this long to decide only makes them look more pointless than they already were. Next week, the SPD decides what they think of Hitler.
Even if they were trying to make a pitch for the all-important bigot demographic, to make a kerfuffle about not kicking him out now, after Thilo has cast himself as a kind of German Charlton Heston (“You’ll have to pry my cold, dead fingers off my SPD card.”) only makes them look less decisive.
But you might as well keep it now, Thilo – in fact, why not become the new party leader and bend them to your iron rod? You needn’t bother with all this dithering. If you’d have been in charge you’d have kicked yourself out long ago.
I know a ditherer when I see one. I should know. I’m an inveterate ditherer from a family of ditherers. You should see my mum trying to choose something from an unfamiliar menu. God bless her. The SPD has well and truly become an anachronism.
Anyway, where was I? I was in Africa. Fuck it; I’ll save all that for next week. This could well be the malaria pills kicking in.