I saw two tramps outside Kaufland on Saturday. They were kind of okay-looking, as far as tramps go, but they were, basically, tramps. I’m not judging or anything. That’s what they were.
So one goes to the other: “Well, if kids start school, and they can’t speak a word of German, you know what I’d do? I’d cut their parents’ child benefit payments, that’s what I’d do! Huh. They’d start speaking German pretty damn quick, that’s what I’m telling you.”
I am NOT judging these people. They’re, like, homeless and that but I’m not judging them. I am really, actually, basically, totally, entirely NOT judging. Well, okay, maybe I am judging a little bit. A bit, you know. A little, tiny bit. They were, like, literally, on a break from begging for money for beer, right. And then you know what the other one says?
Wait for it.
The other one goes: “Na, klaro.”
Na, klaro! They were surrounded by plastic bottles they had fished out of bins so they could collect the Pfandpennies back, IN ORDER TO BUY MORE ALCOHOL and he’s giving it all “Na, klaro.”
Sometimes I love German people so much I think my heart might explode.