German Word of the Week: Jubelperser

On June 2, 1967, the Shah of Iran and his wife Farah paid a state visit to Berlin, West Germany. Wherever he went, there were demonstrations by Berliners against the hospitality being shown to the dashing autocrat. To shield him from these demonstrators, the Iranian regime arranged for a group of about 150 Iranians to accompany the Shah and cheer him on.

Since the people were Persian, and since they cheered and celebrated (jubeln in German) the Shah, they were called the Jubelperser (g) "Cheering-Persians". It's pronounced roughly YOU-bull-pair-zer. But these Jubelperser had a sinister side as well — some of them were members of the SAVAK secret police.

As the protests came to a head during the Shah's visit to the Berlin opera house, the Jubelperser took a break from cheering, whipped out clubs, sticks, and batons, and began beating nearby demonstrators. German police, who despised the student demonstrators, stood by and watched without doing a thing except possibly smirking.

Later that day, when the Berlin police violently dispersed the demonstrators, policeman Karl-Heinz Kurras (g) for reasons that remain unclear to this day, pulled out his gun and shot student demonstrator Benno Ohnesorg (g) to death. Kurras was never convicted of a crime for the shooting. In 2009 it was revealed that he had been an unofficial collaborator with the Stasi. The death of Ohnesorg on June 2, 1967 greatly accelerated the radicalization of parts of the German student movement — in fact, one terrorist group that operated during the 1970s was called the "June 2nd Movement".

Jubelperser has entered the German vocabulary to describe paid professional fans, or generally any crowd which displays unnatural or exaggerated enthusiasm. There doesn't have to be something a bit menacing about their display, but if there is, the term fits even better. Example of use in a sentence: "When a flightsuit-clad Angela Merkel ran awkwardly onstage to the sound of 'Rock You Like a Hurricane', the audience, mainly members of the Youth Wing of the Christian Democrat Party, dutifully cheered like Jubelperser."

Nicolas Godin: ‘Widersteh’ Doch der Sünde’

Nicolas Godin, Half of the great French duo Air brings us this Beatles-esque arrangement of the alto aria from Bach's Cantata No. 54, 'Widersteh' Doch der Sünde'. Video = Lutheran surf-zombies.

I repeat, Lutheran surf-zombies. 

Most Frequent Occupational Surnames in Europe

[source]

Rules for Ladylike Behavior and Bewitching Langour

From 'Fascinating Womanhood' by Helen B. Adelin (1974):

No. 12: Don't be creepin'.

German Word of the Week: The Trinkhalle / Büdchen Divide

A few weeks ago, I rode my bike from Düsseldorf to Solingen-Ohligs, about 22 km. After a long, hot ride, I wanted a nice fresh ice-cold beer. Actually, 5.  So I asked a random passer-by where the next Trinkhalle was. Literally, 'Drink-Hall'. This is the somewhat odd word we use in Düsseldorf for a small shop where you can buy a cold, refreshing beverage. Specifically, a beer. There are rumors of people buying water or cola in Trinkhalle, but I've never seen it.

The above photos is of a Trinkhalle near where I live. It's right next to a technical training school, so of course it's been tagged. Now technically, since this is a tiny detached building, you could call this one, even in Düsseldorf, a Büdchen, a small shop. It makes a big difference whether the building is detached (which means it could be a Büdchen) or one of the shops on the street. Classically, a regular shop next to others is a real Trinkhalle. Like this one:

So I ask a stout, tanned, sixtysomething resident of Ohligs where the next Trinkhalle is. He looks at me with a smile, saying 'Trinkhalle'? over and over. Obviously savoring the absurdity of calling a beer store a 'drink-hall'. My friend steps in and corrects me, saying: 'He wants to find a Büdchen'. Old Mr. Ohligs then pretends that he has just understood me, and tells us where to find one. 

Screw GPS. The way you know you've put in a good workout in Germany is if you reach an area where the slang is different.

German Word of the Week: Engländer

The blog pommesbuddha teaches me something I did not know:

And even our toolboxes are full of our favourite islanders: the colloquial word for an adjustable wrench in German is Engländer.

An adjustable wrench (Verstellschlüssel) is called an Englishman (or person, if you prefer). According to Wikipedia (g), this is either because the first such wrench was patented in England, or because when German workmen encountered English nuts and bolts measured in inches, the adjustable wrench was the fastest and cheapest way to handle them.

On Charles Bukowski

A favorite in Germany. Dan Piepenbring:

I have for many years now actively enjoyed not reading Charles Bukowski. I want to say with conviction that Bukowski is not so much a voice from hell as a voice from Hell-Lite™, a kind of flimsy, adolescent imitation of true misanthropy—but I have no evidence to furnish in my case against him. How could I? I’ve never read him. All I know is that I’ve listened to a tepid Modest Mouse song about him; I have spoken to a stranger at a bar who told me she’d “snort his words off the page,” if she could; and I’ve sneered at the cover of Ham on Rye in a Park Slope Barnes and Noble. If you asked me to mount a cogent defense of my antipathy, I’d have to say something pretentious like “I find his role in the culture banal.”