Ich Bin Ein Berliner

The story is that when JFK said, "Ich bin ein Berliner" in 1963, he was actually saying, "I am a jelly donut." True. And in a strange coicidence, when I think about myself in comparison to Berliners, that is exactly how I feel, just like JFK, just like a pathetic little glazed donut hole. You see the legendary Weimar Republic's run of icy decadence, so enjoyed by my forefathers, couldn't be more tailor-made, from debauched massage parlors to sex clubs to cabarets to private torture dungeons. A world on the brink of disaster? Don't ask -- I'm in. But this 21st century German shit is sending some prophetic shivers up my neck bone. The boys from the VICE office in Berlin recently invited a big wig from NYC over for a visit. Here was the pitch, as I understand it. Feel like catching?

When you're in Berlin, I’ll take you to one of the hundreds of illegal pit-bull fights organized by these Turkish dudes every weekend. They also organize bare knuckle fights and ninja fights (they dress like real ninjas but they're all Turkish) In a good night, you can find dog fight, bare knuckle and ninja fight and thousands of euros in between. Also there is the Gaystapo, the Nazi homo skinheads that organize bareback parties where they beat the shit out of each other. And burqas to boot!

Ho Chi Minh! Berlin makes New York City look like Colorado Springs. If this night on the town scenario seems your cup of tea, forgo the London office of Capper & Creighton and head straight to Berlin. And tell Hector and Benjamin, Mephistopheles sent you.