My girlfriend was on the tram a couple of days ago, on her way to the university. In the tram were a couple of teenaged ‘guest workers’, Turks to be specific. One of them was screaming into his cell phone in that monotonous berber they call a language, to the consternation of the entire car. Assholish enough. After a few minutes of this, a portly old German lady started yelling at the teens to pipe down, you damn kanaken, you’ve taken everything we hold dear and pissed on it, our jobs, our schools, our dignity; at least let us have a little peace and quiet on the goddam train, this isn’t Turkey, blah blah. I can appreciate the sentiment, indirectly. I take great pains, as an auslander, to avoid the stereotypes that foreigners hold about Americans: I speak the lingo, I try to avoid being loud and obnoxious, and I don’t embarrass the locals by flaunting my legendary American sexual prowess in public. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you, it’s just that Rube’s all about the decorum.

The lady on the tram was out of line. I wasn’t there myself, but I doubt she tried first politely asking the young’uns if they’d maybe try to speak a little more quietly. She really just let herself get annoyed to the point that her prejudices came out in an ill-advised burst of emotion. To be sure, Turks are a pain in the ass, as far as being tolerant goes. Why the uptight Germans chose to import a bunch of screaming Islamic lunatics as guest workers, I’ll never understand. You’d really have to search to find two more incompatible cultures. Whenever a Turkish team wins a soccer game, no matter how insignificant, the streets are jammed with Mercedes and BMWs, honking their horns up and down the ancient cobblestone thoroughfares, delirious Saracens hanging out the windows waving flags with the sickle and the star.

This is how they celebrate weddings, too. Every weekend the same parade, the cars full of flowers and unibrows, celebrating yet another arranged union between a man and a punching bag with a clipped clitoris. On Sundays, which Germany specifically sets aside as a day of peaceful reflection and family togetherness, it’s a cacophonous reminder that the Islamic culture-within-the-culture shits upon the Germans, and everything they hold dear. These people are not compatible, and tolerate each other only through clenched teeth.

A strange synergy of bitchiness, to be sure. The American immigration problem is relatively harmless in comparison. I’ve heard a few rumblings about Mexicans coming in and taking advantage of the American welfare system or whatever. But it’s working under the false assumption that the U.S. actually has a welfare system. Imagine, if you will, that every wetback in the U.S. got health insurance, university tuition, an apartment, a baby carriage, winter clothes, a sizable pension, outrageous unemployment benefits, along with subsidized access to mass transit and entertainment facilities. That’s a huge financial burden, and Germans, being typically wary of other cultures, not to mention tight with the money, are not exactly amused. Add to that the cultural insensitivity of the immigrants themselves, and you’ve got a pretty explosive mixture.

But it’s not like the Germans would actually do anything about it. They’ll talk big about championing the poor, and preserving the dignity of man, and all the usual transcultural pablum you’d expect from a nation run, indeed populated, by leftist pussies. When the chips are down, they’re absolutely worthless when it comes to championing true justice. Their culture is doomed, and they’re afraid to save it, for fear of evoking the ghost of Hitler.

Maybe World War II was the death of the German culture after all. For 61 years, they’ve been dead folk walking.