The Idler, Wednesday, June 26, 2013

No jam, no ham

IT'S 50 years today since US President John F Kennedy made his ringing declaration in the shadow of the Berlin Wall: "I am a jam doughnut!"

His actual words, of course, were "Ich bin ein Berliner!" (I am a Berliner!) but unfortunately in the local idiom a Berliner is a jam doughnut, in much the same way that a hamburger is a breadroll with a beef mince pattie – popular in the German city of Hamburg and having nothing at all to do with ham.

But history fortunately ignores this little blip and Kennedy's speech to almost half a million people at the Rathaus Schoneberg in West Berlin – which the communists had cut off from the rest of Berlin with the infamous Wall – rightly goes down as defiance and the strongest message possible that the US would not tolerate a communist  take-over.

And the rest is also history, the Berlin Wall being joyfully breached and dismantled decades later by the folk both sides as communism finally went pear-shaped. But they were fraught times. First the Berlin airlift as the Western allies – the US, Britain and France – kept their zones going in spite of their being totally cut off by East Germany. Then the Wall.

When things look dire on the international front today, it's worth recalling the tensions and the depths of pessimism and despair during the Cold War.

Grim days

 

SPEAKING of which, Martin Done, of Hillcrest, sends in some lines he penned as a small child in England in 1948, when they expected four minutes' warning in the event of nuclear attack. "It makes me appreciate life the more."

 

 

I'm six years old but I know for sure

I'll be called up one day, to go to war.

The Pathé News shows how they die,

All covered in mud, with arms flung wide.

 

The radio says they've made A-Bomb

That will kill us all, including Mum.

It seems a shame; it makes me sad,

I'll never grow up to be like Dad.

Yep, sobering stuff. But that nuclear shadow has, mercifully, lifted somewhat. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may …

Marketing gals MARKETING is one of the sciences of our time. It's a field that has been increasingly taken over by women. Consider these extracts from a manual on marketing: You're a woman and you see a handsome man at a party. You go up to him and say: "I'm fantastic in bed." That's Direct Marketing.   You're at a party with a bunch of friends and see a handsome man. One of your friends goes up to him and, pointing at you, says: "She's fantastic in bed." That's Advertising.   You see a handsome man at a party. You go up to him and get his telephone number. The next day you call and say: "Hi, I'm fantastic in bed." That's Telemarketing.   You see a man at a party. You straighten your dress. You walk up to him and pour him a drink. You say: "May I?" and reach up to straighten his tie, brushing your breast lightly against his arm. And then say: "By the way, I'm fantastic in bed." That's Public Relations. You're at a party and see a handsome man. He walks up to you and says: "I hear you're fantastic in bed." That's Brand Recognition.   You're at a party and see a handsome man. He fancies you but you talk him into going home with your friend. That's a Sales Rep.   Your friend can't satisfy him so she calls you. That's Tech Support.   You're on your way to a party when you realise that there could be handsome men in all these houses you're passing. So you climb onto the roof of one situated towards the centre and shout at the top of your lungs: "I'm fantastic in bed!" That's Junk Mail.

Let us not resist these marketing ladies.

 

 

 

Tailpiece

POLICE officer: "May I see your driver's licence please?"

Blonde motorist : "I wish you guys would get your act together. One day you take away my licence, next day you want me to show it to you!"

 

 

Last word 

Since we cannot know all that there is to be known about anything, we ought to know a little about everything.

Blaise Pascal