Narcisstic halfwits E-Book

Hans Kroll

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 178

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Yes-men, followers and obedient people are in the wrong place here. Hans Kroll's novel "Selbstverliebte Halbhirne" (Self-involved half-wits) has taken on the task of shooting across the bow on principle. Be it LGBTQIA+ or women's issues, the migration question or criminal offenses. In a critical and, above all, criticizing text that really takes aim at everyone, he deals with a potpourri of protagonists who are all somehow connected but do not want to be connected – especially not with the ladies, who are just as critical of Jürgen, Peter and Will as Kroll is of current politics. A text that challenges readers to reflect on the confusions of our time.

Leseprobe

Foreword

"The perfect dictatorship will have the appearance of democracy, a prison without walls, in which the prisoners won't even dream of escape… They will love their servitude."

It had happened again: This nation, believing in authority, in the depths of its cold, confused soul, had decided in its overwhelming majority to follow a sect whose leaders promised to reshape the entire, unfortunately not yet perfect, world and at the same time save it from an impending apocalypse. Emanuel Geibel had risen again: "And the world may yet heal through the German essence."

So, frightened by gloomy predictions, people turned away from reason, turned to drugs to make the day more bearable, excitedly discussed what gender they might be in order to finally find themselves in the everyday life of hollow existences. The male-constructed dominant culture was to be consigned to where it had long belonged: on the garbage heap of history; but without ever being recycled!

A government as the executive body of this very sect was hoisted into power; its followers took courage and drew hope; they formed behind the linguistically colorfully disguised, mentally parched fools.

The political program of the new rulers was simple, straightforward and had never been attempted in this way before: The native population, above all the "white man", was to be gradually, but as swiftly as possible, replaced by people who came by sea or by other routes, including on foot. Prosperity and security would be reduced to a fair level tolerable for all - except, of course, for the membersof the ruling caste themselves, who would need comfort in order to be able to travel around the world, bearing the burden of responsibility, distributing gifts, making themselves popular and becoming a shining beacon for humanity.

Drugs would finally be legal for everyone. The consumption of - still - illegal drugs was hardly controlled and hardly ever sanctioned.

Tests on randomly selected citizens would also have easily established that the Kantian imperative, which was in fact present in the genome of this people, had now been reactivated in a popularized form, for example: "If you think something is right, then do it! - regardless of the consequences"...

This was not done with understanding and logic, let alone reason, but from the "gut", a creepy-sounding phrase from the neologism that was always used when there seemed to be no reasonable explanation for - sometimes - something completely stupid and absurd.

The name 'Kant' itself, like the names of many men who were once called philosophers, was forgotten; rightly so, it seemed, because this Kant had been an old white man who had long ago put far too complicated sentences on paper; whose works were not even illustrated, like comic strips for example. Thinking had been replaced by ideology: "If reality is not like theory, so much the worse for reality!" - This evil spook had already corrupted generations.

Thinking establishes connections between individual thoughts and reflects them in this light. Ideology forces every reality into a corset, especially in the perception and interpretation of said reality ...

Both an external and an internal enemy had to be found and determined. This was easy because these people also seemed to be genetically programmed to follow orders: "... one people, one world, one leadership!"; this still worked.

The people armed themselves against the external enemy as if they were finally going to win a world war; the internal enemy was viciously slandered and persecuted because, from the point of view of the good progressive majority, the aim was to save the world, and then the overriding ideological claim can, indeed must, take precedence over law and justice if necessary. After all, everything is at stake ...

With verve and enthusiasm, the mass had maneuvered itself into an increasingly concrete space somewhere between Orwell and Huxley and now faced the future with a little more confidence. Criticism of the decisions of the - yes, elected! - rulers was exposed, persecuted and increasingly punished: Anyone who criticizes is a radical, conjures up bad, never-forgotten times; wants doom, enslavement, ultimately death for all. As in biblical times, people would have preferred to burden waverers, doubters and, above all, critics with the transgressions and misdeeds of all and chase them into the desert as scapegoats ...

Now, however, insecurity was spreading. Rape, random acts of violence, drug offenses, robbery and manslaughter were the order of the day. And although the courts rarely, if ever, sanctioned these crimes when they were committed by arrivals, as immigrants from mostly underdeveloped regions and countries were euphemistically called, not everyone accepted unquestioningly the justifications of those in power and their henchmen at all levels of society, especially in the powerful, synchronized media. The myth that the perpetrators were basically just nice guys, uprooted, unloved, who somehow had to pass the time, increasingly lost credibility. And couldn't we also define gang rape as an 'intercultural encounter', as a very popular psychologist had put it, something the victims should be able to understand after a few therapy sessions?No! These acts of violence are not crimes, but a search for identity, recognition and even love. Society itself is guilty. These new arrivals need more love, more money ...

Since in times of general mental uncertainty and confusion people identify with those who promise simple solutions, demand power, exercise legal or physical violence, it was inevitable that an increasing reversal of the victim-perpetrator role had to be observed in the legal system: criminals were called victims; the victims of crime were more or less ignored, because fearful herd animals prefer to gather around the strong - a bad mistake - because they promise more protection than helpless victims could ever offer.

But, as already indicated, there were people who still carried ‘outdated’, perhaps even ‘dangerous reactionary ideas’ with them, who decided to stop bleating with the wolves, howling with the sheep. They did not come up with any new concepts for a better society; they did not want to lecture; they simply did not find themselves anymore, perhaps out of an exaggerated sense of justice, in an ideologically veneered world, and more and more often asked the question: "Is it them or is it me?" - and then came up with answers…

It is within this outlined - purely fictional - social context that this modestly intended literary narrative is set, reporting simply observed things, events of everyday life in a world that, viewed from the outside, appears like organized madness, but from the inside, for some, like a prophecy with guaranteed redemption, for others, like a nightmare that has become reality.

Let the reader make up his own mind ...

***

Narcissistic half-wits

They don't know whether they are apes who can't become humans or humans who don't want to become angels.

"Did you know that you can't even see the farts of vampires in a mirror?"

Patrick, who had graduated in law in his home town of Toulouse and had been sent to Germany for a year by his boss and fatherly friend to gain experience outside the borders of the Gaulish empire, which were still clearly marked in many people's minds, experience of both a professional and personal nature, was surprised by the question from his new superior in two respects: was his knowledge of this German language not sufficient to grasp the sense of the question, or was he unaware of a hidden, deeper meaning in connection with the imminent court hearing?

Tine Rosner, a tall, sturdy girl in her mid-thirties, grinned, while she thought she was smiling slyly, noticed the look of slight confusion on the face of her 'little Frenchi', her secret nickname for her trainee, and thought: 'Now another bottle or two of wine with a good meal and the little one will be snapped!’

They walked down the corridor that led to the courtroom. "So this is what we're doing today: The judge is a nice ex-leftist and kind of socially minded. We'll point out that the defendant's mother was an alcoholic who regularly beat her son, and his father was an occasional hooker who held out his, well, you know,popotinfor his drugs ... Then we have our psychologist who will explain exactly how it all got mixed up in our ward's head and why he ultimately had no choice but to rape little girls atand then break their necks. Oh yes, one more thing: it is very important in German courts that, in his closing statement, the defendant emphasizes as convincingly as possible that he regrets his actions, that he is really, really sorry. That way we'll get it right and he'll go to a psychiatric institution where he'll be treated nicely or, if things go wrong, he'll go to prison, but either way he'll be out again in a few years!"

However, the trial did not take place. An angel of the Lord had appeared in the thirty-three-year-old child molester's cell and had convinced him to hang himself with a belt that the angel had brought especially for the occasion. 'This is best for everyone,' he had said calmly. The angel did not even negotiate with the devil's emissary, who had arrived on the scene immediately after thebêtehumaine's demise, about his soul - as had actually been stipulated in a contract between heaven and hell during the Inquisition and has generally been observed ever since - and only said laconically: 'You can have it! Just take it ..."

Tine was furious when she found out about her client's suicide: "Why can't those bums from the prison watch out? Something like this shouldn't happen! The guard in charge swears that he took the defendant's trouser belt before locking him up in the cell. Did he have a second one hand or did the devil bring him one? And who's going to pay me now that this puke has made off in such a cowardly way? You know, his wealthy old aunt, such a crank - peculiar in the head - ", Tine tapped her forehead with her right finger, "was quite fond of her nephew and wanted to take him back in. But whether she wants to pay now ...? Oh, what the hell! We'll see.Let's go out for a nice dinner tonight. I know a romantic bistro ..."

Patrick nodded in agreement, but felt an uneasy tug in his stomach when she said "romantic".

***

The place where many things come together

The "Stiletto" served the best espresso in town. The carefully selected beans, freshly roasted every day, were always ground just before the desired drink was prepared. It was recommended that even espresso drunk without sugar should be stirred, as some of the aromatic substances settle at the bottom of the cup when the fragrant black liquid is poured in and are not distributed evenly without stirring, as would be desirable in terms of taste.

After the court hearing was cancelled, Tine had invited Patrick for a coffee and wanted to draw his attention to this bistro.

Thepatrongave them both a friendly, questioning smile. Patrick ordered. "I'll have an espresso too, but sometimes I prefer a 'dirty lout' ..."

Patrick looked at Tine uncomprehendingly. Although he had achieved excellent results in his German studies at an institute specializing in foreign languages in Toulouse, his knowledge was of course primarily related to his specialist field: law. He had also quickly realized during several private stays abroad that there was an enormous difference between a correctly acquired language that was spoken correctly andits use by the native inhabitants of the country or even the region he was visiting, which made it difficult, if not impossible, for the newcomer to grasp the meaning of what was being said. And here he stood again in such a desolate void between the sound of the words and their meaning in an obviously recognizable given context for the speaker.

Tine already knew the look on her assistant's face and interpreted it correctly: "Oh yes! I mean a 'latte macchiato'. In German you could translate it as 'Schmutziger Steifer', but I think 'Lümmel' just sounds better, more fluid. In German, 'Latte' is a colloquial term for an erect male - nonsense! - simply an erect member, yes? And instead of 'milk', 'latte' in Italian, I now translate that as 'latte' like 'fence lath' or even 'hard-on' ..."

"That's funny," Patrick said with a smile after a brief hesitation, which was meant to simulate reflection and then understanding, and noted that the Germans did have a sense of humor, albeit one that was very much their own, and that he would have to work on this linguistic nuance in order to decipher it.

"So we're going out for dinner tonight. I'm inviting you. It will certainly be very stimulating, mon petit français ..."

Again, there was something threatening in these words, which in themselves were nice.

***

The spider spins its web

With a slightly different line-up of staff, the restaurant Tine had chosen could have been mistaken for a multi-cultural plush brothel: The three waitresses were discreetly made upand had placed their pretty voluminous 'girls' on the balconies. The waiters were making affected, rehearsed gestures and trying to draw attention to their flat buttocks by swaying slightly, a detail that would inspire Patrick - for the time being - to come up with an idea that would, if not save the day, at least buy him some time. Well-tempered instrumental background music was soothingly reminiscent of melodies from Italian operas.

They were greeted professionally and shown to their table: "Mrs. Rosner and the French gentleman? May I ask you to follow me ..."

"Yes. It's a nice place!" Tine followed the garçon's recommendation and turned to Patrick: "You're far enough away from every door, especially the toilet, but you can actually see everything. And if a fire breaks out or something like that, you can reach the front door before most of the other guests." Patrick wondered whether there were regular or at least significantly frequent fires in German restaurants ...

All the tables were occupied and we got started.

"They have French-inspired dishes, so...yes: chicken fillet in a red wine sauce - a kind ofcoq au vin. I hope I'm pronouncing that right now?"

"Yes," the Frenchman lied and smiled, "that was perfect!"

He subjected his counterpart to a closer inspection and the result disconcerted him. Even in the dim light of the room, the question arose as to why the woman at his table had done this to herself; who she was trying to frighten: Her short, thick hair had a bluish glow and had been spikily oriented upwards with a greasy product. The rouge had been applied too thickly to the slightly coarse-pored skin of her cheeks and then those lips: they were so red that not even a short-sighted person could have failed to notice that they were indicating, even screaming: 'Look: I have lips!’

"Do you like them?"

Patrick came to abruptly and said, "Pardon?"

"My lips, you're looking at my lips - do you like them?"

If he had answered spontaneously, he would have stated matter-of-factly that they could not be overlooked, but he was well-mannered: "Yes, they are very ... how do you say ...?"

"Sensual ...?"

"Yes, that's what I wanted to say: sensual ... and red."

Tine smiled because the conversation seemed to be developing in her favor and so she skilfully continued to weave the threads of her fine web: "In German they say: 'Like a man's nose, so is his weenie. Is there an equivalent in French for the female lips?"

Fortunately, the waiter came with the wine and gave Patrick a brief respite, some time to find an answer - somewhere. He briefly scanned the waiter's buttocks.

"It doesn't matter if you're gay! We in Germany take it for something completely normal. The main thing is love ... or at least sex! By the way, while we're at it: We could actually be on first-name terms, couldn't we?"

"But we're already on first-name terms ...?"

"Oh, where did I put my thoughts! Of course we're already on first name terms! I think I said that because I wanted to get closer to you somehow ... Tell me: are you actually always gay ...?"

"I'm not gay ..." Patrick replied calmly, but firmly.

"Oh come on! After all, I have eyes in my head ..."

'Where else?' he asked himself.

***

Nothing is as unreal as reality

As Patrick stepped out of the restaurant onto the rain-soaked sidewalk and after a few steps turned right into a narrow side street, which he assumed would lead him in the direction of his apartment, he couldn't help but realize that Tine's brief introduction to the spoken German language had contained several clear references to a sooner or later - probably sooner - possible, indeed unavoidable, sexual intercourse. A good friend, who had studied art history and media studies in Tübingen for a few years, told Patrick before his departure to the land of "do-gooders and dogmatists" how his father, an international wine merchant, characterized this country. He also provided him with some cards with sounds and exclamations that German women utter during sexual intercourse to clearly express their feelings and at the same time signal that they are self-confident and sexually experienced: "Jajanein-ja-da-höher-warte-schneller-weiter links-das machst du gut- nein, da nicht ... jetztjajaaa..." - for example ...

The slightly strange idea of an intimate interaction with Tine, who was actually not so unattractive overall, confused him.On verrat bien, he closed this chapter for the time being.

A few steps further into the alley, he noticed a scruffy young guy in a dark doorway. He spoke to him in a low, slightly mumbling voice and, if Patrick understood correctly, offered him either quick sex and/or drugs of all kinds. Patrick waved him off with thanks, as he was used to doing in the dingy streets of French cities. According to his friend, who incidentally lived not very far from Toulouse in the picturesque village of Couillies-Pend-aux-Dames, the massive progress in the emancipation of German women had led to thedevenir gagaof many, especially younger German men and also to an almost nationwide spread of more or less demonstratively displayed male homosexuality and an equally offensive to aggressively demanded general acceptance byall and sundry, and drug use was part of the panoply of this part of so-called progressive society in an intellectually confused way. Actually, his friend said, a post-68 variant of the green-liberal, new-German, eternally-strict petty bourgeoisie. In Germany, there was and is only ever one correct 'official' opinion. Everyone has to follow it and those who disagree often feel a certain discomfort, even if they fundamentally disagree with it. Patrick himself knew enough about German history to know that in this nation, the loud and aggressive have a good chance of seizing power, preserving it and directing everyone and everything somewhere into the unknown.

The streets of the city were surprisingly dirty. In this respect, too, the Germans had approached thecharme désuetof their Latin-influenced fellow Europeans in the design of their urban environment:L'on arrète pas le progrès!

When he finally stepped out of the gloomy atmosphere of the alley into the wide space of the central square of this neighborhood, he was slightly annoyed to realize that he was lost again. His attention, now focused on finding the right way to his apartment, was distracted and immediately absorbed by the large screen, which was usually advertising something around the clock, almost like in Time Square, such as revolutionary vegan panty liners or contact opportunities - categorized by hetero, homo/lesbo or otherwise interested parties: The former chancellor of the people addressed her former subjects in a short speech. She came across as a timelessly elderly, awkwardly dressed, petty bourgeois neighbor from a terraced house neighborhood who, in the event of a nuclear catastrophe, crochets protective masks without hesitation or calls the police when smoke is produced by barbecues - even if the wind carries the smoke from the neighbor's garden away from her own. Patrick only understood that it was somehow about global climate change and the associatedproblem of the threat of rising sea levels. Above all, she warned against listening to the siren songs of so-called scientists, who blamed a significant increase in solar activity for a large part of the rise in temperature. And even if this turns out to be true, human irrationality is also responsible: the warming of the earth radiates back to the sun, which in turn warms the earth's atmosphere - probably. It was primordial to take concrete action and so she called on residents in coastal areas in particular to equip themselves with buckets, shovels and spades, and children with buckets and scoops, so that they could dig deep holes as far away from the seashore as possible - if necessary - and carry the excess water caused by rising sea levels there, pour it in and make it disappear. Once it's gone, it's gone! If only all citizens and diverse people stuck together, she went on, and continued to trust the current government, as they had done for decades, we - she said: "We" - would succeed…