When I’m feeling a bit cranky — and let’s be real, that’s about five times a week from 9 AM to 6 PM — I often find myself scrolling through YouTube for George Carlin’s bit List of People Who Ought to Be Killed from his HBO special Complaints and Grievances. It’s surprising how soothing that list can be for my mental state. If you haven't seen the show, I really encourage you to check it out, along with his other HBO specials.
If you ask for my unqualified opinion, Carlin is hands down the greatest stand-up comedian to ever pick up a mic. Forget the "arguably" — just drop it. Sure, his unapologetic content stirred up plenty of controversy in his time, but that’s a badge of honor for any true comedian. And while I doubt Carlin ever imagined himself swinging a heavy club at anyone under the moonlight, I can’t shake the feeling that, in 2024, no network — not even HBO — would give him the stage to air some of his more incendiary opinions. It’s a real shame, honestly, but I’m still baffled that no one has tried to update his list. Berlin alone, being a thriving ecosystem of wonderful human oddities, could easily fuel enough material for half a dozen of those iconic George Carlin HBO specials.
This isn’t an attempt to quote the man or reach his comedic heights; please allow me to express my hope that what you’re about to read doesn't come across as a clumsy imitation of his work. Instead, it’s a humble homage and a chance for me to follow his lead in using ranting as therapy. Anyone who tells you on LinkedIn that complaining is bad for you is being disingenuous at best. Sure, it might not fix your problems, but it definitely lightens your mood, and that’s no small feat.
So, a shout-out to The Columbist CEO, Elena Kaplyar-Balzer, for graciously giving me the chance to air my grievances with her readers. It’s incredibly generous of her — while this may do wonders for me, I can’t guarantee the same for her readership.
Let me stress this again: I don’t think George Carlin ever intended to hurt anyone physically, but given the current climate — and as I’m not looking to offend anyone either — though that might happen anyway — I’ve decided to take a mildly toned-down approach.
Starting with your digital nomad colleague who has visited the whole world but is still quite clueless. This is the same person who asks questions like, “Do you still do that thing with the horse head in Italy?” which prompts responses like, “Yes, and by the way, your grandpa is still there; we’re just waiting for the Allies to take him back to Nuremberg.” Seriously, how did you even make it to all those places?
Coming in at number two is that cranky senior with the grocery stroller who glares at you on the U-Bahn, holding his stare like some wannabe Clint Eastwood. It’s a battle of wills now, as you both try to see who can stare the longest. Spoiler alert: you can't win this one.
Speaking of lone crusaders, here are those Italian expats who have crowned themselves the encyclopedia of good food. They’ll shoot you disapproving looks if you dare to eat pizza for lunch or if your coffee isn’t corto enough. And heaven forbid you dare to put bacon on your homemade comfort carbonara; you deserve nothing but shame for your culinary heresy simply because you’re not willing to shell out half your salary on a trip to the Italian deli. Use some perspective.
To further brighten your day, here is a group of well-meaning but overzealous parents who think they are the second coming of Eddy Merckx. They barrel down the sidewalk with bloodshot eyes, navigating their cargo bike — with their offspring in it — like it’s a chariot from Ben-Hur, endangering everyone in their path. Seriously, I’m just trying to make it to the grocery shop without a near-death experience!
Speaking of misguided ventures, let’s talk about my favorite subject: the startup founders. You know, those geniuses who are out there creating apps to help you locate the nearest spot to, let’s say, relieve yourself. Because clearly, this city needs more tech solutions instead of affordable housing.
Next up are people who post things on LinkedIn — just all of them. You know the type: they offer life lessons no one asked for and invite you to their seminar on how they managed to tie their shoelaces that day. Then there are the ones who stay silent most of the time, only to suddenly burst out with, "I am beyond excited to start my new job as Senior Social Media Manager at WhateverCompany." Sure, it might feel nice in the moment, especially as you are just returning from your latest therapy session to cure the burnout from your previous job, but give it a couple of weeks. You’ll soon find out what your new employer is really like, and before you know it, you’re back in the therapist’s chair to navigate your brand-new burnout.
Continuing our exploration of office toxicity, let’s not overlook the bio-environmentalist colleagues. They don’t have kids, but they’re the first to lecture you about the horrors of plastic diapers for your child’s poo, insisting that leaves will absorb diarrhea better. These are the same folks you stumble upon outside a club on a Sunday morning, clearly still feeling the effects of some interesting choices from the night before, involving things that don’t exactly fit the bio-friendly label.
Here’s another type there is no escape from: those fashion-forward, David-Hasselhoff-loving individuals rocking mullets. If you live in Spandau, I suppose you’re excused — you just don’t know better.
While we’re on the subject of style, I don’t claim to be a fashion expert just because I’m Italian. In fact, I could easily add these offenders to this list, but I’ll spare you for the sake of brevity. That said, what’s up with white socks paired with white sneakers? They’re the same folks who sport a beanie and a mustache made up of about seven hairs, struggling to choose between reenacting a modern, Wegbier version of the Three Musketeers and channeling their inner Steve Zissou.
Up next is a topic that’s bound to ruffle some feathers: Wegbier. It’s excusable if you’re 19 and still figuring life out; the bottle gives you some much-needed ambulation stability. But it truly hurts my eyes to see fully grown adults on the other side of the crosswalk chugging down beer like it’s a lifeline. It’s easy, folks — just go from point A to point B. Use Google Maps if you’re having difficulties. Once you hit point B, feel free to indulge yourself; you’ve earned it.
Now let’s talk about those Wanderenthusiasts. I’m not here to question anyone’s life choices. You do what makes you happy, whether that’s writing angry comments on Reddit about Eurovision or passionately defending the superiority of Trüffel on pizza. But don’t try to convince me that waking up at 6 AM on a Sunday to traipse through Grunewald in your Jack Wolfskin rain jacket and trekking shoes, staring at a bunch of indistinguishable trees — and maybe spotting three birds on a good day — for seven hours straight, is a better idea than staying curled up on my couch binge-watching The Golden Girls.
While we’re on the topic, as you wait to see what Sophia Petrillo and the gang will do next on your smart TV, you’re suddenly interrupted by those ads promoting various e-commerce services. You have seen them countless times: people disjointedly dancing while holding random objects, dressed as if they’ve been vomited out of a Takashi Murakami fever delirium. How these marketing executives manage to afford their cargo bikes and digital nomad lifestyle is beyond my comprehension.
Let’s go back to the subject of early weekend wake-ups and address the Berlin lakes. I know that if you’re very lucky, you can take a dip without catching some bacteria that will eat your flesh from the inside out. But just getting to witness my fellow Berliners on a daily basis is an ordeal all its own. Seeing them half-naked on their beach towels, munching on their Leberwurst, is something I can definitely do without.
Last but not least is that guy we all run into now and then — let's call him Felix for simplicity’s sake. Picture the typical dude in a beanie, fresh off a workation in Thailand, showing up at a house party thrown by a mutual friend. He tries to engage you in conversation, eager to come across as cultured and open-minded. Then, as he can’t hold it in any longer, he finally declares his love for Italy. When you ask why, he replies, “Dude, I’ve seen The Godfather a million times…”
So there you have it. I hope my list hasn’t weighed your day down with too many negative vibes (LinkedIn negativity police, stay alert!). But while Wegbier enthusiasts or startup founders might not be as captivating as The Godfather, their daily antics keep our city entertaining — and let’s face it, complaining is also part of our enjoyment of this city. Cheers to that!
Related Articles:
When I’m feeling a bit cranky — and let’s be real, that’s about five times a week from 9 AM to 6 PM — I often find myself scrolling through YouTube for George Carlin’s bit List of People Who Ought to Be Killed from his HBO special Complaints and Grievances. It’s surprising how soothing that list can be for my mental state. If you haven't seen the show, I really encourage you to check it out, along with his other HBO specials.
If you ask for my unqualified opinion, Carlin is hands down the greatest stand-up comedian to ever pick up a mic. Forget the "arguably" — just drop it. Sure, his unapologetic content stirred up plenty of controversy in his time, but that’s a badge of honor for any true comedian. And while I doubt Carlin ever imagined himself swinging a heavy club at anyone under the moonlight, I can’t shake the feeling that, in 2024, no network — not even HBO — would give him the stage to air some of his more incendiary opinions. It’s a real shame, honestly, but I’m still baffled that no one has tried to update his list. Berlin alone, being a thriving ecosystem of wonderful human oddities, could easily fuel enough material for half a dozen of those iconic George Carlin HBO specials.
This isn’t an attempt to quote the man or reach his comedic heights; please allow me to express my hope that what you’re about to read doesn't come across as a clumsy imitation of his work. Instead, it’s a humble homage and a chance for me to follow his lead in using ranting as therapy. Anyone who tells you on LinkedIn that complaining is bad for you is being disingenuous at best. Sure, it might not fix your problems, but it definitely lightens your mood, and that’s no small feat.
So, a shout-out to The Columbist CEO, Elena Kaplyar-Balzer, for graciously giving me the chance to air my grievances with her readers. It’s incredibly generous of her — while this may do wonders for me, I can’t guarantee the same for her readership.
Let me stress this again: I don’t think George Carlin ever intended to hurt anyone physically, but given the current climate — and as I’m not looking to offend anyone either — though that might happen anyway — I’ve decided to take a mildly toned-down approach.
Starting with your digital nomad colleague who has visited the whole world but is still quite clueless. This is the same person who asks questions like, “Do you still do that thing with the horse head in Italy?” which prompts responses like, “Yes, and by the way, your grandpa is still there; we’re just waiting for the Allies to take him back to Nuremberg.” Seriously, how did you even make it to all those places?
Coming in at number two is that cranky senior with the grocery stroller who glares at you on the U-Bahn, holding his stare like some wannabe Clint Eastwood. It’s a battle of wills now, as you both try to see who can stare the longest. Spoiler alert: you can't win this one.
Speaking of lone crusaders, here are those Italian expats who have crowned themselves the encyclopedia of good food. They’ll shoot you disapproving looks if you dare to eat pizza for lunch or if your coffee isn’t corto enough. And heaven forbid you dare to put bacon on your homemade comfort carbonara; you deserve nothing but shame for your culinary heresy simply because you’re not willing to shell out half your salary on a trip to the Italian deli. Use some perspective.
To further brighten your day, here is a group of well-meaning but overzealous parents who think they are the second coming of Eddy Merckx. They barrel down the sidewalk with bloodshot eyes, navigating their cargo bike — with their offspring in it — like it’s a chariot from Ben-Hur, endangering everyone in their path. Seriously, I’m just trying to make it to the grocery shop without a near-death experience!
Speaking of misguided ventures, let’s talk about my favorite subject: the startup founders. You know, those geniuses who are out there creating apps to help you locate the nearest spot to, let’s say, relieve yourself. Because clearly, this city needs more tech solutions instead of affordable housing.
Next up are people who post things on LinkedIn — just all of them. You know the type: they offer life lessons no one asked for and invite you to their seminar on how they managed to tie their shoelaces that day. Then there are the ones who stay silent most of the time, only to suddenly burst out with, "I am beyond excited to start my new job as Senior Social Media Manager at WhateverCompany." Sure, it might feel nice in the moment, especially as you are just returning from your latest therapy session to cure the burnout from your previous job, but give it a couple of weeks. You’ll soon find out what your new employer is really like, and before you know it, you’re back in the therapist’s chair to navigate your brand-new burnout.
Continuing our exploration of office toxicity, let’s not overlook the bio-environmentalist colleagues. They don’t have kids, but they’re the first to lecture you about the horrors of plastic diapers for your child’s poo, insisting that leaves will absorb diarrhea better. These are the same folks you stumble upon outside a club on a Sunday morning, clearly still feeling the effects of some interesting choices from the night before, involving things that don’t exactly fit the bio-friendly label.
Here’s another type there is no escape from: those fashion-forward, David-Hasselhoff-loving individuals rocking mullets. If you live in Spandau, I suppose you’re excused — you just don’t know better.
While we’re on the subject of style, I don’t claim to be a fashion expert just because I’m Italian. In fact, I could easily add these offenders to this list, but I’ll spare you for the sake of brevity. That said, what’s up with white socks paired with white sneakers? They’re the same folks who sport a beanie and a mustache made up of about seven hairs, struggling to choose between reenacting a modern, Wegbier version of the Three Musketeers and channeling their inner Steve Zissou.
Up next is a topic that’s bound to ruffle some feathers: Wegbier. It’s excusable if you’re 19 and still figuring life out; the bottle gives you some much-needed ambulation stability. But it truly hurts my eyes to see fully grown adults on the other side of the crosswalk chugging down beer like it’s a lifeline. It’s easy, folks — just go from point A to point B. Use Google Maps if you’re having difficulties. Once you hit point B, feel free to indulge yourself; you’ve earned it.
Now let’s talk about those Wanderenthusiasts. I’m not here to question anyone’s life choices. You do what makes you happy, whether that’s writing angry comments on Reddit about Eurovision or passionately defending the superiority of Trüffel on pizza. But don’t try to convince me that waking up at 6 AM on a Sunday to traipse through Grunewald in your Jack Wolfskin rain jacket and trekking shoes, staring at a bunch of indistinguishable trees — and maybe spotting three birds on a good day — for seven hours straight, is a better idea than staying curled up on my couch binge-watching The Golden Girls.
While we’re on the topic, as you wait to see what Sophia Petrillo and the gang will do next on your smart TV, you’re suddenly interrupted by those ads promoting various e-commerce services. You have seen them countless times: people disjointedly dancing while holding random objects, dressed as if they’ve been vomited out of a Takashi Murakami fever delirium. How these marketing executives manage to afford their cargo bikes and digital nomad lifestyle is beyond my comprehension.
Let’s go back to the subject of early weekend wake-ups and address the Berlin lakes. I know that if you’re very lucky, you can take a dip without catching some bacteria that will eat your flesh from the inside out. But just getting to witness my fellow Berliners on a daily basis is an ordeal all its own. Seeing them half-naked on their beach towels, munching on their Leberwurst, is something I can definitely do without.
Last but not least is that guy we all run into now and then — let's call him Felix for simplicity’s sake. Picture the typical dude in a beanie, fresh off a workation in Thailand, showing up at a house party thrown by a mutual friend. He tries to engage you in conversation, eager to come across as cultured and open-minded. Then, as he can’t hold it in any longer, he finally declares his love for Italy. When you ask why, he replies, “Dude, I’ve seen The Godfather a million times…”
So there you have it. I hope my list hasn’t weighed your day down with too many negative vibes (LinkedIn negativity police, stay alert!). But while Wegbier enthusiasts or startup founders might not be as captivating as The Godfather, their daily antics keep our city entertaining — and let’s face it, complaining is also part of our enjoyment of this city. Cheers to that!
Related Articles:
