They say that to Ear is human ... but if you want a second opinion, just ask Barista Anthony. He took it upon himself recently to numb, then pierce his ears with a sewing needle and has been sporting a pair of green, plastic Ear Studs resembling golf tees ever since. Anthony's newfound fashion statement prompted Bobby Shriver, Our Favorite City Councilman, to give him a new nickname: "Lobes." "At first I was calling him Lobe," Shriver said, "but on second thought -- since he's pierced both of his ears -- Lobes seems more appropriate." "You betcha," I said, "Now all we have to do is spread the word." "Why don't you host a Press Conference?," said Anthony, eagerly, "Let's really get the word out!" "Forget the Press Conference," I replied, pointing my Spycam in his direction, "By the time I'm through with you, they'll be calling you Lobes from coast-to-coast ...!"
Magic was in the air this morning at 7th and Montana as a young boy made the scene carrying a Fluffy Bunny. "What do we have here?," I asked, quietly searching the ground for Telltale Brown Pellets. "His name is S'more," chirped the youngster, "He's a Fluffy, White Bunny!" I couldn't help wondering what would possess the boy to name his rabbit after a roasted marshmallow and chocolate treat, much less why his parents would allow him to bring the varmint into Starbucks. But the boy and his rabbit disappeared before I could get any answers. Moments later, as if on cue, a Mysterious Lummox in a Tuxedo made the scene, handing out business cards. "I suppose you think I'm a trifle overdressed," he laughed, "but in reality, I'm a Magician." According to his business card, his name is Howard Jay and he's known as "the Hollywood Magician to the stars," performing for the likes of everyone from Jack Nicholson to Pee Wee Herman. I'll admit, his credentials are impressive, but let's face it, he's not the only one who can make a S'more disappear ...! 
Keep your fingers crossed, folks: Famed Musician Curtis Stigers made the scene at 7th and Montana today and he's up for a Creative Primetime Emmy Award this afternoon for his work on the theme song of the Fox TV series, Sons of Anarchy. I couldn't help noticing how he seemed to be keeping the nomination in perspective, almost downplaying his chances of winning. "Come on, of course you've got a good chance," I said, "Who are you up against?" "John Williams," he replied. "Oh," I said after a brief, pregnant pause. "Well, he's just overexposed if you ask me." So, here's hoping Curtis kicks John Williams' ass. Speaking of Pissing Contests, there was a doozy this morning between Einstein, the loveable Bichon Frise, and his "best friend," an Anonymous Pug with a surprisingly large bladder. The two spent at least five minutes taking turns marking the Eucalyptus tree in front of Our Favorite Starbucks. First Einstein would mark the tree, then the Pug would follow suit. "This could go on forever," said Robb. "We should be so lucky," I replied, "Maybe I'll go get them some water." Too bad they don't give Emmys for urination ...!
Where does an American in Berlin go to get a nice, quiet American-style dinner? That's the question I posed to my hotel concierge tonight and his answer, the Exxpressobar Bistro Crèperie, left me scratching my head. I knew this place wasn't for me as soon as I saw the "mascot" standing out front, a six-foot Hot Dog draped in an American Flag, pouring copious amounts of ketchup on his head. Their motto -- "Let's have a party!!!" -- might be a bit more appealing if the restaurant wasn't facing the Holocaust Memorial, a grim reminder of six million lives lost, right near the location where the ruins of Hitler's bunker is buried (pictured below).
My walk took me past the Reichstag, an 18th Century architectural masterpiece that housed the first Parliament of the German Empire, and to the new government buildings beyond, just north of the Tiergarten (pictured below).
I continued along the banks of the Spree River until I came upon a familiar site.
A Camera Crew was setting up a photo shoot near the river's edge. Their attention was focused on a man wearing what looked like a Marionette Theater on his head. An opening just above his shoulders allowed his face to show through, as if on stage. "He's a famous musician," said the Photographer's Assistant, proudly, "Do you recognize him?" "Of course!," I lied. Perhaps it was Kukla, at long last leaving Fran and Ollie to pursue a Solo Career ...!
I returned to my hotel this evening intent on visiting one of my favorite landmarks in Berlin, the Brandenburg Gate, the historic gateway to Berlin and a symbol of German unity ever since that fateful day on June 12, 1987, when President Reagan stood on the West side and called to Mikhail Gorbachev to "tear down this wall!" Had Reagan seen what I saw tonight on the East side, he would have asked the local Burgermeister (pictured in my entry yesterday wearing 3D glasses) to lock the door and throw away the key, instead.
I knew something was terribly wrong as soon as I saw a Giant Trojan Horse parked at the entry to what used to be East Berlin. I asked a colleague to get a picture of me standing under the horse's ass. "What are you doing?," she asked, as I opened my umbrella. "Protecting myself," I said, "This thing must shit splinters the size of Rhode Island!" I was determined to find out what was going on.
"Excuse me," I said to a passing pedestrian, "Could you tell me what's going on around here? Something seems ... amiss." The pedestrian, a young man in his early twenties, was wearing what appeared to be a Homemade Elephant Costume. "What do you mean?," he answered. "Never mind," I said, "What are you supposed to be, anyway?" "I'm Bavarian," he replied, adding, "And I'm disguised as a Nuclear Power Plant." I backed away quickly, watching on either side of me for signs of either Rod Serling or Alan Funt.
By now a crowd seemed to be forming. I turned around and came face-to-face with a Fetching Young Woman wearing Pancake Make-Up, a Bulbous Red Nose and a Bright Pink Fright Wig. "Good God!," I exclaimed, "What's going on around here?!?" "I'm in the Clown Army," she said, "We must stop the Nukes!" Things were slowly starting to make sense in an off-the-wall, behind-the-looking glass kind of way. And now I knew where I could get my answers. An Authoritative-Looking Man wearing a Hazmat Suit was standing beside me.
"Howdy," I said, "You guys are protesting against something, aren't you?" "Of course," he replied, "We're all against Nuclear Energy. It must be stopped. We've been marching for days, all of us. We've covered more than 200 kilometers!" For the record, 200 kilometers is less than 125 miles. I was reminded of the scene from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery when Dr. Evil threatened to hijack a nuclear warhead and ransom the world for the astronomical sum of ONE MILLION DOLLARS. "How impressive," I said, "And it seems completely appropriate that you would end your march right here!" We were standing in the shadow of the Hotel Adlon, where nearly seven years ago Michael Jackson stunned the world by dangling his six-month old son, "Blanket," out a fifth-story window.
For the record, the protest was called the Anti Atom Trek 2009 and it evidently included a combination of "50,000 people" and "350 Tractors." Don't bother trying to figure out why they would need the tractors. That would only detract from an otherwise coherent message ...!
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