MR. GORBACHEV, CLOSE THE GATE ... QUICKLY!

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 ...!