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# Auf einem höheren Niveau
- URL: https://herr-klamm.ghost.io/die-verwandlung-auf-einem-hoheren-niveau/
- Published: 2026-09-04T20:08:38.000Z
- Updated: 2026-09-05T23:24:57.000Z
- Author: Stephen Bender

So, I stayed with this affluent Silesian family after my freshmen year in college for the summer. I summered in Europe, with a friend of my mother's from the Bavarian Forest who married very well. War torn children made good with a refugee family from present day Poland. Prien am Chiemsee. It's known in certain circles.

I doubt I'll ever bother to get into the family dynamics of that summer, because frankly it's none of y'all beezwax. We'll save that for fiction or memoir, whichever comes first. Or, fuck it. Stop writing entirely. That would be my preference, if Herr Klamm could STFU.

Karina and Sylvia were the daughters. Cool girls with real spirit. I wasn't around much. Backpacking from Sevilla to Mount Olympus. And all of the rest of it. My friends back in the US of A were suffering from the post-Cold War recession of 1990-91, which heralded the Soo Wee Pig 'Man from Hope' election. 

Don't. Stop. Thinkin' 'bout Tomorrow. Heaving boomer energy sloganeering. Dawn of a new liberal day. A harbinger of doom, more like. Cracka-ass-cracka.

I had a great time. My high school classmates did not. They turned to drink and drugs and ruined otherwise promising lives. Well, one of them did, anyway. The other one became a resentful researcher for the Pennsylvania Democratic Party. They fucked him. Had some Philly legacy asshole \[?\] brat write his Masters Thesis for him. Forget how that played out. I think he probably fought. And lost. 

Got divorced. Stayed employed. Drinks Bourbon real slow looking at Tuscarora Mountain up by Penn State nowadays, I hear. Tried to connect him with a past attorney pal up that way. Neither party instrested. Instrested. Fuck it 'n fuck 'em.

I write this shit, because they won't pay me. My dad watched 'Threes Company' and declared: 'I'd write this shit, if they paid me'. It's the American Way. Woulda did. Mighta saw. Coulda went. Fuckin' faggotry of the worst sort. (for any PC types, no, I have no animius to the laundry list of letters now attached to alternative lifestyles). 

I was in the looney bin not a month ago with a delightsome transgender split personality woman who lives in my hometown, someplace, and she was the second best person I chatted with in there after a Russian immigrant heroin overcomer from Reading who made origami birds for me and everyone else out of boredom. They both checked themselves in and left promptly in a huff given the level of care. I tried to evade the dragnet and got a fortnight sentence. It was certainly more entertaining that traipsing around for antique books. Some real kooks in there, sure. Like 'Speedy Gonzalez'. Someone fucked him hard, but he could play Crazy Eights like nobody's business (a card game; I learned 5 of them in there). He tried to look at my cards and thru thorazine affect got the name 'Speedy Gonzalez'. There's more, but it's not for public consumption. When you go up against the powers that be and tell them what they are and how they can suck it, it rarely ends well, but it did in this instance. I apologized for telling the head nurse: 'I pity you for what you do to people'. Still my real opinion today, but some things are better left unexpressed. I jotted up a schema for what a humane mental health facility would look like. It was submitted without follow up from them. My fantasy land would have a courtyard and a fountain, where one could smoke in peace twice a day, rather than being offered ersatz patches. Fuck dat. I went cold turkey with ease. For the sake of my honor. They kept offering to readdict me right up to the end, when I could have kicked, but didn't wanna. I enjoy smoking. Fuck you liberal, go get high.

The point of this is there is no point. Always.

The general idea is that I've digested the retarded behavior of my father and have moved on to greener pastures. This is how much this matters. It matters as much as 'Hand Banana'.

PS: I laid a few bets on blue chip Silicon Valley stocks after the Great Recession. Not a whole bunch. Just enough. So I might be crazy, but it resembles the shadow of a fox. And I might be mean as a snake, but it's one of those green garder snakes.

It's been real. Sometimes, it's been boring.

Have a great weekend everybody!

I know I will.

s