Okay, I'm 3/4 German and 1/4 Irish....that makes me a meticulous drunk.

Folks say the shortest book in the world is a German Jokebook, eh? 

My pap was from Deutschland and he always reminded me of Schultz from Hogan's Hero's.  Looked like him, and acted like him..."I KNOW NUTTIN'!  I guess it was safer for him to say that line, cause it kept him neutral and outta trouble.

Even though, I blame my gift of gab and my wit and whimsy from the wee bit of leprechaun in my green blood, the guilt of the Germans have made me a funnier person. Or at least funny looking.  Or, I laugh at almost everything.

When I was a kid and would attend an occasional daily mass with my pap at St. Mary's of the Sauerbraten up on Dutch Hill in Altoona. This is how I learned to speak German.  Some of the prayers would be in German, like Der Vater Unser, the Our Father (The Lord's Prayer ). 

Then, after mass, being all holy and filled with kraut, we'd head back to the car.  As pap would pull out of the parking lot, some dummkopf would cut him off and he'd cuss at them in German, and I'd repeat it.

So, my fondest memories of the Germanic Language are the Prayers and the Swears.

The best news any of us wienerschnitzels got within the past two years was NEW POPE IS GERMAN.  No sooner did I hear that, this is the vision I got...

Pope's prayer: , Eins, zwei, drei und ein Prosit!

Thank you, Danke Schon...now I am going to the confessionals.