Listen to this: the Tale of the Fig Leaf (starring John and Daphne)

A man (John) enters a fancy dress store. “Listen darling,” he addresses the proprietress, “I plan to attend a costume party, and I have decided to dress up as Adam, and hence I need a fake fig leaf.”

”OK,” says the woman (named Daphne), “Just a minute.” She disappears in the back and after a few minutes returns with a plastic fig leave.

”Sorry love,” says the bloke, “That’s too small to cover MY manhood. Don’t you have anything bigger?”

The woman shrugs and disappears, returning with a larger leaf.

”No, that is still too small! That won’t cover my penis by half!”

Grumbling, the woman disappears again, returning with a huge leaf, big enough to cover a man’s torso.

The man shakes his head angrily: “No, no, that won’t do. It’s simply too small!”

”OK,” says the woman, “Here’s an idea, mister. If your penis is that big, why don’t you just stick it in your ear and go as a gas pump?”

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Originally posted 2019-03-23 19:26:00.

The Magic Pool (Variation on a classic German joke).

Practically everyone seems to dislike Greta Thunberg. Obscurely so, as she is ‘only’ a girl from a remote, partially forgotten and ex-socialist Nordic country. People seem to forget that humor is still the best weapon to deal with serious political issues… so here a joke featuring the Climate-Change Angel.

It is conference time in Saudi Arabia and dignitaries meet to discuss the climate crisis. International guests have been invited by his Royal Highness, Freelance Hacker, and Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman (known to friends as “MbS“).
The Prince invites Greta Thunberg, Donald Trump and Jordan Peterson to a very special evening event. In the Palace in Riyadh, between the harem and prison, a magic pool has been installed. The sign at the entrance reads: Fantastic news! Jump into the empty pool, wish for your favorite drink and swim in it!” (below that the sign says: “No dogs allowed. No refunds. Skinny dippers will be whipped in traditional fashion“).

As the true gentleman that he is, MbS suggests that Greta should be allowed to jump first. Greta thinks for a few seconds and says in her cute Swedish accent: “I wish that the pool fills itself with soy milk, since ordinary cow milk production is associated with high levels of the gas methane; a gas that is 32-times as potent as the gas carbon dioxide in accelerating the global warming!” The three men smirk, and the Prince pats her on the head belligerently: “Now jump in, little one!” Greta climbs the ladder to the board, jumps into the pool and shouts “soy milk!”… and indeed the pool instantly fills up with the nutritious milk substitute. Greta lands in the white liquid, swims about, and takes big sips of the delicious non-alcoholic potable.

A pool-attendant steps forward and switches on a pump, so that the pool is emptied and the next person can jump in. A slight shuffle takes place, which Jordan (champion debater) wins with one of his typical kill-all arguments (in this case a quick knee to the groin). Jordan climbs the ladder, shouts “orange juice !”, the pool fills up, and Jordan can start swimming and drinking.

Finally, it is Donald’s turn. He climbs the ladder and starts out on one of his rambling speeches, during which he somehow seems to suggest that he is the greatest swimmer since Johnny Weissmuller; and most people leave. Then Donald takes a deep breath, jumps and shouts: “Soda !”

Thud! Donald hits the bare tiles at the bottom of the pool. The pool did not fill with any liquid. He manages to crawl to a ladder, climbs up, and staggers to the pool attendant. “What the hell happened,” says the Donald, “The sign said fantastic news and the pool didn’t fill?! Sad!”

The pool attendant looks at the sky quizzically and says: “…fake news?”

More humor here: the adventures of John and Daphne


Originally posted 2020-02-08 19:13:00.

A pirate story – John Hawk

John stuck his heavy spade into the ground and started digging. The pile of dirt rapidly increased in height. It was hard work, the sun beating down on his dreadlocks, and every now and then John stopped his work to wipe away the sweat and to drink from his jug of water.

Deeper and deeper went the spade. John checked the map to exclude any mistake. No, this was the right spot.

Suddenly the spade hit an object, and John dropped on his belly to remove the dirt with his hands. The lid of a chest became visible. Hurriedly he cleaned away more sand, and finally his hands found a handle, and with considerable effort he managed to pull the heavy chest from the ground. He pulled his pistol and shot the lock to pieces.

He threw back the lid and the insides of the chest became visible: coins, coins coins! Ecstatically, John threw his hands in the air and did a weird dance around the treasure.

„Hullo dear, I’ve brought you a cup of tea,“ said Daphne, still in her nightgown, She handed him the mug and looked at the hole skeptically. “Are you sure this is better than a bank account? Seems like an awful lot of work…”

Mr. Wanamaker, their neighbor, smirked. “It’s pretty ridiculous, if you ask me. Look at your goddamn lawn! It’s a disgrace. You’re the laughing stock of the neighborhood.” Exasperated, he turned away from the fence and continued watering his plants.


More About John and Daphne.

Originally posted 2018-12-01 18:30:00.

Interview with the Corona Virus. Viruses do not Read the News.

Lately, I have suffered from nightmares, which ended in murder and blood. Sometimes my imagination is too vivid, or the movies I watch on Mubi are too violent.

Anyway, last night was different, as I dreamed I was watching a talk show, and the experience was even quite enlightening. Imagine a studio, with a host, a virologist, a politician, and… the Corona Virus! A dapper gent, dressed in a three-piece suite, with oily hair. The discussion went something like this.

Host: “So what do you propose should be done to stop the increase of infected people?”

Virologist: “We only have one possibility! We need a lockdown for those that are not vaccinated. Otherwise, the numbers will explode over winter.”

Politician: “A lockdown is out of the question. The incidence rates may be up, the mortality exploding, but we need freedom, for all citizens.”

The host to the virus: “And what do you think about that, Mr. Corona?”

Corina (looking slightly confused). “Well, I… I have no preference.”

Host: “But don’t the masks help? And the social distancing?”

Researcher: “Definitely! We will need to reimplement these! If people stick to those simple rules and wear masks, the problems are solvable. And the vaccine… people must get vaccinated! It also depends on how we calculate the R-value. And let’s not forget the incidence.”

Corona (managing to look bored and satisfied at the same time): “Sounds like a plan.”

Host: “You do not seem to be overwhelmed…?”

Corona: “Look at it this way. at the moment the infection rate is, without a doubt, satisfactory. Sure, I could have infected hundreds of millions of people, but I have already bypassed HIV and the Spanish Flu in mortality rate. I am pleased with the outcome.”

Host: “But aren’t you afraid that you will be eradicated? Haven’t you read about the vaccines, the safety measures, the vaccines, the new medications?”

Corona: “I’m a virus. I do not read newspapers.”

Politician (snorts): “That is absolutely irresponsible! I bet you do not vote either!”

Corona: “I do not watch the news, I do not listen to researchers or politicians, nor do I listen to people who object to wearing masks or those who refuse to get vaccinated. I am indifferent to public opinion… to any opinion. Certainly, for us viruses, plants, and animals are easier prey as they cannot plan ahead at all, yet humans… they are still sufficiently primitive. Take your scientists… on the one hand, their salaries are paid through taxes, collected from the public, yet when the rubber hits the road, nobody listens to them! It’s a contradiction… hilarious and sad at the same time.”

Virologist: “Now listen…”

Corona (hanging back in his chair, suddenly with a whisky in his hand): “For a virus, the job is easy. Multiply, multiply, make the most of the stupidity of our hosts. It’s a slam dunk! No kidding, it’s as easy as drinking water and, after that, as much fun as peeing in the snow.”

Politician (red-faced): “So what you are saying is that we haven’t made any difference? May I perhaps remind you of the billions we have invested with our anti-pandemic plan?”

Corona: “Yes, you did. And it slowed me down a bit. But… I am still here. And I will be here for many years to come. I have already branched out into a dozen other species.”

Virologist (looking clever): “So what do you suggest we do then?”

Corona (looking more clever): “I will gladly tell you, as you won’t be able to implement this within a reasonable timeframe. By the time you will finish discussing and planning I will have mutated into something new and much more exciting. Anyway, the key is education. At the start of the pandemic, people didn’t understand an exponential growth curve. By now most have at least an inkling of what it encompasses. But, now, humans do not understand the benefit of vaccinations… so in most countries, more than 30% are not getting vaccinated. I love it! It’s a gas! Without proper education… without proper information, I’m on a roll! Ooooh yes… Somebody Stop Me!”

Host (looking sweaty, with a slight cough): “Ahh… urghuurghu. With that our time is, alas, up. I thank our panel for the discussion and valuable input… urghuurghu… and I wish all our viewers a perfect night. Urhurghuuu and please stay healthy.” (Thinking he is off-camera, he whispers) “Is it too late to get the vaccine, once you start coughing?” (The virologist covers her face with both hands and shakes her head violently).

More Amazing Stories here!

Originally posted 2021-11-14 22:27:00.

My Favorite Joke – “airplane crash” adapted to modern times

Donald Trump, Erdogan, the Dalai Lama  and a backpacking student are the four sole passengers on a plane crossing the ocean. Suddenly the pilot appears and says: “Sorry guys, both our wings fell off, engines gone, tail on fire: the plane is going to crash. Only four parachutes on board, I’m taking one, so goodbye and good luck.”

And he pulls open the door and jumps out.

The four passengers are stunned. Erdogan is the first to move, grabs one of the three remaining parachutes, straps it on and says:  “Guys, as the leader of the great Osman empire I have a responsibility for all Turks, and you will understand that it would be a terrible loss if I would die.” And out he jumps.

Donald Trump quickly grabs one of the two remaining parachutes, and shouts: “I am one of the greatest presidents and businessmen of the world, so true, I had the largest audience ever at my inauguration, I have big hands, the Democrats are to blame and I leave you with one parachute. So SAD !” And out he jumps.

Says the student: “Well, it seems only one of us can survive. Why don’t you take the last parachute?”

Says the Dalai Lama, with a twinkle in his eyes: “Don’t worry, son. Mr. Trump took your backpack.”


Don’t miss out on the hilarious adventures of John and Daphne.

Originally posted 2018-09-23 21:40:00.

The Haunted House. Shocking appearance in my dinner: egg horror.

With the exception of Watermonster (aka Das Rheinmonster), I haven’t written any horror stories yet, the main reason being that my mother always said: “Ghosts do not exist.” And up to now, I have never made any observation to contradict her statement. But a year ago, I started contemplating writing a story of horror and suspense, the main reason being the strange occurrences in our own house.

Is my kitchen HAUNTED? I have begun to notice some disturbing appearances in my home, especially in my fried eggs. I now report on the latest aberration. Is this the Creature of the Blue Lagoon in my eggs and fries? The ghost of Vincent Price or Quasimodo? And if so: WHY?

Creature of the blue lagoon
Egg of horror

Originally posted 2018-09-02 05:08:00.

My aunt Denise and her conversations from the edge.

As my cousin John used to say: It is not that aunt Denise is mad. It’s just that her tongue is connected differently to her brain than with ordinary people. Alas, cousin John is no longer with us – whereas aunt Denise continues to thrive.

Here some of her gems.


My aunt Denise: “Listen. Listen! Something absolutely weird happened to me!

… Oh wait. That wasn’t me… it happened to somebody else.”


How much did you pay for that mixer?

About a hundred bucks.

A hundred bucks?! You can buy a vacuum cleaner for a hundred bucks!

Yeah, but we didn’t need a vacuum cleaner. Besides the mixer came with a lot of extra stuff, funnels and beakers and so on.

What do you need those for if you vacuum the house?


The dog kept on having sex with my knee.


My husband, your uncle, was so mad at me, he locked himself in the upstairs bathroom for an entire week.

Really? How did he survive?

He ate the toothpaste.

At least he had enough to drink.

I turned off the mains, and that forced him come out.

Why was he mad at you?

I forgot.



Originally posted 2018-06-24 05:08:00.

Quiz time! Can you guess which famous leader used to live here? He must be turning in his grave.

Today a Chinese restaurant (“Peking Duck”), but once upon a time a very infamous man had his residence and offices behind these doors. Can you guess who?


The truth behind the duck:  Mr. Mengling Tang from China is the owner of a Chinese eatery in the Voßstraße in Berlin, exactly on the spot of the entrance to Adolf Hitler’s “Neue Reichskanzlei” – the new chancellery. The building didn’t survive the ravages of war, within a few years after completion, the home of the brutal, and weirdly mustachioed dictator was destroyed by allied bombs. Adolf probably wouldn’t have clenched his little fists with pleasure, if he would have known about the re-purposing of the spot where his ugly government building (designed by his favorite architect Albert Speer) once stood. But then again, maybes he is, in purgatory?

Interested to learn where Adolf Hitler ended up, after his suicide? Ge t a copy of my novel CELETERRA, e.g. in iTunes:

Originally posted 2018-05-18 05:08:00.

Popcorn at the Movies. How to embarrass yourself in public.

Years ago, my sons and I visited the cinema. Traditionally we always got some snacks and drinks, and my youngest son (ten at the time) accidentally referred to popcorn as cockporn.

I haven’t been able to order a bucket of popcorn in the cinema since, as at once I started to copy this error. Now I am even afraid to mention cockpo… popcorn in any public situation.

Worse yet, I had a marketing colleague who continuously mixed up YouTube with an infamous porn channel with a very similar name. To bypass this embarrassment, he started posting all marketing videos to Vimeo.

close up shot of spilled popcorn
Photo by Terrance Barksdale on

Originally posted 2019-12-21 19:49:00.

Ein Weihnachtsmärchen aus Hockenheim. Lesekost für die Weihnachtszeit.

(English version).

Diese humorvolle und leicht gruselige Weihnachtsgeschichte gibt es als ebook (nur €0.99) für alle Geräte (Apple iPhone, iPad; Smartphones, Kindle, Tolino usw.). Du kannst es leicht in deinem Lieblings-eBookstore finden – einfach nach “Clemens P. Suter” suchen.

“Großvater, Großvater, kannst du uns eine Geschichte erzählen?”

Der alte Mann wachte mit einem Schrecken auf. Seine Pfeife war in seiner Hand kalt geworden. Er bemerkte, dass die Asche ein kleines Loch in das weiße Tischtuch gebrannt hatte. Der Mann warf einen schuldbewussten Blick auf seine Tochter Annie, die gerade eine Suppe zubereitete. Er zog den Aschenbecher zu sich heran, um den Schaden zu verbergen.

“Na, mal sehen, ugh ughu”, hustete er. Die beiden Jungen setzten sich neben ihn, einer auf jeder Seite. Ihre Gesichter waren sowohl von der Kälte als auch von der Vorfreude gerötet.

“Die Festtage rücken immer näher. Vielleicht sollte ich mal eine Weihnachtsgeschichte erzählen, hmm?”

Vor vielen, vielen Jahren, aber einige Jahre nach den Corona-Pandemien, verdiente ich mein Geld in Hockenheim. Das Leben war ruhig… wenn man es mit den Zeiten des “Großen Umbruchs” vergleicht. Allerdings waren die Leute nicht reich, und die meisten Geschäfte in der Karlsruher Straße waren pleite, mit Ausnahme einer großen Anzahl von Bäckereien und Friseursalons. Aus unerfindlichen Gründen hatten diese es immer geschafft zu überleben.

Eines Tages, Anfang November, ging ich die Karlsruher Straße entlang. Ich bemerkte einen Umzugswagen, der vor einem kleinen leeren Laden geparkt war. Offensichtlich waren die Arbeiter damit beschäftigt, ein neues Geschäft einzurichten. Sie trugen schwere Holzmöbel in das Gebäude. Selbst der Regen, der gelegentlich in Schneeregen überging, konnte sie nicht ablenken.

Es war zu kalt, um stehen zu bleiben und die Szene zu beobachten. Ich zog den Kragen meines Mantels hoch, um mich vor dem Wind zu schützen, und ging weiter.

Einige Tage später wurde tatsächlich ein neues Geschäft eröffnet. Über dem Schaufenster prangte ein großes Schild mit der Aufschrift “Marie”. Das fand ich interessant, denn es erklärte nicht, welche Art von Produkten Marie anbot. Und auch das Schaufenster gab nicht viele Hinweise. In der Regel waren nur einige wenige Gegenstände zu sehen: eine Schachtel mit Kerzen, ein Stift auf einem roten Samtkissen oder eine Haarbürste. Manchmal war ein Regenschirm das einzige Stück, oder ein einzelnes Buch, ein Kleid oder etwas Gemüse. Die Gegenstände wurden jeden Tag gewechselt. Preisschildchen sucht man vergebens. Ich lächelte traurig, denn es war zu erwarten, dass auch dieser Laden bald bankrottgehen würde. Wie so viele ähnliche Versuche in dieser einsamen Rheintalstadt.

Nun bin ich kein Mensch für Klatsch und Tratsch, aber selbst ich schnappte einige Gerüchte über Maries auf. An einem Samstagmorgen, als ich mein Brot in meiner Lieblingsbäckerei abholte, bemerkte die Bäckereibesitzerin Frau Zeh, dass Maries Laden erstaunlich leer sei. Sie schüttelte den Kopf und ihre Mundwinkel zogen sich noch weiter nach unten als sonst. Auch Herr Gelb, der gerade hereinkam, um sich frische Brezeln zu holen, war nicht erfreut. Er erzählte, dass er bei Maries reingegangen war und nur ein paar Kleidungsstücke gefunden hatte: eine Hose, einen Mantel und eine einfache Strickjacke. Sein grauer Ziegenbart zuckte vor Aufregung, und er biss sich sichtlich verärgert in den Schnurrbart. Eine übergewichtige Frau meldete sich zu Wort. “Ich habe bei Marie Gemüse gekauft, aber es waren tatsächlich nur fünf verschiedene Sorten im Angebot. Können Sie sich das vorstellen?” “Na ja”, versuchte ich zu beschwichtigen, “es ist vielleicht nicht schlecht, nur Kartoffeln oder Erbsen oder Möhren anzubieten … wenn sie die richtige Qualität haben?”

“Ja, aber nur EINES von jedem? Eine Kartoffel, eine Karotte… EINE Erbse?” Herr Gelb schüttelte missbilligend den Kopf. Alle Kunden verstummten. Das war in der Tat überraschend. Frau Zeh schüttelte erneut den Kopf und sah weiterhin irritiert aus. Herr Gelb musterte unsere erstaunten Gesichter und gluckste triumphierend.

Meine Neugierde war geweckt, aber ich hatte keine Veranlassung, das neue Geschäft zu besuchen. Erstens hatte ich sehr wenig Geld, und zweitens versuchte ich als Junggeselle, mich von den Feinheiten des Dorflebens fernzuhalten.

Die Tage und Wochen vergingen. Mit dem Zusammenbruch des Golfstroms, einem der ersten Opfer der Klimaerwärmung, traf der Winter das Rheintal mit voller Wucht. Schwerer Schnee kam aus dem Osten, und die Dorfbewohner zogen sich in ihre Häuser zurück. Auch ich tat dies. Ich konnte mich glücklich schätzen, denn ich hatte einen Kellerraum mit Küche unter einem Fachwerkhaus, genannt “Der güldener Engel”. In einem kleinen Ofen verbrannte ich Holz, das ich im benachbarten Schwetzinger Hardt erbeutete. So konnte ich mit ein paar Wollpullovern übereinander auch die kälteste Witterung überstehen.

Eines Abends, etwa eine Woche vor Weihnachten, klopfte es an meine Tür. Ich warf einen Blick auf die Uhr: Es war neun, eine ungewöhnliche Zeit für Besucher. Doch nach einigem Zögern entfernte ich den Riegel, zog die Tür auf und sah eine dunkle Gestalt auf der Treppe. Hinter dem Menschen wehte ein wütender Wind Schneeflocken durch die Luft. Es war ein Bekannter, ein Mann namens Richard. Er trug einen schweren Mantel. Sein Atem kristallisierte sich in der kalten Luft.

“Darf ich reinkommen?”, fragte er. Ich hörte seine Zähne klappern. Gefrorener Schnee bedeckte seine Schultern.

“Sicher, sicher”, sagte ich und hielt die Tür auf. Er schob sich an mir vorbei durch den engen Flur und betrat mein Zimmer. Ich nahm ihm den Mantel ab und wir setzten uns an meinen kleinen Tisch. Ich schenkte ihm einen heißen Tee aus dem Samowar ein.

“Verdammt kalt draußen”, sagte er, “verdammt kalt”. Richard war groß, breitschultrig und hatte ein markantes Gesicht. Dunkles, lockiges Haar krönte seinen Kopf. Er sprach nicht und hielt die Tasse mit beiden Händen, offensichtlich um die Kälte aus seinen roten Händen und Fingern zu vertreiben.

“Was ist los?” fragte ich. Ich war von seinem Besuch überrascht, denn wir kannten uns nicht besonders gut. Warum hatte er beschlossen, ausgerechnet bei mir aufzutauchen? Nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit, die Straßen menschenleer und der Schnee knietief?


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Find more awesome short stories in this eBook.

Originally posted 2021-12-30 06:59:37.