A few weeks ago a hurricane swept away a beer tent in Kissing, and there is now no doubt that the disaster was a sign from the very top, from heaven’s gatekeeper Petrus, if not from his boss. The message is clear: The Lord gave you Bavaria the beer tent so that you can have fun in it, enjoy beer-happy hours with your fellow human beings and do godly works, i.e. donate free beer and increase the wealth of the host.
But you should not misuse this location for other purposes, such as for the election campaign and the propaganda shouting of the parties. The Holy Spirit edited the word “location” into it because he believes that divine messages should somehow sound hip these days. But this only marginally. It is essential that the heavenly sign is completely ignored, even by the CSU, which otherwise listens to the word of the Lord if it is of use to them.
If you follow the news, you get the impression that the Bavarian state election campaign is a competition in which whoever holds the most beer tent speeches wins. No folk festival is currently safe from politicians, every reveler has to reckon with having to listen to a candidate’s speech, which is celebrated with plenty of sweaty armpits, instead of a “cheers to coziness”.
You were just busy flirting, or – much more exciting – with the question of whether you should order a vegan meat loaf or pork sausage classic, and suddenly, let the shock subside, Söder or the younger of the Aiwanger Brothers is on stage and scolds the Greens, who are to blame when the heating fails and the country perishes from wolf bites.
Cheering breaks out, the people are alternately outraged and enthusiastic, because once again what the old Cicero knew has proven itself: the beer tent speech is a special form of political instruction that must not be clouded by the pallor of the thought. Right-wing politicians have mastered the art of selling regular table slogans as political wisdom, usually better than Socialists or Greens, who often come across as a mouse in a beer tent like a mouse at a cat congress.
The general manager sits next to the caretaker
In the tribal law of Bavaria, which dates back to the dark centuries before the CSU was founded, it is stipulated that old and young, poor and rich, men and women, red and black people come together in the beer tent, and of course everyone else. The general director (today CEO) sits next to the caretaker (today facility manager), the farmer’s wife next to the professor, the vegan next to the knuckle of pork. Everyone is equal at the beer table and everyone is welcome.
There are fights from time to time, but only because a visit to the folk festival would be half the battle without a black eye and lacerations. The election campaign destroyed this sense of community in the name of intoxication. Woe to anyone who, for example, stands up at an Aiwanger speech to campaign for the Greens. He could get away with a beer shower from 100 beer mugs. It’s long gone with fun. Or, as the Holy Spirit would say, “Election campaign kills comfort.”