Not sound, not smoke – Bavaria

Because there are state elections again this year, all possible candidates have to say something on all kinds of topics in order to get their party talked about. Not only does the FDP compensate for its small share of votes at the Epiphany meeting with all the more vehement commitment to big money, and Anton Hofreiter tries doggedly as the green version of Marie-Agnes Strack-Zimmermann. Prime Minister Markus Söder, however, comments in great detail on everything that is happening in Berlin, even if it’s just the New Year’s Eve riots. After all, the Berliners are longingly waiting for Bavarian advice. After all, Söder has not yet, like the Berlin CDU, called for the disclosure of all perpetrators’ first names. You know right away what kind of brainchild you are when your name is “Adolf”, for example.

That’s nonsense, of course, you can’t do anything about your first name. But you can make it your trademark. The fact that Söder is often called “the Maggus” and his deputy Aiwanger is just casually called “Hubsi”, like a hapless central defender in the school eleven of a Straubinger Realschule, after all it makes sense. Names are not smoke and mirrors after all. As we now know, there are actually worlds between Vladimir and Volodymyr, for example. And every Franz Josef who grew up in Bavaria in the 1970s can report never-ending teasing (!) about his middle name. Even if the choice of name was not political at all, but merely family-dynastic, and the Grand Chairman was actually only called quite banally Franz Strauss. He later adopted Josef himself so that his name didn’t sound so jagged.

After all, there are also first names that are unfortunately completely out of date, which is particularly noticeable after Epiphany: Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar, for example, have clearly lost their sexiness since the 17th century compared to Noah, Finn and Joel. Similar to, for example, Charles Borromeo. Completely wrong, however: because the bearer of this name comes to mind in our age group, the director of the Augsburg Textile Museum, who also has the beautiful surname Murr, which gives his full name something gently purring like a cat when pronounced. There is no doubt that neither a Maggus nor a Hubsi, not even a Franz Josef can compete with that.

The author keeps quiet about his middle name.

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