The fictitious diary of a well-meaning chap.
Humor bridges the gap between reality and tragedy. In doing so, it demonstrates our ability to be amused, no matter what. This pseudo-journal is translated from Hungarian. Some inferences had to be sacrificed because of the uniqueness of the national component of humor. The piece is presented because; good irony has a point to be communicated. Alas, the original source of the text cannot be traced.
2008 04 10: Today I had an interesting experience. A Muslim couple has settled in our town. The refugee family has eighteen members. They are kind and modest and they walk the streets in a file that reminds of ducks waddling on the way to the pond.
2012 01 01: Happy New Year! These Arabs are amusing folks. There are now six families in town. They always smile. Only once, has there been trouble. They had “Wienerschnitzels”, using breaded veal, at the restaurant. Afterwards it came out, that again; the cheating cook used not veal but pork to prepare it. I have seldom seen so much barfing!
2015 03 15: The house next door has been sold. The head of the family is called Ahmed. A strange guy! He has pulled a sack over his three wives. They may toddle that way on our streets. I do wonder what might be hidden under those sacks. Another sack? Who can tell? However, they are full of money even if they do not work. There must be a remote supporter. They also use their fortune to champion new immigrants. I respect that solidarity.