The Coming Reign of Bruno and the Death of an Accent

Everyday, in some form or another, we experience births and deaths, wins and losses. Some are bigger than others- the death or birth of a loved one compared to the discovery of a new song or the loss of a favourite t-shirt. Today, the day of the public premiere of Sacha Baron Cohen's Bruno, I find myself surprisingly sentimental.

Sometime last spring, while at a hostel in Rotterdam, a small group of friends and I shared a hostel room with three young Dutchmen. At five in the morning, the three friends- blonde, effeminate, clad in skintight black apparel, likely on ecstasy, and accompanied by two gigantic dutch girls- awoke us from our much-needed sleep by turning on the lights, stripping, and well, having an orgy. I tried to reason with the trio, as we were sleeping, and had to get up early to catch a train, besides none of us were in the mood to watch or partake in an orgy. Alas, there was no reasoning with these guys. What did ensue was a retrospectively hilarious argument that birthed a number of memorable quotes, including but not limited to, "if you make a complaint about us, I will make a complaint about you, personally", "do not mess with me, I am very aggressive", and, of course, the "I have AIDS" chant started by one of the Amazonian women the Dutchmen recruited while she was twirking on a top bunk. I obviously lost this arguement, and my friends and I went to another room. We left our new room at 9:30 the next morning, and as we walked by one of the Dutch boys en route to the bathroom, wearing only a pillow case, he turned to us smiling and said, "We are having a sex orgy."

That experience was not just funny, but also marked the beginning of an era. In telling the story I just told, using a Dutch/German accent made the story that much funnier. And so, when I told the story, I would use the accent, and then when other people told the story, they would use the accent. And then we started using the accent in passing. By the time I got back to New York in late May of 2008, we were using the accent all of the time. I would estimate that about fifteen percent of interaction between me and my close friends is done in what could be now known simply as the voice. If you know me (and if you're reading this you probably do), you know the voice of which I speak.

But this accent has grown into more than an accent for me. It is that little German voice which allows me to wear short shorts, to have dance offs, to listen to techno at ten in the morning. If I say "vhatsup" to you it's a sign that I know you well enough to let my guard down and act silly. Most importantly, it is an inside joke that everyone gets and everyone likes.

But here comes Bruno. Do you remember when Borat came out? How many people were Borat for Halloween? How many people borrowed the character's intonation and phraises? EV REE ONE! We can only expect the same phenomenon in a post-Bruno world. Except Baron Cohen's gay Austrian fashion reporter uses effectively the same accent as previously mentioned.

So, as of well, right now basically, no longer will people associate this accent with my fellow, rightful appropriators and I, but with one man, one character, and one movie. As Bruno flashes on big screens across America for the first time today, I turn from an innovator to a recitator.

So what can be done? Not much, except for this. Pardon my petty-ness, but by publishing this blog, I am making it known that me and my good friend Jorry Palm are the true inventors of the effeminate German accent. I am the original gay German (no homo), and if you see me on the street, looking like a piece of Euro-trash, hollering at girls like, "vhats shakin bitches?", please recognize. Lang lebe der König! V-tron out (and back later with the pregame playlist).