Skewered: The way to power is through the stomach

You would have to be a cleaner fish. Mind you: a fish, not a female fish. The females of the underwater cleaners don't have much to laugh about. Instead of their swarm, they have to subordinate themselves to their swarm leader, they have to live in a harem, nibble off the parasites of other sea creatures and, after their work is done, they are not even allowed to nibble a few crunchy algae if they feel like it. Because their scaly lord and master strictly watches over their weight. The masters in the cleaning team have it good: They may eat what they want, keep up to 16 females in a harem (who probably do all the cleaning work, while he paddles a little through the corals) and never have competitors until their death.

Researchers from the Universities of Neuchâtel, Zurich and Queensland have recently uncovered how male cleaner wrasses manage this: all cleaner wrasses are born as females. So far, the world is still in order. But here's the kicker: the female that grows the largest the fastest changes sex and becomes the leader of the group. And as a convert it then watches over the slim line of its former sex mates, so that no competitor grows up. Large female cleaner wrasses that nevertheless eat too much - and thus actually only do their job - are severely punished by the top facility manager. Some of them have to drink up the cleaning bucket, even blows with the scrubbing brush are not uncommon ...

I love you and eating

There are two reasons why this news nevertheless fills me with hope. Firstly: What do we ladies still care about the slim line if you can expect an increase in power with an increase in weight? Especially as a mommy-to-be (with a belly that grows by leaps and bounds), this is an exciting prospect for me. As a matter of principle, I don't wonder what will happen after the birth in my situation. Second, because I can't gain weight, I have to clean less. Now that's logic! Who cares about the calories burned cleaning windows? I say yes, one would have to be a cleaner fish. I'd even put up with the dandruff for that.

On Anne-Friederike Heinrich's "Aufgespiesst: Fronkreisch, Fronkkreisch!" in Werbewoche of June 10, 2011:

I admit, you have to live in France for at least a quarter of a century or then grow up bilingual to understand all the subtleties of the French language. The author of the article is on good terms, writing very wittily, for example, which is rare among German-language columnists who immediately lapse into a Lutheran-like preachy tone. Her style, too, is elegant and has chutzpah: this is already "très français," a real start toward readability. (A French writer once said of one of his rivals, "C'est un homme remarquable, mais il a un défaut impardonnable pour un Français: il ne sait pas écrire.") - But to the point: when I asked for a phone book in a French post office in the 1970s, I was kindly pointed to the Minitel screen that stood in a corner and was eagerly used. It was the forerunner of the personal computer, but in public, and so it was unfortunately not granted a great mercantilist career, while the French PTT to this day use the republican slogan: "Le progrès sert seulement à quelque chose, s'il est partagé par tout le monde", or something similar. But as far as the word "computer" is concerned, I must simply point out that it sounds simply shocking to French ears, because of its connotations of "con" and "pute", two argot expressions whose translation I, S.V.P., am forgiven at this point. So let us leave the French their "ordinateur" and come down humbly from our high Anglo-American-German horse. H. P. Gansner, Writer, Geneva and Haute Savoie