Hello, my name is Itzak Berky. Friends call me Behr. You are friend. Call me Behr.
Yesterday I was taken in some kind of military transport plane to the Fatherland (also known as Germany if you are using a globe to better understand this daylog). Many do. Consider it. Most noders are not in the next room over from you. Some are. Others are elsewhere in the world. Using a globe can be helpful. Invest in one.
This chick Angela keeps telling me how fascinated she is by me. It is "creeping me out" (internet kiddie saying). She says I am supposed to be a myth. She is spelling my name wrong but keeps telling me I am "The Bear of Berlin," which is true because friends call me Behr and I spent my formative years in Berlin during its Golden Era of the 1930s and early 1940s. I asked if we were going to make Germany great again and she changed the subject.
What plans they have for friend Behr (your friend is Behr and Behr is your friend) are unknown. They are not taking me to Berlin which disappoints me about 80% (this poll has a margin of error of 5%). They are taking me somewhere in Germany and I can see it now through the window of the transport plane (military in nature). It is a large metal building in the middle of a forest. I am disappointed that man's dominance (a natural trait in Germans like me who is actually a Roman Empire person known as Romany but I am 100% Aryan stock and my mother is of Palestinian stock and yet also Roman Empire person so it is confusing) has not conquered this forest and burned it down to build weapons and houses for the wealthy and filthy fucking shacks for the working class piss ants.
We are going into the building now which makes it difficult to type because I have to hold my laptop in one hand and type with the other. I asked Angela to hold the laptop for me and she declined to answer me as she did when I asked repeatedly to see the Fuhrer. We are now inside the building and they are directing me into a room where there are men and women in lab coats. They have look of consternation on their faces.
That is all I can type for now. They are wanting to do some kind of things to me. Possibly to examine my X-Man type hand or my extremely blackened and distended belly. They say these are side effects of the non-scientific medical experiments done on me by the man who said he was my father when I was an adorable Aryan lad (who is also originally this "Romany" thing).
My friends.