Those excitable patriots at Davids Medienkritik are up in arms about Germany’s lack of political correctness. DM, with the sardonic commentary "German’s aren’t racists, it’s just good old fashioned German humor" links to a Slate piece about the infamous Negerkuss. According to an "urgent missive" sent to Slate by Marc Fisher, a former Washington Post Berlin Bureau Chief, "The Negerkuss, a German ice cream treat similar to our Klondike bar, translates generously as ‘black man’s kiss’ and literally as ‘nigger’s kiss.’" Strange — for someone who apparently lived in Germany for years, he makes a bunch of mistakes here.
First, the Negerkuss has nothing to do with ice cream. It is the slang name for a pastry called the "Super Dickmann’s", made by the Storck company. This confection consists of a rounded chocolate shell covering a marshmallow-foam interior, with a crispy wafer providing the base. It is not advertised with racially-tinged logos; the cover of the package looks just the way you see it in the previous link. These delicious pastries are the focus of one of Germany’s most hallowed traditions, in which participants (invariably in a state of high intoxication) try to be the first to eat three of them without using their hands.
The term Negerkuss is indeed used by ordinary folks to describe the pastry, but, as a commentator pointed out on Davids Medienkritik, the German word "Neger," while sounding quite a bit like the racist American insult, is understood as much less offensive, something like "negro" or "colored" in English. Not particularly enlightened, but not extremely vicious. If you think this is a sign of a civilization that poses a fundamental danger to the world, well, that’s exactly what Germans think when they see trailer parks.
If you’re offended by the word Negerkuss, though, you won’t make it long in Germany. German and European restaurants and bar owners display an overwhelming affinity for politically incorrect sculptures of happy black Sambos and Sambettes just a shuckin’ and a jivin’ their little Hottentot hearts out. I have developed a theory that in the early 1970s, when displaying these problematic pieces of folk art became an invitation to a riot in the U.S., secret mass shipments of contained after container of politically incorrect sculptures were sent to Continental Europe. I collect instances of these sculptures. Here is by far the most impressive specimen I’ve ever seen, from a hotel in Essen, Germany. And yes, they put a fresh copy of the racing form in his hand every morning: