(Another in a series of Wicked Ramblings and Bold Faced Lies)
One of the best-kept secrets of the modern world is my relationship with Adolf Hitler. It was a volatile relationship, and looking back I actually cannot say my life was more full having known him.
People often say, “Man, being friends with Hitler must have been really difficult.” That has got to be the understatement of the century. As with any famous person, when you know that person on an intimate level, you get to know their idiosyncrasies. It’s just like me and Eva Braun used to say: the man had some shit with him.
The most annoying thing about Hitler was that he really couldn’t take a joke. I always thought that was odd, you know, with the moustache and all. I mean, anyone who decides that they are going to grow a moustache like that has to have a sense of humor, right? The only other person with a ridiculous moustache like that was Moe from the Three Stooges. As a matter of fact, I always thought that Moe was really a tribute to the Fuehrer. You know, the tough guy in charge, whose plans would always go sour at the end. When things would go wrong for A., and he’d start bossing everyone around, we’d laugh at him and call him Moe. One of the things that would piss him off was when no one would listen to him, and someone would say, “Aw A., why don’t you shut up, you stupid, Moe Howard-looking jerk.” He couldn’t stand that. He’d go into a rage, spittle spewing everywhere.
I remember during one of these insult-fests I chimed in and said that he shouldn’t get so mad, because if you thought about it on a deeper level, The Three Stooges were tragicomedic icons, and maybe it’s not so bad that he reminds us of a character like Moe. Man, he went off! Tears welled up in his eyes, and he was screaming about how he’d show us all and we’d see how funny he was when we were all dead. His voice was cracking and everything. I was waiting for him to say, “sike” or “just kidding” or something, but the tirade kind of petered out with him standing in the middle of the floor, out of breath from shrieking threats at everyone in the room, and wiping spit off of his chin and his stupid-looking moustache.
When he was done the room was so quiet I think I heard a mouse fart. No one really knew what to say, because no one expected him to go that far. I remember thinking, “Oh, so that’s how it is. I try to make you feel better about the fact that you remind us of Moe because you insist on trimming your moustache like a fool, and this is what I get. Now you’re going to kill us all. We’ll see who does what to whom….asshole.” I wasn’t about to actually utter those sentiments because, we’re talking about Hitler here. You never know with him.
Eva was the one who finally broke the tension by announcing that dinner was almost ready. Normally, we dreaded it when she would make dinner, because she was a horrible cook. She would make Sauerbraten and boiled potatoes, and she would always add a cup of sugar and a whole box of raisins to the gravy. She would say she didn’t like the tangy taste of the meat and gravy. Well, duh Eva, it’s Sauerbraten! If you don’t like it, make a plain old pot roast and stop giving us stomach cramps by serving crap that tastes like a beef Cinnabon! But we always ate it to keep from hurting A’s feelings, although I think one of the reasons he became vegetarian was because of her bad cooking. Nevertheless, that was one night that we ate her dinner gratefully, and praised the meal, because it saved us from Adolf’s temper.