Jewing Down Annie

by Revilo P. Oliver

MANY Americans, full of Christian hootch, have locked their minds up in the dog house, to prevent embarrassing ratiocination, and snivelled as they read Anne Frank’s Diary, a tale about an adolescent female who, to avoid being incinerated by the awful Germans, had to live in hiding with a pack of her compatriots on two floors of a house and in a set of apartments that was concealed behind a swinging bookcase so the Gestapo couldn’t guess how much of the building they couldn’t find. The pitiable Jews were cowering in such fear that they almost strangled a Jewess to prevent her coughs from being overheard by the ubiquitous Gestapo, which, however, never listened when the Jews staged brawls from time to time, yelling at each other and even firing revolvers. The author of the tale had quite a swinging imagination and makes some readers blubber, although they would do better to spend their time with Andrew Lang’s Red Fairy Book or some of its eleven polychrome sequels.

The yarn about Anne Frank, in its several revisions and many translations, has sold an enormous number of copies, and I hear that it is even foisted on helpless schoolchildren in place of “Rumpelstiltskin” or The Wizard of Oz. But Little Annie Sheeny’s tawdry tale is about worn out and the addition of maunderings about puberty and sex in the latest revisions are not enough to give it more zip. A better yarn to jerk tears from the thoughtless is needed.

In their latest bulletin, the German-American Political Action Committee reproduce photographically an article from the Washington Times, 7 November 1986. There is a picture of three laughing Jewesses, who, it seems, have just remembered all they suffered when they hid from the dreadful Nazis from 1942 to 1945 in a small town in Poland, which, according to The (London) Times‘ comprehensive atlas, is forty-two miles east-north-east from Cracow. The three aver that they were part of a party of nine of God’s persecuted darlings who, for — nota bene — a period of two and one-half years lay hidden under the floorboards of a storage room in a trench that was — nota bis bene — twenty inches deep, five feet wide, and seven feet long. The nine of them spent two and one-half years in that space under the floor, never daring to speak above a whisper, never able to stand up, and nourished by bread and water that was stealthily handed down to them once a day. Now that’s a tale that puts the author of Annie’s diary hopelessly out of the running for the next Ignobel Prize. Even Norwegian numbskulls can tell which is the juicier yarn.

The Times does remark that the space in which the nine Yids spent two and one-half years was the size of two coffins, but it does not explain how nine bodies can be packed into two coffins — it couldn’t — and it doesn’t express the faintest doubt about the absolute truth of the story — it didn’t dare. And although the Moon’s newspaper doesn’t say so, my guess is that printing presses are being tuned up this minute for a marathon run of a fat book that will give all the malodorous details, which American schoolchildren will be forced to pretend they believe.

Now I am waiting for a true story from some of the six million victims of the gas chambers who are now in the United States and drawing blackmail money from the Germans who incinerated them forty-three years ago. They can give us a truly heart-rending description of all their sensations as they inhaled the poison gas, of all the excruciating details of their death agonies, of all they suffered from the heat as they were cremated in the gas ovens, of all their shivering molecules endured out on the cold ash-heap, and, finally, of their glorious relief when they resurrected on the third day, as spry as ever, and sprinted for the first ship to the Promised Land that Yahweh gave them across the Atlantic. That book should be a knock-out. And it should sell like hot cakes in Canada, where people who say they don’t believe it will be arrested and imprisoned, and where, it is quite likely, the same punishment will be inflicted on Aryans who wickedly fail to buy a copy of the newest gospel.

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Source: Liberty Bell magazine, April 1987