I mean, it's not like it didn't happen --I'm sure it happened in some sense; people got fried and probably had shoes and luggage and other consumer products made out of them and everything-- but I think it's really cool how the rabbis just rolled their eyes back into their heads one day and decided to get rid of all that garbage once and for all.
One of my favorite comedians was Andy Kaufman. (Though I don't think he even considered himself a comedian, really.) He seemed to delight in having people hate him. I think he employed found objects to create jokes. His brain perhaps just found humor in everything. Maybe his delight in having people hate him led to his Tony Clifton persona and the wrestler thing. Who knows. I don't think we'll ever know. He was a song and dance man, as he said.
Maybe I'll start wearing a Nazi uniform and start giving the Heil Hitler salute everywhere I go: at the grocery store, the used CD store, wherever I may be.
I hate to deconstruct jokes for my audience because that takes the fun out of it. But the joke is that I will be CLAIMING to be a Nazi (wearing an SS uniform and all) but I will not have actually been in on the frying part. ...because I'm not a rabbi; a rabbi, by definition, does not wear Nazi clothes. Rabbis wear dour-looking clothes instead. (Nazis would probably be more fun at parties. Be honest: Who would you rather attend a movie premiere or a Hollywood awards ceremony with, a Nazi officer in full regalia or some fuddy-duddy ol' rabbi with a scowl on his face?)
And therein lies the joke. Get it? Now: If I wanted to craft a performance piece with a delicious meta nougat and a sprinkle of Reverse Flying Dutchman on top, I would wear my SS uniform and pin on a yarmulke. And tattoo a number on my own wrist and throw invisible apples over a fence. (Kind of like that trick dog leash that is made out of wire and you "walk" your invisible "dog," except that there is no dog at the end of the leash. You just tell people that you have a dog and that is sufficient. Apparently.)
...and then the piece would be complete. Get it? All you have to do is say a thing and it is true. Objective reality is not relevant.
...because OBVIOUSLY, I can't be a Nazi if I'm not a Nazi, right? So the whole thing cancels itself out in a puff of smoke and the audience is left holding the bag. And when they open up that paper bag of joke-telling, they discover a note from Granma that says:
Help me. I'm hungry and scared
and I don't want to be buried in a pit.
The rabbis did this to me.
Chris is the only one here who doesn't
think I'm a stinking, subhuman piece of trash.
and I don't want to be buried in a pit.
The rabbis did this to me.
Chris is the only one here who doesn't
think I'm a stinking, subhuman piece of trash.
And that's the joke. Get it? (It's a fairly complex piece, nothing at all like Ass Crack'd.)
