Nacht Und Nebel 2011

In the summer of 1982 Count-No-Count phoned my East Village apartment. Kurt, a mysterious German playboy was offering a job as ‘tursteher’ at his nightclub BSIR in Hamburg. The pay for a doorman was $150 a night, free accommodations, and all I could drink. Being dead-broke and wanted for questioning by the NYPD Internal Affairs for payment to the 20th Precinct at our after-hours club on West 25th Street, I quickly answered, “Ja.”

My stay in Hamburg had been pleasant throughout the summer. I spoke bad German with a Boston accent thanks to an ancient Bavarian teacher Bruder Karl at my high school south of Boston, but the clientele of young students on holiday dancing to the DJ imported from Paris possessed good English skills. Certainly better than my German. The weather was delightful and this far north the sun stayed in the sky late into the night. I drove an orange VW and lived in a studio penthouse on chic Mittelweg. I was thirty and no one was after me in Europe.

Autumn brought the cold rain, gray fog, and darker days. The sun’s daily traverse across the sky passed over the southern horizon like a frisbee weakening in flight with the approach of the winter solstice. Even worse was how the increasing bad weather allowed arrogant Nazis in their fifties and sixties to creep out of their hiding places. Maybe it was my imagination playing tricks with the shadows during my strolls through Jungfernstieg, but I regularly spotted well-dressed ex-Waffen SS striding proudly down the streets and their eyes didn’t lie about what they had seen or done in Russia, Poland, France, or Germany. They were not extras in a Hollywood movie. These men had not only obeyed orders and they had carried them out to the letter with pride. I was not scared by these old men nor of the young neo-Nazis. I was under the protection of the toughest gang in Hamburg. The GMbH and their boss J, the Black Pimp.

Of course the young Germans were not obsessed by the ghosts of the past.

“We are the Porsche Reich, not the Fourth Reich,” Count-No-Count had told me on many occasions in Paris. The Telex millionaire’s best friend was a Reeperbahn pimp, Kalle, the son of a Harlem American sergeant and a local woman from Hafenstrasse on the harbor of Hamburg.

A black Zuhalter was an anomaly in a German gang. His blonde right-hand man was SS Tommy, a notorious killer. The two of them along with their gang, the GmBH, controlled the ErosCenter, the huge brothel on the Reeperbahn, and also thousands of Huren or whores there and elsewhere in Hamburg. Kalle was always good to me. In truth he was my boss and not Count-No-Count.

His associate SS Tommy believed in the Second Coming of the Third Reich. The original Thousand Year Reich had lasted twelve years, but the weightlifter was not a real Nazi. Not like those old men who had done things no one liked to speak about at parties or even behind their backs. Still I was surprised when SS Tommy presented me a large bill for having sex with Astrid, who frequented BSIR. The Rechtung for my time with the blonde dancer came to 20,000 DMs or $12,000. Every act of intimacy been itemized on his list. Everything. Every sex act in five words or less. He had even charged twenty DMs for holding hands. Nothing was left off the list.

That evening I handed the pimp the keys to my VW and left Hamburg without saying an ‘auf weidersehen’ to anyone. Especially not Astrid. SS Tommy was scary and I was defensively scared of him.

The midnight train pulled into Hamburg’s Hauptbahnhof a little on time. During the wait I scanned the platform like a refugee from Gestapo henchmen. I didn't free safe, until the train entered Belgium. I reached Paris at dawn and I knew I was as lucky to be in France. Everyone does after they escape someplace else in the middle of the night.

Count-no-Count came down to Paris. He said Kalle was alright with me. Count-no-Count had paid my debt and advised me to stay away from Hamburg. I had no intentions of going north or west to America. New York wasn’t an option as the IAU investigation into police corruption was still in well swing. I worked at various nightclubs in the City of Light. Life was good for me. Less so for Count no Count. He ODed in 1985 in his Pigalle apartment. He was 38. I was 33.

I moved back to New York in 1986. The precinct cops knew I was there. They also knew that I had held my sand. I was left alone. A friend gave me a job in the Diamond District and I traveled the world on my savings. I heard from friends that Kalle was still a big man in the GmBH and SS Tommy had fled the Bundes-Republik after a failed bank robbery. The years moved on.

In 2004 I was living in Pattaya, Thailand, running a website selling fake F1 sports gear. I had a Thai wife and child. A car and a house with a mango tree in the front yard. F1-shopping.net was # 1 on Google search for Ferrari shirts. With the baht 50 to $1 a little counterfeiting was worth the risk. It wasn't like I was dealing drugs.

A Belgium marine geologist, Fabo, and I hung out at the Welkom Inn on Soi 3. We called the freelancer bar the Belgium Embassy. We were more interested in drinking than sex. He Heinikens. Me Thai Leo beer. Usually in the afternoon after I had shipped the day's shirt, caps, and jackets. One day he seemed very shook up and told me over a few beers how his girlfriend's ex- had shown up from South Africa. A German. Name of Tommy. I added the SS to complete the picture. It was a guess, but a good hunch. It was a small world and a long life.

"He wants Poo to work for him in Germany."

"As a pute in Hamburg."

"Yes? Do you know him?

"Maybe."

"He wants to meet me at my house. Poo is frightened and so am I."

"I understand. Call me when he's coming and I'll bring Bruno."

"Bruno."

"He's ex-legionnaire. He can never return to France. Good people." I had never discussed Bruno's reasons for his exile. Pattaya had lots of secrets.

I finished my beer and returned home. I said nothing to my wife about Fabo's woes. She probably knew. The Thais gossip more than anyone else in the world and know what is what and why before the news has reached a farang. When Bruno pulled up on his motorcycle, I kissed her and my daguhter. Nu said, "Lawang."

"I'll be careful."

She watched us drive away. I had informed Bruno of the situation. He only had to be told once. We crossed Sukhumvit rode up Khao Talo to a short-time bar in a semi hiso Thai neighborhood. Both of us checked the soi. We had heard that the German was friends with a Thai motorcycle gang. Both of us and Fabo were on good terms with them. There was no sign of them or him. We enter inside the dimly-lit bar. It had never seen the light of day The girls didn't lift from their chairs to greet us. We were known. Neither of us had ever gone upstairs with one of them. Bruno and I were faithful to our girlfriends. We only cheated with our drinking.

Fabo was not sitting alone

He was with SS Tommy. Each held a Heineken beer

I hadn't seen him in over twenty years. He hadn't changed at all. Same stack of muscles. Same bleached blonde shag hair. Just more slash scars on his left forearm from countless knife fights. People had tried to kill him. They had all failed. He squinted and eyeballed us. SS Tommy didn’t recognized me.

I sat down.

He had accused me on being the police.

"I know you. You don't know me. Leave Fabo alone."

"Why?" He most certainly wasn't scared of me.

Bruno had heard enough. He attacked the killer with the fury of an ex-legionnaire. Fabo, the girls, and I watched a short effective beating that are never filmed in the movies. It was over in fifteen seconds. Bruno dragged out SS Tommy and threw his unconscious body into the street. The bikers rolled up to the bar. SS Tommy must have called them for back up. Bruno nodded and they drove away. They knew Bruno well. This was none of their business. SS Tommy fled Thailand. Legionnaires had even more scary than pimp, if you are on their wrong side. A fugitive German conman late said at the Welkom Inn that SS Tommy had been arrested for a solo bank robbery in Jo-Burg. Good riddance. I was 52.

In the autumn of 2011 I was appointed writer-in-residence at the British Embassy in Luxembourg. The old fortress city was centrally located in Europe and I visited to Paris, Brussels, and Charleroi in the first month. Triers on the Moselle River was very close and I planned a trip to the ancient Roman city of 70,000, only a forty-five minute ride way by train.

Telling the Ambassador my plans, I caught the morning express to the Moselle and ferried across the river to Konz for a short train ride to Trier. On my arrival I half-expected SS Tommy to be waiting on the train platform. Not a sign of him there on in the streets.

Germany had changed in the last thirty years. The old Nazis had died off and, while the young Nazis had become very active in the East, they weren’t in Triers, but I kept my eyes open. Walking through the old Roman ruins I studied the faces of the young and old. I didn’t spot a single Nazi. It was, as if their genes had been erased from the Germanic race.

In Triers the only broken glass was from broken bottles and not the windows of Jewish homes and synagogues as was on the morning after Kristelnacht. I ate a bratwurst from an Imbiss stand and drank a Kloster beer. I visited Karl Marx Haus. The creator of Communism had been born in the old city. The street was in the heart of the sex zone. Nothing was happening in the afternoon. As I stood outside the house and old man passed and muttered under his breath, “Juden.”

“And fuck you, you old Nazi.”

My comment turned his head. His skin was withered by age, but he still stood erect. He had never asked for forgiveness for his deeds under der Dritten Reiche.

“Ja, du alte arseloch.”

I rushed him and he prepared to take a blow. I so wanted to hit him, but he wasn’t SS Tommy.

“Gehst heim,” I said with a Boston accent and he stood his ground with Nazi arrogance.

He was about 91. I was 59. 1945 was well back in the 20th Century. I stepped closer to the old man. He did not back away. He still stood for his beliefs and so did I. One blow would have put him in the hospital and me to jail. He was still a Nazi and I was me. Some things never change. I shoved him and said, “Go home.”

Our eyes said everything else. I was a Goy like him, but I wasn't anything like him and neither are the millions and millions of Germans in this world. Some of my best friends are German. I love them. Ehrlich, but not Nazis. This old man and I will always be enemies and I would never have it any other way.

TIPS FOR THE OCCUPIED

In July 1940 according to Ronald Rosbottom's WHEN PARIS WENT DARK about the Nazi Occupation of Paris in June 1940 a mimeographed flyer hit the streets.

TIPS FOR THE OCCUPIED.

The City of Light had been stunned by the collapse of the French army. 80% of the population fled Paris fearing the worst much like many of us under the Trump regime. The tips were non-violent, but acknowledged that the Resistance was coming some day. This is an abridged version.

Don't be fooled by German with camera. They are in uniform and they are not tourists.
They are conquerors. Do not be friendly. They will not reciprocate. Take your time giving them directions.
If they address you in German or MAGA, act as if you don't understand them and ask if they could repeat themselves more slowly.
If they ask you for directions, you are not obliged to tell them the right way.
If they attempt to draw you into a conversation, tell them you are not interested in anything they have to say
If they ask for a light, offer them your cigarette. No one refuses eeven the enemy a light.
If a store posts Nazi or MAGA signs, don't shop there.
She that you are indifferent to them. There will be a time to show more.
This list will not be on TV.
Share it with those you love.

Everyone in Paris was stunned by the Nazis marching down the Champs Elysess, as we are from the busybodies dismantling the government. Anther suggestion is to always address MAGA as non-binary. L'Hermaphordite Des Borghese shall lead the way to revolution.

Kristallnacht 2025

My older friends have surrendered to the MAGA wave either by supporting Trump or are so stunned that this coup d'etat had happened to America that have surrendered to the enemy much as the French had in 1940. The ineffective DNC had been rejected by millions of young for their support of the genocide in Gaza and countless black and white males, because Kamala Harris was a woman, who prosecuted millions of young black males as a Californian DA. The DNC leadership remains silent. Bernie Sanders speaks out, however the major media are curtailing any news for fear of MAGA reprisals.

In 2024 millions of Jews voted for Trump, because of his vocal support of Israel. So where do we go from here?

Rehashing our past failures will not solve the present dilemma.

Recently I was speaking with the Jewish director Amos Poe, who had been born in Palestine. His mother and father came from Germany. In 1936 she left Berlin for Madrid as an anarchist supporting the CNT against Franco. She hated her father. A German Jew and banker he financially supported the Nazis, thinking that the Hitlerians stood for order and prosperity to Deutschland. Alles was gut, except his daughter said that he was financing the death of the Jews.

Then came Kristallnacht.

The following morning the dignified banker went to his place of business. The Nazis threw him out of the office and building into the sidewalk.

"But I have powerful friends in the Nazi Party."

The SA officer said, "The Jews have no friends in Germany now. Heraus Jude."

Amos' grandfather returned home and shot himself, knowing that his daughter had been right about the Nazis, but that acknowledgement came too late for millions.

Her mother begged for her to return. She left for Palestine and thankfully never returned to Deutschland. The only surviving member of her family.

30% of the USA Jews openly support Trump. They also back Putin. More prosperity and order. None of them remember the 1905 Cossack pograms and I tell them they are on a list.

It doesn't matter. They are blind to the future. The drive BMWs and Benzs.

'"The Germans make good cars." A Jewish beauty told me. "And Trump lovs Israel."

Yes, they proudly supported him, because he defends Zion and can't envison that Crystal Night is coming.

The only way to fight these people is always.

I remain committed to the struggle.

ps no one has crystal anymore. But I do.

Kristallnacht
was the word I heard
my parents whisper behind
closed doors. And I pictured
the world under a sudden
enchantment of ice, each tree limb
braceleted in crystal, each lamppost, each windshield glazed
and electrically gleaming,
the very air wincing with light.
And the only sound would be
a myriad tinkling,
as of a thousand thousand
miniature wind chimes.
The treacherous beauty of words.
Crystal night: the stars themselves
blazing and frozen in place.

2020 Linda Pastan

Resist___

Babi Yar Ala Gaza

On 29–30 September 1941 outside of Kyiv the Nazi occupiers of that city rounded up the city's Jews and marched them to a ravine called Babi Yar. Throughout the next two days the SS Sondercommando squad massacred some thirty-four thousand men, women, and children. No one was spared, although twenty-nine people survived the killings by acting dead. A horrifying number and of course the SS and their commanders slept like princes after the slaughter.

Since the October 7 Hamas attack on Israel desert settlements, the IDF has indiscriminately killed over twenty-seven thousand Palestinians. Three months of constant and methodical killing, but without coming close to the savagery of Babi Yar. Netanyahu's advisors must be asking themselves, "How was that possible? Should we be more ruthless with Amalekites."

Bibi's staff substitute that tribe for the people of Gaza.

Yahweh had allowed the Hebrews to annihilate this tribe after the crossing of the Red Sea.

“You shall not intermarry with them, giving your daughters to their sons, or taking their daughters for your sons, for they would turn away your sons from following me, to serve other gods”

According to the Old Testament the exiles from Egypt battled the Amalekites with the divine weapon. Moses and Aaron smote them with their hands and staffs. Not the first time nor the last the Children of Judah practiced extermination, but this time like the Holocaust the while world is not some much watching, but turning an eye.

Some of my Jewish friends are against the War on Gaza, but the others only see genocide as the one true Final Solution. They have yet to understand that it really isn't easy to kill off an entire people and it comes at a cost. The future looks dark, but I have hopes that more ignorant minds take over and try to accomplish the impossible. Peace.

Shalom is the same in Hebrew as it is in Arabic.

Israeli military has struck at Hamas leaders. Their replacements will be in no hurry to negotiate with assassins.

But peace has to meant something to everyone.

As does genocide.

Remember Babi Yar.

Jews For The Orange Jesus

After the recent Shabbas I met with my Hassidic and Conservative Jewish friends. All of them had met in prison. For the most part their crime was fraud and I didn't consider them criminals. Ex-cons yes, but not criminals. They were drinking kosher wine and whiskey. I stayed with water, as I was waiting for a liver transplant. The midterm elections were only a week away and to a man they voiced their support for Donald Trump.

"You know his father was KKK?" I asked them.

"That was his father," answered, Yonni, the youngest Hassid, a young man with a lovely voice.

"And his followers are Nazis?"

"That's them, not him," answered our host, who called me the last of the Shabbas Goys. "Trump supports Israel and anyone who supports Israel gets out vote."

"Even though he might be a Nazi?" I was the only goy any of them knew.

"No one is perfect," replied Danny, who had served a six year bid in a federal prison.

"So now I understand that some German Jews voted for Hitler, thinking the Fuhrer might not be so bad."

"They couldn't vote for Hitler. They lost the right," protested by friend Joel, who had turned religious in prison.

"The Jews didn't lose the right to vote until 1935 and if you're voting for Trump, then some German Jews voted for Hitler."

"It doesn't matter as long as he supports Israel."

None of them has the right to vote due to their felon status.

Back in the 1960s almost 90% of American Jews voted for the Democrats.

Now almost 40% cast their ballot for the Orange Jesus.

They returned to their drinking and I realized that my one vote counted for more than any of them. Coming from the South Shore that meant vote early and vote often.

Especially against the Orange Jesus.

At least I know where he's heading.

The Actual Story - Jussie Smollet

On the morning of January 29, 2019 TV actor Jussie Smollett said that he was attacked in the early morning of that day in the 300 block of East Lower North Water Street in Chicago's Streeterville neighborhood. The two masked men shouted, "This is MAGA territory." while assailed their victim with fist, feet, and teeth before putting a noose around his neck and pouring bleach over his head. Previous to this attack according to Wikipedia Smollett received a threatening letter which depicted a stick figure hanging from a tree with a gun pointing towards it. It read "Smollett, Jussie you will die" and "MAGA" and contained a white powder determined to be Tylenol Being a gay black man Jussie was rightly supported by the community, until the Chicago PD raided the house of two Nigerian brothers once attached to the TV show. The CPD, a white-racist bastion of black suppression, declared that the attack had been staged by the actor and charged him with sixteen criminal counts, but yesterday all charges were dropped by the district attorney, despite the rantings of the Zionist mayor, Rahm Emanuel, backing his white power force of slave patrols aka CPD. It is plainly obvious that the Chicago PD were involved in the first racist anti-gay letter from a rejected police lover and that the his fellow boys in blue blotched their attempt to cover their tracks. These are not the facts, but my hunch. They are seldom not far from the truth

No Freedom Of Speech for Nazis

Last year hundreds of far right extremists gathered in Charlottesville VA to protest the removal of the statue of General Robert E. Lee. The city mayor refused to grant a permit to the various alt-right groups, however the ACLU argued that the ban was an infringement on the 1st Amendment and a judge from the U.S. District Court for the Western District of Virginia gave the go-ahead on grounds that the rally was protected under the 1st Amendment or Freedom of Speech. The Unite the Right claimed the monument to be an historic reminder of the War Between the States, while the counter-protestors argued that the time to eradicate all traces glorifying slavery from the South. The KKK and other White Power radicals held a torch-lit parade reminiscent of the Nazi marches in the 1930s.

The next day turned violent with battles between police and the protestors. The governor declared a state of emergency and the Virginia State Police shut down the streets, but in the afternoon a bigot drove his car into a crowd, killing Heather Heye.

For the most part the police stood and watched the mayhem.

Donald Trump criticized both sides, but infamously said, "There are very fine people on both sides"

A year passed and the far-right has fought in the streets across this nation.

This weekend they issued a call for a rally in front of the White House.

Less than a hundred showed up.

They are not defeated, simply changing their tactics, but the Freedom of Speech was not written into the Constitution to shield hate-mongers.

Resistance is not futile.

The Attack Of The Grinch

The Trump tax plan has overhauled the code largely in favor of the filthy rich. None of his supporters have criticized this Christmas gift to the top .01%. Everyone wants to be a billionaire and hope for a miracle to raise them from swamp of the middle class, but as I've always said, "There are only three ways to make a fortune. Birth. Marriage. And Theft."

# 45 has also banned the CDC from using the words “fetus,” “transgender,” “diversity,” vulnerable,” “entitlement,” “evidence-based” and “science-based” .

Trump has admitted he doesn't read books and I have to admit the Internet has curtailed my reading as well, but I don't think that's Trump's problem.

It's fascism.

And he's following the path of the Master.

Nothing says Grinch' better than Adolf.

Resist. comrades.

Nazis In Uniform

Nazis had great uniforms.

They were all murderers.

And the faithful liked following orders.

They numbered in the millions.

Nazis come in all shapes, sizes, and ages.

The Nazis of the 90s were skinheads.

They were loud.

And few.

Leather and tattoos were their uniform.

Many of the Fascist marchers in Chancellorsville wore a white polo shirt with khaki trousers.

Just like their leader.

Trump likes his own kind.

And he doesn't have to say he's sorry.

To no one.

Not Again Not Ever

The KKK was founded by Southern white supremacists after the defeat of the Confederacy in 1865. Armed bands of ex-soldiers roamed the night to terrorize freed slaves and elected former CSA General Nathan Forrest was elected Grand Dragon of the racist organization. Thousands of blacks were killed during this first reign of terror and the election of 1868 was a disaster for anyone not voting the Klan line. The federal government and northern veterans attacked Klan members through the law and violence. By the mid-1870s the Klan faded from the political stage, but they were merely in hiding.

DW Griffith's BIRTH OF A NATION rekindled The KKK, especially since KKK President Wilson supported the film and the movement to fight black progress and the threat of communism. The protestant churches refused to back the Klan, but the next three presidents were also Klan members and in 1921 over a quarter-million KKK members marched in Washington, a predominantly black city.

Like blacks whites from the south migrated north.

And the nation was ruled by racism.

The burning cross.

Their popularity diminished in the 1920s and membership dropped from 6,000,000 to 30,000.

The KKK never went extinct.

They hated blacks, jews, hippies, unionists, Catholics, socialists, spics, foreigners, gays, lesbians, TVs, Asians et al.

Hate was their drug.

It wasn't for everyone, however in the last decades the KKK have bonded with the Nazis and White Supremacists to create a united front.

Their rans have been swelling in resistance to the tearing down of Confederate statues.

History shall not be replaced.

Blood and soil.

This week hundreds if not thousands of them gather in Charlottesvill VA to protest the removal of Robert E. Lee's statue.

They shouted racist slogans and the police stood doing nothing.

They are KKK members too.

The violence escalated.

The Nazis marched at night.

And their leader gives them the green light.

One dead and a score wounded in the battle.

Many of the Nazis wore Donald Trump's golf outfit.

None of them were as fat as Fatso Trump.

A Nazi through and through.

And they have no rights in America.

None at all.

Like Son Like Father

During a radio show on Thursday Donald Trump Jr. was attacking the media's relationship with Hillary Clinton and said, “Without the media, this wouldn’t even be a contest, but the media has built her up. They’ve let her slide on every in-discrepancy, on every lie, on every DNC game trying to get Bernie Sanders out of this thing. I mean, if Republicans were doing that they’d be warming up the gas chamber right now.”

The GOP presindetial candidate's son was immediately attacked by the Press for the Naziesque reference.

Donald Jr. defended himself, saying that his statement was actually about capital punishment.

I'd be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, except his family has always supported the hard-right wing.

Grandfather was KKK.

And Donald won't say what he is.

But we know.

Don't we?

Pope Evil The 12th

I was baptized a Catholic in June of 1952. My Aunt Gloria held her godson before the fount, as I cried incessantly, as the priest called for my renouncement of Satan and all his works. Auntie Gloria answered for me. "Yes, I thereby renounce Satan and all his works." No one said anything about the evil of the Holy Roman Church. Nothing about the Inquisition, the Laundry schools in Ireland, the Crusades, the burning of midwives at the stake, the persecution of atheists and heretics, the assistance to the Nazis, or the chronic sexual abuse of young boys and girls by the priests throughout the diocese of their empire. Last week Pope Benedict XVI announced his resignation on the grounds that he was too old to discharge the duties of the Papacy. The last pope to quit his office was Pope Gregory XII to end the Western Schism in 1415. On the weekend my younger sister phoned to ask, "You're a good conspiracy theorist. Why do you think that the Pope resigned?" "I don't have a good grip on this other than to say that an institution as ancient as the Church never acts in haste, but there are two prime possibilities; the first being his involvement with the criminal child abuse endemic to the Church." "You mean he was one of them?" "You don't get that high in the Church without getting the right dirt on you. Remember that these priest considered the abuse to be a rite of the Church." "No way." "You might not remember, but thousands of priests and nuns left the Church after Vatican II and I think a good number of those departures were a result of the silence demanded by the abusers. The good nuns and priests had no choice. As Cardinal Archbishop of Munich the present Pope was responsible for rooting out this evil and nothing really happened. You know a certain government is seeking his arrest." "Which one?" "It can only be Germany, because he has failed to protect the Nazi wealth in the care of the Vatican. All the child abuse forced the offending priests to obey the dictates of the banks." "Getting back to the financial?" My sister was a lawyer. She could follow my unorthodox thinking. "HIs butler snitched him out to the Italian authorities. A man as faithful as that does not betray the Papal trust without good reason. The mounting law cases against the Church could force it into bankruptcy." I would be happy to see its demise, but my mother was a devout Catholic and I said, "I was never touched by the priests. I knew of no one who was touched by them. They gave me an excellent education and I am grateful for this gift." "Maybe you could be a character witness for the Pope." "I don't think so." I had worked twenty years as a nightclub physionomiste and my eyes were trained to seer into the soul. "He is not a man I would want to know." "Me neither." My sister had abandoned the Church for some Protestant faith a little west of agnosticism. It was a good place to be at the end of the time of evil.

Good German / BET ON CRAZY

The Tri-State TV meteorologists had an easy job during the Spring of 2008. Rain drenched New York day after day throughout April and May. Mushrooms sprouted from the sidewalks and moss covered the trees, as long trough of fronts anchored over the East Coast. The rainfall broke records for each month. Many people blamed the ceaseless wet on global warming. I suspected the wrath of the Christian god seeking a replay of Noah.

Either way summer seemed a myth, until the deluge broke for clear skies several days before the Memorial Day Weekend.

The regional weathermen guaranteed a pleasant stretch of five days and New Yorkers reacted to this over-optimistic prediction by leaving work mid-week to fully enjoy the opening holiday of the season. Millions of city-dwellers abandoned their primary residences in a mass exodus of planes, trains, cars, and buses to every point of the compass and by Thursday the population of Manhattan had shrunk by double-digits.

I was spending the holiday in the city. My wallet was empty and my family was on the other side of the world in Thailand. 26 hours door to door. On Tuesday I was flying south to West Palm Beach to take care of a beachfront mansion and a 3 year-old Airedale named Pom-Pom. Dog-sitting didn’t pay much, but it would bridge the three months until Richie Boy opened the jewelry store in the basement of the Plaza.

A friend of mine wanted a pair of diamond studs, so I left AP’s brownstone in Fort Greene and took the B train from Atlantic Terminal to 47th Street. The subway cars were empty, almost as if New York had been hit by a neutron bomb. Many of the shops in the Diamond District were closed, but my old boss wasn’t the type to take a day off, when he could work.

I entered the diamond exchange in the middle of the block and greeted Manny, “No place to go.”

“Same as you.” Manny believed that hard work was the cure for everything.

“Where’s Richie Boy?” His son and my friend was nowhere in sight.

“He left for Montauk yesterday to beat the traffic.” The eighty-year old from Brownsville had a pile of bills and invoices on his desk. His computer was a Texas Instruments adding machine and a pencil. His finger jabbed at numbers like a woodpecker.

“You going anywhere.” His girlfriend was in Fort Lauderdale.

“No, I’m staying in the city. That way I beat the traffic.”

“Good plan.”

I said hello to several other people in the exchange. Most of them were staying put. Steve looked out the front window at the sky.

“Doesn’t look like rain.” The diamond broker was a consummate pessimist. “But I don’t believe the weatherman. They only tell people the weather is going to be good to fill the hotels and restaurants.”

“Maybe so.” I had checked the online national radar report. The East Coast was scheduled for clear skies from Virginia Beach to Eastport, Maine.

“You seen any good movies?” Steve flicked through the Arts Section of the New York Times. The bald bacholer liked going to movies. He had already seen TOY STORY 3 and CITY ISLAND. Neither had earned any stars.

“No, I’m not really a movie goer anymore.” I hadn't been in a movie theater since my friend Willem had premiered a vampire film in Alice Tully Hall. The blood-suckers smoked cigarettes. The director thought that their death wish was a parable. In truth it was an ad for nicotine. “Hollywood can’t make any movies.”

“They’re only interested in selling popcorn to pimply boys.” Steve had good skin for a man in his 40s.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Manny’s broker commented from his desk. He hadn’t seen a movie since GLADIATOR. “They make movies like that to make you feel young. Feel like a 15 year-old boy.”

“Not me. I feel creepy in the theaters.” The floors were sticky with discarded candy wrappers and spilled soda. Plus everyone talked during the movies. I couldn’t blame them. Nothing on the silver screen could hold their attention for more than 10 minutes. “Too many people I don’t know.”

“I’m waiting for INCEPTION.” Steve’s cousin was performing in that apocalyptic film. She was part-French. Blonde too. Most of the men in the exchange had a a weakness for schiksas. It was a religious thing.

“The only good film I saw this summer was GOOD. It was about a good Nazi.” My coffee arrived from the little shop in our building. I tipped the Mexican $1. We were the only two goys in the exchange.

“A good Nazi. There’s no such thing.” Manny my boss offered from the safe. This was his mid-morning break from shuffling bills. “Every German was a Nazi in World War II and now all their kids are Nazis.”

“What kind of car do you drive?” I pouredg a packet of sugar into my coffee. I had lived in Hamburg. Six months. I could speak German. Three years in high school. Mostly Ds and one F.

“A Mercedes.”

“I thought so.” My high school teacher was from Bavaria. He chain-smoked in class. My grades in German cost my scholarship. I didn’t blame him. He sent me Christmas cards even after I graduated from Xaverian.

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Just that you hate Germans and drive a German car.” I hadn’t met many good Germans in Hamburg, then again I was working at a nightclub owned by a pimp.

“I shouldn’t drive a good car, because there are no good Germans.” Manny was adamant about this verdict, however an older woman Nancy across the aisle rose from her chair.

“Quiet.”

Nancy had lived through the Nazis. She came from Vienna. Her accent was Mittel-Europa. Those dreadful childhood years had not stolen her elegance. The recent death of her husband had saddened her, however she was still good fun and never was offended by my offers to spirit her away for a long weekend in Paris.

Welsh rarebit at La Flore. Tea at The Plaza Athenee, and a glass of wine on Ile St. Louis.

She wagged her finger at Manny.

“You don’t know Germans like I know Germans.”

“No one’s arguing that.” Manny was well aware that Nancy had survived the camps. She never said which one.

“If anyone can say that there are no good Germans, I can.” His wrist bore a tattooed number. “Truth is I never met any. Not in the war years, but my cousin he was gay. His boyfriend was an SS officer. He loved my cousin so much that he hid him in his house. My cousin was happy with this arrangement, because while no one knew exactly what happened in the camps, we all knew it was nothing good. A year goes by and the SS officer asks my cousin what is wrong. He tells his lover that he is worried about his parents, who are hiding in a small town. The SS Officer asks, if my cousin wants to see them. My cousin is too scared, so the German goes instead. When he comes back, he says that my cousin’s parents have been re-settled. They survived the war, because the SS officer arranged their transfer out of the death camps. My parents were not so lucky, so there were some good Germans. Just not enough of them. Was that movie any good?”

“GOOD?” Her question was posed to me. I thought about it. “No, not really, but it’s better than anything else at the cinema.”

“Would you take me to see something nice?” Nancy smiled going back to her desk. “I haven’t been to the movies in years. Not since my husband passed away.”

“It would be my pleasure.” I took a pair of diamonds from Steve. They were in my price range. He lent me the Arts section. I read the movie ads.

If anyone could revitalize my movie experience it would be Nancy. Women her age don’t eat pop corn. Only chocolate.