Heya, that Hitler Fella Was Some Kinda Nut, I Tell Ya

When last we left The Singer Sewing Machine, he was bruiting the merits of Tom Wolfe, whose elderly libidinal fascination with the under and inner regions of the late-adolescent female anatomy he can't quite conceal beneath a skein of grumpy, grubby moralizing.

Now we find him whirring once again, this time about who has been naughty and who has been nice regarding the cell-block lynching of America's once and not-now-future Iraqi king. "I dimly recall from my childhood people weeping for Stalin's natural death. No, what I recall was not in Moscow. It was in New York. Jake wore a black arm-band to school that day." I take it Jake is a typo for Susan Sontag, but I could be mistaken. Then:

Did Germans cry when Hitler committed suicide with Eva in his Berlin bunker?

No, you goddamn monster. They cried because their whole damned country was rubble, ten-year-old boys and eighty-year-old men were defending Berlin, everything was on fire, and what Auden called "that huge imago made / a psychopathic god" was swiftly crumbling to reveal their nation as a collective murderer. Defeated peoples weep.

In the meantime, I am not certain that Marty altogether understands that whatever the schoolyard Politburo back in Park Slope, or wherever, may or may not have wept at, the world pretty universally considers Hitler and Stalin to have been bad, and the constant reminders from Mr. Mrs. Singer are getting a tad tacky.