Status Updates From Der Vater: Eine Abrechnung

"(...)Hitler odstawił swój zwycięski taniec"

Dr. F. writes nostalgically: ‘Your lines seemed to me to be a greeting from a distant world.’ Yes, Father, those who were now busy building Germany’s future all still clung to Germany’s glorious past.

On the other hand, the birthrate of the ethnic German population fell considerably. They must have taken a good look at each other and decided the best thing they could do was to let themselves die out.

‘When the Bolsheviks plan to annihilate people, they send at least two thousand Red Army troops into every little village where the people are to be exterminated. But to send us only ten thousand police troops for the whole GG, and then order us to finish off fifteen million people…that just can’t be done.’ It’s sentences like that one which brought about your death. And I go on living with them.

Mother wiped away the news about mass murder like a drop of wine from that French mahogany table, and in doing so gave the postwar German people a good example to follow.

What a reassuring feeling it gives me to picture the SS entering the cell just as he is writing his next-to-last sentence. Now just guess, Father, who suddenly appears on the scene? Right. Good old, dear old ‘God’—the words you crooks were always prepared to spit out at a moment’s notice, God packaged in saliva. ‘God bless you & keep you.’

…justifications of your behavior are not totally with an element of self-interest: the gentlemen of your retinue who managed to survive past 1945 could hardly be expected to admit now that they had been associated with a murderer—you, the murderer who begged the tribunal for mercy on the grounds that he had been a ‘head of state.’

…it could not have escaped your notice that Krüger was just as much of a weasely little Nazi as you were. His eyes, too, were filled with that passion for murder that comes from cowardice.

...[the more ‘German’ justice is, the more inhuman, no matter how you slice it]…

How she loved to tell the story about the public prosecutor, the same one who initiated a suit against her because of her fishy fur-trading deals. As soon as you became Minister of Justice (she would gleefully recount for me later), this man came creeping obsequiously to your new office to pay his respects and to let you know that, of course, the files regarding Frau Brigitte Frank would be closed at once.

Naprawdę świetnie się to czyta

but also like it’s beyond hate

this is a whole new level of loathing i respect the game as a fellow hater