Satan floss
Recently, investigative journalism done by dotfloofy dotblog uncovered that many of the facts in Anne Frank’s diary don’t match up to actual historical events. This set off a flurry of media activity both in television, radio, and print. The following is a reposting of the piece, which many readers missed because it was the alternative text for an image.
As I drew a sip from a bottle of cold orange juice while sitting on my meringue blue couch, I noticed I was sitting on something hard and uncomfortable. While normally I would be inebriated enough to attribute it to my massive manhood, today I noticed it was actually a hardcover book. Taking it out and blowing off the dust, I saw it was titled Anne Frank’s First Hand Account of Her Experiences in Germany During the Holocaust: Commemorative 50th Edition on a poorly designed cover. (Don’t blame it on socialism. You can’t tell me that there wasn’t a single socialist who went to a design school using the money painstakingly earned by their parents who had to work overtime at the local sweat shop thanks to early industrialization and the lack of labor reform. Don’t tell me that shit.) Undoubtedly, this was the local neighbor’s teenager trying to guilt me about my Nazi-Impressionism art movement past. (Damn you, Neo-Nazism. When was the last time your philosophy produced a masterpiece of a faultless synergy of Monet and Hitler?) Well, to show that I had put my past behind me—thanks, Viagra amnesiac side effects!—I thumbed through the books at which point I noted glaring errors..
First of all, Anne Frank died in 1945, meaning she didn’t even see the positive effects of World War 2.0. Hello, United States as a new superpower maybe? Don’t tell me that the whole British fad wasn’t getting a little bit old. (Don’t.) Or maybe the Cold War, a brave new landmark in that white people became so angry with each other that they actually broke straight through war into peace? Clearly, Anne Frank’s so-called diary is nothing but a propaganda pamphlet published by the anti-Nazi-Impressionists cleverly designed to balance the world’s opinion against my tour de force Renoir Laughing Delightedly at the Final Solution. Let me be the first one to call B S. Let’s put the historical first-hand accounts of horrible human genocide in the hands of textbook authors, hmm? You lack the hindsight and droll writing style of someone who’s had to contribute original research to a field about remembering dead people to earn a Ph. D. and the subsequent below-par working conditions to satisfy College Board Advanced Placement themes and guidelines. Moral: Anne Frank is not to be trusted. Plus she was a teenager. We all know teenagers and their angsty, emo, hardcore, rock, goth, pop-punk, oldies, salsa, ragtime tendencies. They’re always under the influence of drugs. Teenagers should be banned from contributing literature at all until they’re age 40 when they’ve had the time to sober in a deflating job market replete with outsourcing and creativity repression.
Second of all, is Anne Frank even real? If you Google her name, all you get are pictures of the girl on the cover of Les Misérables. I mean, she’s the product of propaganda and a bad CGI artist? (That nose is totally fake.) I mean, she doesn’t look like a Hebrew at all. No early onset facial hair? No burka to cover everything but her eyes? No latkes (which are both delicious and ethnic)? How could anyone have believed this poor character development and art design? Fortunately, I saw it as it was: anti-Nazi-Impressionism at its worst, working against the people who cut their teeth day and night painting their soul under grueling restraints of a politically correct art industry suppressing any unapproved creativity or breakthroughs. Don’t think I won’t be painting a Anne Frank Sits by the Beach While American Soldiers Storm onto Germany’s Shores tonight. Don’t.
End reprint. Since then, so-called “fact-checkers” (Don’t think I don’t know that it’s all done by computers these days. Don’t.) have actually combed the text to find errors. For example, Anne Frank didn’t hide in an attic for several weeks. It was actually a third floor complete with a bathroom and complete with, unlike the so-called diary’s claim of three pens, four pens. In the back, the diary says that she died on such-and-such day. Hello? How can you write when you died if you’re dead? Simple logic, people. Point is, I’ve made a remarkable splash in the media. Just recently, Oprah brought a so-called “Anne Frank,” undoubtedly the mascot of some shadowy anti-Nazi-Impressionism neo-conservative organization bent against any sort of changes to their status quo, deficit “history” that they teach to impressionable (See what I did here?) young minds throughout schools in the United States of Art-Hating Mongrels, to her show. Let me just highlight some of the parts of the interview that I thought were really good and thought-provoking and even more fact revealing. “Big O: So. Did you have three pens? / Frank: No. I had four. [Audience gasps.] / Big O: So what are you telling me? That you lied about the number of pens you have? How can you make me believe anything else you wrote? How can you just lie to your reader? How can you abuse the trust that the people have placed into you, the author, to tell us the truth? How can we even believe the Holocaust anymore? Let me ask you again, Anne Frank, did you or did you not have three pens, as you stated on page eighty-one of your diary? / [Pause.] Frank: No I did not. / Big O: You are sick. You disgust me, and you have brought about a disgrace to us, the Jewish community, blacks, and Nazis [I think she forgot to mention Nazi-Impressionists. —Ed]. / Frank: But— / Big O: Shut up, I need to shed a tear. / [Thirty-nine seconds. Tear comes out.]” (That’s all the parts I remember.) Wow. Wasn’t that moving, especially the tear?