The Pareczenethy Conference begins in Wroclaw: who was Frä Rösczchelle Pareczenethy?

17 Dezember 1939 München

munich munchen germany bavaria
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Pareczenethy und seine Frau spielten Karten mit den Von Änästaads.

“Achtung Jüden! Und scheißenden Rassenverräter! Geöffnet sie den Tür 🚪!“

“Listen, friends, since I presume that these Gestapo (Pronounced Ghee-Schtaah-Poe) do not speak English, we are now going to switch back to Deutsche and I expect you to follow my charade (Pronounced Scheherazade) is that clear?”

The door is kicked in by hobnailed jackbooted leather-clad members of the fascist entity’s extrême enforcement arm gegen Jüdische Marxismus.

The Von Änstädts are violently beaten in an orgiastic almost erotically sexual bloodbath of violence as leather truncheons descend rhythmically thumping against undulating flesh as the eyes of the Gestapo thugs rolled back in their heads with sensual ecstasy.

”Race traitors! Shroake the Gestapo Major (Pronounced My-Yore)  all you left me were two shitty Jews! (The word Jew! Is shroaken or in Hoch-Deutsche ‘geschroackende’ like a Valkyrie (Pronounced Whaal-Chye-Rheaughe)

An emotionless 😐 young girl is dragged from upstairs by one of the Gestapo enforcers.

”Häär Pareczenethy! We have met before!“

Hatte der Major also gesprochen

“JaWohl Häär Major! Metz, Oktober 1918. It is a shame what’s become of you. You came from a good family and look at you now. You are a goddamned shit-covered disgrace to your family, to der König Bayerischen and above all the University of Augsburg. You have defecated on a thousand years of Hohenzollern civilization. You were better off standing on your principals and dying like a man.”

church poland square cracow
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Whhhaaaap! A violent sensuous slap is cracked  across the hairy disgusting face of the demonic Jew! Pareczenethy’s wife and daughter look on with abject disinterest. The three of them are ushered into a magnificent black Gestapo staff car.

”Rösczhy, I warned you and the baby to get out. Now they are going to kill us all.”

“Häär Doktor, we all die eventually. Our existence is irrelevant. Life is without objective meaning or purpose. Thus Existential Nihilism.”

She Said.

”They will torture you and the baby.”

”Don’t be maudlin father. We are not Duty-driven. A deontological Weltunschauung does not suit you. Nor utilitarian. Duties create rules per C.D. Broad. Don’t worry about me. I will die or I will study high Philosophical Prinicples at a great University and then die eventually anyway. These shit-covered morons have no idea what I’m saying anyway.”

Today, Wroclaw (Pronounced Breslau (Pronounced Vratislava))

An elderly woman is at the podium.

”Pareczenethy was my father. That is the story of how we ended up at Theresenstadt. My mother died there because she would not leave  Pareczenethy. She was classy, lovely, born to a good family from Westphalia. He was low-born low-class vulgar, disgusting, smelly, shit-covered, unshaven, brilliant, beautiful, unshakingly loyal to the King of Bavaria, he was fearless and principled and I loved him There I said it, I loved him! He and my mother preferred certain death rather than betraying the foundational prinicples of reasoned Philosophical thought. I was able to escape the final death 💀 💀 camp because of him and Häär Doktor Doktor Von Anstädt.“

“I look out at this audience and I see Philosophers, students, statesmen, scholars and ridiculous fawning insincere fatalistic Czech waiters roaking malu Cigaretu like the sniveling tip-mongering Tychy of Plzen. Stupid self-involved drooling gibberish-speaking driveling moronic self-indulgent drunken Czech idiots… my heros! I hope you enjoy this celebration of Philosophy. I look forward to your presentation as you drone on mindlessly about nothing as I fall asleep in utter boredom at the idiocy that is your life’s work. Morons. Disgraceful…”

The crowd gives a long ovation as a Triumphal Bach (Pronounced Bay-sshh) processional is played by a high Polskiyh quartet.






”It was at the hall of Philosophy at the great University of Edinburoughe in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 where I first met Lord Tychy Unpronounceablyckzcki MacTaggerty.”

18th Century Liberalism

“We must state our new humanistic principles!”

Quod Sir Henry MacDoggerland

”Women should not be beaten daily! Only once a month!

Men of Foreign origin are not 2/3 of a human, they are 13/16ths of a human!

Criminals can be executed no more than twice for murther and traeson, no more than once for stealing a spoon!

The poor can only be stepped on by three filthy muddy bootprints when they are thrown into puddles to provide dry passage for their royal overlords.

Taxes must be raised on the rich to 0.0000087% and the poor may be taxed no more than 93.78%!

Beggars can only be beaten on weekdays!”

I was exhausted from my soliloquy.

”Hear 👂 hear! What lofty principles of human enlightenment!”

Thus spaeke Lord Tychy.

München 1919, Freikorps Wilhelms XVII: Pareczenethy rekruten vonÄnstädt

Munchen 24 Dezembers 1918 Jägerstrasse verlassenes Büro von Professor von Änstädt

„Glück Gesundheit 🤧 Gottes Segen Freude Frieden ✌️ allerwegen Fröhlich 😁 Weinachten und einen gesegnetes neues Jahr!“

adventure alpine bavaria climb
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Pareczenethy ist immer noch in seiner Uniform. Er ist noch nicht entlassen worden. Er ist unrasiert und dreckig. Er geht die staubige Treppe hinauf. Die Lichter sind draußen im Philosophischen Gebäude. Es ist fast 16:00 Uhr. Er öffnet die Tür. Von Änstädt sitzt auch in Uniform hinter seinem Schreibtisch. Seine Füße hoch. Er ist mürrisch.

“Alles ist scheiße 💩 Meng Geehrter Häär… der Krieg ist vorbei. Wir sind alles auf einen großen Haufen Pferd 🐎 scheiße.“

„Keine Probleme Mengen Geehrter Häär. Meine Wohnung wurde von den gottverdammten Kommunisten und dem Scheißbagger Eugen Leviné gestohlen. Ich werde diesen Juden Bastard selbst erschießen und ich bin ein verdammter Jude! Scheiß auf diesen diebischen Schwanzlutscher! Arbeiterparadies mein Anus!„

“Keine Sorge, alter Kamerad, Häär Schliessmann hat uns gebeten, für das XVII. Wilhelminische Bataillon eine Kompanie aus der Universität zu gründen. Also sagte ich was zum Teufel?“

“Ich habe genug gehabt. Ich habe seit drei Tagen nicht gegessen. Lass uns ein paar kommunistische Jugendliche umbringen, die dem Abschaum ausweichen.“

“Mein liebster Freund. Das Problem ist einfach. Sie sind eine philosophische Weltungschauung. Sie sind der schottischen Philosophie des 18. Jahrhunderts verschrieben, in der Individualismus, Streben nach wirtschaftlichem Erfolg und die Rechte des Menschen im Vordergrund stehen. Wie unser Land, das vom teuflischen Satans Woodrow Wilson zerstört wurde, musst du existenziellen Nihilismus annehmen.”

JaWohl! Meng Geehrter Häär. Dass bedeutet das der Existenzieller Nihilismus ist die philosophische Theorie, dass das Leben keine intrinsische Bedeutung oder Wert hat. In Bezug auf das Universum legt existentieller Nihilismus nahe, dass ein einzelner Mensch oder sogar die gesamte menschliche Spezies unbedeutend ist, ohne Zweck und unwahrscheinlich, dass sie sich in der Gesamtheit der Existenz ändert. Nach der Theorie ist jedes Individuum ein isoliertes Wesen, das in das Universum hineingeboren wird, das Wissen “Warum” nicht kennt und dennoch gezwungen ist, Bedeutung zu erfinden. Die inhärente Bedeutungslosigkeit des Lebens wird weitgehend in der philosophischen Schule des Existenzialismus erforscht, wo man möglicherweise ihre eigene subjektive “Bedeutung” oder “Zweck” schaffen kann.“

“Wunderbar! Meng Geehrter Häär Professor! Es ist, als ob Sie ein futuristisches elektronisches Lexikon komplett plagiiert hätten (Valkriepaedia? Wikipedia?)! Und dann ein noch nicht erfundenes Übersetzungstool verwendet haben!

Das is Ja unglaublich! Einen neuen Philosophische für den Neues Jahrhundert!“

Also Sprach der Botendaddy






Defender of the Faith R.I.P. Philip Roth

’Defender of the Faith’ is a 1962 story by Philip Roth about a Jewish Sergeant, Marx, who is a combat Veteran just back from the war in Europe and his manipulative Jewish draftee Grossbart.

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Without going into the story in depth, the story told about Jewish soldiers in the U.S. Army at the tail end of  WWII is one I’ve seen before.

My distant family, three of them, the first born in America, all joined the Army to fight in the Spanish-American War. Somewhere a faded sepia-toned photograph ala Butch Cassidy may show them in their super-slick SAW uniforms with their slouch hats, slung pack and Krag rifle. Man, they looked muy macho.

Long story short, our family tradition has literally extended to every war from 1898 to this day. So the topic is very sensitive to me.

Jews post-Korean War rightly or wrongly, had a reputation as draft dodgers. They served in solid numbers through the Korean War, but Vietnam and the college deferment was a huge blot on our reputation as Americans.

Even worse, by the epoch of the War on Terror (I served until 2011) the percentage of Jews in the Army had fallen to a level so minuscule that it equaled the number of Muslims. 3,400 souls in the entire Army. I was stunned. A higher percentage actually served in Theatre in Vietnam. It’s a statistical fact.

I don’t think there were more than five Jews in my  Brigade in Iraq.  Out of 3,500 soldiers… Unfathomable… Then, when I got back, only two Jews in my Battalion… me included. WTF?

Who pulled the charred remains of our brethren out of the ovens in 1945? The same U.S. Army. The same U.S. Army that wasn’t good enough for us by 1965?

When I first joined, early in my long unillustrious career, we had Passover services at Ft. Benning where 44 Jews showed up. 44! That’s a lot for anywhere.

I remember a Jewish recruit whining to me about how his sergeant treated him because he couldn’t do enough pushups. He wanted me, a Jewish Lieutenant to stand up for him. I refused and I made him do more pushups until his spindly arms fell off. I was furious. He was an embarrassment to my people.

Maybe Roth’s Sergeant Marx and I were more like the vicious Sergeant Waters from ‘A Soldiers’s Story’ who thought that by brutalizing the weak links he would bring up the image of black Soldiers in the Army.

This was exactly the story of Defender of the Faith. Grossbart plays on Marx’ emotions as Marx just returned from the front: 1945 Germany. Grossbart weasels his way out of orders to the Pacific. Grossbart whines for special privileges on account of being Jewish, then takes advantage when he gets them. Like me, Marx was furious and embarrassed for his people.

Marx gets Grossbart’s orders changed back to the Pacific. He does it not to defend Grossbart whom he views as a bad example, but to defend the reputation of American Jews in the Army.

I originally hated Roth. I thought he was ‘too Jewish’ and he made our people look like self-indulgent perverts. Sure, the Psychiatrist’s couch in Portnoy may be a veiled reference to Kafka’s cockroach, but Roth’s story is much harder than Neil Simon’s rose-colored Biloxi Blues, where the snarky Jewish wise-ass brats put one over on the over-matched, shell-shocked combat Veteran Sergeant Toomey.

Where was Toomey’s thanks for saving those brat’s people? Simon never gets the point, does he. Contrast Wouk’s Caine Mutiny where the mutineers’ Jewish Navy JAG lawyer, Lieutenant Barney Greenwald, has sympathy for Queeg, because Queeg stood up to serve long before many others did and help keep Greenwald’s mother from being made into ‘soap’.

In Roth’s ‘Defender’, the wise-ass Jewish brat doesn’t get away with it. Marx knows what the stakes are: he saw it in the liberated concentration camps and he knows who liberated them.

Roth, with an unblinking gaze, speaks an ugly but unsaid universal truth about the wise-ass Jewish kid who thinks he’s too special and too smart for the Army. Yes, I’ve seen them first hand trying to game the system more than once: don’t any of my soul brothers dare tell me I haven’t seen it.

Roth was excoriated by the Jewish community for telling this story and he stood his ground. This is who we are, warts and all, Roth instructs us. This story is a triumph of truth over self-deceit.

Some of us, in the end are Sergeant Marx, the patriot, and some of us are Grossbart, the shirker, who makes a mockery of his own faith.

Call me what you will, but given my family history: from The Spanish-American War through Iraq, we jealousy guarded the reputation of the Jewish soldier in the U.S. Army until apparently there was no-one left to care.

RIP Philip Roth

Peace be the Botendaddy

Why Hollywood won’t cast Botendaddy Anymore: One Weird Tip

Hollywood California: “We’re not Too Jewish Studios.” Office of Schloimo Ben Tennboom Boingboomtschak, Producer.


”Botendaddy, my young Boychik, have nice Bagel (Pronounced Begg-el) Lox and Cream cheese 🧀 with tomato 🍅 and breath destroying onion. Rachel, my niece is here today. The one ☝️ you schtupped with your huge Kosher Picklehauber. Look her ass, it is enormous, it’s bigger than ever. Rachel, honey, show Mr. Botendaddy your huge enormous embarrassing gigantic fat ass. It’s zaftig!”

Her ass did look 👀 huge in her tight skirt and 1940’s old lady 👵 girdle.

”He’s already seen it, uncle Schloimo. He schtupped me in the men’s room. I’m still dripping with his goyish spermatozoa out of my huge, gaping, cavernous, sloppy, vagina into my huge panties. I love 💕 it!”

She Said dreamily.

I thought about how awkward this would be if normal people with actual boundaries were involved.

”OK Schloimo, I admit it, I f”@ked her.”

I confessed.

”OK great, she needed it. Look how happy she is now. 28 no boyfriend. The last one turned out to be a huge Faygeleh 🌈 ah the smell of it!”

Added Schloimo.

”I know Uncle Schloimo. Botendaddy f@&ked him too with his massive Easter Island 🗿 godhead. Smoke was rising from my boyfriend’s gaping stretched-out spermatozoa-soaked anus like a drill after boring into pine wood. Ah the taste of it!”

Said Rachel.

“OK, enough smalltalk. So you’re gonna make your first Holocaust film about this Pareczenethy asshole (Pronounced Aiyze-hoool). Pareczenethy, my father knew him from Breslau Camp. What a schmuck. My dad, Hyman, G-d rest his soul, said Pareczenethy was the biggest most arrogant fuckhead anyone ever met. When he was shot, my dad told me everyone in his barracks was secretly relieved that they wouldn’t have to hear his bullshit anymore. Czech bastard.”

I munched on gefilte (Pronounced guh-Phil-Tea) fish 🐠 and herring.

”Yeah, it’s a feel-good movie 🎥. Kids will love it. That is if they love early 20th Century Central European Philosophy and German Expressionist Theatre 🎭.”

I Said.

Schloimo said he’d get funding from a guy in Rotterdam. I took Rachel for a walk. Then I f@&ked her again.

”Mocha Latte Macchiato?”

Peace be the Botendaddy

The last man standing (Poslední stojící muž)

Karl-Heinz Schnellebakker, Röchibäüld Sächse-Héûtélîér, zür Botendaddy and The Stalker were drinking Stoli 🦆 and roaking малю Сигаретю цжэкиже in Wroclaw (Breslau) (Pronounced Vi-roach-ya-Slav) at the Annual Pareczenethy Philosophy Conference when an aged professor approached. He had white hair, he reeked of marijuana and he walked with a cane.

Breslau Konzentrationen Kampf, 1944

”I was there.” He said to the Botendaddy.

„Was sagen Sie denn meiner Geehrter Häär Professor?“ Also grefragt (Pronounced guh-frocked) Schnellebakker.

“I was there when Pareczenethy was shot! You stupid, fat, shit-covered, nitwit, ass-hat scumbags! He died for Hoch Philosophische Prinzipalen! I saw it! He died with no emotion, no feeling, no concern. It is because of him that I swore that I would survive and study das Hoch Philosophischen Prinzipalen!”

The group was silent. The old man accepted Cigaretu from Schnellebakker and he continued with his story.

“My name is Häär Doktor Professor Klaus vanEyck DeLaCroix. I was a 👨‍🍳 baker’s apprentice in Diekirch in the Grand-Duchy of Luxembourg 🇱🇺. I was 18 years old and an extrême homosexuelle. The Gestapo came in to the Bakery one day and that demanded that I denounce my boss, the esteemed Meng Häär Schwarzen-Boom auf den Bäckerei und die Fascisten gesagt das er war einen halbs-Jüde! In the name of my beloved Grand-Duke, I told the National Socialisten Geheimstadtspolizei of the unnamed fascist entity Isst schlechtes Scheiße 💩 und Sterben!

Vianden Castle, Luxembourg 🇱🇺

The Stalker, being Luxembourgeoise, gave the crazy 😜 old man a big hug 🤗 with a tear in her eye  👁 😭 for upholding the honor of the ancient Grand-Duchy.

“Of course I was accused of decadent Jewish! Sympathy and extrême bourgeois homosexualité, beaten and repeatedly homosexually raped (ah the taste of it!) and sent to the filthy Concentration Camp here at Breslau. I still remember the barbed wire, the barking of shitty dogs 🐕, the unintelligible Teutonic gibberish on the loudspeaker 📢 the snow of Tötenfleisch…“

He roaked his malu Cigaretu, waved his hand and continued his account.

”It was in Januar 1944, that I met Häär Professor Pareczenethy and his dear friend Häär Professor von Anstädt, who was drafted as a Kamp Guard. I was working in the Kamp Bäckerei. I wore the homosexual pink triangle and Pareczenethy the Jewish! yellow star ⭐️. He also proudly wore his Eisenkreuz from the glorious Great War. Die Faschismus  did not take it from Häär Pareczenethy  upon orders of the Oberstürmführer, who was himself a Veteran of the Great War.“

“Pareczenethy taught me that we should never blame the German for National Socialism as it was a crime of Philosophy and not of Nationality. Thus I never say German. It is impossible to blame a Nationality for such a thing. Botendaddy himself is a proto-Jew! Albeit a green eyed blonde English Cromwell Crypto-Jew!“

“Why do you always shriek the word Jew?“

Also Gefragt Röchibäüld.

“It must be thus schroaken like the cry of the shrieking Valkyrie (Pronounced Wall-Kye-Rhee)“

“The Oberstürmführer, himself a scientist 👨‍🔬, would call in Pareczenethy and von Änstädt for ‘secret interrogation’ where the three of them would laugh, drink and discuss the Great War like old times auf den Universitäte. The Philosophische discussions taught me a great deal. I listen to every argument and syllogism. I was thus quite ready when I started University in Lille in 1947.

”Zaftiger Cigaretu! I was a camp Phücken-boi where I would be raped constantly by the soldiers, because I was a quasi-Aryan.“

“Pareczenethy taught me to experience each man-rape with fatalistic, nihilistic dialectical existentialism to thus achieve self-actualization. He told me that every experience, while meaningless from an objective point of view had intrinsic value for formulation of future philosophical discourse and argument.”

Schnellebakker offers another Czech Cigaretu. The old man nods approvingly, inhaling a healthy roak of the toxic poisonous ☠️ cyanide, radioactive, nicotine fumes. He waves his hand 🤚.

“One day, I believe it was Oktober 30, 1944, consequentialist, utilitarian orders came down from das Schützstaffel Quartier-Générale in Berlin. All Jews! Except Great War Veterans had already been liquidated, so the remaining few Jews! had to be likewise exterminated! Jewish! Veterans were given the Hoch honor of death 💀 by rifle. Von Anstädt begged the Kommandant for the privilege of Shooting! Pareczenethy. Zur Kommandant of course, agreed, as under his deontological view, duties create rules per C.D. Broad. Pareczenethy roaked his last Cigaretu, stood by the bloody wall conversed fondly with von Anstädt and apathetically told me not to look away, but to experience the event with Existential,  Nihilistic fatalistic apathy. To thus celebrate 🎉 his death 💀 with a higher Philosophische Weltunshauung!“

“His death 💀 was perfectly meaningless. It proved that Life was without objective meaning, purpose or value. He died with no expression on his shitty, hairy, repulsive face. It was for the glory of Philosophy! I loved him! I loved him! His death was a beautifully, meaningless, irrelevant event.“

“In 1946, I was present at the phony victor’s show trial of the Oberstürmführer for his obvious and grotesque crimes against humanity. The bourgeois, muscular, macho, silly Americans 🦅 asked me to testify. I testified in elaborate, cold detail every hideous, cruel, soulless crime including the slaughter of toddlers. I described in unemotional detail the piles of baby 👶 shoes. It was beloved Häär Pareczenethy who instructed me to look at the piles of baby clothes with a unwavering objective gaze to absorb the tragic result of bourgeois, emotion-based Philosophy. I see them to this day.“

“I told the court that the only way they could free the tortured, pathetic, rotting soul of the haggard, destroyed Oberstürmführer for his crimes against humanity was that he be hanged in shame and disgrace in a muddy, rainy shitty prison-yard surrounded by his enemies devoid of friends, love, humanity… and that his name would be stricken from the history books forever for his vile and disgusting cowardice. He of course received only five years hard labor, commuted to three months in exchange for coming to Langley and providing the Americans with Rocket 🚀 Science 🔬 data from the V-2 program. He died alone seven years later. He hanged himself in the muddy courtyard of an anonymous, shitty block of apartments in Trier, his soul condemned and beyond salvation. I received the news as if I heard the day‘s weather report.“

The Old man puts a hand on Botendaddy’s shoulder.

”My life, like yours is meaningless, purposeless shit. Your writing is verbal bowel movement. No-one will care when you die and it won’t matter. I will lecture here at Wroclaw at this Existential Nihilism Conference every year until I die. And I hope that when I die, that you stupid, fat, moronic idiots will be equally unemotional as I rot and I am eaten by filthy shit-covered worms 🐛 because my life and death are irrelevant and without objective meaning or purpose as was the beloved and esteemed Häär Doktor Pareczenethy, master of Existential Nihilism and a hero of Czech, Slovak, Polish and German Philosophers alike. No-one loves him more than the purposeless, lazy Czechs. His Nihilism reflects the apathetic, hopeless, self-indulgent Czech soul. There is, to this day, a statue of Pareczenethy in a forgotten quarter of Old Praha in a muddy, shitty parklet with a bronze Cigaretu forever in his filthy, grubby, shitty, hairy mouth 👄“