Martin Heidegger pictured in his favorite surgical stockings discussing newts with Hitler. [The glasses are a gift from the Fuhrer.] It is a historical fact that Heidegger never got a single joke.
Martin Heidegger was born in Germany in 1890, at the
Baadhoven Fun Park while his mother was riding on The Flying Saucer Ride. Sadly
this was his first and only experience of a stable home. Immediately at the age
of seventy-two, Heidegger formed the philosophy that would define his reputation
for the rest of his life: The Heidegger Theory of Dance.
This theory which
influenced much of Nazi philosophy posited that rather than enjoying dance and
meeting normal people, it was instead essential to write enormously unreadable books about
killing millions that major universities, [always so enthralled with the madcap japes of collectivism, socialism and variant fascist eugenic ecofascism] would naturally buy these tomes by the ton. This
practice was so common that such a weight of academic books became known as
‘the Heidegger Bulk’ or ‘der Heidegger Schloss’.
While these later achievements never helped to make the name
Martin Heidegger any easier to pronounce, his early days were filled with
failure, loneliness and rejection and not just in his married life. Martin's marriage to Heidi Gotterdamerung ended when Heidegger sent her a telegram on
their wedding night. Sadly, she wasn’t home.
In Vienna, Heidegger ran a dog wash service until he was
viciously bitten by the dog’s owners. After
Heidegger bought a pair of socks, [inspiring him to write a five volume treatise
on the experience] it was rejected by The Shadenfreude University as “too racy”
and “bowel-centric”. In desperation Martin fled to Hollywood, where he managed
to get a small role in the film ‘Far From the Madding Krautz’ playing the
part of Fritzel, the insane German mechanic who spends his days gibbering in a
barn.
From there he turned his academic brilliance to business and
the arts, though in the end little came of it. A partial list of Heidegger’s
ventures include Martin Heidegger Celebrity Impressionist, Heidegger’s Non-Sexual
Massage, Martin Heidegger’s Specialty Cakes [another failure even though people
reportedly loved his apple and cinnamon muffins], Martin Heidegger Principal
Ballerina, Heidegger’s Interpretive Dance Jazz Ensemble [an embryonic theory of
dance], Heidegger’s Balloon Animals, Heidegger’s Gestapo Appreciation Society, Heidegger’s
Haberdashery and Nazi Regalia, The Martin Heidegger Quintet, The Martin
Heidegger Singers, The Four Heidegger’s,
Martin and Heidegger and finally The Martin Heidegger Grand Funk Railroad.
A turning point came in 1929 when Heidegger got diarrhea. He
immediately blamed the Jews and returning to Germany, became the darling of the
Nazi movement, prompting the ever witty Herman Hesse to comment that “everybody
likes a party pooper!” This became the official and only joke permitted, [under
pain of death and a fine] to be told at all Nazi functions until almost the end of the war when people stopped joking completely, and as the long-promised ‘Super Joke’ never got beyond the experimental test stage.
Heidegger eventually became the Nazi’s favorite philosopher
and a popular comedian on ‘The Goebbels Laugh Theater’, as one-half of The Rowan
and Martin Heidegger Show, which gave rise to such popular catch phrases as “Air raid? I thought you said hair aid!”, “Bratwurst is my kind of sausage!” and “Der schtammdlikerklunkhoven schpeer
schplatz?! Nein!”
Toward the end of his life and at the urging of his wife,
Heidegger attempted suicide which failed and in 1949 on the recommendation of his best
friend Herman Plootz, [who staged an intervention recommending that Heidegger try again] successfully
hung himself in 1951, which was the room next to 1949. Heidegger also hung himself
in room 1953, 1955 and 1957 as well as on the landing stair. These portraits of Martin Heidegger, [done in crayon and toothpaste in the 'Frankfurt Bunn' style] are still there to this day. Heidegger
is survived by his grandson Abigail Heidegger.
1 comment:
Mein Gott! Vill der madness never end?!
Hermann Goering Jnr.
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