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What Do I Do With My Grandpa’s Old Nazi Crap?

Illustration for article titled What Do I Do With My Grandpa’s Old Nazi Crap?
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During WWII, I’m told it was not unusual for American soldiers to send “trophies” to their sweethearts back home. My grandfather sent my grandmother a few of these, including a Nazi armband and SS pin that he took from some enemy soldier he killed. Since my grandparents’ passing, I’ve inherited all of his war memorabilia, including news articles about him from his hometown, liberation papers (he was a POW), discharge papers, registration papers, pictures of him in uniform, etc., which I will keep forever. I’ve also got the Nazi stuff, which brings me to my issue.

I’m conflicted about whether I should get rid of the enemy memorabilia or save it as a family heirloom with the rest of his Army effects. I feel like I can’t sell this Nazi shit, because that would be profiting from Nazis and make me look like a racist. I don’t want my name tied to that. I also don’t want to keep it, because I have this fear that a flood or tornado will come through, and my neighbors will find it and think, “Holy hell, this bastard’s a Nazi sympathizer / racist / anti-Semitic / terrorist / redneck!” At the same time, part of me wants to keep it, because even though it’s a bit macabre, my grandfather killed Nazis. That’s awesome. What should I do with this stuff?


The obvious answer is to donate it. If you give it to a local historical society and/or museum, it may sit in storage forever, at which point the Horcrux-like evil of the artifacts will burn through the wooden storage crate and unleash horrifying supernatural forces upon mankind. But at least you would be preserving your grandfather’s “prizes” while also giving them a proper holding place that will never be contextually misunderstood. No one ever walks into a history museum that has old Genghis Khan warrior pelts and is like HOLY SHIT, THIS JOINT IS PRO-GENGHIS. And if the museum does choose to display your grandpappy’s Nazi armband, it will be more prominently displayed and seen by more people than if you had kept it in your pantry crawlspace.

Also, you could write that shit off. I saw a certified Ravensbrück concentration camp badge going on eBay for a cool $15. That’s good tax savings! There is a huge market for old Nazi artifacts, as collected by celebrities like Lemmy from Motörhead and Curt Schilling. Now, these guys CLAIM they are just interested in history and aren’t themselves Nazis, but I bet some of them are KINDA Nazis. I bet the average Nazi-memorabilia collector has tried on a Nazi duster for at least five minutes. I bet a lot of them make pancakes while wearing them and stuff.

If you keep Nazi stuff around your house and people chance upon it, you will always have to explain it. And even then, there will be that little sliver of doubt in the mind of your visitor. How well do I really know Miles? How many Jewish friends does he have? You don’t ever want there to be any doubt as to your stance on Nazis.


If you had to eat your way out of a room, what food would you choose? I say cotton candy is the obvious choice, followed by popcorn. My friend is trying to convince me it’s ice cream. He’s insane, right?

He’s completely insane. That much dairy would end up chewing right through your rectum wall. And what if the ice cream melts and you drown in a lake of liquid vanilla shake? MMMM … VANILLA DROWNING.

Anyway, my choice would be entirely dependent upon how quickly I would like to exit the room. Is it a matter of supreme urgency that I get out of the room this instant, and need a light, easily digestible foodstuff to chew through? Or can I linger and ENJOY burrowing through a wall of taco meat?


If we’re talking about speed, I’m probably choosing Pop Chips. A single 99-cent bag of Pop Chips has roughly eight stupid chips in it. I could eat a thousand bags. Make a wall of BBQ Pop Chips and I will cut through that fucker like a bandsaw.

If I have all the time in the world from escape from Food Prison, then I’m probably taking fancy ramen noodles. I never want to stop eating ramen noodles. At the fancy joints like Ippudo, you can ask for a supplement of EXTRA noodles (Kae-dama!) if you have some broth left over in your bowl. They just dump an extra handful right in that shit. It’s the greatest thing that can ever happen to a person. I want never-ending kae-dama.


Or sushi! What if it’s a brick wall, but the bricks are sushi? Or caviar! I know caviar isn’t load-bearing, but if it was, I would eat through that. Goddamn, I could go for a wall of caviar right now. This could be a restaurant. You charge customers $500, lock them in a cell made of lobster meat, and force them to chew their way out. It could work in Japan. Japan is good for shit like that.

By the way, my appetite expands and contracts solely upon circumstances. Passed hors d’oeuvres at a wedding? I could eat seven million of those. My stomach opens up into a new dimension, like Santa Claus sailing through an unending Christmas Eve.



If you move from California to NY and stay there, do you lose three hours of your life that you will never get back?


No. Your life just ends three hours later than it would have if you had stayed in California. You’re basically living in the future. TELL ME IF THE ALIENS HAVE COME.

I am a grown man, and I still get EXTREMELY confused about time changes. It takes me a good five minutes to establish whether or not I’m traveling three hours ahead or three hours behind, and what kind of impact that will have upon my mind and body. And the bigger the time lag, the more it fucks me up. Basically, if you start talking about crossing the International Date Line, you can freeze me up like an elk in traffic. I cannot process it. Any time the Olympics take place abroad, I resent them for forcing me to comprehend the time differences.



Why don’t we keep our whiskey and bourbon in the fridge? I’m new to the whiskey game, but there seems to a lot of emphasis on the ice: “Get a big ball of ice, don’t chip the ice, don’t use too much.” Can’t this be solved with refrigerators?


No, because the point of ice in a cocktail is to make it cold AND open up the flavors by diluting it a touch. Also, you don’t want some asshole bourbon snob catching you in the act of refrigerating that shit. They would FREAK OUT on you. You know how beer snobs get all pissy about frosted mugs? This would be the same, but worse. These mustache-twirling kale-humpers would draw a gun on you and shoot you for numbing your palate. These are the guys who warm up a coffee mug BEFORE pouring coffee into it. They take liquids very seriously.


At what age is it appropriate to stop listening to new music? I’m only 26, and I already feel like never listening to “new”-music radio stations again or some new band my friend just “discovered.”


It’s difficult, because your tastes solidify as you get older. You have a much deeper understanding of what kind of music you like and what kind of music you don’t, which means that 99 percent of new music will sound like fucking garbage to you.

BUT … I would never stop trying to find new music. I know it’s hard, because someone will inevitably recommend some awful band to you, and then you’ll put on Fall Out Boy and want to end music as we know it. But it’s worth the effort to keep looking. Your old favorites get boring after awhile, and you NEVER want to be the guy who is still listening to the same the same dad rock 30 years later. YOU GOTTA BE HIP AND KEWL IF YOU WANT TO RELATE TO THE TEENS. It helps to spend 10 minutes or so a week scouring around the DISCOVER section on Spotify just in the hopes that there’s some magical unheralded band out there that CHANGES YOUR LIFE. It can happen! The musical scouting process is flawed! UNDRAFTED GUITARISTS HAVE MORE HEART.



How does James Bond’s shirt stay tucked in while he’s doing all sorts of running, jumping, shooting, and all that shit? My friends think he must tuck it into his underwear, but there’s no way a dude with that much style would do that.


What if Q gave him special titanium clips to attach his shirt TO his underwear? They could also reach down and take out his dick for him if a bad guy’s girlfriend happens to show up alone at a hotel bar. For real, those guys shouldn’t leave their mistresses hanging out in places where they’re certain to attract handsome international suitors. “I have to go nuke Europe. Tatiana; you wait for me on the rooftop club of the W Hotel. NO ONE WILL MESS WITH YOU THERE.”

Anyway, yes, it’s unrealistic that James Bond would be able to execute so many cool parkour moves while wearing a John Phillips suit. But it’s James Bond. Do you really want him wearing swoosh pants and pair of New Balances to track down a Serbian hacker? You do not. The man has a reputation to uphold. He will make the necessary arrangements.



How do people with flagpoles get alerted that it’s time to lower the flag to half-mast? Is there like an email group?


It comes from the governor, right? If he orders shit at half-mast, then an email goes out to relevant schools, post offices, and Knight of Columbus chapters, right? But you have to be some kind of public flag-bearing entity. If you’re just some asshole with a pole, you can do whatever you want with it. But it’s up to YOU to check alerts to see if the governor has ordered flags at half-mast to commemorate the passing of Jamie Farr. That’s part of the deal when you decide to privately own a flagpole. If you miss the news and fail to pay proper respect, that’s your fault.


Which would be more detrimental to society:

1. Legalized heroin

2. Legalized weed, but everyone HAS to smoke weed every day. Obama’s secret police come and disappear you if you haven’t toked up that day. Also, you have to smoke weed two hours after you wake up.


The latter. If you legalized heroin, lots of people would still stay far away from it, because it’s heroin. And of course, there’s a good argument to be made FOR legalizing heroin so that we stop jailing small-timers for using it and/or possessing it. I HAVE SEEN THE WIRE SO I KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.

As for mandatory weed-smoking, not everyone can handle that shit well. If I smoked weed every morning, I would be jobless within a year. My kids wouldn’t get picked up from school on time. I would get fat. The house would become a roach-infested mess. Some people can handle constant weed-smoking (even though I bet they don’t handle it as well they claim to), but I’m not made for that. I know it sounds real cool for everyone to be HIGH, mannnnnn and, like, SO PEACEFUL WOW. But shit would fall by the wayside. I don’t want my daily structural-bridge-engineering done by Hippie Bob over here.




I watched the Disney cartoon of The Sword in the Stone last week with the kids. There is a scene where Merlin and young Arthur are transformed into squirrels. They then spend the next five minutes trying to push away two “flirtatious” female squirrels. It got me thinking … if you could change into an animal for 30 minutes to have sex with that species, what would be the best animal to change into?


A pig! I did a quick Google search for “which animal has the longest orgasm,” and according to this Reddit thread (SCIENCE!), a boar can bust a nut for up to 20 minutes! DAMN. I would take full advantage of that. I’d find the first lady boar I could on my Swine-dr app and get down to business. Then I’d eat my own leg! MMMM ROAST ME SHANK.


If and when humans ever colonize a new planet, how racist (or planetist?) will the people of Earth be to those people born on this new planet? Also, will the humans on Mars turn out like the American Colonists, revolting against tyrannical Earthlings, and eventually declaring their freedom and disassociating from the Planet Earth?


Let’s assume that if we colonize Mars, it would remain sparsely populated, and be wholly reliant on goods from “the mainland” (i.e., Earth proper) in order to survive, but would also have access to a great many natural resources (mineral deposits, etc.) that might bring in heavy subsidies from governments back on Earth.

In other words, Mars would be Alaska. Guaranteed. It would be isolated and strange, and everyone there would be a fucking redneck. Disgraced Americans and/or fugitives would take up residence there. Sullen ironworkers would flock there to work in the red-dust mines. You’d read about some Mars family committing mass suicide as part of a cult, and you’d be like, “God, Martians are such fucking weirdoes.” And then the governor of Mars would run for vice president and turn out to be a blithering idiot. That’s what would happen. Mars would become, spiritually, rural hick America.


And they would never revolt. Even if they set up big indoor greenhouses that could grow opium and chocolate and timber and shit, Martain settlers would still need too much stuff from Earth to risk cutting us off completely. Try living without access to real vanilla beans, you losers. You need us more than we need you! NOW TAKE DOWN THAT STARS-AND-MARS FLAG.


What is the one non-porn film you would like to have been made as full-out PORN? With the same actors and everything?


Terms of Endearment. For sure.

I’m just kidding, of course. I’m having a hard time deciding whether to porn-ify a movie that was already smoking hot (like Risky Business or Wild Things), or porn up a movie that has lots of attractive people in it but little to no nudity whatsoever, like the Fast & Furious movies (cars AND porn!).


I think, in the end, I’d like to see the biggest number of attractive, previously NOT naked people as naked as possible. I guess that means we’re making Crash into a porno movie. That would probably be an improvement over the original. Special honors go to American Hustle, and any movie that has Jessica Chastain in it. I got my reasons.


Let’s say Obama snaps one day and charges after Biden with a gun in his hand. Do the agents take down POTUS to save the VP? In which case, what do the agents in Obama’s detail do in response? I’m assuming the sitting president gets the highest priority of protection in most cases.


No way they gun down the president to save the vice president. They would do everything EXCEPT shoot the president, because the fallout from letting the president shoot the veep would be way more tolerable than the fallout from shooting and killing the president. Would YOU wanna be the guy who guns down the president to protect Smokin’ Joe? Who’s gonna believe you? Have you met the truther population of our country? Those people will argue with the MOON. No fucking way. I try to disable the president. And if he still gets a shot off, so be it. I think both details would work together seamlessly to make sure everyone’s ass was properly covered.


What is the ultimate fruit to punt? My friend suggested a grapefruit since it has a great shape and size to cut through the air, and it is also soft enough not to hurt when you punt it. However, it is still strong enough to not disintegrate on contact. Melons would hurt, while berries would be too small. It would have to be a grapefruit, right? We need someone to test this out.


I’ll do you one better and suggest you punt the rare and exotic UGLI FRUIT. It’s like a grapefruit, only bigger! And softer! And it’s ugly, so you kinda want to hurt it! Damn, now I really want to punt some fruit. I think I would punt ANY round and somewhat sturdy fruit: hard oranges, unripe peaches, very large pears, mangoes, etc. The worst would be blackberries. Nothing but seedy fruit doodoo all over your toes. Blackberries are pure evil.


Recently I handed a friend my phone to show him three pictures of someone we know. He proceeded to swipe about 15 pictures beyond the three that I wanted to show him, as if I gave him permission to peruse my whole album. What the fuck? Isn’t proper phone-swiping etiquette to hand the phone back to the owner once you see anything unrelated? He saw some pictures I had to explain because he stepped over the phone-picture-swiping boundary.


Yeah, fuck that guy. You’re only supposed to look at my shitty vacation photos. You don’t have tacit permission to go rifling through my virtual medicine cabinet. That is rude.

In general, I just never hand my phone to anyone, for any reason. I will hold up the phone and display it for you, demanding you look but not touch. But I don’t wanna give it to you, because I care about my phone WAY too much and don’t want your filthy hands on it. Also, I’m traumatized by my oldest kid asking to see my phone and then latching onto it like a fucking lamprey.


KID: Can I see your phone?

YOU: Sure.

KID: [Refuses to give back phone for nine years.]

Kids don’t give a shit about phone etiquette at all. They’ll look at ALL your homemade porn. They’re dicks.



How many miles would an elite distance runner have to run before you (or an average person) could beat them in a mile race? So, for example, an ultramarathoner runs 100 miles (world record is apparently 12 hours and 27 minutes), and as soon as he/she crosses the finish line, he continues to run and you race him/her for one mile. What’s the break-even point? I say it’s probably less than 200 miles, but not much.


According to Wikipedia, the outdoor road ultramarathon world record is 11 hours and 46 minutes, set by Yiannis Kouros of Greece back in 1984. That’s just over seven minutes a mile. Given that distance runners can run the average mile a LOT faster than that, ultramarathoners must really tail off toward the end, when fatigue has set in and they’ve got shit running down their legs and they’re hallucinating a talking cactus over on the side of the road. I say you could beat them with fresh legs after about 95 miles or so. I’m spiking their Gatorade goo with Ex-Lax just to work the odds in my favor, though.


Would you rather have one baby dick or two baby dicks?

In lieu of an adult penis? I think you want just one. What good will a second baby dick do you? Then you’d be poorly endowed AND a freak. No, thank you. Less is more when it comes to baby dicks! Put that on my tombstone.



Whenever we get Ben and Jerry’s or Häagen Dazs, my girlfriend takes three (sometimes four) weeks to eat hers. At what point am I justified in eating the rest? I say one week.


Wait, she gets her OWN pint? And you get one to yourself? So you could theoretically continue stocking “your” supply while she nurses that pint of cookie dough like a teat? I would just lap her on a daily basis and taunt her with my new pint of Boz Scaggs’ Hunky Butt or whatever other flavor I wanted. Let her shit get freezer burn. That will teach her a hard lesson in ice cream segregation!


Tom Brady’s annual compensation from the Pats is famously over $10,000,000 less than Brees, Eli, Ben, Rivers, Wilson, Flacco, and Cam. It’s been millions less for years now. And, like him or not, he is better than all of the listed QBs and still remains among the three best players in the league. But given the way the Patriots operate and the super-cozy Brady-Belichick-Kraft unholy trinity, isn’t it easy to believe that a post-career side agreement is in place that allows the Pats to circumvent the salary cap now in exchange for deferred compensation?


It sure is, TW. IT SURE IS. I’m sure there is a cozy handshake deal already in place to give Brady a $10 million “team ambassador” gig after his retirement that helps even things up. FUCKING CHEATERS TAKE THEIR LOMBARDI TROPHIES AND MELT THEM DOWN AND MAKE HUBCAPS OF THEM.


In sac fly situations, why don’t baserunners take a few steps behind the bag and run through the base as the catch happens to get a running start?


Wouldn’t you have to time it precisely so that your foot hits the bag just as the ball is being caught? Maybe a super-coordinated leadoff guy could do it! I think your idea is just crazy enough to WORK, except …

I know exactly what would happen if you tried to revolutionize base-running like that, Marc. YOU WOULD BE VIOLATING THE UNWRITTEN RULES OF THE GAME. That’s right. Maybe it works, but the other team would take offense to you “showing them up” with your newfangled technique, and then they would bean the fuck out of you, and then no one would ever try it again. I’m sad already, Marc. You could have changed the whole paradigm, man. Fucking baseball.


By the way, I’m being overly dramatic. The MLB rule book clearly outlaws flying starts. What a load. More sports things should be legal. LIKE BATTING THE BALL AWAY AND STUFF.


Email of the week!


I’m currently taking spinning classes, and every time I start the class it goes pretty smoothly, until the time when the teacher asks us to stand up and keep pedaling, then an awful butt smell comes up ... Every... Single.... Time. I’m not quite sure if that smell is just my butt after being sitting in the unsanitary (very unsanitary btw: People should just make disposable seats in every gym) seat of the bicycle and sweating for a long time, or if it is the compilation of hundreds of butt smells that have sat in that same seat and just somehow passed their shitty ass-scent to my shorts? Did I somehow free those accumulated disgusting smells? Should I try bringing some disposable seat covers to verify this theory (probably the other two or three guys that attend this class will make fun of me forever)?

Thanks, and hope you can figure out my butt-smell problem!

I see that avoiding spinning classes continues to pay off for me.

Illustration by Sam Woolley.

Drew Magary writes for Deadspin. He’s also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at You can also order Drew’s book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.