I went to a new doctor recently to check on my elephantitis of the penis and when I went into the guy’s office and sat down I almost fell out of my chair. On the back wall behind him was the most gigantic fuckin picture of the Holocaust I’ve ever seen. It looked like something Elie Wiesel would hang in his office. Or Derek Vineyard.
What do I mean by picture of the Holocaust? Well, imagine a ten by ten blown-up photograph in eerie black and white, and covering the entire thing are wall-to-wall dead concentration camp victims. Like an infinite stack of them. It’s the most horrible game of Tetris ever. It was such an over-the-top picture I felt like I was in an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I don’t know where that charming photograph came from, but I suspect it was out of Dr. Mengele’s porn collection.
Speaking of which, it couldn’t have been more jarring than if i sat down at the doctor’s desk and a giant mural of penises was hanging directly behind him. Even that would have been less awkward. Because I’m sitting there trying to maintain eye contact and not stare at these fuckin piles of skeletal dead Jews in front of my face. It looks like they crammed all six million into that picture. And meanwhile now all I want to do is ask six million questions, starting with, “Dude, what the fuck?” I mean, how about a nice dreidel or something on your desk. You know, something a little more subtle than a gargantuan portrait of Auschwitz’s Gretest Hits to let the world know your reppin’ it Jew School.
Well no matter. I resisted the urge to tell him not to overcharge me and we went about business as usual.