OD TO THE X-MO: by Englebert Samerdink
Tel Aviv, Israel:
Grieve for me oh brothers and sisters, for my ex-mother-in-law, Anna Dahgoon Hurtburger, has finally died. I had always assumed she would live forever, but in the end she only looked like she had lived forever.
A German-Jew by birth and originator of the life embracing ‘Zieg Heil/Shabat Shalom’ philosophy now taught in select universities throughout southern Liechtenstein, many suspect this dual heritage as the root cause of her life-long tendency towards self-loathing.
Anna was the direct descendant of the Hurtburgers, a long line of international cousin shtooping bankers and Jewish financiers dating back to 16th century Germania. It was this truly remarkable family who, between heavy bouts of interbreeding and chronic cold and flu suffering, created for her a recession proof fortune by wise and early investment in doorknobs.
Despite exhibiting a plethora of peculiarities, there was an undeniable brilliance about Anna. Bordering on the savant, she could speak six languages, fluently. Ironically, she was boring in seven languages. Fluently.
Of all her languages, French was closest to her heart. “Ah, the French,” she would muse wistfully. “What a sublime culture. If only God had seen fit to give them testicles.”
When dining with family she would invariably speak nothing else as she considered French the language best suited for humiliation.
I was habitually referred to as the “Mono-glottal Son-in-law” and despite my insistence that I could speak three languages, my fluency in both ‘Pig Latin’ and ‘The Language of Love’ was never taken seriously.
Yet the deepest source of our difficulties was the fact that I only had ‘Jewish blood’ from my father’s side of the family, and thus was not, according to Israeli law, ‘legally Jewish.’
“You’re just one of those Sammy Davis Jews,” she screamed at me more than once during the family’s annual Christmas gatherings.
My meagre and unremarkable background as a full time ‘Aspirant’ helped guarantee that I would never be considered ‘good enough’ for her daughter. Nor did my legally recognized conversion later in life to Judaism by an Orthodox Rabbi help. Rather, my decision to subject myself to a ‘brit milah’ at age 42 was perceived as nothing more than an elaborate ruse’ undertaken to facilitate passing through stringent Israeli airport security.
While venomous, Anna was not all venom. Often deeply charitable, she was harshly criticized for her sizeable donations to the Palestinian leader, the late Yasser Arafat. When it was suggested to her by several advisers that Mr. Arafat might use the money to finance suicide bombers attacking Israel, she poo-poo’d the notion, expressing her fervent belief that there was no such thing as terrorists and that suicide bombers were merely nothing more than “a bunch of randy young lads willing to do anything for the chance to meet young babes.”
Anna’s erratic behavior was recognized early in life when she was diagnosed with ‘Bipolar Frugality Syndrome’ (‘BPS’). Clinically speaking, BPS manifests itself as a compulsion wherein the sufferer could in one moment wax incredibly generous (as the Arafat donations) then abruptly feel compelled to act the opposite, such as when she would meticulously hand wash her undergarments in a plastic bucket filled with Ivory Soap and tap water, all while butt naked.
Anna once attempted to gain membership in the fantasy comic book organization, the X-Men. She cited as her ‘super power’ the ‘Ability to Radiate Hatred.’ Despite the absurdity of it all, her application was returned and marked ‘Rejected,’ with the words “Too Mutant!” handwritten across her enclosed 8 x 10 glossy.
Anna’s death precedes that of her late husband Dove Dahgoon by some 35 years. Dove was the author of several Yiddish cult classics, including ‘How Gay is My Zion;’ ‘Languages Six, Charisma Zero;’ and ‘How to Pretend in Marriage’ (perhaps better known by it’s Yiddish title, ‘Das Faker’).
Anna often freely admitted that Dove spent more than 15 of their 20 years of marriage ‘on the road,’ insisting that his extensive travelling was simply due to his life-long obsession with ‘Finding the perfect conversation.’
So Spartan-like was Anna’s demeanor in recollecting how Dov would return home only to immediately pack up and leave again, that family members took to secretly referring to her as ‘The face that launched a thousand trips.’
Anna Dahgoon Hurtburger is survived by my once future ex-wife, Horhah. A not unattractive woman, Horhah is believed by some to have been immaculately conceived, considering Anna’s late husband’s proclivity towards not only insisting upon separate beds, but separate countries.
‘The Hor-hah,’ as she is known by a vast majority of people confused as to the true meaning of her ancient Hebraic name, lives surrounded by a constant succession of high priced nannies that watch over her collection of toy poodles, souvenir weighing scales and, her children. Her ever revolving list of ‘next year’s strangers’ are invariably introduced to one and all alike as:
“I’d like you to meet my Aunt Feenie.”
It has been quietly noted that ‘The Hor-hah’ bares more than a passing resemblance to a young Dick Cheney.
While her will designates that she be remembered in perpetuity as “Kitty, with a ‘K’,” Anna was not, in life, a particularly sensuous woman. She admittedly suffered from a difficulty in meeting heterosexual men. It has also been noted that she was a rabid, long time Kevin Spacey fan, but in her later years became increasingly bitter at his failed attempt to portray Bobby Darin.
“Kitty with a ‘K’” is reported to have passed away alone, on a bed stuffed full of tabloid newspapers purporting recent Hitler sightings. Her last enigmatic words were: “I have never, in my life, met a more generous hamster.”
*It has been asked to be let known that a memorial will be held for Anna Dahgoon Hurtburger in the Tel Aviv suburb of Petak Tikva, where she once worked for three weeks as a Modern Languages Teacher’s Assistant at the ‘Kibbutz for the Criminally Insane.’ It has been further requested that any donations be sent to either of her two favorite charities, the “Society for the Anthropomorphication of Chihuahuas,” or to the “Mein Kampf Zionist Association.”