There are dudes out front of my hotel here in Frankfurt that appear to be neo-Nazi skinheads — shaved heads, leather jackets with ‘DEMONIC PROBE’ written on them. I’m fighting the urge to put on my leather jacket and my stomping boots and roll down there, singing “Right In Der Fuhrer’s Face” by Spike Jones and getting rowdy. They don’t look that tough.
But I’m not going to. I’m not stupid.
Be fun, though, wouldn’t it? And a sort of karmic workout session, even if I got the shit kicked out of me.
Don’t worry. I’ll just sit up here on my balcony, thinking evil thoughts at their little bald heads.
God, I hate Nazis.