The Bulletin’s Day Book
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The Bulletin’s Day Book

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When women in Germandom were relegated to their three K’s, they didn’t complain. When, some months ago, their beloved Adolf, spirit of chivalry incarnate, refused to address a meeting of one of the women’s groups, they took it like men. When they were told that their presence in Nazi so-called institutions of higher learning wasn’t particularly necessary, they laughed it off with true German grace.

But at last the women are rebelling. There are some things not even a coordinated female in the Nazified Vaterland can stand. So they are sowing the seeds of revolt.

And for a good reason. It seems that the Nazi Fritzies are under orders to be more interested in parading and storming than in courting the buxom young Gretchens.

Every night in the week they stay away from their sweethearts. All day Sunday they stay away. And the rest of the time they stay away, too, resolutely turning their eyes from pleasure and keeping themselves strictly to the business of studying the latest volume of military tactics. The tactics, of course, are important to know-in case Herr Goebbels finds it necessary to have another mass attack on another defenseless Jew.

Not that the German Romeos want to stay away from their equally German Juliets. Even a Nazi can be human, however inhuman his actions usually are. No. they surely would like to stroll Under den Linden with a fraulein on their arm. But they can’t. How could they be so disloyal to the holy cause of their Fuehrer? After all does not the “State” come first? What would the Fuehrer think?

So, poor things, they abstain.

And the desk of Chancellor Hitler is loaded with letters, letters written in feminine script, letters perfumed and fancified, letters from the regimented frauleins of Germany. And the letters all say the same thing: Kampf or no kampf, I want my Hansi, or my Fritzi, or my Heinie.

Perhaps what will happen next will be due in some part to the intercession of Frau Magda Goebbels, wife of propagandist Paul Joseph Goebbels and childhood friend of the late Dr. Chaim Arlosoroff. Perhaps she too will complain because her fire-eating and Jew-baiting husband is devoting too much of his time to the Cause (with a capital C) and not enough to the home (with a small h).

Perhaps she will do the Nazi frauleins a good turn. After all, she is one of the few wives any “ascetic” Nazi leaders allows himself, and she may have a word in the government of the benighted land.

For a proposal has been made, a proposal that is not the least Spartan in character. And nowadays, when someone has the temerity to make a proposal in the Reich, you can almost be sure that there is some official backing. For in Germany suggestions are carefully hoarded, and anyone throwing them around freely is in danger of being hoarded himself-in a concentration camp.

At any rate, it is suggested that storm troopers be given “leaves of absence” for breathing spells from their arduous tasks. Turning over a new leave, so to speak.

And another proposal offers another solution in what would be called “health test,” which many sturdy troopers would be unable to pass, we are assured.

Thus, only the unhealthy would be permitted to help in the propagation of the bigger and better Nazi race.

The healthy, of course must devote all their energies to preparing themselves for a glorious death on the battlefield.

-D. B.

Molly Picon is returning to the Second Avenue Theatre next September under the management of Michael Saks after a long absence. She will appear in plays to be staged by her producer-husband, Jacob Kalich.

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