Jörg Haider

So he died. Now he must be in Nazi heaven...kissing his Furher's saggy bottom.

I remember him well: I was taking a stroll in the centre of this small, very clean and very sleepy town, on the Danube's shores. The town's name was Grein am Donnau or Grein am Strudengau, or maybe both.

Then there was a big commotion, people in the little markt all of a sudden, some musical instruments, drums, flags, a little impromptu crowd right in the town center.
Haider then was sort of good looking.
I stopped, curious like any stranger.
He was handing red and white carnation to women, Frisbees to kids and wooden spoons to those that did not want flowers or Frisbees. All objects were marked with the FPÖ initials and logo.
I knew he was a politician by the way he kept on shaking hands and kissing babies, the way he dressed - but I found out only few years later what sort of politician he really was.
At the time, I just accepted the carnation he offered me gallantly. He even asked me what part of Nesblandia I was from.
I even told him. I thought at the time, in my ignorance, that he was a nice guy - but at that time I thought the same about Kurt Waldheim.
Nobody was talking yet about his Nazi past in Europe and I could not even have imagined that they could put at the top of UN somebody that was not up to the job. Somebody that was not clean enough, not proper.
I was young and silly - an idealist at heart...

So there they are: Hitler, Waldheim and Haider.
Three sons of the same country.
Austrians must be very, very proud.
But wait - there's more: I forgot to add Arnold Schvartzenegger.
I'm sure that if I dig a bit deeper I can find a couple more. Like that guy from Amstetten that kept his daughter as a sex-slave for about a quarter of a century and fathered her 7 children.

Strange achievement for a country that has just about 8 million inhabitants now, in the 21 Century and had even less than that just few decades ago...
I guess that inbreeding must be unhealthy, after all, no matter how traditional (see Hitler's affair with his own Niece).

I remember yet very vividly how many Austrians used to literally spit in the street after every passing by Nesblandian. I remember because I was one of them, and if I spoke my own idiom with somebody and they heard we weren't speaking German, they spat at us. Literally, I'm not kidding. It happened to me many times in 2 years, maybe 20 times in different parts of the country.


Yeah, I did not forget, how sad is that.