“That’s made from the skin of Jews,” Dominici replied.
“Hitler made skin from the Jews!” Dominici returned, louder now, with a kind of goony certainty.
“Believe me, neighbor,” said Dominici, a half-smile on his bumpy face. “Hitler made skin from the Jews. It is a historical fact!” He pointed at the lampshade Skip held in his hand. “You want it? $35. That’s a good deal.”
A human-skin lampshade for $35. That was a heck of a deal, all right.
One time, my friend Stewie forgot his yarmulke and was wearing a Yankees cap instead. Adler snatched the hat from Stewie’s head and threw it out the window.
“You!” Rabbi Adler yelled in his near-impenetrable inflection. “You are not a Jew! … None of you are.”
Is anyone else squicked out by the sanitary implications of objects made of human skin? Even if the object had a somehow less fucked up origin (for example, if someone willingly donated their skin after a natural death), the whole touching dead human skin aspect of it would squick the hell out of me.
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