"David Cole is Eating His Dracula Cereal"

Ach! Und Zee Week Zat Perished

Okay. what part of “subscribe and you’ll get three things a week” was lost on you?

I was clear as a Hawaiian waterfall - subscribe and you’ll get three emails a week: The Week That Perished on Sunday, my reg’lar column on Tuesday, and on Friday, something exclusive.

Well, last week when The Week didn’t run on Sunday, I sent it to you on Monday, which meant that, with my column on Tuesday, you got two things in as many days. And I had TEN fucking unsubs.

Dudes, it was not my fault that The Week didn’t run until Monday (turns out it was a system glitch at Takimag). But I had ten dicks who were like TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH! UNTHUBTHSCRIBE! UNTHUBTHSCRIBE!

Okay, we’re back to normal now, ten dicks shy, which funny enough was the name of a film my porn girl did.

But c’mon. I’m TELLING you right now, for the third time, that the deal is, you subscribe to this totally free Substack. and you’ll get three emails a week. If that doesn’t sit well with yer stupid ass, unsub NOW. But don’t be a drama queen and be like “oh mah oh mah, you said three things a week, but ah was not expecting two things in a row, and ah do declare, ah now have the vaypors!”

I love you guys, so let’s lose the remaining few stupids we have here in our tight little watering hole (“Tight Little Watering Hole” being yet another of my porn girl’s flicks).

So here’s today’s Week, on time, correct day.

And in the segment about “Neturei Karta,” I get to use a pun I’ve had in my mind for 32 years. Because those freaks invited me to address them in 1992. I’d just gotten back from a speaking gig with David Irving in Toronto - a gig organized by Ernst Zundel - and I was starting to get the feeling that I was becoming a pass-around whore for Holocaust deniers. I didn’t mind so much with Ernst. He was just such a sweet guy, and I will always defend anyone threatened with prison for speech.

But them Neturei Karta loons…they wanted me to come to NYC so they could show me off, and I was like, nah…I think I need to stop doing these badwill tours.

So I never went, even though they offered me a week of free food.

These days, for a week of free food, I’d suck Barney Frank’s corpse’s dick.

Wait, he’s not dead yet? Man, that bloat is very misleading.

Speaking of food, my favorite breakfast cereal as a kid was Count Chocula. But in the 1980s, General Mills stopped selling it in Southern California. Why? Hey - you guys love to act like smartasses and “teach me” shit. I’ve never learned why you couldn’t find Count Chocula in L.A. in the 1980s. First one of you to find the reason wins a prize…let’s see…okay, how about this: if we meet in person, I will NOT kick you in the genitals, which these days is my standard greeting.

So I fly out to Toronto in October ‘92 with a red-headed bimbo named Anita - neediest, whiniest bim I’ve ever known - and I get picked up at the airport by one of Zundel’s junge kameraden (a kid named Eugen, pronounced OY-gen, which I found hilarious because could you SOUND more Jewish?), and OY-gen asks if I’d like to stop at a grocery store before getting to the Zundelhaus, to pick up essentials, as I’d be in town for a week.

And Anita was like “WAAAAAAAH! I want fewd!” so I’m like sure, let’s stop at whatever passes for a grocery store in this frigid insignificant wasteland. And as I’m strolling the aisles, I see………COUNT CHOCULA!!!!!!

I hadn’t had it in over a decade.

OY-gen bought me five boxes (Zundel footed the bill for everything that trip), and enough milk to last the eternal life of the mass-murdering demon the cereal is named after. And I get to Zundelhaus, and there’s David Irving and Ernst waiting to greet me, and I’m like “can’t talk…must eat Chocula.” And I go to Ernst’s kitchen and grab a bowl and I eat an entire box in one sitting.

It tasted SO good. It was like being a kid again.

And I’ll never forget hearing Irving say to Ernst, “that bloody Cole, we need to work on our joint speeches before our show in Kitchener tomorrow,” and Ernst, with the kindly tone of voice that made him so endearing, responded, “ach, he’s enjoying his Dracula cereal. Let him be.”

That’s a true story.

So when Neturei Karta invited me to NYC, I might have gone, for the Chocula. But I’d brought several boxes back from Toronto, so I didn’t see the need to spend a week with a bunch of fringe lunatics who have idiotic dietary rules.

I’m guessing Count Chocula can’t be kosher, right? I mean, the dude drinks blood and gets mixed with milk.

I think I made the right decision staying home.

Here’s this week’s Week, and - as always - every beer you buy me helps keep the lights on at the Colehaus.

https://www.takimag.com/article/the-week-that-perished-293/