Some Reasons That You Might Own a Collection of Fancy Third Reich Table Linens

After ProPublica revealed that billionaire and GOP megadonor Harlan
Crow spent decades lavishing Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas
with pricey gifts and globetrotting trips, follow up stories noted
Crow is an ardent collector of Nazi memorabilia. . . . What’s on
display at his Dallas mansion includes two Hitler paintings, a signed
copy of Mein Kampf, and swastika embossed linens. —Mother Jones

The fancy Third Reich table linens were a steal compared with the fancy Confederate table linens.

You’re sophisticated enough to separate the art from the artist and/or genocidal regime.

You’re a film-studies major writing an honors thesis on Leni Riefenstahl’s table manners.

You bought them as a thoughtful “cheer up” present for your dear but troubled friend Ye.

You need them as props for your passion project, a bio-pic of Albert Speer, because you’re Stanley Kubrick, and you’re manically obsessive about authenticity, and you’re still alive.

Using paper Third Reich napkins contributes to climate change.

Something, something . . . Antifa.

You’re keeping them off the market because you’re concerned that they might retain traces of Hitler’s DNA, which unscrupulous scientists could use to clone him, or at least grow Hitler lab meat.

You’re worried that they might fall into the hands of extremist neo-Nazi cater waiters.

You’re preserving them as a reminder for future generations that elegant place settings are no excuse for unutterable evil.

The Nazi napkin drawer is the last place anyone would think to look for the afikoman.

Say what you will, but they go great with the Mar-a-Lago napkin rings. ♦