It seems superheroes like Günter Grass are susceptible to selective historical amnesia, too. And nobody likes flawed superheroes, unless that flaw is a susceptibility to kryptonite, maybe.

But I think one should be thankful to him for the service he has just performed. Grass drüber (forget about it, let the grass grow over it), I say. At the very least (or worst), he has reminded us that the very best should always be enjoyed with caution, as the saying goes.

He has reminded us that the preaching prophet in the desert should always be met with skepticism. What is it about these preaching types anyway? I assumed that Germany was immune to them by now, but I was off base again. On the one hand, everyone here loves to schmunzel (smirk) at American religious fundamentalists trying to tell us what to think, but the same folks have been eating up Günter Grass’ sermons since the 50s.

I’ll tell you what it is about preachers like that (wherever and whenever they are in the world): Die haben alle Dreck am Stecken (they’ve all got something to hide, a skeleton in the closet). They are trying to make up for something, something that they have done wrong or something that is missing in them. That’s why they’re preaching. If they didn’t have some personal score to settle, they wouldn’t be bothering the rest of us in the first place.

So the next time the next Günter Grass comes along, and he will, judge him by his art – before he starts judging you. Everything else he’ll have to say will be a complete waste of your time.