If It Looks Like A Goose, And Steps Like A Goose 2

On my way into to the weekly breakfast of the Greybeards Round Table, I was grabbed by Levine, der alte Engel, and pulled aside.
"Levine! What the heck...?"
"Shh! I wanted to ask you something. Before, you know, before you sit down and we start talking about everything under the sun...you know, before we all start kvetching about Michigan and all its crap..."
A major hometown banking institution had just announced it had to leave and go to Texas...investors were leery of a bank with headquarters in Michigan, the automotive capital of the Third or Fourth World. Michigan, after having been destroyed by idiot automakers, idiot unions, and idiot politicians, has begun looking at Robert Mugabe with wistful appraisal.
Since Michigan has the second least amount of sunshine in the continental USA, after Seattle, we always consider Michigan to be that proverbial place "where the sun don't shine" and where various undesirable things are stuck.
"This Coulter thing, are you serious?" I thought for a moment. "What do you mean? Exactly?" "Are you actually saying she's...a...like...Julius Streicher? A Sturmabteilungsfuehrer?"
"Sure." I said. "Yeah. No doubt."

Levine was silent. Levine was young when WW II raged. He was born in 1938 in Czechoslovakia and somehow ended up in Macedonia by the end of the war. He did not talk much about it.
"I was reading..." he said. "I was reading this morning. The others, the people in the papers, the politicians, they all say she's vile, she's a whore, all that stuff, but..."
I waited. "They are too blind to see her for what she is."

Levine slowly got up. Hanaan passed by with her usual scowl, but he ignored her, and she seemed flustered, as if she had spent hours fixing up her face, and all the cosmetics of irritability had been ignored by the guys. "You are right. This labelling...They labelled Jews, you know. My parents had to wear the yellow star. Like a stinking target for the brownshirts."
"Oh. I did not know."
"Yeah. You're right. I like your sense of logic..."
"Thanks." I beamed.
"...and illogic, too." He laughed. "A lot of Germans said Streicher was vile, too, for all the good it did them."
Then he continued, "If there is a group that is already a target, already being attacked, whether a little or a lot, then if you say a guy is a member of the target group, yeah, you're drawing a yellow star on him; you're putting a target on his back...and there are people who will do the dirty work."
We went over to join the rest of the group. I felt rather good. I felt rather intelligent. Hanaan walked by and stepped on my foot, grinding her heel into it. I turned and stared at her. Now she was smiling like an angel.
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