Dr. Levi Levi's Memoirs: Part 1

This was part of an unpublished memoir found in Dr. Levi Levi’s possession when he died in 1985. It is uncertain when he began writing this.

I must begin with a confession: I am not Dr. Johan Engelbert. My name is Dr. Levi Levi, as it has been ever since I was three years old and my stepfather wanted me to take his surname^[1]. My mother was a Polish Jewish woman from a decent middle class family, her only blemish an affair she had in her youth that my stepfather gloated about overlooking, always holding it over our heads. My actual biological father was the same father as Dr. Johan Engelbert. If the Nazi scientist suspected we were half-brothers, he never told me. However, I realized this truth when I was assigned to work under him as a lab assistant when I was sent to a subcamp of Mauthausen. It was then I realized that the task the Elders of Zion wanted me to do was to impersonate this man and live as him in the New World Order that would emerge after the Nazis were defeated. This hope kept me alive as I was forced to do horribly unethical experiments under his pitiless command. I had wanted to be an actor when I was younger, but I was steered into medicine by my family. Though I did a wonderful job at the school plays, as everyone told me, that apparently was not dignified enough to my non-supportive stepfather Dr. Aaron Levi, a doctor born without a soul. Yet the acting was not a waste. In that death camp, I put my little acting experience to work by observing how Dr. Johan Engelbert talked and moved. When I had a moment of privacy, as rare as that was, I practiced to perfectly replicate it. I carefully noted all his likes and dislikes, though I found to my horror he loved Richard Wagner and I can’t stand the man or his awful music. I used to want to shoot someone when I heard the music of Wagner but now I can actually pretend to enjoy it. Despite the praise I have been forced to give that proto-Nazi antisemite for all these painful years, I want to clarify that I think Wagner was a hack and I have only grown to hate him more as a person as I grow older. However, I have found Dr. Johan Engelbert had the right idea by drinking tea with lemon. My impersonation also became easier when I lost my left eye in an accident, like Engelbert lost his in the Great War. Then Dr. Johan Engelbert died (unrelated to my actions) and I took his personal effects and put them on my body before disposing of his body. The Allies thought that I was the real Dr. Johan Engelbert and they treated me as such. Dr. Engelbert was such an esteemed scientist, I was soon brought in to work for the newly-formed Central Intelligence Agency as an independent contractor.

Though I had many interesting adventures during those early years, I am chiefly known for Project Sparta. It all started when I watched the reel known as WIDESHUT. Instead of a crowded movie theater, I was alone in my house, watching the images on a make-shift screen. From the title card I was hooked as if I had been injected with heroin. The story of these Soviet women capturing cowardly Nazi fraulein and making them as strong and independent as the Soviet women intrigued me, though I strongly opposed Communist totalitarianism and will fight anyone who says I’m a pinko. This movie was beautiful to me, worth more Oscars than all the “Gone With The Winds” of the world. I confess this movie stirred emotions in me I did not think I had. I had thought myself a man who was uninterested in eros and I was even proud of it, since it did make pretending to be the grieving widower easier^[2] and I was not tempted to blow my cover by revealing I was circumcised. That changed when I watched this film. That is to say, I experienced my first erection that I could not blame on my bladder. I do not consider this a sign that my efforts were perverse. That quiet wind was a sign from Hashem that my efforts were pointing in the right direction.

Some might call me a Mad Man for what I did with Project Sparta. They say I was a dreamer, a believer, chasing after an impossible high, a renegade on the loose, just like Icarus flying to high. I say I was just doing what my destiny called on me to do. Like Prometheus, I stole fire from the gods to give to the mortals. I think those twelve housewives should thank me for what I have done to them. In the end, they all wanted the fire I brought them, even if they could not all consciously vocalize that desire. Some of them have thanked me, though others are ungrateful and curse my name. No matter, I know I will go down in history as a Hero.

Also, I hate Frederick Nietzsche! I have been pretending to agree with his philosophy all these years only because Dr. Johan Engelbert was a fan.