by Eric Hunt
On February 1st, at approximately 7:30 p.m., I attempted to get a confession out of the “Pope of the Holocaust religion,” Elie Wiesel. We were in an elevator in the Argent Hotel in San Francisco. He was on his way to the 36th floor Penthouse. I had planned to bring Wiesel to my hotel room where he would truthfully answer my questions regarding the fact that his non-fiction Holocaust memoir, Night, is almost entirely fictitious.
After ensuring no women would be traumatized by what I had to do (I had been trailing Wiesel for weeks), I stopped the elevator at the sixth floor. I pulled Wiesel out of the elevator. I said I wanted to interview him. He protested, grabbed at his chest as if he was having a heart attack. He then screamed HELP! HELP! at the top of his lungs. This is someone who in his public appearances, speaks so softly, that when he appeared on Oprah, they had to use subtitles throughout. Wiesel had dropped this phony persona and assumed his actual personality, of an insane lunatic.
I told him, “Why, you don’t want people to know the truth?” His expression changed, and he began screaming again. HELP! HELP! So, after pulling him about fifteen feet out of the elevator, alerting a few floors, I decided that it was time for me to go. He was no use to our worldwide struggle for freedom if he had a heart attack. I fled from the scene, confident that the police would arrive soon and search the city looking for the insane person who attempted to forcefully interrogate a poor old “Holocaust Survivor”, Nobel Peace Prize Winner, and most recently, “knight of the British Empire.”
I had planned on either: getting Wiesel into my custody, with a cornered Wiesel finally forced to state the truth on videotape, getting arrested, or fleeing, and either way, exposing the “Pope of the Holocaust religion” for being nothing but a genocidal liar. However, a funny thing happened, Wiesel apparently never called the police.
