Hitler Factory

angry man

Photo courtesy of Piotr Siedlecki

When it comes to dictators, who does history judge to be the worst of the worst? Kim Il Sung? Stalin? Pol Pot? Vlad the Impaler? The DMV clerk?

No, no, and no again (and a few more ‘no’s’ thrown in for good measure).

Without a doubt, when you think of a horrific dictator, the name Hitler will inevitably come up. As in, “Man, that guy is a regular Hitler” or “You’re worse than Hitler” or even “You have ear hair like Hitler.”

But as bad as Hitler was, he was nothing compared to what is looming on the horizon: Legions of little Hitlers being forged in the furnace of Hitler.

These are the little Hitlers you see throwing tantrums in grocery stores, walking on tables in restaurants, being begged by their parents to behave.

They are the little urchins you see running around society today, holding their participation trophies in one hand and their “Guide to Being a Little Hitler” in the other.

Before you know it, they will be adult Hitlers throwing tantrums in grocery stores, walking on tables in restaurants, being begged by others to behave.

They’ll expect you to do their bidding, punish you when you don’t, expect you to coddle them, do their work for them, all the while getting sure delight out of watching you jump every time they demand you do something.

But here’s the real kicker…

With so many little Hitlers being forged in the furnace of Hitler, the world will soon be filled with Hitlers. In fact, they’ll be working for the same companies, going to the same colleges and universities, marrying other Hitlers.

Which makes me wonder, what happens when Hitler meets Hitler?

– If Hitler A and Hitler B throw a tantrum on the floor at the same time, which Hitler will get up off the floor first?

– If Hitler X expects Hitler Y to do her bidding but Hitler Y expects Hitler X to do her bidding, who’s bidding gets done? Or do they both end up in a Hitler hissy fight?

– If Hitler P32 is a task team leader and demands that Hitler P37 does a task but Hitler P37 refuses, does Hitler P32 sit in a corner of the office sucking on his thumb for the rest of the day?

The problem here is that not everyone can be a Hitler dictator. Granted, everyone will want to get their own way, have a meltdown if they don’t, and in general, punish the people around them for not obeying their every command. But if every little Hitler is being a little Hitler to everyone else, then there won’t be anyone left to not be a Hitler. Which leads me to wonder, is it too late to stop this Hitler phenomenon from occurring?

I have to conclude that, Yes. It’s definitely too late.

You might as well give up all hope right now. Because the Hitlers of tomorrow are already in little Hitler training, ready to be unleashed on the world.

So if you’re not a little Hitler and have no plans on being one, you may want to change your mind, part your hair on the side, and wear a funny stub of a mustache. Otherwise, you’ll be the one handing out all the Hitler participation trophies and doing all the work that the little Hitlers will expect others to do for them.

Then maybe you should consider getting a job at the DMV.



Unthinking Hopelessness

Warning label

Today, I am going to take umbrage.

First, because I am truly upset about a great travesty of justice that is occurring in our world as we speak. And second, because I just love saying the word ‘umbrage.’

Umbrage, umbrage, umbrage.

Back to the first point…

As a society, we simply don’t do enough to help a segment of our population get along in this world. A segment of the population sometimes referred to as morons, dingbats, dorks and dopes, blockheads, boobs, and idiots. A segment of the population that refuses to think, which appears to be growing exponentially.

To help this seemingly helpless segment, we’ll have to call on a very powerful societal mechanism: The Labeling Industry.

To date, the labeling industry has done much to help by creating warning labels, signs, and stickers, trying to help these unfortunate people navigate this thing we call “life.”

– “Do not put any person in this washer” sticker on a clothes washing machine.

– “This product moves when used” label on a scooter.

– “Do not hold the wrong end of a chainsaw” on the — you guessed it — a chainsaw.

But even with a plethora of labeling pointing out the obvious to a class of people who obviously can’t discern the obvious, the situation is becoming a nationwide, nay, a worldwide crisis.

Thankfully, a group of labeling experts converged in California (a state known for a large percentage of the said population) to come up with compassionate labeling. Labeling that will help the hopelessly helpless lead lives of helpless hopelessness:

– “Head goes here. Arms go there” (with directional arrows) on all shirts, blouses, and clothing that covers the upper part of the body.

– “To operate, place left foot forward, then put right foot forward. Repeat” on shoes, sandals, and any material covering the foot (‘L’ and ‘R’ is to be placed on all footwear to aid in proper direction following).

– “Lid must be in upright position before using” (complete with diagram) for all toilets.

You’re probably thinking, “This is a good start” and you would be right. But we can do even better:

– “Do not stare directly at me” label on the sun.

– “Environment contains air. Please breath in then out, repeating as needed” tattooed onto the eyeballs of those most in need.

– “Water is wet and will make items placed in it or touched by it wet” signage on all bodies of water to include, lakes, rivers, oceans, puddles, drinking fountains, and tear ducts.

– “Snow is cold and if touched, will transfer cold properties to whatever is touched to it” on all snow, ice, hail, and people with frigid personalities.

I think we would all feel better about ourselves if we did that. And if we’re feeling better, then we must be doing better. I think even the most unthinking amongst us would agree with that.

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Kazulo’s Krazy Kitchen

The gears in my head were rusty and stuck together. I thought maybe going for a ride would be just the brain WD-40 I needed.

Up in the distance popped up a small roadside building. There was a sign I couldn’t make out. I pulled over to have a look-see.

It was a simple shack of a place, painted in various shades of graffiti. Reds, blues, greens, yellows. As if a rainbow had vomited.

In the front of the shack was an opening like you’d expect from a roadside fruit stand. But this wasn’t a fruit stand. I pulled alongside the window. No one was inside.

There was a hand-painted sign over the window of the shack.

“Welcome to Kazulo’s Krazy Yet World-Famous Kountry Kitchen.”

Then in smaller letters below:

“Menu: Pomegranate Fries. Pea Dunk Soup. Chortle Berry Stew.”

Next to the building was a guy wearing a big straw hat and a knotty brown beard, sitting in a folding chair. He was facing the sun, eyes closed, relaxed.

“Excuse me,” I said, keeping the engine running.

The man’s left eye squinted open then he turned his head to me.


“Is this place open?”

“Yes. No. Not really.”

“What do you mean, not really?”

“It is but it isn’t. All depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Whether you’re just stopping by or if you are, you know, stopping in.”

“I don’t get it.”

With some effort, the man lifted himself from the chair and walked over to my side of the car and leaned on the top of the door.

“If you’re stopping in, then we’re closed. We don’t have Pomegranate Fries or Pea Dunk Soup or Chortle Berry Stew.”

“Must really be world famous if you’re all out.”

He snorted.

“There’s no food here.”

I looked at the sign and then at the man.

“You don’t have food here.”

“Nuh uh.”

“So why is this place world famous?”

“It’s a place to stop by, then be on your way. We’re open, if you want to stop by.”

“Oh so you must be the owner.”

He shrugged.

“Today I am. Maybe not tomorrow.”

“I don’t follow.”

The guy shook his head slowly.

“You don’t have to follow. There’s nothing to follow. This is a place to be. First one who shows up gets the chair. You sit in the chair and you just, be.”

“So what’s with the sign?”

The man looked up thoughtfully.

“Would you have stopped if there was no sign?”

“No, probably not.”

“Exactly.You stopped by because we’re open.” He sauntered back to the chair and reclaimed his spot.

I drove off, shaking my head, pondering the insanity of it all, yet wondering how early I would have to arrive to claim the chair.

Then I made a mental note to bring a lunch.