“Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it.” Image Source
2010 was a weird year for me. I had just adopted a kitten and he looked a lot like a certain führer. I was warned over and over again by all my friends, but in a classic typical me move, my cartoonish pride made me deaf to all those fucking idiots, and I went ahead and named my cat Adolf Hitler, Hitler for short. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have.
“In hindsight, I could have had more empathy. History tends to be kinder to those.”
War is hell. Christmas in Nazi Germany, 1941 was proof of that. Ask Dean Von Gundermann. He was twenty-five years old, and a good twenty-five years ahead of his time. He was a misplaced flower child stuck in an oppressive Hitler regime. He would have certainly flourished following around the Grateful Dead on the west coast of America. He would have looked absolutely adorable with long flowing ebony hair, wearing a dashiki or Nehru jacket. Perhaps this would be an appropriate time to start anew as I take a very cold shower.