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If Hitler Had a Dick

Updated on December 8, 2011
Photos of gratuitous females enhance viewing traffic.
Photos of gratuitous females enhance viewing traffic.

“If Hitler had a dick,” my strange friend is saying, “half a million gypsies would have lived longer.”

I had to ponder that one for a minute. Paul Williamson, age 53, delivers Lays potato chips to Marsh. He has a really bad Prince Valiant haircut that would have been stupid in 1973 and now just looks absolutely fucking deplorable, more so because of bald spot. Lays asked him to wear a hairnet but he refuses. Anyway, Paul is my friend and he has an interesting way of turning a phrase. I inform him that Hitler seems to have actually had a penis but might have been missing one testical.

“Same difference,” Williamson says. “He was missing one vital part of his dick. You get my point.”

And indeed I did. Williamson’s iffy grasp of male anatomy aside, he seemed to be saying, “If only.” If only Hitler had a complete package, he might not have been so strangely evil. If only Hitler could paint faces, he might have gotten into the Vienna Art Academy, and again, history is altered. If only Castro could throw a curve ball, no Cuban communism. (Fidel was apparently a pitcher of some repute and had a tryout with the Phillies at age 15. They told him to go fuck himself and learn how to throw a curve ball. He grabbed a machete and started whacking members of the Batista government instead.)


Hopelessly mired in annoying traffic heading to the Indianapolis 500. Stuck on the back of some resource depleting SUV is an ABORTION STOPS A BEATING HEART sticker. I peer into the SUV as we creep next to it one lane over. The driver is perhaps 150 lbs. overweight, shoving Taco Bell into the temple that is his body. He’s smoking and perspiring profusely. I want to beat this motherfucker with a led pipe but suppress the urge. Instead we verbally accost this bastard from multiple directions, shouting, “Taco Bell stops a beating heart. Polluting Hummers stop a beating heart. Morbid obesity stops a beating heart.” Stuck in traffic, he had to listen, which is only fair because stuck in traffic, we had to read his asinine bumper stickers. He had another one, btw, that proclaimed SEALS ARE PROTECTED BUT NOT HUMAN FETUSES. This one completely set Williamson, who was fairly trashed by 9 a.m., off. He slurred to the SUV driver, “I love seals too baby! Way more than humans! I’m with you on that one brother!” Then he made a solidarity fist. The fat guy looked confused.


A bartender who likes you can be far more dangerous than one who doesn’t. Let’s just leave it at that. Three Crown and Cokes served at a proportion of 11/12 whisky to soda more than made up for every airport/ strip mall bar computerized shot I’d ever had.


My twelve-year-old yelled at me from the backseat: “Don’t use Lady Ga-Ga’s name in vain!” He was furious. Williamson had started it by saying, “If only Lady GaGa had a dick.” I told them both to be quiet and simmer down.


That’s it for now….I just spent 35 minutes reading results from a “What’s the point of Twitter?” search. Resulting conclusion: Middle-aged middle school; mastubatory ego exercise. The CEO of Twitter’s answer: “I honestly don’t know.”


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