Thursday, March 09, 2006
shopping with nazis
My dear reader, I simply must share with you the following tale about an adventure. . . no, that's much too strong a word, it was more of an incident. . . no that's not it either. . .
Alright, it 's really nothing exciting at all. It's just me prattling on about some fellow I saw in the grocery store early this evening, whilst making a quick stop to pick up a thing or two on my way home from another busy day.
So I'm standing sideways in the aisle, right, you know, like how you stand when your looking at something on the shelf, comparing prices and all the shit.
"What were you looking at?" you might very well be asking yourself now.
Well, the tastes of my personal consumption are just not your damned business, at least not for the purposes of this story, so don't ask again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see this. . . I see this, um, hairstyle approaching. Yes, that's right, I first noticed the hairstyle. Yes, that's right a hairstyle. It was rather unique, yes, but one we've all seen dozens, if not hundreds of times before. It was kind of cross between a bad part and a comb-over.
Then I notice the mustache, nostril to lip full and bushy, yet cropped close on the sides, scarcely wider than the width of the nose.
He continues to walk down the aisle towards me. I casually turn his direction, so as to discretely get a better look while acting like I'm just walking down the aisle, still looking for an item.
Something vaguely familiar. . . wearing non-descript neutral color pants with a nicely tucked and ironed short sleeve plaid shirt, fully buttoned up. His hair and mustache is dark to greyish, with a salt and pepper look to it. Do I know this guy from years past? Something definitely familiar.
He get's closer, his eyes appear to be a cold blue to gray, his cheeks seem slightly sunken.
Holy fucking shit. I do know this guy. Well, not personally, but we've all seen his fucking picture.
It's Adolph fucking Hitler.
Adolph Hitler just passed me in the bread aisle right past the deli of my local grocery store.
Okay, so it wasn't really THE Hitler, 'cause he'd be what, around 115 and it's doubtful that even if he faked his death and escaped to Argentina he'd still be alive. Unless he found some secret Fountain of Youth crap in all that weird creepy mystical shit he was into.
But for the purposes of this, let's remain reasonable and assume that's not the case. It wasn't really the Hitler, just some guy who happens to look like what a middle-aged Hitler might look like if he were to be walking down the bread aisle of my local grocery store.
This raised a really giant question in my mind.
What the fuck is wrong with this man's friends and family?
I mean really.
Let's start with the assumption that as this Hitlerish fellow is most likely a middle-aged American man, we have no choice but to forgive his complete lack of style-sense and of his appearance. He is completely oblivious as to how he may appear and subsequently be perceived by others.
A middle-aged American man that actually possesses a sense of how he appears to the rest of the world is a rare thing indeed. If you doubt me, I suggest you spend a few hours at a Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon, both as punishment for doubting me and to provide evidence of my point.
So the man is not responsible. But doesn't he have family, a spouse, a child, a neighbor, a friend? Is there no one in this man's life who has either the courage or a solid enough relationship with him to say, "Hey Bob, you might want to get a new hairstyle or shave the mustache or something. You're starting to look a little like the most hated and evil man in all of history."
If not, well, that's just plain fucking sad.
Then I had a second, scarier thought.
What if he does know?
What if he is totally aware of his resemblence to Hitler? That's not a look you would be prone to accidentally cultivate. Holy shit! He knows he looks like Hitler because he wants to look like Hitler. What if underneath his middle class insurance salesman attire he is a freaky tattooed neo-Nazi white supremist bastard? What if this man is a fucking Nazi! Fuck! I'm shopping with fucking Nazis!
Either way, in my mind, that poor dude is just plain fucked.
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Alright, it 's really nothing exciting at all. It's just me prattling on about some fellow I saw in the grocery store early this evening, whilst making a quick stop to pick up a thing or two on my way home from another busy day.
So I'm standing sideways in the aisle, right, you know, like how you stand when your looking at something on the shelf, comparing prices and all the shit.
"What were you looking at?" you might very well be asking yourself now.
Well, the tastes of my personal consumption are just not your damned business, at least not for the purposes of this story, so don't ask again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see this. . . I see this, um, hairstyle approaching. Yes, that's right, I first noticed the hairstyle. Yes, that's right a hairstyle. It was rather unique, yes, but one we've all seen dozens, if not hundreds of times before. It was kind of cross between a bad part and a comb-over.
Then I notice the mustache, nostril to lip full and bushy, yet cropped close on the sides, scarcely wider than the width of the nose.
He continues to walk down the aisle towards me. I casually turn his direction, so as to discretely get a better look while acting like I'm just walking down the aisle, still looking for an item.
Something vaguely familiar. . . wearing non-descript neutral color pants with a nicely tucked and ironed short sleeve plaid shirt, fully buttoned up. His hair and mustache is dark to greyish, with a salt and pepper look to it. Do I know this guy from years past? Something definitely familiar.
He get's closer, his eyes appear to be a cold blue to gray, his cheeks seem slightly sunken.
Holy fucking shit. I do know this guy. Well, not personally, but we've all seen his fucking picture.
It's Adolph fucking Hitler.
Adolph Hitler just passed me in the bread aisle right past the deli of my local grocery store.
Okay, so it wasn't really THE Hitler, 'cause he'd be what, around 115 and it's doubtful that even if he faked his death and escaped to Argentina he'd still be alive. Unless he found some secret Fountain of Youth crap in all that weird creepy mystical shit he was into.
But for the purposes of this, let's remain reasonable and assume that's not the case. It wasn't really the Hitler, just some guy who happens to look like what a middle-aged Hitler might look like if he were to be walking down the bread aisle of my local grocery store.
This raised a really giant question in my mind.
What the fuck is wrong with this man's friends and family?
I mean really.
Let's start with the assumption that as this Hitlerish fellow is most likely a middle-aged American man, we have no choice but to forgive his complete lack of style-sense and of his appearance. He is completely oblivious as to how he may appear and subsequently be perceived by others.
A middle-aged American man that actually possesses a sense of how he appears to the rest of the world is a rare thing indeed. If you doubt me, I suggest you spend a few hours at a Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon, both as punishment for doubting me and to provide evidence of my point.
So the man is not responsible. But doesn't he have family, a spouse, a child, a neighbor, a friend? Is there no one in this man's life who has either the courage or a solid enough relationship with him to say, "Hey Bob, you might want to get a new hairstyle or shave the mustache or something. You're starting to look a little like the most hated and evil man in all of history."
If not, well, that's just plain fucking sad.
Then I had a second, scarier thought.
What if he does know?
What if he is totally aware of his resemblence to Hitler? That's not a look you would be prone to accidentally cultivate. Holy shit! He knows he looks like Hitler because he wants to look like Hitler. What if underneath his middle class insurance salesman attire he is a freaky tattooed neo-Nazi white supremist bastard? What if this man is a fucking Nazi! Fuck! I'm shopping with fucking Nazis!
Either way, in my mind, that poor dude is just plain fucked.
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