Poking Fun at Hitler

So I’ve been hearing this rumor about Hitler having a very tiny weenie all over the internet for the past few days. My gut reaction was to be thrilled. Not because I think that size is important, or that it says anything about a person’s manhood or sexuality or value as a human being. It mainly made my day because I know that a lot of men take that sort of thing personally, and the thought of upsetting someone like Hitler, even if only from the great beyond, makes me very happy indeed.

I started to write a vicious blog entry about it, but something in the back of my mind made me hesitate. I couldn’t quite nail down what was making me uncomfortable about the topic. I just knew that something wasn’t quite right about dancing on Hitler’s tiny little phallus.

And then it dawned on me. Here it is. First of all, aside from the fact that there’s no real proof, in this day and age we should be more mature and more enlightened. Poking fun at a medical condition isn’t right. There are good people in this world, wonderful people, who suffer from penile hypospadias. That doesn’t make them less manly, if in fact they want to be manly. That doesn’t automatically mean they will be monsters, or even hold a grudge. That doesn’t mean they are all mentally warped into making epic decisions that will devastate generations of human beings.

The fact is, by singling someone out for ridicule based on something over which he has no control, I become no better than that evil man. And I genuinely want to be able to call him a pathetic human being without people thinking I’m taking a jab at sexuality in general.

Besides, the mustache alone is ripe enough for parody. And he had plenty of control over that. (Seriously. What the hell was he thinking?)

So I’ll take the high road and not discuss his wee wee anymore. Small, medium, or large, it has long since converted to dust. He can continue to roast marshmallows in hell without any further input from me.



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