Ol' Hilter the Shitler: A Fabulously Farcical Account of One Asshole's Rise and Fall

So there was once this little twerp named Addy who didn't have a single artistic bone in his entire inbred body. Dude fancied himself a painter, but the only thing his kindergarten-level brushwork was fit for was redecorating the inside of an outhouse. Which, come to think of it, would have been a vast improvement over that "One Mustache Over the Cuckoo's Nest" folk art atrocity he tried to pass off as genius.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's rewind a bit to little Addy's humble beginnings as a nothing more than a Bavarian brat with a bad comb-over and a hoarding complex. See, his dad was your classic abusive drunk who treated his wife and kids about as well as the Viennese treat a warm beer fart in a sauna. So right from the jump, young Addy developed all the usual psychological hang-ups - resentment towards dear ol' mustachioed dad, a crippling inferiority complex, and a disturbing fondness for cross-dressing and stamping his feet like a petulant little Grinch.

Fast forward a few years, and Addy's living the dream - failing out of art school, sponging off his elderly mom's pension, and spending his days angrily ranting on street corners about the vast Jewish conspiracy to keep his finger paintings out of the local museums. Dude was basically the world's original basement-dwelling incel troll, just with more lederhosen and a worse haircut.

Now, in any sane society, this is about where Addy's story would have ended - a sad, forgotten little weirdo who died bitter and alone, save for his collection of Hummel figurines and repressed homoerotic fantasies. But alas, this was post-World War I Germany, a land of rampant poverty, political turmoil, and more than a few undiagnosed syphilis cases. In other words, the perfect breeding ground for a failed artist's delusions of racial grandeur to take root and metastasize into a full-blown goose-stepping cult of hatefulness.

So Addy starts recruiting all the other misfit man-children who couldn't get a date or hold down a job, and before you can say "Lebensraum," he's formed his very own gang of disgruntled, anti-Semitic dillweeds. They called themselves the Nazis, because "The Aryan Brotherhood of Incredibly Punchable Virgins" was a bit too on-the-nose. From there, it was just a matter of exploiting some political loopholes, orchestrating a few ill-advised power grabs, and boom - suddenly this syphilitic circus was running the entire goddamn Reich!

And that's when the real fun began. Because once Lil' Addy and his merry band of misfits got their tiny, Aryan-approved hands on the levers of power, they quickly transformed Germany into a total crockpot of insanity. We're talking book burnings, mass incarcerations, batshit eugenics programs - the whole nine yards of authoritarian lunacy. Ol' Shitler himself was so drunk on power and long-suppressed resentment that he started ranting and raving like an unmedicated schizophrenic at a Klan rally. Only this time, people were actually listening to his deranged, pseudo-intellectual ramblings instead of just shuffling past him on the street.

Of course, we all know how this insane little passion project ended - with millions of innocents dead, a massive world war, and Addy finally growing a pair and taking the coward's way out by eating a bullet in his sad little underground bunker. Not quite the Wagnerian finale he'd envisioned for his precious Thousand-Year Reich, but at least it was on-brand with the rest of his pathetic, delusional existence.

So let that be a lesson to all the disaffected, socially maladjusted man-children out there. If you ever find yourself failing upwards into a position of power, maybe don't use it as an excuse to lash out at the world for all your petty grievances and shortcomings. Also, for the love of all that's holy, please keep your shitty little mustache away from any manifestos or ideological movements. We've already had quite enough of that, thanks.