Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: nazi

It’s Come To This

I have been turned into an inspirational Instagram meme.

On The Propriety Of Punching Nazis, An FAQ

Can I punch Nazis?

I don’t know. Can you?

I am capable of the act, yes.

Then you should.

May I?

The answer to that is also yes.

My mother told me that violence was never the answer.

My mother told me I was handsome; you can’t always listen to your mother.

What happened to letting the other guy throw the first punch?

Nazis don’t throw the first punch. Nazis burn the first Reichstag.

Aren’t the Left supposed to be the tolerant ones?

Supposed to be the smart ones, too, but they keep falling for that “I thought you were supposed to be the tolerant ones” horseshit.

What about dialogue?

Dialogue is for reasonable people acting in good faith. Dialogue is between two acceptable positions. “Taxes need to be raised” vs. “taxes need to be lowered” is grounds for dialogue. “Taxes need to be raised” vs. “Jews should be thrown in ovens” is grounds for a beating.

But isn’t this sinking to their level?

That depends. After you punch the Nazi, do you espouse the tenets of National Socialism?


Then you’re better than a Nazi.

But doesn’t this just give the other side ammunition?

The other side in this argument are lying fucks who can twist any piece of information into a swastika-shaped balloon animal if you engage them in good faith; lacking a piece of information, they’ll just make shit up. Might as well punch a Nazi.

What about peace, love, and understanding?

Great goals, and once we get rid of the Nazis we can get to work on them. All three are completely impossible when Nazis are about.

When should you punch a Nazi?

Whenever you get a chance. Preferably when they’re not looking.

What if they’re smaller than you?

Hit them with your fist.

What if they’re bigger?

Hit them with a bat.

Isn’t this a slippery slope?

After we defeated the Nazis in World War II, did we keep shooting people or did the troops come home and start having babies?

The second thing.

There you go. The slippery slope argument is nine times out of ten bullshit. Human beings are good with slippery slopes: we build stairs.

What if you think you’re punching a Nazi, but you just hit a white guy with a shitty haircut?


What should you do if you hit a Nazi?

You should run then, too. Don’t get me wrong: punching Nazis is still illegal. We’re discussing morality.

But I don’t want to punch anyone.

Then get off your duff, mister, and give aid and support to the boys folks on the front lines. We’re all in this together. Again.


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It’s Already Happened Here

The world ends not with a whimper, nor with a bang, but with a mispronounced German slur shouted by a yokel over a Backstreet Boy song.

L├╝genpresse, it will not shock you to learn, is a German word: it has an umlaut, and umlaut itself is a German word, which means l├╝genpresse is a German word containing another German word. It’s like a Russian nesting doll, but German. It means “lying press,” denotatively. The connotation is a whole ‘nother thing, you’ve probably guessed.

Maybe the guy in the hat was raised in a German-speaking household, and was innocently sharing some of his culture with his new friend. Perhaps the two men are fans of Angela Merkel’s Christian Democrats and their cautious progressivism. Could be they recognized one of the reporters from De Bild and wanted the reporter to know what they thought of him, even if he didn’t speak English.

Lot of reasons come to mind.

I’m overreacting. Blowing things out of proportion, like I tend to. This is America.


So’s this. Forty-Ninth and Eighth, to be exact. (This is the old Madison Square Garden, which was a mile-and-a-half north of the current one.) 2/20/39: terrible show. Sold out, and though George Washington is on the poster, a man named Fritz Kuhn was at the podium; he was the leader of the American Nazi Party. Nazis sold out the Garden, which was on Forty-Ninth and Eighth, which is in New York City, which is in America.

They had a blast that night, the Nazis, doing Nazi things and saying Nazi stuff. It was a fun night out, at least until it was time to go home. Men were waiting by the exits. Men who do not exist any more in any form, men with no foreskins and broken noses, men with names like Abe “Kid Twist” Reles and Longy Zwillman and Jacob “Gurrah” Shapiro and Louis “Lepke” Buchalter were waiting at the exits. That’s my favorite part of the story, but to linger on it too long is to forget that a couple dozen Jews is less than fifteen thousand Nazis. Sold out the Garden.

To check if there’s gas in the mine, you ask a canary.

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