Every day in history is like a snowflake from heaven’s snowflake garden. It’s unique and it is fragile. Put it in your brain before it melts. This is what happened on July 18, 1935…
This is the day that history’s most disgruntled artist joined the ranks of Tolstoy, William Faulkner and Beverly Cleary as a published author. That’s great Adolf Hitler can get published but my 300,000 word novel about a boy wizard who is friends with four girls that share the same pair of pants while befriending a talking lion remains unread by the public. Life is just perfect.
Mein Kempf (translation – My Struggle) will never be confused with poetic prose. History cannot deny the book connected with its intended audience (white Germans). It spoke to the portion of the general public that felt betrayed by the rest of the world after war reparations for losing War World I and thought the Weimar Republic was a joke. Let’s get a taste:
There must be no majority decisions, but only responsible persons, and the word ‘council’ must be restored to its original meaning. Surely every man will have advisers by his side, but the decision will be made by one man – Adolf Hitler, Mein Kempf
Sounds rational and reasonable let the appeasing begin! This Hitler fellow goes onto blame the Jews for a few things here and there and suggested that Slavic people should be enslaved and taught enough German to do menial work. Hitler went onto become chancellor of Germany and tried to win his own personal game of Risk against the rest of the world. Spoiler alert, he lost (because everyone knows in Risk you need to start with Australia or South America first- then the bigger continents).