There’s No Need to Kill Babies to Kill Baby Hitler
Well, it didn’t take long. John Battelle said that 2016 would be a breakout year for Medium and this week Medium has given birth to a new “thing”; the longform meme. You can watch the evolution of the killing baby Hitler longform meme by following this clickstream: You Can’t Kill Hitler > Adolph Hitler: Time Jacker > You Probably Can’t Kill Baby Hitler . Now, I know, you might call that “a series of posts” or “a conversation”, but that’s because you lack marketing savvy. Why call something what it is when you can call it something new and make it a “thing”? Not new, you say? Killing Hitler is not new? Well, before you go telling me all about the long history of killing Hitler fanfic, how about we work together to copyright the #IKilledBabyHitler hashtag and the term “Longform Meme”? I’ve already got a Baby Hitler© keychain priting on my 3D printer.
My Contribution to the Genre Is As Follows
Of course you can kill baby Hitler, Robbie Pickard, but it would take some planning.
First, I would use Google translate to memorize the phrase “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hitler” (Guten Abend, Herr und Frau Hitler) Then I would buy a good translation app for my iPhone that would allow me to speak some of the following phrases:
- I know you, Alois and Klara, but you don’t know me. I am from the planet Zenon.
- Yes, this is a gun. It is loaded and if you scream I will incinerate you.
- No, I don’t want anything to eat.
- OK, I’ll have half a slice of torte.
- I know this isn’t funny, I’m just laughing at the sound of the German language.
- What year is it, 1890? My advice would be to invest in AT&T
- It’s OK if the baby cries. Really, you are the only two in history who care if that fucking baby cries.
Once I had these phrases nailed down, I would go out and buy a wet-suit like this one:
And a straw boater like this:
And, just for kicks, I would put a swastika on the hat because I’m going to 1890 so all that Nazi imagery doesn’t mean anything. It’s ironic, no? No? Come on, it would be kind of funny to abduct baby Hitler wearing some debased Nazi imagery, wouldn’t it? No? OK, I’ll move on.
The Time Jump
After a few more preparations… like I would bring tissues and throat lozenges… I would climb into the time machine and dial up 1890.
Now, contrary to what Robbie says, it would be really easy to find young Adolph’s house. The address is in Wikipedia. This is the joint we’re looking for:
Now, I may not be the best athlete, but I think I could climb through those first story windows. You can’t say that the Time Machine can’t put me where I want because at the very least all I have to do is set up the time machine IN THE HOUSE TODAY and then make the jump. Sure, it might be expensive to ship the Time Machine to Austria and truck it to Hitler’s house, but, come on, who isn’t going to help me with that?
After threatening Mr. and Mrs. Hitler and eating whatever modest repast they are able to put out for their Alien guest, I will explain to them the reason for my visit. I will tell them that I am here to abduct… I mean borrow… I mean take… baby Adolph back to planet Zenon with me. I will promise to return him in an hour. This, of course, is a lie. I won’t be coming back to 1890 Austria, and neither is Hitler, but they won’t know that. They’re about to lose a bunch of kids anyway, so this is just the first of a bad run for them, and while I could help by saving some of their other children, instead I’m going to give them:
- A roomba
- A boxer puppy (not yet established, so this is quite a gift)
- Six modern-comfort bras for Frau Hitler
- A bottle of sriracha sauce
- Three slap bracelets and a box of matches
I’m sure they will be thrilled. I will thank them, wrap up baby Adolph, and we will be on our way back to the 21st century.
I will return to New France, for without Germany, France ends up ruling all of North America in the “Fifth Empire” of Napoleon XXXVI. Everyone is smoking and playing soccer. It hasn’t been that much better for Jews, but there is no state of Israel, so most Jews live in Brooklyn. I take the baby to Brooklyn and give him to a reformed family that attends a synagogue run by a gay female rabbi. I am quite certain he won’t grow up to be Adolph Hitler. History has now been corrected.
Still wearing my wet-suit and boater I step back into the time machine and dial up 2025, to cash in my Medium stock.
Yes, world, you’re welcome.