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28 January 2011

There Are No Scared Cows at a Picnic with Hitler

     Wait a tick.  Didn't you mean "sacred cows?"
     No.  I meant cattle who are afraid.  You know, terrified bovines.  I've seen fearful canines, felines, even equines, but there are no scared cows, even in the company of the Duke of Depravity.
     One morning, several sunrises ago, I awoke with bits and pieces of a dream I'd been having, involving a social function where people were milling about the grounds of a large edifice, some institution with lots of columns and porticoes - like a school or a church - and vast open lawns.
     I, too, was strolling about with a group of five or six people, engaged in easy conversation, enjoying the perfect weather and fading sunlight.  Among us was one Mr. Adolf Hitler - yes, THAT Adolf Hitler, complete with goofy little cookie-duster mustache and Nazi garb - and we seemed to be giving him a tour of the grounds.  In the dream, I kept wondering why no one was addressing the "elephant in the room." so to speak.  Aware of a bit of history, I kept thinking, "C'mon, people, this is Adolf Hitler, the fascist responsible for murdering millions of innocents, the genocidal sociopath with ambitions of world conquest, remember?
     When I finally gathered the courage to whisper my concerns privately to individual members of the group, the responses were surprisingly uniform.  "Ah, lighten up, man, that was more than six decades ago, a different century.  Give the guy a break.  I'm sure he's sorry and he's moved on, probably did some work and got in touch with his character defects.  We all make mistakes.  We just have to move forward and get on with our lives."
     I didn't know what to think.  Now we were spreading out a blanket and commencing to break bread with the Fuhrer, the master of malevolence.  A pariah picnic?  I mean, where's Vlad the Impaler, Nero, Pol Pot, Joseph Stalin?
    Fortunately, I woke up.  Dreams are weird.