This next flash fiction is what I think of as a story ‘by inference’, where the narrative isn’t in the text itself but in the implications of the text. It was inspired by the idea that great events, even those of a global magnitude, can be the result of small incidents, and that unintended slights can have consequences never imagined by those who cause them.
Or something like that.
Some of the time I think the world would be a much better place if Hitler had been a successful artist instead of a dictator, but most of the time I believe if it hadn’t been him then it would have been some other shithead – we never seem to lack for pretexts/reasons to screw each other over and the bogeymen like Hitler, Stalin and all the others are just the embodiment of that will to destruction.
Either way, I hope none of the people I’ve given negative reviews to over the years ever give up on writing and go into politics.
H is for HOLOCAUST THEORY
The recent exhibition of new talent at the Amhalt Gallery was perhaps the most dismal show I have ever had the displeasure of viewing. If this sad sampling of amateur work in our area is a glimpse at the future of national aesthetics, then the German soul is in perilous health.
While most of the work on display was merely mediocre, the three canvasses exhibited by a young artist called Adolf Hitler plumbed new depths of banality. I use the word artist lightly; Herr Hitler offers no sign of deserving that honourable appellation. His work shows no eye for colour, no sense of space, no flair or imagination. In all my years as a critic I have never before seen anything so utterly devoid of merit, empty of feeling and soul. What we are witnessing is a triumph of the dull.
In the exhibition notes Herr Hitler boasts that he makes his living by painting postcards for tourists, but I fear even that must place too great a demand on his talent. He should seek employment of another kind, for he will never be an artist.
Isaac Rabinowitz – The Jewish Chronicle
Trumpetville 