Throughout the years, myriad trivial attempts have been made to encapsulate the essence of my being, often misguidedly and without true comprehension. I am here before you to illuminate some of these misconceptions. In my earlier pursuits, I was driven by an insatiable curiosity to explore the minds of monsters, seeking to unravel their complexities. Fortuitously, I found myself ensnared by a singular focus on Adolf Hitler, having previously succumbed to a form of ideological manipulation due to numerous lies about him. However, I came to realize that Adolf Hitler was, in truth, a radiant figure—a luminary amidst shadows. My lifelong quest to comprehend monstrosity led me to examine him, only to discover that he was not a monster at all. This epiphany charted a distinct course for my journey.

There once existed a man who embodied profound empathy, overflowing love for his Germany, and deep admiration for many Europeans. Yet he was acutely aware of a singular, inconsequential adversary—one that, while numerically significant, was devoid of worth in isolation. This breed, when solitary, amounts to little more than echoes of humanity—men less than men, women less than women. Yet, when united, they possess an innate propensity to coalesce, to pursue common objectives. Adolf Hitler's mission, naturally, was to counter these foes by amassing numbers in response, a strategy that proved fleetingly effective—a mere glimpse of a beautiful dream, ultimately rendered ineffectual in the grand tapestry of existence. The utopian vision of a thousand-year Reich crumbled with his demise, for he, like us, was but a grain of sand on the shore, destined to fade into whispers on the wind.

He was the sole non-monster that piqued my interest. The only man I could ever hold in esteem. Previously, driven by an inexplicable urge—a yearning to decipher the inner workings of their minds—I sought to intellectually engage only with the monsters. My formative career aspirations were influenced by this intrigue. In the realm of fictional monstrosities, probing their capabilities seemed an elusive endeavor. To be engulfed in flames by enraged neighborhood parents of Elm Street? To find oneself imprisoned and institutionalized as a child from Haddonfield? Absurd notions. Thus, I gravitated toward more plausible fictional avenues. Forensics? A blood spatter analyst? Hardly. In my jurisdiction, enlisting in the police force was a prerequisite, akin to crushing an onion with a dull object. Psychiatry, reminiscent of one of the most disturbing fictional monsters? Beyond dissecting the mental states of strangers, there lay little opportunity to fathom understanding of the anatomy that would result in comprehending such a monstrosity. I traversed the rigors of medical school, endured a residency within the mercenary frameworks of corporate entities that peddle Big Pharma, such medicines exacerbating the plight of those seeking solace from their afflictions.

And here I stand now. I have borne witness to recorded horrors—cats, kittens, baby monkeys—all subjected to torment and death. The individual who reveled in these abominations? A Jew known as Totencord. En masse, Jews deceive and yearn for the belief that they possess superior intellect, when, in fact, they do not. Totencord is utterly oblivious to the magnitude of his errors concerning his meddling. Not even if I were to distill my observations into numbered points would that fool grasp the gravity of this: The act of disseminating animal torture videos while exposing himself as from Israel. One must ponder, does Totencord comprehend that he is offering these services to Israelis free of charge? Appendectomy, cholecystectomy, cystectomy, enucleation, gastrectomy, hysterectomy, laryngectomy, lobectomy, nephrectomy, orchiectomy, pancreatectomy, pneumonectomy, or splenectomy—selected at random, of course. As random as those numerically significant but isolationarily worthless Israelis would be. Duel citizenship. A boon for them right now. A curse in due course.