Both men were highly narcissistic, believing in themselves above all else. Both men shared strong gesture skills and could “manage” a crowd. Trump limps into the big arena a little by comparison in that category column. Hitler failed in pre-life, so the areas are balanced there.
There is a hanging sadness like a wilted houseplant in this so-common terrestrial lust for power. Terrorized by life, it so seems. Pushed. Broken in the heart, chewing steak like Cypher in the Matrix, they want to re-awaken as the paradise-dwellin’ Avatar in the Cameron films, but the haters keep draggin’ draggin’ draggin’ back on them . . .
I will write more about Trump before he meets his end, or burns his image on the side of history’s cattle . . . or cattle cars.
Dear Jeffrey Dahmer,
You were the cannibal mass murderer of a nondescript apartment unit. Wherever you are now, do you regret most your choice of diet or your selection of victims?
It must be galling to have been captured by the Keystone Kops of the TwenCen. They were slow to act but eventually they got you. At least you rank high up in the record books. A reverse Bible would have a chapter devoted to you, as Lucifer struggles to keep the foot soldiers in line with fearful stories of real-life Mundane World examples.
Your death by physical beating (another inmate got to you) is a shocking example of a lack of prison surveillance coverage. But no one laments it. It is sad when our systems we run our lives by wither on the vine of disrepair because of incidents like this — things no one regrets, so no one fixes the underlying rusty system. It might be a computer system. It could be the long tail of a logistics branch. Something. Anything. Whatever, the system begs to be upgraded. Prison should be a safe place where all the inmates are made to wear dresses.
The TwenCen, Jeff (may I call you Jeff? thank you), was a backdrop of mass murder. In a small way, you were a prism focusing the light from all those mass killings, and putting it in a ring on your finger, the size of that.
Developing the vibe-echo chamber must have taken time, to shuck off your traditional Western cultural habits. But in the end you reveled in your freedom to act. It must have been shocking to your victims to have you suddenly turn on them. You acted like a cobra, didn’t you, a viper.
As a snake you were unbounded. Then you fed well. I’xx have a feeling that well into the future we are going to feature more nuanced examples of copies of you; based on a more balanced Human Continuum of Events, they will act with subtlety and a human will kept in balance . . .