The Art of the Racist Joke — by Adolf Hitler

Most people only know me for my all-business side, but I’m actually a really funny guy. I love jokes, but even I understand that humor has its boundaries. You can’t just blurt out a racist joke without thinking about the people you might offend.

It is indeed sometimes hard to know where to draw the line between hilarious and hurtful. That’s why I have created my very own guidelines for the racist joke.

1) Target Jokes Towards the Inferior Races.
It goes without saying that some races are superior to others. If you want to be funny, you should never make a joke about the Aryans, for they are the flawless creed. Instead, make jokes about the grimier peoples that are more fun to laugh at (i.e. jews, gays, gypsies.)

2) Never make a joke about the Holocaust.
The Holocaust is no laughing matter; it is the greatest thing ever to happen to the Western hemisphere. To reduce it to a joke would be shameful.

3) With practical jokes, go big or go home.
Oftentimes, subtlety is lost on an audience. In one of the proudest moments in my comedy career, I lead a racial cleansing of Europe that killed 6 million people. But to ensure that people got the joke, I had to strike a very delicate balance. I decided that 6 million was the perfect number; just big enough to get people’s attention, however ironically merciful. (Ha! I mean why should anyone show mercy towards the jews?)

4) Know when to stop.
Exit with grace. Go out with a bang.

Finals Week

Hey Will,
What gives?
You sold me crummy pills.
I’ve got two papers due tomorrow
That I haven’t started still.
I heard this stuff’s the bomb
To get your focus on.
Why else would they pump pre-teens
With isomers of methamphetamine?

But I’ve made six trips to Lowe’s today
And my hair is turning gray.
I can’t find anything in the shed
‘Cept a Tom Clancy novel I’ve already read.
And I can’t stop humming the Grateful Dead
While visions of grill scrubbers dance through my head.

What’s that, you say? You sold me DADderal?
Well, now it all makes sense.
I think I’ll go and comb my ‘stache
And build a picket fence.