by A. Hitler

Well, it happened again today. I was at the market square getting some bread and some wine- looking over the fresh seafood available from the fisherman who come in every day with the morning catch, when there was an incident of finger-pointing, name calling, and a short scuffle.

I am an old man, just past 100, and I'm afraid I will just never get used to these sort of public scenes. Whatever happened to civility? Whatever happened to manners? Whatever happened to respect for your elders? I tell you, when I was young things were very different!

Look, I'm not saying I've always been the easiest guy to get along with. I'm not saying I'm perfect or that I don't share in a bit of culpability for this and that. My slate may not be clean, but I refuse to take the blame for every little thing that comes down the pike.

I tried to explain to the man that real estate was a long range investment; that there were ways he could get into a comparable place- perhaps in a slightly less desirable location, perhaps a little farther from the beach, but a good place nonetheless. I tried to reason with him- but he was like so many young people today, quick to judge and unwilling to see things from another's viewpoint. In the end I had to have Andre, my personal assistant, encourage him to move along and then I went back to my quiet afternoon of reading- a bit shaken but really no worse for the wear.

Investments are a tricky subject these days. People are just starting to realize that they need to start planning well before retirement if they expect to keep a standard of living comparable to what they have grown accustomed to. I learned this long ago.

This is not to say that I am without my own faults. Oh, I have made my share of mistakes and out-and-out blunders in the past- but I try not to let them get me down.

One morning about fifty-seven years ago, I woke up and wanted something sweet. My live in, Eva, and I had received a toaster from my friend Joseph as a housewarming gift the week before, and with the ingredients I had on hand in the house I made the first batch of pop-tarts known to man. Everyone seemed to like them and they soon became a staple in my social circle. Anyone from that time can tell you where the pop-tart comes from and give the proper credit to me as the creator. It was such a popular snack treat that people were thanking me for it on a daily basis for years afterward, and even granting me higher positions of importance in my work. Let this be a lesson to you young people out there- networking is the best thing you can use in order to get ahead- then, now, and in the future. You do something for someone and then they return the favor. This is the raison d'être of the body politic.

So, I invented the pop-tart. What have I got now to show for it? Memories. Warm Memories. Not to be discounted.

The idea was stolen from me. I get no royalties on the sale of pop-tarts sold anywhere in the world. None.

The final insult occurred a few years ago, when a string of pop-tart related fires destroyed some homes and burnt a few hands. Looking for some quick cash these people contacted a lawyer and came after ME.
The point of this matter is: Hey, if you aren't going to give a man the credit he deserves for his life's work, then don't try to shackle him with the blame!

Now, Toaster Strudel, on the other hand, has been very, very good to me.

"Local man invents pastry - the people rejoice"