I don't care how long and hard you study pre-WWII Nazi Germany. Indeed, it seems that the more you learn about Hitler, the more you try to understand--for months on end, reading a large volume on him, listening to lectures, taking notes--the more you know, the more absurd it is.

The more horrible it seems, when, in a sick realization, you notice that the gleam of metal on the lapel of an old woman in the deli you went to for your lunch break is actually a swastika.

I wanted to vomit. I didn't really believe it at first. I thought, at first, I was hallucinating. Then I hoped it was the Asiatic symbol, in the pure. But it wasn't--the arms were going that way. I pointed it out to my friend. She was just as disgusted.

She went to Idaho to go skiing, once. Passing through a small town, her brother told her to keep close on all accounts. The town was small, pure Aryan stock, or at least was trying to accomplish such, and the fear that someone--anyone--would realize that she was quarter Korean was great.

I'm Irish, but my complexion is the dark variant--deep red curly hair, dark eyes, and a large nose to boot--just their stereotype. I'm also carrying a card for the communist party. I'm also a member of the Southern Poverty Law Center, an institution threatened by these... things... daily.

What was truly sickening was that no one else seemed to notice. No one. And, looking about, we realized that everyone was older, white. No Asians, no hispanics--rare in our area, to tell the truth. I hope that was a fluke for that day. And it's possible that the woman was from out of town. Our area is increasingly metropolitan--wouldn't these monsters be fleeing? How could they own an establishment?

All the same, the waitress serving the old woman didn't blink.

All the same, we left early, left a measly tip, and swore to one another never to return.