I Am Hitler

I was walking through the clean streets of the tallest, shiniest city I’ve ever seen when I was stopped by a quartet of shapely people in matching uniforms. “Sir,” one said, “would you like to help save the world?”

This was a question I had always wanted to hear. At times I’d actually been training for such a scenario. Would they need me to defuse a bomb? Would I get a uniform, too? How about a cape? I could totally make a cape work.

And then I noticed they were carrying pamphlets, not adamantium shields. Embroidered on each polo were the words “Green Peace”. I wasn’t being invited to join the Justice League. I was being hassled by environmentalists.

I had to look those selfless, statuesque people in the eye and say no, I had no interest in saving the world. The fact that I was in the city for a comic book convention raised the irony to a staggering level. My favorite type of fiction is dedicated to the idea of rescuing the planet, but I wouldn’t even accept their brochure.

There is nothing more interesting than saving the world with an ultimate nullifier or, say, Randy Quaid’s fighter plane. When it comes to something more real, like really saving the real world, the option is much less appealing. I don’t want to chain myself to a tree. Recycling is a bitch. Sure, paradise was cool, but I needed somewhere to park my car.

I suppose this incident was a little reassuring. I would much rather read a comic book about someone in a ridiculous outfit saving the world than join those people in ridiculous outfits and save the world. But I don’t have to. The good news is someone else is already doing that for me.