Dear Herr Campbell,
I thought I would send you this letter, letting you know my thoughts and considerations on the matter of your son, one Adolf Hitler Campbell (we will get to your daughters JoyceLynn Aryan Nation and Honszlynn later). I read the news story about the cake you were so unjustly denied, simply because you chose to honor your questionably ethical heritage by naming your son after a vicious dictator who committed acts of genocide, using propoganda to convince an entire nation that what they were doing was just.
I’ll be honest, Heath. Can I call you Heath? Anyway, Heath, I honestly didn’t really believe the story when I read it. It’s not that I couldn’t believe those awful fascists at the cake shop wouldn’t scrawl “Happy Birthday Adolf Hitler (Campbell)!” in candles and icing across a sugary baked delight. It’s that I couldn’t believe what the fuck you named your kids. I just can’t believe what an idiot you are.
Don’t take this the wrong way, Heath, but you’re a fucking moron. So is your wife. Calm down, I’m not trying to rub you the wrong way, but let’s examine the situation.
Now, you say you are not racist. You’re just German, and you crazy Germans loved to acknowledge your heritage by naming your kids after wacky dictators and other black marks on European history.
The Campbell family having some ethnic guests over for dinner. Clearly not racist.
I hate to tell you this, Heath, but all the other German immigrants are on to you. They, like you, learned early on that the best way to beat American kids at checkers is to just confidently bend (see: break) all the rules, and when you’re called on it, say you’re playing German checkers. What I’m saying is, in a roundabout way, bullshit.
German checkers: exactly the fucking same.
And of course, there’s the daughters. Aryan-fucking-Nation – how do you explain that one, Heath? That’s not even a name. It’s just an excessively violent fraternity with a shitty website. And the other one, named after Himmler. Hitler makes sense, I guess – hey, he was in charge, he just did a shitty job, like naming your child after George W. Bush. But Himmler wasn’t even the boss. It’s more like making J. Edgar Hoover your kid’s name sake. Who does that?
Last known picture of J. Edgar Hoover.
But what’s really ridiculous about all of this, Heath, is that you’re fucking surprised when a store that decorates cakes for people’s weddings and birthdays tells you to goose-step the hell outta town. You know, I can accept that you’re a racist neanderthal, but you’ve got to expect people to treat you that way when you name your kid after a genocidal dictator.
So, to summarize, what I’m trying to tell you is that this is America, Heath. You can feel free to name your kids whatever you want, but you’d better expect someone to say fuck you.
And Heath, I know some of this is rough to read and it gets pretty personal, but there’s no hard feelings, I hope. I’m not trying to embarrass you with your stupidity, and that’s why I’m writing this as a personal letter between colleagues.
p.s. Oh. I’m also going to post it on the Internet.