Was the next journal entry, “We asked the camp commandant when we could leave, return to our homes, see our children again and maybe reopen the shoe store my father founded, and he laughed in my face, hit me with the butt of his rifle, and gloated that being imprisoned against my will for the heinous crime of not being liked by Farty McStupidStache was all a humble shoemaker such as myself ever deserved, and if I wanted to blame someone for my lot, I should take it up with the ancestor who decided to be Jewish three thousand years ago.”?
“At least the guards get a nice pool and orchestra to enjoy while they suffer, watching over emaciated peasants like us. Good for them. Must be nice. Gotta go, we’re having lice soup for supper again.”
“I sure hope that at some point in the future, maybe eighty or so years, that some cartoonist - who should really know better - doesn’t try to trivialize the suffering of innocent people just because they fell down some social media rabbit hole. Or worst, because they enjoy being the center of attention, be it for good or bad, and seek to placate the most horrid sort of people, in the hopes - that should the worst possible outcome come to pass - that they, being of non-white and non-Aryan stock, would be spared the fate that awaits us all under the jackboot. But who would possibly be that stupid, soulless, or corrupt?”