Excerpt
From
A Hundred Little Hitlers :
The home to which Kenneth Mieske returned the night of the killing is a low-ceilinged, pine-veneered basement he shares with Julie Belec in her mother and stepfather's house in a blue-collar area of southwest Portland. A collection of anti-black and antisemitic posters, leaflets, and fliers nearly covers one wall. Some, like the drawing of a microwave with the slogan "Jew Dwarfs! There is an oven in YOUR future," are standard issue in Ken and Julie's circle, but others reflect more of an individual search. On a table by the bed are a few well-thumbed books about their favorite Nazis-Mengele, his and Speer, hers. There is a swastika made of gum wrappers. Gory posters for Ken's own band, Machine, and the well-framed group photographs of East Side White Pride confirm that Ken and Julie are not outsiders to this world, children plastering their bedrooms with posters of stars they will never meet: they are members of it, they are in it, it is their world.