Why do monsters make such good writers?

Did any of you know that most of the 20th-century monsters — Stalin, Mao, Hitler, Ceausescu, Duvalier, and even the Ethiopian mini-Napoleon Mengistu — were rather good writers who could form better than average sentences that said that power grows out of the barrel of a gun? I read this in a Big Bagel weekly that was once known for its wit, but is now so blinded by hatred for the Donald that it has turned into a rag, surpassed in venom only by the New York Times and CNN.

I knew that Mussolini was a scribbler of note because he wrote the editorials of his newspaper Il Popolo d’Italia before he took power. ‘Inequality and discipline, these are the substitutes for the cries of Equality and Liberty,’ wrote Il Duce. That’s telling them, Benito, them being those American Times hacks such as the lachrymose Roger Cohen and the lugubrious Paul Krugman, who as I write are undergoing non-stop colonoscopies in order to cleanse their brains of depression following the British election. Professor Klinghoffer, who is administering the procedure in his Austrian clinic, told me that the more he studies the Cohen-Krugman grey matter, the closer he’s getting to proving his theory that only people who have shit for brains can work for the New York Times.

Mind you, one never knows why some people write well and others, like those men and women at the New York Times, bludgeon sentences. I suppose that hatred for the Orange Man clouds their noggins. And how come a monster such as Stalin could write like the proverbial dream? Hitler put down ‘writer’ as his occupation while starving and unemployed in Vienna. Other dictators, Franco and Salazar, kept their scribbling to a minimum. But I am still amazed that Stalin loved books and plays as well as befriending playwrights and offering valid criticisms to prominent writers.