Imagine, a cold dreary day in Berlin, April, 1945. An aspiring hand model named Adolph Hitler has had a skin cream campaign spiral out of control. The Soviets, who have tired of his decadence and Jew killing (long story), are banging on the door (metaphorically) and want very much to set him on fire. Nickolas “Squeaky” Davatzes, a failed song and dance man, is drinking away his troubles in a downtown cafe, sipping an herbal gin & tonic, wondering where life will take him. At this point, his choices are between going home, where he has inherited a cable television station from a deranged, time-traveling father, or putting on his Harry S. Truman skin suit to retire to a life of luxury as the V.P. of the U.S. of A., never having to work again as long as the virile FDR stays healthy. While pondering his predicament, a bedraggled Meth head stumbles up, asking if he can borrow any SS troops he might have to spare.

“Why, You’re that old boy Hitler, ain’tcha?” Says a visible aroused Squeaky.
“Ich spreche nicht Englisch!” Hitler responds, confused as to why he left the relative safety of his underground bunker/modeling studio.

Luckily, Squeaky had an English to German translator and quickly ascertained as to what this crazed kraut was shouting about. Through the aid of talking very loudly and slowly, they both soon came to realize that they could help each other. Squeaky agreed to provide free commercial air-time to Siemens, A small hand lotion factory run by Hitlers cousin Carl, in exchange to be allowed to use Hitlers likeness on his station. Hastily signing the contract (there were, after all, incredibly pissed Ruskies trying to hoist him on their petards) Hitler then went back to his underground bunker, certain that things would work out. Of course, as we all know, he was promptly stabbed dead by a deranged hand-model groupie named Eva Braun, later immortalized in the form of an electric shaver.

Squeaky, deciding that the absolute center of WWII was not where he wanted to spend the rest of his spring break, returned home and promptly got about the business of setting up his cable station to play reruns of Hitlers commercials spliced with his routine. Fifty years later, he managed to put together a full 24 hours of content, and has been broadcasting it ever since.

And that’s where the History Channel comes from.