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by whadmin

2. Aerial Photos – do not corroborate the tales

February 26, 2021 in Holocaust Stories, Normie Challenge List

2. Aerial Photos – do not corroborate the tales

The Allies flew constant, round-the-clock aerial, photographic, reconnaissance flights.

Tens of thousands photos were thus taken, not just assessing bombing damage. But also looking for minute traces of military activity, concealed manufacturing facilities, underground storage bunkers, pipe lines, conduits, electrical supply systems, etc, etc.  An entire army of technicians were employed, meticulously going over every photo, literally with a magnifying glass. No traces of all the many, off-the-Holocaust-wall, tall tales were ever found. Jews lie. On an epic, grand scale. Nobody lies with such wounded, shrill hurt and anguish, as the Jew. The Holocaust ‘Survivor Stories’, carefully stage managed by the well funded US Holocaust Museums, are pushed on the ever-gullible American public with all the massive tax dollar support they can possibly muster. On a daily basis.Good-hearted, compassionate, often sincerely devout, God-fearing Americans?  Just lap it up. Can’t get enough of it.  Oh, those poor Jews!

There is just one problem:  there are NO aerial reconnaissance overflight photos to support this heart-rending, tear-gushing narrative. If there were? You can rest assured they would long since have been produced, framed, blown up, celebrated, and carried around in triumphant Talmudic procession. Holy relics. All bow!

And we are NOT talking about concealed pipe lines. Hard-to-see, subtle clues of underground bunkers. Two foot wide and twenty foot long. Hell, no.  No, we are talking about, supposedly MASSIVE open air funeral pyres. Tens of thousands of bodies being buried, day and night, for weeks and months on end, in massive communal graves, that would have had to stretch over DOZENS of ACRES. Then, depending on which Holocaust survivor story you like, which flavor, they were all (hey-ho) dug up again, burned, and the remains buried again. WITHOUT A SINGLE AERIAL PHOTO. It’s hardly something you can manage quickly overnight, on a tennis court-size plot. And human bodies do NOT burn easily. Just ask MODERN crematorium designers. There are stories out there that once you light a few, well, just chuck the rest on, and it all burns up nicely, thank you. That’s just another absurd lie, these supposed eye-witness people who tell this Holocaust garbage were not there, and their descriptions of events are scientifically impossible. Laughably so. You would need a VAST amount of coke to support such a body burning caper, and the documented consumption of coke supplies was NO DIFFERENT between all camps. In other words, camps in the West, liberated by the Western Allies (where NO homicidal gas chambers were found) used the same amount of coke as the so-called Death camps, which, (coincidentally, of course) were only found by those nice Bolsheviks.

NO AERIAL PHOTOS.  NONE.   Fancy that.

 

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by whadmin

1. Red Cross Records

February 26, 2021 in Normie Challenge List

Main Index – Click HERE

1. International Committee of the Red Cross Records:

‘Cigpapers’ writes:
The International Red Cross was stationed in ALL German labour, internment, concentration and prison camps throughout World War Two.

The Red Cross were never given access to any Russian camps before, during or after World War Two.

At his trials in Canada, during the 1980s and 1990s, Professor Ernst Zundel finally got the Red Cross to release their records from the German camps despite strong Israeli objections. The  Red Cross records seem to suggest that there were no gas chambers, and a total of 271,301 died during World War Two in these camps, mostly from typhus.

In a letter to the US State Department dated November 22nd 1944 The Red Cross, who were stationed in all the camps, stated :

“We have not been able to discover any trace of installations for exterminating civilian prisoners.”

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

________________________________________________________________________

Oikophobia asked this question:

@davidnicholson @FrancisMeyrick is the Red Cross an unbiased source? tbf, some people claim that The Red Cross can’t count.

“Report of the International Committee of the Red Cross on its activities during the second world war (September 1, 1939 – June 30, 1947), Volumes 1 – 3 (complete)”

Click HERE

That report covers 323 pages.

_________________________________________________________________________

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 29, 2021, 8:08 pm

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by whadmin

Holocaust Normie Challenge List

February 25, 2021 in Holocaust Stories, Normie Challenge List

Main Index – Click HERE

HOLOCAUST STICKING POINTS

THE HOLOCAUST NORMIE CHALLENGE LIST a.k.a. ‘Holocaust sticking points’

If YOU, my friend, see yourself as a calm, rational, open-minded normie, intelligently inquiring as to what the fuss is about over what you always assumed to be TRUE, i.e. the Holocaust and the ‘six million Jews gassed’, then I warmly applaud your open mind, and I respectfully submit TWO things for you.

A) a LIST of troubling issues, for you to peruse, that undermine the imposed narrative

B) a source, that painstakingly goes down EACH of those issues, one-at-a-time

What-you-waiting-for, bud? We just can’t chew it any finer for you. Now it’s up to yoo-hoo.

A)

1. Red Cross Records showing only 272,301 died in these camps.

The International Red Cross was allowed OPEN ACCESS to ALL German labor camps. There is considerable documentation relating to that, and, in particular, the Red Cross monitored DEATHS, from All Causes. This documentation completely opposes the claimed ‘six million Jews gassed’.




Further reading? Click HERE. Suggested ‘Dinner Party’ Approach: Click HERE


2. US Air Force aerial photos of camps show NO evidence of extermination & atrocities

It is important to note that the US Air Force routinely conducted low-level photo sorties over the camps. And noted no evidence of mass killings, or mass burying of bodies.

Further Reading? Click HERE.

3. Western Allies never liberated ANY death camps with (homicidal) gas chambers

Amazingly, they were ALL found by the totally unbiased Russians. Who had NOTHING to hide.

Much.

Further Reading? Click HERE.

4. The ‘Leuchter Report’ by the world’s foremost expert on gas chambers.

Further Reading? Click HERE.

5. British code-crackers were able to monitor concentration camp deaths. And causes.

Further Reading? Click HERE.

6. French Resistance denied the Holocaust

Paul Rassinier, leader in the French Resistance, novelist, spent 19 months in German (alleged) Death Camps. You’d think he’d maybe know a bit about them. He denies the ‘Homicidal Gas Chamber’ fabrication.

Further Reading? Click HERE

7. Previous False claim of German gas chambers in WW1

Same old, same old. ‘They’ spun the same German ‘gas chamber’ myth during WW1.

Further Reading? Click HERE.

8. Amounts of Zyklon-B used at camps; no difference in quantity used between ALL camps

Zyklon-B was the trade name for of a cyanide-based pesticide invented in the early 1920s. It was used in Germany, before and during the Second World War, for disinfection and pest extermination in ships, buildings and machinery.

Further Reading? Click HERE.



9. Nuremburg Trials: a Jew-led farce, soap, shrunken heads & lamp shades. And TORTURE.
Further Reading?  Click HERE.

10. Disposal of bodies; crematorium capabilities, and the absurdly -wildly- impossible
Further Reading? Click HERE.

11. Liberation film of Belsen concentration camp is MISLEADING. Deaths due TYPHUS.
Further Reading?  Click HERE

12. No film or photographs of any gas chambers!
Further Reading? Click HERE

13. Winston Churchill, Ike Eisenhower, Charles de Gaulle, ALL never mentioned the Holocaust in their massive memoirs
Further Reading?  Click HERE

14. ‘star witness’ Elie Wiesel. Ha! A poor liar. Nobel prize my elbow.

Further Reading?  Click HERE

15. Fake photos & film, and the ever changing NUMBERS DOWN, but still total of 6 million??

15-1.  Fake Photos & Film; cutting edge technology at the time, now easily debunked

Further Reading? Click https://newwritersharbor.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=27161

15-2.  The ever changing component NUMBERS going DOWN; but still (amazing abacus) total ‘six million’

Further Reading? Click HERE

16-1. Balfour declaration, WW1, and… six million Jews! What, already in 1914?? Premonition? Magic? A holy number?

    Part 1: “6 million, 6 gorillion, 6 trillion, woe-woe-woe-is-me!”

Further Reading?  Click HERE


16-2. Balfour Declaration, WW1

    Part 2: Balfour Declaration, Jews switching sides, the Kaiser’s 1916 Peace proposal


Further Reading? Click HERE

17. Holocaust Denial Laws, and persecution for…. the asking of BASIC Questions??

Further Reading?  Click HERE

18. The Main Stream Media And The Alleged Holocaust

     The ‘truth-seeker’ Gathering & Presentation of News – or a blatant ‘truth-PERVERTING’

     propaganda tool

     Further Reading?  Click HERE


19) There’s No Business like Shoah Business.

    Center stage:  The Great Shekel Shakedown
    Further Reading? Click HERE

20) Census figures of Jews, including from JEWISH own sources! Contradict the six million.

21) Inmate facilities at Auschwitz; NOT what you might think, if you dig deeper.

22) Jewish Kabbalah Mysticism, and their obsessive manipulation of the Holocaust’s ‘Six Million’

     Further Reading?  Click HERE

B) Source of 1-21: Cigpapers     https://cigpapers.blog/2013/11/16/holocaust-or-holohoax-21-amazing-facts/

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



31)  Use of Ground Penetration Radar at Treblinka


Return to HolocaustGAB.com?  


Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 29, 2021, 10:24 am

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by whadmin

Welcome to HolocaustGAB

February 25, 2021 in HolocaustGAB

Main Index – Click HERE

Welcome to www.HolocaustGab.com…!

Introduction

1.  Bless us. Few subjects are more prone to singular unpleasantness, than the 'Holocaust'. Not to mention hate, vitriol, even violence and physical bullying. Not to also mention persecution, prosecution, and imprisonment.
It appears almost impossible to have a calm, rational discussion. To simply look at all the different areas of contention, the so-called 'sticking points', and examine each claim on its merits.
That seems to me an awful pity.

2.  I therefore am trying to facilitate a more rational, calm, objective approach. Less heat and passion. More research, the weighing of facts, and the careful scrutiny of eye witness statements, the ubiquitous 'Holocaust survivor stories'. This latter category has, regrettably, been the subject of endless revelations of fraud and systematic, orchestrated lies.

3. In many ways, what follows are my personal study notes. What I have been slowly learning as I go along. I am absolutely NO expert. Just another small bear, trying to figure out this odd, but very interesting, experience we call 'Life'. I share these notes with you, gladly, not as the work of genius, authority, or insight. Rather, just another simple human, not terribly bright, put-puttering along, trying his sincere best to understand.

4.  I spent many years, several decades, never seriously questioning the Holocaust. I believed that it was an established fact that 'six million Jews' perished. I thought that people who questioned that, never mind the deniers, were low IQ, emotionally deranged perverts. Nasty critters. I started researching the Holocaust the better to be able to refute the arguments of those pesky deniers.

Oopsie. Look where that led me.

5.  The result of my own long journey from the assumption of my righteousness, via 'Oops!', to 'WTF!?' to eyes-slowly-opening?  Is that I have every sympathy with folk who become indignant with me.  Call me names. Who will rail against me on GAB.  Yup, I understand your feelings. I've been there, too.
( “Now, Missus, will you take a moment and look at this f-a-c-t? This historical detail? And this one? This scientific report? And this one? Please? “)  

6. We have a Holocaust Discussion group on GAB, see [url=https://gab.com/groups/2412[/url]
There are several technical problems there. Apart from wondering how long the 'establishment' will even allow GAB to continue to exist, the fact is that posts appear sequentially. It's practically impossible to find an older post, as you have to dig back through dozens or hundreds of other posts to find what you are looking for. The result? We lose information, and we also go round in circles. Meaning, yes, we actually DID discuss that exact same topic a while ago. However?  It's impossible to quickly refer people back to that discussion. Basically, if you like, because it's gotten jolly well buried.

7. Holocaust sticking points.
Assigning identification numbers to issues is a start. Then archiving those 'sticking points' in an easily accessible format is next. The numbering is not in order of importance.

8. Objectivity
It is quite natural for people to infer bias. Mine. I have been wondering how to address that. I honestly don't know. All I can do is to be sure to include reasoned, abuse-free arguments that wish to point out that I'm wrong. Silly. Uninformed. Or even ugly. I shall try very hard to encourage dissent. With the sheer volume of posts on GAB, I obviously can't include them all. But I think we can include plenty of Holocaust defenders' arguments. Some of those are actually really well written, even funny. I kind of enjoy good sarcasm, even if it's directed at me.

9.  Why bother? Why drag up ancient History?
We get that a lot. And there are certain parties who trot out that argument so routinely, that we wonder how much 'they' would LIKE us to 'forget'. We won't. There are several reasons WHY. This is actually a huge discussion in and of itself. I will go into greater length on this later. Suffice it to say that many of us believe the evidence clearly supports these disturbing conclusions:
9A.  A terrible injustice was committed at the Nurnberg Trials. An absolute mockery of 'Justice'. This was simply a lynching party.

9B. A terrible indictment of brutality and cruelty was laid at the feet of the fine German people. These indictments could, much more properly, be laid at the feet of the accusers. Who were guilty of far, far worse.
9C.  Reparations continue to this very day.
9D.  the legacy of the alleged 'six million Jews perished' has been ruthlessly used, and parlayed into a carefully orchestrated 'protected status' for Jews.  Jews are effectively immune from justified criticism. The endless shouts of “Anti-Semitism! ” are meant to shut us up. Coupled to the concept of the 'Nazi'. Basically, anybody who criticizes Jews today? Is a 'Nazi' who shares the guilt of the 'Holocaust'. Psy-ops at its finest.
9E. The astonishing events of January 2021, the COUP of the USA, was carried out at the behest of the SAME clique, who have long milked the 'Holocaust' for every last benefit.
9F.  If you expose the 'Holocaust' for the fraud and extortion scam that we submit it is, then you are also exposing the ruthless mechanics of the SAME clique hard at work today.
This could not be more topical, and relevant to TODAY.

10.  I caution everybody, especially including that arch dufus (moi), that there is a terrible trap that awaits us all. We seem as humans inclined to seek easy virtue, without the hard work. How many people do absolutely minimal research work, on any topic, then arrogantly proclaim themselves not merely correct in their assessment of the issues. No, in addition to that immodest assumption of their own magnificence? They also have to cover themselves, and their in-group, with glory-in-the-face of depravity. Only they are pure, wise, noble and SO morally enlightened. Everybody else? Low, lower, and abysmal. Oh, and by the way? That entitles them to FORCE you to obey them. You punk.

Look at the Talmudic-Democrat totalitarian, one-party state we are crashing headlong into.
I ponder my long journey from Holocaust believer to Holocaust Questioner. And now, tending much more to Holocaust Denier. Yes, bad things happened to the Jews during WW2. But compared with other people?  Other, unsung, MASSIVELY LARGER SCALE tragedies? Not feted by Stephen Spielberg type tearjerker movies? I submit the Jews should shut up. They had an easy ride of it. Plus a VERY unsavory background in ORGANISING and FINANCING so much bloodshed!  
But, again, pondering that long journey of mine? I believe I was terribly wrong, terribly blind, terribly uninformed, all of which made me terribly arrogant. A typical virtue-seeking, morality-posing, pompous ignoramus.

Having made that mistake before? I tell Moggy, my buddy, to occasionally pause, slow down, reflect.
Honest-to-goodness. You ain't that smart, Mister.  
Soyez prudent. Walk softly.
Learn, Mogster, learn. Listen occasionally, don't just TALK.

Fkn Irish…

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 28, 2021, 11:42 am

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by whadmin

Death is a beautiful Lady

May 29, 2020 in Short Story (spiritual quest)

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by whadmin

Luminescent, you

May 11, 2020 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest), My Search for God and Meaning

May 11,2020

Luminescent, you.

It’s funny how you waltzed into my life, so softly.
It was spring, I remember, when I first saw you. I was oiling a gun. I gasped, and held my breath.  I was hoping so, that you would stay with me. Part of me wanted to plead with you, like a shy child. As if was reluctant to admit, that I needed your innocence. That magic aura you spread around, quite oblivious yourself, as to the living, fragile miracle that you are.
Having traveled far, I wondered what you had seen. Experienced. I wondered how cold you had been, how thirsty, how hungry, how lonely, how desperate, even. None of it, though, appeared to have tarnished your grace and beauty. The magic of your delicate entry. You will never know how I stopped, to quietly, surreptitiously, gaze, and marvel, at you.
In the early morning sun, you’re radiant.  Luminescent.  Not just with color. For bursting forth from you, comes ‘Life’. Hope. Joy.

And I, a tinge of bitterness, battling scars that bleed, warring with cynicism, that corrosive acid, that eats away at the soul, I… every time, I draw in my breath, sharply. The way the sun’s rays stroke you. Bath you. Invisible fingers, touching, loving you.  I marvel. At the amazing mind that conceived of you.
I think of how little I know. Always, always, I come back to that vague awareness of inspiring, living Art. Unheard Music. Untasted streams. All around me. Breathing, Dynamic Poetry. Soul refreshing Wonder. That exists, freely available for me to drink in. Slake my thirst.
If only…
I would go, at times, to where those quiet waters flow. And where the patient pines, if only I would learn to listen, whisper a melody. A running of an invisible stream. If only I could learn to be quiet, still, and close my eyes. And see not just pompous Man’s interminable wars and homicidal bitterness, the clash of civilizations, the endless lies and short term greed. Unnatural lust, and sadistic, bestial joy. That willfully, wickedly, demean my race.
If I could only learn to grasp the long hand of Time, the ancient epochs of Tranquility, from which a patient, resilient Universe glances down, in secret amusement at this passing, noisy critter, Man. This pitifully brief, momentary interloper, this windbag puff of noise and strutting vanity. Soon, to be gone. Next second. No loss?
And, in the midst of all that cacophony, arrogance, and futility, you… enter. Like just now. So delicate. In a sense, the supreme trophy in the show case of Life.
Having traveled far, I wonder what you have seen. Experienced. I wonder how cold you have been, how thirsty, how hungry, how lonely, how desperate, even. None of it, though, appears to have tarnished your grace & beauty. The magic of your delicate entry. You will never know how I stopped, put the gun down, to quietly, surreptitiously, gaze, and marvel, at you. I guiltily loved you, then. For I, a Man, cursed, feel ugly.

I confess this, however, my eyes downcast.
Fearful of rejection.

I love you, still.

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by whadmin

Well, my brother. Who do we embrace?

May 7, 2020 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest)

May 7, 2020

Well, my brother. Who do we embrace?

https://off-guardian.org/2020/05/03/death-a-simple-idea-with-a-powerful-punch/

“Thus death, this most potent imaginative idea and reality that doesn't exist except as a mystery about which anything we say is speculation, can be used for good and evil, depending on who controls society.”

1)   I say, simply, that living has a 100% fatality rate. I'm perfectly at ease with that, and, in some fashion, it's comforting. It means I get to take all those sumbich, conniving, predatory, false-hearted sh*t waffles with me, when I finally cop my whack. And all their thieving, plundering, exploitation of other people's trust, naivety, and generosity,  (in the short run of Man's little strut & pose on this planet), won't bring them any lasting advantage. At all. Knickers. Just short term vanity. A tired moth's burp in the hurricane. A dying wasp's wing beat. Their philosophy, (that they are too dumb & brutish to even be able to verbalize),  is as morally shallow as it is pitifully transparent.
“He who dies with the most toys, wins.”
“He who dies with the best binary digital score in the bank's mainframe computer, dies happiest.”
“He who huffs & puffs with the biggest, hardest d*ck, and gets all the wimmin, must be the smartest kid on the block – ENVY HIM++++”

2)  So if we brush off the common, short term, cost-what-cost, dog-devour-dog, backs-are-for-stabbing, then what, pray, is left for a half decent philosophy?
Aha. Now it gets interesting.
I find myself a curious spectator in the peanut gallery,  watching this mass table-tennis tournament being hammered out in front of me. Ideas, philosophies, theologies, assertions, claimed truths, obvious humbug, and transparent, pass-the-plate, shake-down ploys sizzle through the air. Like so many, madly swotted ping-pong balls. It's neat to watch. And throw peanut shells at. It's the earnest, straight-faced, plastic candor that's so funny. A lot of these shallow plonkers really think we hang on their every word.  Egocentric and deluded, they exhibit an un-amazing knack of -tearfully- professing to absolutely believe their own bovine fertilizer.  Our healthy skepticism is a starting point.

After that, I dislike the thought of ANY bast*rd trying to 'control' society, and dictate how we think. Threats of death & damnation, eternal hell fire and no-more-sex, well, tough cheddar, too bad. I remain unmoved. Unimpressed, too. Show me the evidence. Show me the love. Show me your wallet, maybe, too. I don't WANT any of it, but I'd cynically like to know how much YOU made out of your heavenly sh*t.

On the positive side, I do rather like THIS attached meme. I can use it to illustrate my deep respect for that which I maybe strongly sense to be true, but am unwilling to (arrogantly) present to you in a few, conceited paragraphs. Pretending I possess some amazing knowledge , far above yours. For I do not.

Rock on. If you and I are worthy, my brother, I suspect we shall meet again.

Until then?  Easy. Pen or sword, or both, give 'em hell.

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by whadmin

Bound by invisible chains, we dance

May 5, 2020 in My Search for God and Meaning

May 5, 2020

 

Bound by invisible chains, we dance

Being a dull, slow learner, it took me a while for reality to even begin to sink in. I just kind of floated dreamily around before.  Like a lonely, wayward-obstinate slice of carrot, floundering about, slightly forlorn and out-of-place, on top of a thick, perfectly conforming pea soup.
The fact is, we are bound by invisible societal chains. That seek to tie us, in this world, remorselessly, to an obligatory, human-composer-defined program of Rules & Values. That we are required to meekly follow. By Overseers’ decree. Our Societal Overlords.  Or else. Among the chains, we play, and fight, make love, hate, and devise our many wiles and schemes. However, we cannot easily leave that chained path. We may, for the extent the chains permit us, run down the track. Or we can run up, the opposite way. But we cannot, ever, hope to leave that pre-ordained rocky course. Or can we? Most prefer to ponder the issue little, or not at all. Or only, briefly, when forced to by dire circumstances. Those arise, typically, when Fate comes rudely charging along. In a battle tank. No brakes. No stopping.

I often had vivid dreams. Standing perplexed in a dream-like, foggy valley. Listening, but not hearing. Yet sensing a deep, low, rumbling vibration. One wondered if it was growing in strength. Ten thousand hostile battle tanks, maybe? Coming our way? No brakes, no stopping? But all around, the wild party went on. It was as if I was also surrounded by a strange, unreal, silent, mass mime.  The thick fog was full of maniacal, dancing figures. All feeding & drinking voluptuously at the trough, acting as if they owned not a single care in the whole world. Their day consisted of the relentless pursuit of unlimited pleasure, and gathering wealth.  Few gave. Most took. No holds barred. Reveling in their wealth, their fame, and their bodies. The latter, I should caution, gifted by God or the Universe, a privilege (and fun) to occupy, for but a little while. Hardly a personal creation the individual wearer should take lascivious credit for? As if he or she had brilliantly constructed the silly thing sinew-by-muscle-by-tendon themselves? Yet, that seemed to be the way they acted. My body. Mine. My genius. Look at it. Admire.

No touchey-touchey. Well, unless you pay lots. Then, maybe.

No, you silly, vain creature. You just borrowed it. For a while. Don’t boast. You got lucky. Be grateful.
In this gaudy fashion, in a blaze of color, they spun around me.  In, and out, of the fog.
On some level, I often felt bewildered. Could they not see the fog? Sense the deep, low vibration? Wonder about its cause? Ask questions? What was approaching? Relentlessly? But, no, on they danced, bound by the same, invisible, chains. As I was, kinda-sorta, also. Well, I knew I was supposed to be bound by them. But I had a grouse. A grumble. How can you be free, I would grumble, only within a defined toy box. Free?  In a shiny box? A contradiction-in-terms, surely, I would grouse. But nobody listened.

Well, I got used to it, sort of, after a while. I learned that mass societal escapism is so overwhelmingly  common, that to even challenge the insanity thereof, and try and look ahead, beyond the flannel, is to risk being typecast as “too serious “.  Even (whispered behind one’s back) “quite mad “. With the seemingly inevitable result of ending up a social pariah. An outcast, of sorts. The deliriously happy party, it seemed, had perforce to go on. If one is normal & well-adjusted, well, apparently, one wished to be spoon fed warm pap. By diktat. It was not permitted to question the band, the music score, or the impeccable credentials of the all-too-human composers. One had only to believe. Insert your dime. Risk a nickel. And play along. Build up your stash. Guard your loot. He who dies with the most toys, wins!
To be rich is glorious!
But of course, true to form, that was my problem. I didn’t believe, I didn’t want to play along, and I was too dumb to even begin to realize the lengths that the human composers will go to, to protect their mad utopia. And the owners of the party halls, to protect their profits. All the purveyors and providers of jolly-jolly. There’s big money in revelry & promises. And the punters’ desires to escape. Reality. That deep, low vibration.
Many decades have gone by now, since I first identified the invisible societal chains that bind us tightly. Nothing much has changed, as far as our Gesellschaft  is concerned. In fact, on the contrary, the party swings ever wilder, the burlesque kicks reach higher, and the music… well, it seems ever more hypnotic. I still can’t hear it, and I still don’t get it, but judging by the subliminally happy, radiant smiles, the participants still love the score. Play along. Build up your stash. Guard your loot. He who dies with the most toys, wins! To be rich is glorious! What’s the problem?
I ponder (at times a trifle sadly) what it was that set me apart.
Conformity is, after all, much easier.
I think I’ll never know. All I can say is that I’ve always loved poetry, mountain tops, or dreaming-gliding silently through the Universe. To be awoken by the sound of exploratory rain drops, announcing-tapping on the roof.  I’ve always thrilled at the distant night sky bursting into blazing light, with the rumble following a long time after. But growing closer, with every successor. Leaving me hoping for more.

Please come closer!  Draw near to me!

It seems wrong to just draw the curtains on all that raw might. The splendor of Nature. Announce, dismissively: “Oh, it’s only a thunderstorm! ”  And crank up the volume of the rap music.  Go back to the party. As if it’s all just one big bore.
I would always eagerly await it. When it arrived, the full sound and fury, I was always awed and thrilled. And many times I would drag a chair out onto the porch, and sit there, breathlessly. Full of admiration. Awe. Respect. Pure joy. Feeling very small. Happy.
Knowing my place.

*                *                *                  *

One night, though, years ago, stands out. In my silent, wandering memories.
As I sat out on the porch, alone and pensive, listening to rain drops bombing & battering off the roof, and cutting like wind-driven scythes through suffering trees, leaves flying, (and all branches at pains to demonstrate submission), I found myself with the strong, overwhelming sense that I was the object of curious attention.
I felt acutely that I was not only not alone, but actually the recipient of mixed emotions. From beyond. Not of this world, or this feeble dimension. I sensed, for a moment, a hidden cacophony of intense feeling. A cauldron of conflicting, colliding worlds. Both kind, sympathetic, supportive and even deeply loving, on the one hand. And implacably, furiously, ragingly, bitterly hostile on t’other.
And I, oddly, in the middle.
It seems wrong to just draw the curtains on all that.
Announce, dismissively:   “Oh, it’s only a thunderstorm! ”
And crank up the volume of the music.  Go back to the party. As if it’s all just one big bore.

After all, maybe a different music awaits those who earnestly seek it.
Higher. Soaring. Uplifting. Much, much more true.
If only,
(for I am a slow learner)

I would listen…

 

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by whadmin

Limitations of the written language on GAB

May 4, 2020 in HolocaustGAB

may 4th, 2020

Limitations of the written language on GAB

Many of us love the written language.
But few would deny that the written language is open to misunderstanding, whether accidental, or contrived-deliberate. Taking just the familiar expressions “I love you ” and “I hate you “. If you reflect on it, in the SPOKEN delivery, it's easy to make either expression sound romantic-seductive-charming, OR hate-filled, snarling, even homicidal. Try it. It's fun. In the spoken environment, we would benefit from many clues giving us the true nature of the speaker's sentiments. From a bouquet of roses in hand, a box of chocolates, to a snarling, spittle-filled delivery on t'other. Not to mention maybe a mad glint-in-eye, gleaming hatchet in hand. Run, FFS.

It's an entirely different affair in the WRITTEN medium. Those supporting clues are gone, and what we have is just the context. Now we have the additional problem, as writers, that we know the 'reading comprehension skills' of potential readers vary enormously. That's without any malice, prejudice or connivance involved. Thus I've seen people taking furious offense to passages I've written, where I was genuinely puzzled as to why. Turned out to be classic examples of 'mistaken tone'. What I meant in a wondering, puzzling, questioning, quite SYMPATHETIC tone, was totally mis-interpreted as scathing sarcasm.  And taken personally.  A 180 degree flip from what was intended to be transmitted. And what was received. Oops. It left me puzzling. As a writer, I felt I'd failed, somehow.

If you take in advanced writing techniques, the picture only becomes darker, and more murky. For dramatic effect, writers throw in sarcasm, juxtaposition, exaggeration, hyperbole, cheekiness, a spoonful of contrived insanity, and lots of mischief & fun. We wish to entertain and keep our readers, after all.
You'll see my point: readers on GAB vary enormously, and so do their motivations.

You can't possibly cater for them all+++

…simultaneously, all in the same passage. While we joke around with our regular buds, engaging in screaming satire, obviously as absurd as cat Cuckoo whistling Dixie on a pink bicycle, in comes some take-it-literally Left-leaning reader, who either by level of sophistication or malevolent design, is incapable (or unwilling) to see the satire, the hyperbole, the irony or the dry humor.  (although, oddly, it has to be said they never hesitate for a moment to liberally use those devices themselves).
The bottom line is that Left-leaning (Left-toppling-over) Twitter, Facebook, Quora, etc, all TRY and cater to every single enraged yowl that comes their way. Especially, of course, if it's from a Liberal.  The result is that the more interesting, spicy, avant-garde writers leave, tired of the endless warnings & banishment.  

The result is a dry, cardboard-tasting pizza. Impossible to adjudicate in a manner that pleases ALL. Best not even to try.

GAB has avoided this trap so far, for which we may be humbly grateful.

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by whadmin

The Absurdity of Man

May 3, 2020 in Uncategorized

May 3, 2020

The Absurdity of Man

      Flicking coldly through the News this morning, wandering the littered halls of once-promising Cyberspace, now filled with garbage, make-believe, & silicon-bloated bottoms…
I'm often (wryly) entertained by the gibbering-posing-fretting Absurdity of Man, and the transparent fashion in which the so-called 'elites' attempt to deviously stamp THEIR vacuous moral sickness on the world.  Not to mention the yawning, scorching wastelands of their superficially alluring, but practically wasted & squandered lives.
If I was a space traveler, from a much more noble, yet humble, enlightened species, a mere quarter billion years in advance of our own 'Homo Maximus Stupidus', what would I (sadly) message back to my own peaceful planet, safely tucked away ten galaxies over?
That Man is still as dumb & greedy, short-sighted, terminally materialistic as ever?  

Watch the headlines during this Corona Totalitarian Control Experiment. Enjoy the irony.
Oh, I say. Here's just ONE guru of endless greed & acquisition, convinced of his magnificence:
“Warren Buffett says Berkshire Hathaway have sold ALL $4bn of its airline stocks because of the effect of the Corona virus, but tells investors they should still 'bet on America'… “

Of course he does. Imagine if people stopped (cough) 'betting on America'?? (such a NICE phrase) (translated as 'serving Mammon', prostrate, on all fours) (slobbering).
Perish the thought. That wouldn't do! Who is he going to sell his rubbish to?
Keep betting, folks!

Meh.

The headlines are full of the poorly disguised (screaming) contradiction between the ordinary slob losing all his sh*t, literally, and the insider 'elites' doing perfectly fine, thank you. It's gotten to where the usual market fixers & manipulators have got to throw in a (much publicized) pretend-loss here or there, of a few billion, lest the slobs 'betting on America' start carrying pitch forks. And Molotov cocktails.

Living, dear apostles of greed & insatiable, shallow cunning, has a 100% fatality rate. None of you preening, smug Fat Cats are going to get out of this alive. Such a neat thought. Count your pu-pu-profits, while you can. Those fleeting binary codes, briefly encoded into an impersonal mainframe computer. Somewhere. Itself, ultimately owned by an even more impersonal, aloof, bunch of flickering-digit-obsessed, cigar chomping, proud, honker-nosed, puffs of wind.

Some of us, you walking predator-corpses, regard you with a mixture of contempt and pity.
Your game is NOT the only game in town.
I know, you would never listen to us. We waste our time suggesting you should look up, wistfully, at the stars at night. Feel small. And hear the breeze, playing through the lonely pines. And long for something higher.

Much, much higher.

Our quietest thoughts, like fingers lightly dancing across a tired, coffee-stained key board, pluck lovingly at the lute strings of a searching heart.  

Probe. The innermost yearning.

Of our silent, deepest dreams.

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