Sunday, December 30, 2012

The Polish Ghetto Resistance, what can be learned?

The boy darted across the street, running between the soldiers and the line of people who were walking in a line, waiting to board a truck. He carried a loaf of bread in a basket, neatly covered under a scarf, his face dirty from not bathing for days.

He looked up to see his father standing in the window of his home, looking on, with a grave expression covering his face.
The boys hand reached out to touch the brass door knob, he knew he was not to look back but he could not resist, and he cast a glance over his shoulder, he saw his friend frank a boy sharing his same age of twelve, smile and wave then his father would lift him into the back of he truck, where his mothers outstretched arms would pull him to her breast, kissing her boy in a loving embrace.
"Anzelm in the house now" he heard his fathers stern voice thru the door and he ran inside, his mom was at the stove handily making a stew. "father where are they taking them" Anzelm would ask. "To their deaths" he replied his face still filled with concern.
"Dont be silly my dear Lech, they are merely taking them for relocation" his mother would say humming as she cooked near oblivious to what was happening around her.
"My dear" Lech Replied "why do you think they would take them? Did you notice it is only Jews who go?" "Its not just Jews" Anzelm said "I saw them taking away the gypsy families at the end of town today too" he would sit in a kitchen chair legs dangling watching his father intently.
"Something must be done" Lech said as he watched the doors close on the trucks.

From July to September 1942 300,000 predominantly Jews in Warsaw would line up and be taken to concentration camps, despite popular belief the gassing was not always just to eliminate them, rather Nazi Scientists would study intently the results of the gases.
Medical Experiments were also very popular with many Prisoners having their arms and legs amputated and a prosthetic attached, a month later the prosthetic would be removed, the wound cut open and the nerves studied for he results of healing.
Various birthing methods were tried, one of the worst was to tie a woman's legs together and to put their bodies in various positions, with scientists sitting in chairs looking on carefully taking notes the results of course would be death.
Thousands were lined up over trenches they themselves would dig, and would be shot and buried.

Many Groups popped up to stop the Massacre of their people information provided to them largely by those who had escaped.

The Jewish resistance group Z.O.B would strike back, It would be led by a brave man named Mordecai Anielewicz who would rally a handful to fight back. In April 1943 they would fire at Nazi Police and Soldiers as they herded humans made into little more than cattle onto rail cars and into trucks.
The Resistance was poorly armed, most only with pistols some grenades, Molotov cocktails and three rifles. The resistance would be short lived with the Nazis Exterminating the remaining by the end of May in the same year.

With calls for more restrictive gun control in the works, the lesson from this as with many other atrocities is simple, allow the people themselves to be armed and well trained. Anti Gunners say you have nothing to fear, history however paints a different picture, in the past century Millions of innocent people were slaughtered by various Regimes, from China, to Russia, to Africa to Cambodia innocent people disarmed by their governments would perish.

I would ask those Anti Gunners, if their is nothing to fear, why do you want my guns? why do you after every crazed lunatic strike, go after not the weapons used in the attacks, but those only weapons and ammunition which would give the people if nothing more, a basic fighting chance? Fact is there are over 300 million firearms in America, 99 percent of those owning a firearm are peaceful people, some hunters, some collectors, preserving our heritage and history, some target shooters, and others relatives like mine, were slaughtered at some point in history, like mine you say? Yes, I had relatives in Serbia, most escaped as refugees, others were slaughtered in the usual senseless conflicts of the area, you would know the most famous of our time being that perpetuated by Slobodan Milošević.

I ask only that you consider this and think closely about what you push for, stop with rational mind and gather your thoughts, your senses, and do not dishonor those who have died to give you the chance to even push forward draconian legislation.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

And the Jungle would Cry

She beat on the Table and Proclaimed "they must be Eliminated, they have to go" her eyes wild with fury "with them eliminated our problems will be gone" the cabinet minister sat back in her chair, looking at the rest of the cabinet, lights shown dimly on her dark eyes as she surveyed the group, hoping they would agree with her presentation. The Cabinet talked, debated, drinks were shared, fists beat on the table, and it was decided, they must go. Over the next few months Government preparations were made, weapons ordered, the regime being somewhat broke would order Machetes from China, but they needed more actual physical weapons. Those weapons would be acquired from Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Minister of Egypt who would later be Secretary General to the United Nations, would supply the regime with gernades, rocket launchers, Mortars and Ak-47s. Militia loyal to the government filled out paperwork for the Assault rifles, cheering and firing into the air as they acquired the firearms. Grenades were handed out freely, but most would end up with a machete, they would hold it their sabers high letting the light bounce off the blades as they proclaimed their hatred for the dreaded enemy, they would no tolerate peace talks from their own people, traitors they must die, and 30,000 men would gather, make plans and soon would stock thru the Jungle, looking for their hated enemy. They would find sympathizers to the dreaded peace talks, screaming those siding with peace were dragged from their homes and hacked to death. Then they moved forward, and in a wide swath the killing commenced, villagers would run, only to be gunned down, arms and legs left their owners bodies as the energy from grenades pulled them apart. Mortars would crater the roads, and people would fall, crying, screaming, mostly unarmed and helpless they would hide anyplace they could, their hands tearing at friends and family members clothes who ran away as their bodies felt the blades of Machetes cutting into their flesh. Militia would lay in ambush jumping out of the jungle and cut down those running, rushing others, women were raped, arms cut off, left to live and be slaves or killed, it did not matter, children's hands cut off, meanwhile 2500 UN peacekeepers looked on, helpless ordered not to engage only to observe. Some fought back, rebels would take up arms with whatever they have and already having somewhat of an organized resistance they did what they could. The killing lasted for days, and when it was over nearly one Million people would be Butchered, most hacked to death. Their Bodies overwhelmed the countryside, some were burned, some scavenged by animals but most were pushed by Bulldozers and front end loaders into mass graves. The Killing was Ethnically motivated, but many claimed to have had visions of blood provided them by the Virgin Mary giving them cause for the Massacre, in this war at least, Muslims would be the ones who would hide and shelter those from both sides. Everything within this story is at some point true, this is the Rwanda Massacre perpetuated by a twisted Government and aided of course from a Man who would later go on to work for the UN, this my friends, is why the Second Amendment exists within the United States, to give its citizens a chance at least of surviving such nonsense.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Christmas Eve, lost in Paris.

I found myself on Christmas Eve standing in front of a sign in front of a restaurant trying to read the sign which may as well have been written in Klingon, a couple came out of the door, dressed for the night he was in a nice suit jacket, and she an attractive blonde with a pearl necklace, both wearing trench coats would stop look at me, say something to each other, and then me in french, I just stared blankly and the woman said in English "Are you alone, do you need someone to spend Christmas with?" holy crap was she serious, surely she was, a gentle smile on her and his face came forth, and it ocured to me that they must have thought I was a man of the street, standing there dressed in blue jeans, worn leather motorcycle jacket that had thousands of miles and all elements worn on it, bandana, long hair, ya, I was a child of the street alright "no" I replied fighting back a tear at their generosity "I am just out exploring my lazy friend is back in the hotel and Im just trying to figure out this damn menue" was about all I could come up with, they bid me a Merry Christmas and walked off her arm tucked neatly under his, so much for Rude French I thought. I gave up with the menue and decided to walk about. It was cool and crisp, oh so quiet, sometimes gentle christmas music would float from a closed door, I came upon a phone booth and began calling friends and family, chatting with my not yet departed Friend Scott "Ahongus" Goforth a woman came by whom I had asked directions from the night before at a bakery. I hustled out of the booth leaving the phone hanging to speak with her. We chatted quickly an she said she was on her way to a Party and I could walk her there if I like. Well hell yea I would like to walk a French girl to a party, oh shit Scott was still on the phone "Hello, hello, wtf" I heard him say "sorry dude, wish the mom a good Christmas ran into a girl gotta go" and the last thing I heard him say just before the phone touched the receiver "right..get some for...." ok so I will leave the last part out being Christmas and all. Off we strolled, her curly dark hair bouncing off her scarf as she pointed here or there and telling me a little about the history, cobblestone streets echoed our foot steps off of buildings centuries old. We walked up a windy road to a fountain, where she would give me a tender kiss an bid me a good night, then she would ask if I knew where I was. "Come on, I am a man, I have a built in sense of Direction" I would reply. She smiled "This is old paris, the streets go all directions and make no sense, just go that way and walk to the light" ok well that made sense, she gave me a tight hug and her bright red lips would brush against my neck as she would walk off. And there I stood looking about, just realizing it was foggy and the fountain was where a half dozen other roads came together. "Are you fucking kidding me" I thought looked at the fountain dark and gray in the fog wondering where to go, deciding on a road directly behind me thinking it may be the one I came up. I woul walk along as the road twisetd and turned, sometimes I could see a glow thru the fog far down below, so that is the way I went, always choosing the road which seemed to go in that direction, soon I the fog would lift as I came off the little hill, and there with the river parting around it would be Notre Dam acting as my tower of light. I sat there on the banks of the river Sien looking at the Old Church, gargoyles looking menacingly a scaring away any evil that dare approach, lights dancing off the dark water seemingly keeping the fog at bay,. I would take my time going back to the hotel, watching as lights here and there slowly blinked out from apartment windows, listening to the last trace of Christmas music drifting to me. I would walk past couples kissing tenderly on stone benches along the river, lights reflecting off the dark water as promises were made to each other. Soon I found myself back in the old hotel, not to be greeted by some beautiful french girl waiting for me in my room but to Curt "Wtf dick turn out the damn light some of us are trying to sleep here, not like there is anything to see on christmas eve here anyhow" I took a look at the piece of paper we had hung on the wall, on that paper would be our Christmas tree, drawn with little packages about it, "Nope, there was nothing to see at all" I would say as I would tuck myself into sheets thinking of all the spirits walking about remembering what peace there was, what peace there could be on the streets of Paris.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Europe adventure, Mass and Sinning in the Vatican

Sometime lucky I am, usually without even knowing it. We were bumming around with two girls from Canada whom I menioned previously in my last blog and a girl from Boston. Looking for sights in Rome after being bitterly disappointed with Venice and the stinky Canals and horrible pizza we were wanting redemption in Rome, and it would come in arguably the best known place in Italy, even though it is its own country, the Vatican. Now of course we were going to see it but we were taking our own sweet time, but the Canadian girls pointed out to us that Today would be Mass, now not being a Christian this did nothing for me but one of them said "hey it is the Pope, you have to see the Pope" true true I had to see if he had the same silly slouched over wave like you see on TV. We would arrive early and tour St Peters Basilica, which was quit amazing, but I could not help getting out of my mind that the place was built and inlaid with gold, at a time when most of Christs Followers were starving to death, but I pushed that aside and enjoyed the coolness, I was also pressed into taking a Number for Mass in the Basilica although the man who gave it to me spoke no English, I assumed it must be important. So we hung out and acted like the usual early twenty travelers, tossed stones at pigeons, oogled at the hot Italian women and waited for our chance. Soon, what seemed like an Eternity for me since I wanted to keep sight seeing that time came way to slow, but alas we were ushered in in front of a line of Devout Christians waiting to be blessed. We would stand at the very front against the railing, I have to admit all the Pomp and Circumstance was very amazing, and I said so "this is fucking cool" I was smacked by a Canadian and Curt stammered "You cannot say that in here" "But dude" I replied "This is fucking awesome you have to admit" another hit to my shoulder, wide eyed looks from those around me waiting for lightening to hit and Curt sure I was "going to hell for swearing in the holiest of places", he was wrong, that would be where Jesus ascended to heaven I was safe. The Cardinal did his thing, I was blessed and of course forgiven for blasphemy which I would continue to do and need more blessings all the while getting disgusted looks from those who obviously felt they were more deserving of Direct blessing, whatever, didn't they hear my mouth? So mass came and went and I uttered a few more choice words that Sailors only understood securing my place in the Netherworld's and we wandered out for the Man himself, the Pope John Paul number I give up, 54? to do his thing. I received lots of "now watch your language this time" from our traveling partners and we waited in abatement for him to appear, and waited, and waited, then a carpet fell from a window, and another, someone pushed me and I told them to go to hell getting another prompt punched from a Canadian girl eager to repent for her nights in Rome I am sure. Finally another carpet or tapestry whatever formal language you prefer came out of a window and 20 more minutes of anticipation later The Pope number 51 appeared, he waved just like on TV, looked just like TV, hunched over, only arm waving, a microphone held to his feeble mouth as he uttered prayers in Latin, the Canadians sighed in releaf as they were forgiven for their previous nights sins and I oogled some more of that fine Italian girls, well, you know. Then it happened, the moment every Italian waited for, the TV crew to come and interview he obvious Americans and Canadians with the Canadian flag sewn on everything to not be mistaken for Americans they were trying to sleep with. The microphone came forth from he eager hot Female reporter as she asked "how did you like the tables"? We looked at each other, tables? "uhm yea I said, the tables were cool" so wanting to do the loony circle with my finger but deciding that would just not look right on Italian TV. She tried again and again and we all kept telling the goofy woman the Tables were cool. Finally the Camera man said "Tablets, how did you like the Tablets" ohh the Ten Commandments we all exclaimed! Yup she had the microphone shoved way to close to our mouth's again and said "can you say them?" Well yea, everyone knows the ten commandments, and there we stood, four of us "though shalt not, uhm, steal" "yea yea that's one" and "uhm though shalt not uhm commit sexual adultery" nothing more but lots of looking at each other came out, the TV crew undoubtedly decided we were typical Canadian sinners and IM sure that is what she was saying into the Camera and we moved on just proud we would pollute Italian homes with the Canadian Flag representing all of our ignorance on this one, what you ask, I am an American, that is true, I am, however the Canadian girls had Canadian Flags on their packs and sewn onto their jeans ;)

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Traveling to Paris, sleeping on loafers.....

Traveling to Paris, sleeping on loafers.....
Riding the train throughout Europe was quit exhausting, mainly because I would stay awake watching for signs and get off points while my then traveling partner Curt would sleep pretty much constantly. However Paris would be a different story, France was in its usual state of Upheaval as Angry frogs rioted and went on strike.
We had traveled previously with some girls from Canada who had been kicked off the train and had to pay 100 dollars each to ride to the boarder argg. But we lucked out, it would open again as the French needed Christmas tourism money like anyone else, and we would take the last train to Paris before the Rail Lines were again closed during Christmas.
. Sitting in a Euro train normally had eight seats per car and you would face each other, sometimes crammed in side by side and this particular car was no exception.
I was seated across from some woman from Portugal who was intent on teaching me Portuguese, she was in her early 30s, with jet black straight hair, tight pants with her legs open allowing me a good tracking view, but I was tired.
I dont get it, I had just sat down, never saw the woman in my life and there she was insistent on teaching me Portuguese. Mind you this was crazy boring, coupled with my usual two or three day lack of sleep the last thing I remember saying was "lady I could care less" then lights off, I simply fell asleep hard.
My mind would dream of whatever odd things a mind thinks about, in this case total blackness.
I would awaken to someone kicking me on the back, I slowly opened my eyes not had Immediately realizing I was in not a room sleeping on a pillow or even on a bed, the strange pillow & bed would both be lacking, well comfort. Something was jabbing me in the Ear, and my arms were wrapped around what felt like leather, where the hell is the fabric and goose feathers? And the bed, there was no cushion, it was only cold, hard, and grooved.
My Eyes slowly opened and as I lifted my head slowly I looked down to see pair of Loafers as my pillow, that would explain the musty smell and leather taste, they were nicely coated with a small puddle of drool. I looked up at the wide eyed owner, dressed in a nice Armani suit was scared witless, his mouth was trying to stammer for words. I heard my travel partner Curt yelling "Holy shit I have never been so Embarrassed in my life" With a brief apology and compliment on how comfy his loafers were I simply replied to Curt "why would I care I will never see any of these people again" we would gather our bags and I would again thank the Terrified man for allowing me to sleep on his loafers. In retrospect I should have at least offered him a couple of dollars for a shoe shine to rid his shoes of my Drool Stain.
The Portuguese woman was no where to be found, endurably she would assume her unwilling student to not be worthy of her linguistic teachings.
Customs would prove interesting as French people have the strangest accents. “Wuut Brins you to Parus” she would ask.
“Wut” was my sharp witted reply.
A little frustrated with her poor English she would try again “Wut brins you to Parus” well at least it was not Chinese with the rolling Rs”
“Vacation” and she would stamp and off we would go. Silly question, why the hell would they ask us why we were in one of the biggest tourist destinations of the world?

We found our hotel right in Down Town paris, we would check in and then scavenge out on the city to see the famous sights, the Eiffel tower being our goal for this fine evening.
Curt was insistent on taking a picture of the massive structure when it was merely a pin prick in the night sky, "nonsense" I would tell him "lets make this worth our while and get a close shot". Which made even more sense considering his camera was simply a cheap throw away camera without any zoom capabilities beyond the manual zoom of walking closer.
We were a few miles away from the first time we tried to take a picture, as we walked closer about every half mile or so Curt would again stop & bring his camera up to get a picture, I found this absurd and told him"why it will be little more than a dot on your film" I would continue to tell the lunk head, you would understand if you saw his head. “
His reply "But what if they turn the lights out?" Now how silly could he possibly be, turning the lights out on one of the biggest tourist attractions in the world? nonsense was not going to happen and I said as much. He would look worried as we continued on, his brows wrinkled as he focused on the light slowly taking shape and gorwing larger. We finally were simply across the canal from the iconic figure, he would stop, raise the camera hi finger posed ready to take the shot of a lifetim, a mere few hundred yards away across the river she stood in all her Magnificence "there is your shot" I said as I pointed he lifted the Camera and as his finger rested upon the button the lights on the Tower would go out. We stood there in Amazement, wondering what had happened "What the F*#@&" he exclaimed!
I replied confident "Its only a power outage give it a minute" or two, three five, or ten, shit lights still not back on. Frustrated I would ask a passerby why the lights were out, "we turn the lights off at midnight to conserve energy" he proudly stated.
Well that was that, walking back and listening to curt stammer in my ear how he never should have listened to me, and my reply, "We have a few more night, IM sure you will get your shot" but no, he would not as the next nights would be foggy and visibility poor, eco tourism sucks.