You should have voted for Ron Paul, but you made the children cry instead. On the bright side, another libertarian is born.
The Power Elite is prepping, so shouldn’t everyone else do so?
Can you spot the Goldman Sachs headquarters?
There’s no doubt that Hurricane Sandy packed a punch, but despite the devastation of the last few days it could have been worse. Sandy was a Category 2 hurricane on a scale which rises in intensity to 5. In just the last few years the 2004 tsunami, Katrina, the Japanese tsunami (and Fukushima) and now Sandy have all reminded us that no place can possibly be fully prepared for disaster and that when it hits you are on your own at the critical moments.
Well folks, here we are, onlookers to the hedonistic world of homosexual screwing, otherwise known as gay people in action.
In a new departure for ATW, readers are asked to contribute a one or two-word statement which could be used to describe what the Daily Mail talks about as ‘a venue popular with gay and bisexual men’, this of course being the approved wording for what correctly could be termed a XXXX XXXXXXX.
Points will be awarded for humour, truth and acerbic wit, and points will win ‘Prizes’!
You are an ordinary man, with an ordinary family whom you dearly love. Your Country is invaded by another, and your nation is overwhelmed by massive superiority of men, weaponry and air power. You soon realise that the invaders look upon your religion and race with distaste and dislike, but you are used to that, as the same fate has littered your race’s history for centuries. You don’t worry too much, because, after all, your new masters might have the power, but they are still human beings. Your fate becomes progressively worse, as you and all your neighbours, friends and fellow members of your faith are herded together into ever-smaller areas of your own city, and you are forced to wear distinguishing labels on your clothing whenever you walk out of the hovel you are forced to call home. Then the news spreads that you, along with thousands of others, are to be sent far away to new areas to work for your new overlords. You seek counsel with those who are the wisest amongst your religion, and it is decided that you should co-operate, because your new rulers might be vicious, and brutal, but they are just following their own orders to relieve pressure upon overloaded city functions.
Your family, after travelling for many hours in crammed railway cars, finally arrive at your new home, where you are met with the usual mixture of efficiency, brutality and disdain by your conquerors; separated into two columns of men and boys, women and girls and told to prepare to march to your new home. But before you commence marching, the call goes out for skilled volunteers, for carpenters, cobblers, electricians, and because you were told to volunteer by one of the many uniformed helpers at the rail station, members of the same religion as yourself, you put your hand up and you are told to stand by until ordered to move. You wave farewell as your wife and children walk away as their long column disappears through the trees which line the dusty road, then you are briskly pushed into another, smaller line of volunteers and marched into the camp. You are shown your workplace, then a friendly face speaks, and shows you where you will sleep, and how the invaders always expect the camp workers to run everywhere, and never question any order given.
As the hours and days progress, you notice that some things are very, very different in this work camp. There are many soldiers, and armed guards, all from the country of your conqueror, and many working men and women, all of your race and religion, but there are no children at all, and you ask several others when you can expect to see your wife and children, as you were told that they would be working in the fields; but all avert their eyes and will not answer. You see a constant cloud of smoke from a distant building, but again, when you ask what is the source of that smoke and fire, no one will answer. Finally, that same friendly face comes close, takes you by the arm to a quiet place, gets you to sit down and tells you the terrible truth, that the name of this camp is SOBIBOR, and it is not a work camp, it is a death camp.
Escape from Sobibor is not a very well made film, some of the characters are stereotypes, and the acting is alternatively very good, and almost absurd; but the message, the central theme behind the storyline, is of course real, truthful and very deadly. The film was based on testimony from two survivors of Sobibor, and every major item is based on fact. There were only some three hundred Jews who made their escape through the barbed wire fences, over the anti-personnel mines which literally infested all the surrounds of that terrible place, escaping as the remaining guards and S.S. shot down the rest of the ‘UnterMenschen’, as the Jews were known by their Nazi masters. Only 300-odd escaped from Sobibor, and a further 70 made their escape from Treblinka and all the other death camps, out of the six million or more Jewish prisoners whose mortal remains either rose through the crematorium chimneys, or lie in unmarked graves across the wide expanses of the wide swathes which were scythed by the Nazis in their five years of warfare and terror.
It isn’t a well-known film, but I for one would make it compulsory viewing for all teenagers in schools across this nation of ours; just so that they too can remember why our fathers fought and won at Alamein some seventy years ago this week, why the Royal Air Force was so right to bomb Dresden into a smoking pyre, why some 30,000 young Americans flying B-17’s and Liberators sacrificed their lives during the daylight bombing raids over Nazi Germany; and why I would always support military action in a cause worth embarking upon.
I had a go earlier with the shotgun. Strange to say mine turned out slightly different, but it took me less time to finish.
Keynesians rejoice! Your faith in the economic blessings of destruction has been answered.
It will take many months and many billions of dollars to recover. Along the way, much capital and production will need to be diverted from what would have been economically productive enterprises. All this, simply to replace what was there before. Yep, it’s our old friend the broken window fallacy, this time writ large.
The winds are picking up around here at the Mahons home. It is supposed to get nasty around 5:00 pm through Tuesday (Tuesday’s gone with the wind?). Accordingly, you may experience internet silence from me for some time. We usually lose electric power on my hill if an owl farts, never mind a historic hurricane, so I may be out of touch for a few days. Damn you Al Gore – why couldn’t you invent a weather-proof internet?
I abide in an abode about one hour north of New York City in the Hudson Valley region. Hurricane Sandy is making her way up the eastern seaboard of the United States, and bringing a mighty whirl of wind, rain and sea. I am too in country to worry about the tides, but wind damage from falling trees is a real concern. My lunatic neighbor next door is actually out with a leaf blower. I am keeping an eye on him in case some tree branch proves Darwin right. Again.
I have an old television aerial on my roof which I consider a monument to my slothful nature and sedentary soul. Perhaps Sandy will bring it down (though not on the car please). At the very least Sandy will do a number on the politicians’ signs that line our town’s roadways.
The trains are not running, and I miss the far off sound of their whistle and hum on the tracks. But I love the fact that I couldn’t go to work if I wanted to since the trains aren’t running. Rainy Days and Mondays don’t always get me down.
We have good neighbors (including the lunatic out blowing his leaves) so we are ready with chainsaws and axes (Happy Halloween) in case we need to do manly things to help each other. I am keeping that in mind as I balance my alcohol consumption with the need to operate power tools and/or move trees off of the road and/or deliver babies.
So good luck to all in harm’s way. May they find shelter from the storm. There has already been some sad news about the sinking of the replica of The Bounty, apparently not all hands have been saved. Storms are a reminder that we live on a planet, and that our everyday concerns tend to seem smaller as nature’s power awes us.
Gimme Shelter and a nice hot whiskey.
but you’ll love this song…. If Romney is Elected.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwlW4lx6TTo