NIEMAL WIEDER

dachau-arbeit-56-41Article by Barbara Cornell.

Syndicated from Barbara Cornell’s personal blog.

I felt a tiny little stab of pride in my just-beginning-to-bud German skills as we drove through the gates, and I could make out the meaning: «Arbeit Macht Frei.» «Work will make you free.» The lie in the words, however, would not be clear to me for several more years. I’d been told we would be stopping off to visit the concentration camp on our way home, we would be passing through Munich and my father thought we needed to see it. Another stop on our DoD financed tour of Europe as far as I was concerned. But I loved the harsh, guttural, Germanic sound of the place…»Dachau.» That raspy sound, entirely foreign to American English, was new and exciting to me.

It was a hateful, adolescent attitude I learned to regret that day.

I’m sure I’ve witnessed the mercury far lower in the thermometer, but that was by a huge margin the coldest day, ever. My two sweatshirts, jeans, «longhandles,» coat and two pairs of gloves still were pierced by the winds that howled across the gray, bleak, open courtyard still bearing the footprints of the barracks designed to house 5,000, which, at their peak, hosted 32,000 prisoners at a time. In just a few minutes, the condensation from my breath froze on the scarf pulled across my nose and mouth into a block of ice, chapping my face and lips. Later, we would return to find the doors of the car frozen shut, not from moisture, simply from the cold…perhaps from grief.

800px-Dachau-WM2I’d seen the pictures, the films, read the testimony, but I’d never really seen it before. My reading of Ann Frank’s Diary had left me mostly with feelings about peeling potatoes. But standing in the bitter cold, it struck me. These people had stood right here, worked right here in their emaciated bodies and their rags, their unclad feet, and their terror. The bitterness of damnation pierced me. The ovens used to cook the victims had wreaths on them; mourning wreaths, but more like Christmas wreaths, and I despised their cheerfulness. How dare they make merry in this place?

When getting ready to leave, I looked at the art constructed at the entrance; a monstrous horror of a representation. Iron mangling of impossibly thin, crushed, screaming bodies and over them the words: «Niemal Wieder!»

This time, I felt no pride as I made out their meaning, only the imploring of God’s creation. Dear God, let it be so.

Niemal Wieder — Never again!

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UP YOUR’S, PROHIBITIONIST SCUM!

drugs-can-ruin-your-lifeArticle by Tim Wikiriwhi.

Syndicated from Eternal Vigilance.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Mr. Wikiriwhi is a Transegoist sympathizer; not a Transegoist — our syndication of his article does not indicate that he endorses the Transegoist philosophy.

Shock Horror! I have found a reason to support a tree-hugger!

In a not at all favorable post to the New Zealand Center for Political Research Mike Butler writes:

“’Maori in regions where jobs are limited who are growing and selling cannabis to keep their Whanau fed shouldn’t be punished for their entrepreneurship,’ Green Party co-leader Metiria Turei told Maori TV on Monday night. ‘It has become an income supplement for Whanau particularly in rural areas where they have very little income and few job prospects, particularly in the back blocks, and we have to very careful how we manage that,’ Turei said on the Native Affairs show. ‘There are some real skills there, some real entrepreneurial skills and some real horticultural skills. These are the skills that people have and they are trying to do the best for their families to make a sufficient income and they are under threat all the time but there are few choices that they have,’ she said.»

What are the “real horticultural skills” Turei is talking about? I guess this involves taking a cannabis seed, germinating it in potting mix in a yogurt bottle, transplanting, feeding, watering, and harvesting. Anyone who has a vegetable garden could grow cannabis.

What are the “real entrepreneurial skills?» After the harvest and packaging the crop in tinfoil, these entrepreneurs simply go into town on the party circuit, offer around some dope, pass out a few tinnies on tick to return on payday to collect cash and sell more, while delivering wholesale orders to tinnie houses dotted around State-house areas.

Read more here.

Without a doubt, this is one of the most sensible opinions I have ever herd from a rabid Greenie. I must congratulate Green Party co-leader Metiria Turei for her brave and absolutely righteous statements against the persecution of Pot growers and dealers. She is entirely right.

527606_516032115105009_675887553_n-600x565That her comments are creating a stink among the ignorant and bigoted supporter of cannabis prohibition is a testimony to just how small minded and nasty many people are. The truth is, pot is much less dangerous than alcohol and it is the very height of bigotry for the wowzers to condemn pot yet reach over and put a bottle of wine or a box of beer into their trolley.

The fact that these hypocrites who have no conscience about using police brutality to impose their nasty bigotry upon others disgusts me to the very core. They pretend that legalization will bring the sky down upon our heads — it matters not that their oppression destroys much more families than drug abuse ever could; it matters not that the Police could be concentrating on catching thieves and violent offenders — what matters to these Nazis is that the state makes pot users suffer for their defiance.

 I must confess to virulently hating these Anti-freedom and oppressive scum.

May God forgive me.

They are the lowest of the low. They are in fact criminals, because they support the violation of other peoples rights and liberties. They support bad laws and tyranny.

Up your’s, prohibitionist scum!

Hate to break it to y’all but everyone is smoking up a storm! New Zealand tops the world in cannabis use; in spite of your nasty War on Drugs! Prohibition has not stopped anything! You simply waste police time and taxes.

You destroy the lives of peaceful people and push them into criminal associations.

 You must be some of the stupidest, pig-headed, and most malevolent people on earth.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Tim Wikiriwhi is running for office as mayor of the city of Hamilton, New Zealand.  The Transegoist Daily Journal endorses the candidacy of Tim Wikiriwhi.

COUNTY SHERRIFS’ HALL OF SHAME: JOSEPH G. GROODY

C212085D2008-01-01Article by Mark I Rasskazov, Editor in Chief.

Joseph G. Groody is the Sheriff of Schulkyll County, PA.  He is a Democrat.

It is difficult to find much on Sheriff Groody online.  Doesn’t seem to have a publicly accessible facebook account, google + account, etc.  It seems he has little interest in being accessible to his constituents through online venues.  Why is that?  Is it simply because, like many his age (he is 54) he is not familiar with social networking?  Or, perhaps, is it because he is so OPSEC conscious (although, why a local sheriff should have to worry about that is beyond me)?  Or perhaps, is it because he wants to be careful not to let it slip to his constituents where he stands on certain issues?  Where is this apparent fear of his constituents coming from?

There isn’t much out there on him, but I did find some interesting things about him in my research.

For example, I did find an article from the Republican Herald covering the death of Berks County Sheriff, Kyle Pagerly, which quoted him speaking obliquely on gun control.

«‘There are a lot more people armed. It’s just incredible,’ he said. ‘People do not realize the dangers.'»

People do not realize the dangers, Sheriff Groody?  Does the private ownership of fire arms worry you?  Also, isn’t a bit slimy to use the deaths of police officers to push gun control?  Especially when the shooter was using a stolen gun?  Don’t we, the people have a right to defend ourselves from people who use stolen guns?  Or is it just cops that are allowed to be armed against known criminals?

(I would have loved to read the comments on that article.  Interestingly, the comments on that article were closed…)

Or is it just that you’re only for private ownership of firearms when your department is able to get their cut?

«…However, Groody said he hasn’t heard anyone buying a permit cite recent debate about gun control as a reason.»

REALLY?!

Not to call you a liar, Sheriff Groody, but I think this might be a tad disingenuous.  Or, perhaps, your constituents simply know better than to confide in you when it comes to gun control issues.

I can’t help but think that Sheriff Groody is being a little reticent on the gun control issue — only hinting at what he really thinks.  After all, he didn’t exactly win his seat by a landslide.

In reference to winning the election, he is quoted as saying: «I couldn’t feel any happier. I was sitting here on pins and needles all night. It’s almost like I was on trial here. You’re waiting for a jury to come out of deliberations, and you’re waiting for the verdict.»  Why is it that you feel you’re on trial, Sheriff Groody?  I smell a guilty conscience.  His challenger, Dale L. Repp, a former Pottsville police chief, who lost to Sheriff Groody by a very narrow margin, criticized Sheriff Groody’s drive for a more centralized Sheriff’s department.

«‘They essentially wave a magic wand and say, ‘Poof!’ The 2,200 or so deputy sheriffs throughout the state suddenly are given full law-enforcement powers,'» Repp said. «First of all, who’s going to pay for it?’ Local law enforcement could also ease the burden on the sheriff’s office, Repp said. In a meeting with the Schuylkill County Constables Association, Repp said he found many municipal constables are eager to help serve writs and warrants. ‘They tell me they have the training, they’re anxious to do it, they’re willing to do it, and I think they should be given the chance to take some of that load off the sheriff’s office.’ Repp said.»

It’s interesting to read the comment thread on that article.  Observe the difference in demeanor and literacy among Groody’s supporters:

«GROODY IS DOING AN EXCELLANT JOB AND HAS PROVEN HE CAN HANDLE IT. GO JOE!
PUT THE POLITCAL PARTIES TO THE SIDE. THE BEST MAN FOR THE JOB IS GROODY.»

Versus his detractors:

«Good luck in the Election Dale! As a former student, I saw first hand your work ethic, listened to your knowledge of the Criminal Justice system, and your experience as a police Chief in Pottsville, which you rose through the ranks to get.  They say this election for sheriff will come down to North and South of the mountain. While that may be true, the people concerned about drug use and immigration (an especially hot topic in Shenandoah) will make the right decision.»

«Issuing carry permits? Sounds like typical gun control issue to me.»

We will continue to track this story as it develops.  I leave you with this tidbit from a commenter on an article about Groody winning the sheriff seat:

«He shouldn’t have been there in the first place. He was appointed and not even confirmed by the governor! So technically his first time in office was a sham. Funny thing is that the people who work in the prison like Groody because while he’s in office, they don’t have to work. They were all afraid if Dale got in. And that’s not hearsay, that comes straight from the horse’s mouth. Say hello to 4 more years of Schuylkill County being the home of DUI’s, Suicide, crack cocaine, meth labs and illegal immigrants too. Man I’m proud of this place. Can’t you just smell the burning cannabis?»

FIREWORKS

imagesArticle by Barbara Cornell.

Syndicated from Barbara Cornell’s personal blog.

New Year’s Eve 1984, through the prism of time, has oddly begun to encapsulate an entire decade for me. That evening was just so «80’s», it would have been impossible to reproduce it in another time.

December 31, it was approaching midnight and the party was at our house, as it usually was, and consisted mostly of the other men from my father’s unit and their families and other military members from our church. We had chosen to live «on the economy» about 60 km from the base in central Germany. I was aware of snippets of conversation around me that were fairly normal…

…my father with a group of his colleagues bantering in inscrutable pilot humor. «…So they’re screaming across the jungle and their radio man says, ‘Tower, we don’t know where in the bloody hell we’re going, but we’re making damn good time.'» «Hyark-hyark-hyark.»

…a pair of women conversing. «I tried to find the same inlaid wood like I got at the OWC bazaar last year…»

…a lady gritching to another wife. «…Since we have to replace our ration cards again…»

KA-BOOM!!!

A noise so loud, it froze all activity. For a moment, all was silent, and then there were the sounds of children and a woman screaming, muffled because of the impact on my eardrums. I pulled my hands away from my face where instinct had pulled them to see, through the fog that had taken over my mind, shards of glass and blood dripping from my hands and arms. All around me were the remnants of every window in the house and scraps of the hyper-effective «rolladen» that had been splintered by the explosion.

My mind provided an immediate explanation: «Bomb. War. It’s finally happened.»

We’d all spent the last years being trained and retrained in what to do in the event that the cold war heated up. Terrorist threats were so commonplace to our everyday lives that checking our cars for explosive devices was just another checklist item, and hours upon hours of waiting in the snow in the soccer field for the school to be checked for bombs taught me never to go anywhere without my coat. Now it was real. Somehow I always knew it would be.

By the time I’d gotten my head in order, my father was already on the phone and several of the men had begun to collect people from other rooms to organize everyone into family groups and take a head count. The younger children were scared but it seemed that (nearly) everyone else knew what he was supposed to do. I fit into the group in the part of the older child and teenager segment and our job was to stay calm, out of the way, and help to calm the younger children.

But I noticed there was one woman…well…at least she had stopped screaming. Thank God for that. But now she was yammering hysterically, “This is what we get for putting that RETARD in the Whitehouse!!! How long have I been saying that idiot Reagan was going to get us ALL KILLED!!!” I thought, “Lady, this is precisely the wrong crowd at exactly the wrong time to be badmouthing the enormously popular Commander in Chief.” Apparently, her husband thought so as well because he was whispering to her in attempts to calm her down. They were accepted and loved but they had always been, well, peculiar. He was a civilian contractor. He actually wore a beard — you know, like, hair growing out of his face; she couldn’t discern rank or unit from a uniform. Odd.

…More snippets…

“….Major Proctor’s trying to get through to the base to find out about our orders…”

«…Has anyone heard from the 132nd? They’re supposed to be on call for…»

«…Where’s Kyle? I can’t find Kyle. Has anyone seen Kyle?»

Someone had turned on the radio. “You’re listening to Armed Forces Network. It’s twelve o’clock in Central Europe. Do you know where your children are? Beep beep…The Red Cross is attempting to reach…”

Red Cross travel searches? Charlie Toona? Top 40 music? AFN was broadcasting nothing on the bombing? How was this possible? It had to have been at least 15 minutes!

My father came into the room, “The base has nothing on this. Security level is normal.”

The sound of sirens, every police car, ambulance, fire truck for miles disturbed the German night — a truly rare occurrence. We followed the direction of the emergency vehicles down the street and gazed down the hill to see…where just this morning had stood the three-story, 30,000 square foot Feuerwerkfabrik (fireworks factory) now was an empty charred field, several large angry fires and miscellaneous chunks of smoking steel and hadite. The warehouses which were set somewhat apart from the main building were emitting the most spectacular fireworks display ever hosted. We all stood for a long time watching the greens, blues, reds, golds, silvers, laughing at our assumption, and breathing in the relief.

We would not be sending our men off to war.

This time.

AS YOU WERE — THE SHARPER SIDE OF NUMETAL

51fUqyJGawL._SL500_AA280_Article by PJ Cornell.

Syndicated from Asterisked Music.

Assessment: 9.2 out of 10.

Bottom line up front: It’s rare to see an unsigned band with such a polished sound.  Some of their songs are a little reminiscent of Hoobastank.  Others sound kind of like a more hard-core version of Creed/Alterbridge.  They’ve found a very pleasing blend of melodic metal that rides the border between hard rock and metalcore.  With soaring vocals and aggressive riffs, they are bound to be a crowd pleaser at any metal concert.  They would not be at all out of place opening for any number of great bands (they are a great band in their own right; they’re just not that well known, yet).  I could see them as the opening act for Papa Roach, Disturbed, Sevendust, Nickleback, Skillet, or any other mainline hard rock or metal group — they have an edge, but they are not so far out on the edge as to be inaccessible to the average metal listener.  They are on the far boundary of what might be considered «radio friendly.»

Criticisms: While they have very catchy, very cohesive, and very technically inclusive songs, with plenty of solo areas for each band member to shine, this band would do well to branch out a little, harmonically and rhythmically.  This is not a major criticism — their relatively conventional harmonic and rhythmic language will not prevent them from enjoying quite a bit of success — in fact, too much adventurism in harmony and rhythm can, potentially, prevent a band’s success if they experiment too much early on.  Their songs are perfect for a first release.  Just interesting enough to grab the attention of the listener, without demanding too much attention to follow.  I would encourage this band to run with they’ve got for now, which is excellent material, in terms of listenability, marketability, and overall musical professionalism.  For their next effort, however, they would do well to try to branch out a little bit.

Highlights: My favorite song on this album has got to be Second Chances, which is a Killswitch Engagesque metalcore anthem that gets the album off to a great start.  I’m also quite partial to Embrace Your Crown, and Darker Shade of Life, which are a couple of delightfully edgy songs.  Never Healing is a great tune, which sounds a lot like some of Alterbridge’s better songs — it’s comfortingly intense.  (Don’t know what I mean by that?  Well, you’ll just have to check it out for yourself, then.)  Break Out and Flip My Switch remind me of Nickleback, a little bit — in a good way.  Hold Me Down and Not Yours for the Taking are songs that Five Finger Death Punch would be proud of (and these guys should definitely be proud of them).  Overall, their vocalist is amazing, and their lead guitarist is more than decent.  They don’t let the rhythm, bass or drums out to play as much as they could, but when they do, they definitely show potential.

Conclusion: So long as these guys stay on the road and keep these songs in the ears of metal fans, I foresee nothing but success for these guys.  They have a very polished, confident sound, that delivers the kind of punch that metalheads are looking for.  They could afford to branch out a little rhythmically and harmonically, but they have their whole lives before them to experiment.  The important thing now is that they have all of the elements to be successful, and I think that they will be.

RED NAIL’S END TIMES SCENARIO

dhsArticle by the Red Nail.

So.

Red here again, preaching the news that the end times are coming.  I’m certain that there are freaks, geeks, peeps, and the various breeds of pigs who I’m sure have sock accounts looking at this site dreaming of using their flexi-cuffs and batons. Keep dreaming, pigs. Keep dreaming.

How does Red see the end times coming?

Red thinks that there is some really shady stuff going on in the world finance industry. The government, the corporations, the banks, the security agencies, the think tanks; all of them are in it. Sooner or later, your saved money (in the banks) will somehow no longer become yours. As more and more (once middle-class) people are then thrust into poverty, they will put more strain on an already overburdened welfare system. Those that toe the line will keep their basic necessities and be left to scrounge like dogs for anything above that. This will lead to rioting, and most likely, a violent suppression of rights through (dun da da daaaaa….DHS, with their new vehicles and vast armories).

There will be longer lines at the soup kitchens. There will be longer lines for basic medical care. You will owe the government your allegiance for these pittances, and those arrogant heartless bastards will collect. Most of the population is asleep and here is where it becomes a numbers game. If enough awake people stand up, the government will back down, eventually (after numerous atrocities and much freedom lost). If not enough people wake up, those who are awake will be hunted like dogs.

The military has a set number of people (and not all of those will be willing participants in the police state). The law enforcement system has a set number of people. Private security (which is tied right in, nice and cozy, with the government) will be in on it; and numerically speaking, the largest branch of all is really the Department of Homeland Security.

Essentially, to overwhelm the government as they cross the lines of decency and right, we will need about 15% of the population to stand. They have better arms. We have better hearts. They are structured and ruthless. Screw guerrilla tactics. We need gorilla tactics: fast, hard hits of the peoples’ rage released where it needs to be released, in a last ditch scenario. Hopefully, we will never get there. This beast is large, and with many heads. To prevent the worst case scenarios, we need to disrupt the corrupt government and force it to change.

EGYPT-POLITICS-DEMO-TUNISIABlockades and disruptions of courts, law enforcement nests, ports, rigged elections, military bases, military supply production facilities, utility companies, coordinated with web hacks and communication system overloads for a day or two might and I mean might wake up the fed enough to let them know we have been pushed too far and that they are the ones that must change. Still a daunting feat which needs a vast number of people. But unless we stand, they will continue to roll right over us and expect us to be happy about it.

This is not advocating a revolution right now; just potentials, and maybe a way to deter.

Anyway, I hope this piece makes you all feel nice and cozy