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A Thousand Reich Years Ago

From btard deleted nostatus - Crazy Mufti, a worrying look at the connections betwixt Nationalsozialismus and Islam.

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No doubt someone in Washington can work out the connections leading from The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem to Saddam Hussein to Iran.

Wiki: Adolf Eichmann's deputy Dieter Wisliceny testified during his war crimes trial in 1946 that ... "The Mufti was one of the initiators of the systematic extermination of European Jewry and had been a collaborator and adviser of Eichmann and Himmler in the execution of this plan... He was one of Eichmann’s best friends and had constantly incited him to accelerate the extermination measures. I heard him say, accompanied by Eichmann, he had visited incognito the gas chambers of Auschwitz."

I bet.

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Johnston Island

inverted jenny stamp


For auction from the U. S. General Services Administration,

Johnson Atoll
Property Address:
717 nautical miles Southwest of Honolulu, Hawaii
Johnston Island, HI 96558
Type of the Property: LAND
Potential Usage: ecotourism, wildlife refuge

Johnston Atoll consists of four small man-made islands enclosed in an egg-shaped reef approximately 21 miles in circumference. The wildlife refuge on the Atoll is a habitat for 32 species of coral, 300 species of fish, the endangered sea turtle and Hawaiian monk seal, and 20 species of migratory birds. Johnston, the main island, is 1000 yards long and 200 yards wide.

I can't quite work out how these will come to Acres: 625.81, but I'll take their word rather than measuring it myself.

The deed will contain use restrictions because the atoll was used by the Defense Department for storage of chemical munitions and as a missile test site in the 1950's and 60's.

Hmmm.

The island can be used as a residence or vacation getaway but it does not have utilities or a water supply. The airstrip and the golf course are closed.

Check: Generator; Desalination plant; Concrete Mixer.

Or

A case of whisky and one's own golf-clubs.

Johnston Island 1023

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Metaphysics in the Rain

api
at 4:29 amsuggest (Art, Correctitude, High Germany, Other Writ, War)

So on 3rd September Napoleon with his suite, his powdered postilions, and the train of waggons which had so encumbered the movements of his army, drove into captivity, bound for the palace of Wilhelmshöhe above Cassel. His troops, marching through pouring rain to the makeshift internment camp which the Germans had improvised for them in the loop of the Meuse above Iges --- le camp de la misère as they called it after a week of starvation under pelting rain --- watched his departure with indifference punctuated by abuse. Both Moltke and Bismarck watched the carriage drive away. Moltke wondered, a little tortuously, whether Napoleon might not have devised the whole operation to secure his untroubled retreat from his responsibilities. Bismarck merely remarked reflectively, "There is a dynasty on its way out."
Then both returned to the gigantic problems which their victory had set them to solve.

Michael Howard : The Franco-Prussian War

SisleyMoret

Alfred Sisley : Setting Sun at Moret

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The Depressingest Picture Ever Shown

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thebabychrist

Phillip Richard Morris RA : 'The Shadow of the Cross'

Mezzotint by Charles Mottram

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Summer of Love

The Gousters --- Only Eighteen

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Anniversary in Alph

api
at 2:44 pmsuggest (Art, Generalia, Self Writ, War)

736 years ago this month, Kublai Khan foun­ded the Yuan Dyn­asty in China. This is how he looked:

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Khan

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Flying off the handle

Inter­est­ing art­icle from the Guard­i­an point­ing out from a marx­ist per­spect­ive how argu­ments from lib­er­al envir­on­ment­al­ists are often driv­en by dis­dain for the work­ing classes.

Stay At Home, Scum

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In September The Terrorists Came

They struck New York as incendiaries,with a vicious purpose for a bad cause, and the flames leapt in three targets. The shadowy leaders who had directed them to this barbarous act of hate against civilisation had no concern for the possibility of suffering; merely interested in achieving a blow against the constituted authorities of America and resulting chaos amidst the grief and fear ensuing. The terrible atrocity was welcomed by sympathisers both inside the country and abroad.

Soldiers and sailors mobilised instantly to save lives, rescue goods and fight the fires: terrorists caught in the act were killed speedily by the soldiers and their lifeless bodies consumed by the very fires they had started. A quarter of the city was burned. The morally subhuman enemies of order had begun their victory march to imposing the most debased, evil and tyrannical regime known to mankind.

After the 20th of September, nothing would be the same ever again.

Inferno

1776

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CND  —  Male Understanding">CND  —  Male Understanding

api
at 3:38 amsuggest (Art, Music, Self Writ, Videos)

From Glastonbury 2005, the iconic video of Chas 'n Dave's finale in the Acoustic Tent, celebrating a thousand years of embittered London youth raucously shouting outside their beloved's windows whilst smashed.

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Ain't No Pleasin' You

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Barbarossa

flyblacks

The ancient Bar­bar­ossa, the Kais­er Fre­d­er­ick old,
In sub­ter­ranean castle ensor­celled state doth hold.

Dead was the Kais­er nev­er, he lives in mys­tic sleep.
Long has he slumbered lonely in that enchanted keep.

The glory of the Empire with him has passed away;
But Emper­or and Empire shall have one wakening-day.

The throne is all of ivory where sits the Kais­er dread,
Of por­phyry the table where­on he leans his head.

Like fire not flax the beard is, that thick and long has grown
Right through the prop­ping table that is of marble stone.

He nods as if a-dreaming, half-closed his eye of fire.
After long space of silence he beck­ons to a squire.


To him in sleep he mut­ters, “Around the castle-hill
See if the ravens flut­ter, and soar in circles still.

And if the ancient ravens still circle far and near,
So must I sleep enchanted another hun­dred year.”

Friedrich Rück­ert

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Called Back From The Grave

gaterock

Whilst regarding the career of the great Schinkel on the web vide the post previous, I came across a Google Book the remarkable beginning of whose synopsis only emphasises how extraordinary his talents were, and the totality of his Prussian dedication to duty.


googlebook

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Something Else

api
at 11:28 pmsuggest (Art, Literature, Other Writ)

cathedral

Karl Friedrich Schinkel — A Gothic Cathedral Behind Trees

Without fully straightening up, Kondrashov shuffled furtively over to a corner, pulled out a small canvas nailed to a stretcher and brought it over, holding its back towards Nerzhin.

‘Do you know who Parsifal was ?’ he enquired hoarsely.

‘Wasn’t he something to do with Lohengrin ?’

‘His father. The guardian of the Holy Grail.’

‘There’s an opera by Wagner about it, isn’t there ?’

‘The moment which I have shown here isn’t in Wagner nor in von Eschenbach either. It is an idea of my own. It is what a man might experience when he suddenly glimpses the image of perfection.’

Kondrashov closed his eyes, compressed his lips and bit them. He was preparing himself. Nerzhin wondered why the picture he was about to see was so small. The artist opened his eyes:

‘This is only a sketch. A sketch for the greatest moment of my life. I shall probably never paint it. It is the moment when Parsifal first sees the castle… of the Holy… Grail !’

He turned round to put the sketch on an easel in front of Nerzhin, staring at it all the while. He raised the back of his hand to his eyes as though shielding them from the light coming from the picture. As he stepped further and further back the better to take in his vision of it he tripped on the top step of the staircase and nearly fell. In shape the picture was twice as high as it was long. It showed a wedge-shaped ravine dividing two mountain crags. Above them both to right and left, could just be seen the outermost trees of a forest — a dense primeval forest. Some creeping ferns, some ugly, menacing prehensile thickets clung to the very edge, and even to the overhanging face of the rock. Above and to the left a pale grey horse was coming out of the forest, ridden by a man in helmet and cape. Unafraid of the abyss the horse had raised its foreleg before taking the final step, prepared at its rider’s command to gather itself and jump over — a leap that was well within its power. But the rider was not looking at the chasm that faced the horse. Dazed, wondering, he was looking into the middle distance, where the upper reaches of the sky were suffused with an orange-gold radiance which might have been from the sun or from something else even more brilliant hidden from view by a castle. Its walls and turrets growing out of the ledges of the mountainside, visible also from below through the gap between the crags, between the ferns and trees, rising to a needle-point at the top of the picture — indistinct in outline, as though woven from gently shimmering clouds, yet still vaguely discernible in all the details of its unearthly perfection, enveloped in a shining and lilac-coloured aureole — stood the castle of the Holy Grail.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn : The First Circle

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Verzicht

Mist

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The Seekers — The Carnival Is Over

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Time Stops in the Certitude of Self-Regard

Of course, Marx was a fellow-Victorian and Stalin was heir to the 19th century; yet the eternal verities still hold, and each generation believes it is the Heir of Ages... ]

* R. K. Webb

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Retief Redux

api
at 12:43 amsuggest (Generalia, Literature, Other Writ, Self Writ)

Keith Laumer was one of those rare SF writers who was both witty and light; some­thing that in SF terms hap­pens as often as the Trans­it of Venus. I was inter­ested to see a site devoted to him; and when I read this I thought it extremely funny:

I finally got to meet Keith in 1990, at his home in Brooks­ville, Flor­ida, a couple years before he died. I was in awe of the man, his tal­ent, his per­sona. He was para­lyzed on one side but could get around on a motor­ized scoot­er, which he drove us around on a tour of his prop­er­ty dur­ing the 1990 vis­it. I had taken my nine year old daugh­ter with me, all the way from Ore­gon, to finally meet Keith after all those years. We had a won­der­ful vis­it, that is, until the last few minutes when Keith pulled a Ger­man Lugar, aimed it at my chest, and told me to leave.’

Keith Laumer

Read­ing more in the for­um there, it was more tra­gic than amus­ing; but it’s still pretty funny.

Here too is a site devoted to another cyn­ic­al SF author, R. A. Laf­fer­ty

R. A. Laf­fer­ty : Devo­tion­al Page

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A Couple More Years

I’ve got a couple more years on you, babe, that’s all.
I’ve had more chances to fly and more places to fall.
And it ain’t that I’m wiser — it’s only that I’ve spent
More time with my back to the wall.
And I’ve picked up a couple more years on you, baby, that’s all.

I’ve walked a couple more roads than you, baby,that’s all.
And I’m tired of run­nin’ while you’re only learn­ing to crawl.
And you’re head­in some­where , but I’ve been to some­where
And found it was nowhere at all.
And I’ve picked up a couple of years on you baby, that’s all.

Now say­in’ good­bye, girl don’t nev­er come easy at all.
But you’ve got to fly ‘cuz you’re hear­in’ those young eagles call.
And someday when you’re older, you’ll smile at a man strong and tall.
And you’ll say I’ve got a couple more years on you, baby — that’s all.

I’ve got a couple more years on you baby, that’s all.
You’ll say I’ve had more chances to fly and more places to fall.
It ain’t that I’m wiser it’s only that I’ve spent
More time with my back to the wall.
And I’ve picked up a couple more years on you baby, that’s all.

Waylon Jen­nings

Ruines


Jean-Louis-Ernest Meis­soni­er : Ruines Des Tuiler­ies

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Helen of Kirkconnell

I would I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirk­con­nell lea !

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to suc­cour me !

O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt and spak nae mair !
I laid her down wi’ meikle care,
On fair Kirk­con­nell lea.

As I went down the water side,
Nane but my foe to be my guide,
Nane but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirk­con­nell lea.

I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hack­éd him in pieces sma’,
I hack­éd him in pieces sma’,
For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, bey­ond com­pare!
I’ll make a gar­land of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for ever­mair,
Until the day I dee!

O that I were where Helen lies
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, “Haste, and come to me !”

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirk­con­nell lea.

I would my grave were grow­ing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen’s arms lying,
On fair Kirk­con­nell lea.

I wad I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries,
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.

Eng­lish tra­di­tion­al

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api
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