Seen on the street in Kyiv.

Words of Advice:

"If Something Seems To Be Too Good To Be True, It's Best To Shoot It, Just In Case." -- Fiona Glenanne

“The Mob takes the Fifth. If you’re innocent, why are you taking the Fifth Amendment?” -- The TOFF *

"Foreign Relations Boil Down to Two Things: Talking With People or Killing Them." -- Unknown

“Speed is a poor substitute for accuracy.” -- Real, no-shit, fortune from a fortune cookie

"If you believe that you are talking to G-d, you can justify anything.” — my Dad

"Colt .45s; putting bad guys in the ground since 1873." -- Unknown

"Stay Strapped or Get Clapped." -- probably not Mr. Rogers

"The Dildo of Karma rarely comes lubed." -- Unknown

"Eck!" -- George the Cat

* "TOFF" = Treasonous Orange Fat Fuck, A/K/A Dolt-45,
A/K/A Commandante (or Cadet) Bone Spurs,
A/K/A El Caudillo de Mar-a-Lago, A/K/A the Asset., A/K/A P01135809

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Auschwitz

Christopher Buckley's write-up on a visit he made to Auschwitz with his father.

In another article of his, was this quote:
I sometimes wonder what it would feel like, as a Jew, to hear these profanations [Holocaust denials] to the memory of the six million. Being of Irish ancestry, I suppose the analogy would be hearing a member of the British parliament say that there wasn’t a potato famine in Ireland in the 1840s—just a few localized crop failures. The Irish are certainly making a lot of fuss and bother about all this. It’s time someone told the truth.
That is one analogy, certainly. Another would be the ones mouthed by the racists who defend slavery, who maintain that, notwithstanding the four million Africans who died during the enduring horror euphemistically known as the "Middle Passage" or the millions who were sold into slavery or the tens of millions who were born, lived and died as slaves, that slavery was a good thing in the long run.

The term "profanations" well applies.

2 comments:

montag said...

My father took part in the liberation of Mauthausen. Thirty years later, the first time he could talk about it with me, he said the one thing that stuck in his memory was the smell that hung over the camp. He had no words to describe it beyond awful, awful. Chris Buckley may write movingly of the visual record of that time but without the smell to sear it into your heart, there will always be room for people like that bastard bishop, may he burn in hell, to peddle his crap.

Comrade Misfit said...

Montag,

I've heard the same comment from an Army vet who was there.