Truth.

Hello chums and chumesses. I never did find out what happened to Jack's Shack or why Shloemoe the rizen has abandoned this place. I see that Steve after steaming his spotted dick in a Heinz tin has opted for a more "Catholic" approach to his avatar, it is not so much Sacred Heart, as Sacred fart. The 8th Wigtown literary festival is on too and last night we managed to cram 20 people into our kitchen as part of the festivities. There seem to be about 20 people in the shop at the moment as it gos. As soon as it is all over...

Today however I am afraid that I am going to have to bring your attention to other more unpleasant matters. Now you may or may not be aware of this but I have always had a contempt for those that deny the Holocaust, the revionist non school of thinking which seeks by non logic and dodgy scholarship to attempt to deny any and every part of the Holocaust. These people are liars.

Revionists will say otherwise, revisionists will attempt to prove somehow that there were no homicidal gas chambers at Birkenau, that it was impossible to murder up to 800, 000 people at Treblinka, that the disapperance of up to 6 million Jews in the Second World War is somehow related to a typhus epidemic and on and on and on. But underneath all this total and absolute waste of time is this:

"The real purpose of holocaust revisionism is to make
National Socialism an acceptable political alternative again."

Source Nizkor.org

Hitler was a good guy in other words.

Let's go back now to September 28th 1941. We are in Kiev, The German have moved into the buildings, set up their telephones and the like in the spaces recently vacated by the Soviets in their retreat. Retreating Soviet Special forces (NKVD) mine and blow up the Kreschatik, down town Kiev. The German conquerers are angry and looking to blame someone. We are now in another part of Kiev, near the series of defiles known as Babi Yar.

"...A notice printed on cheap grey wrapping-paper, with no heading and no signature, had been stuck on the fence."

"All Yids living in the city of Kiev and it's vicinity are to report by 8'0clock on the morning of Monday September 29th, 1941 at the corner of Melnikovsky and Dokhturov Streets, (near the cemetery). They are to take with them documents, money, valuables, as well as warm clothes, underwear etc.
Any Yid not carrying out this instruction and who is found elsewhere will be shot.
Any civilian entering flats evacuated by Yids and stealing property will be shot."

"I read it over twice and for some reason it made me shudder. It was written so very harshly, with a sort of cold hatred. What's more it was a cold day with a lot of wind and the street was deserted..."

Anatoli Kuznetsov "Babi Yar, a document in the form of a novel." Jonathon Cape 1970 or any Penguin edition.

Kuznetsov arose early the next day to see the Jews of Kiev depart and was almost trapped himself at the entrance to the cemetery. Because the assembly point was close to the railway station, there had been a general impression that the posted order related to evacuation...

When I got home, I found my grandfather standing in the middle of the courtyard, straining to hear some shooting that was going on somewhere. He raised his finger.

"Do you know what?" he said with horror in his voice. "They're not deporting 'em. They're shooting 'em."

Today IS the 65th Anniversary of the massacre of Babi Yar in the Ukrainian city of Kiev. Today German forces, police units and Sonderkommando 4a of Einsatzgruppe C. under the command of SS. Standartenfuhrer Paul Blobel with the help of local anti-semites, shot during September 29th and September 30th over the course of two days, approximately 33,771 Jews. A figure arrived at by their own tally.

"But for your sake we were slain all the day long and accounted as sheep for the slaughter."

The Nazis went on to murder up to 200,000 people in the area during the course of the occupation. These consisted of Gypsies, Jews, Soviet Prisoners of Wars, the mentally ill. Basically anyone considered by Nazi logic, not worthy of life ended up dead in the Yar. When Soviet forces drew close to recapturing Kiev, the Germans employed that special unit called Sonderkommando 1005 also commanded by Blobel to remove every trace of their crimes. In Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, White Russia, Crimea...they were on the run. So much for the 1,000 year glorious Reich.

There isn't a lot more to say is there?

Just to cheer you up and end on a humorous note. Consider for a moment, does the moon actually exist?

http://www.revisionism.nl/The-Mad-Revisionist.htm

Thank you.

Peace.

CwA


-very timely. Try telling this to Iran's "president" Ahmadinejad...

P.S. Here's this great quote I've always loved, from "Fiddler On The Roof":

(Talking to God)
Tevye: I know, I know. We are your chosen people. But, once in a while,
can't you choose someone else?


(T)

September 27 - Knackered

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox, Indie 1031. Five minutes after twelve bells. (Picks up guitar) Just arranging myself here…
Try my axe: (strums). Yes, in tune…try my harmonica: (blows a few notes) Yes, that works. My voice: (sings a few scales) La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la. Yes, that works too. Then look at me phone: Yes, got a couple of bars there. Got a couple of drinks (bottles clink together in background) right there. Ready to go. Just wasted two minutes explaining what’s going on here.

(big sigh) I’m absolutely knackered. I couldn’t be more knackered. Played football last night. Played the whole game, ninety minutes. We beat this team 4-1. I was running around like a lunatic. I had so much fun. Scored a goal, but I woke up this morning…I actually got up early cos I thought I was going to have a meeting with someone early, but it didn’t happen. So I couldn’t go back to bed and now I was just twiddling me thumbs for like, two hours and I have just absolutely zero energy. But I brought some energetic, what you might call, “rock and roll” today. Actually, Rhino have a good box set out right now. It’s all goth stuff, it’s pretty good. Comes in some good…comes in a leather corset, which I got rid of because it’s way too small for me. I don’t even think it would fit, um…what do they call them people who can’t eat? Anorexic. I don’t think it’d even fit one of them, it’s so tiny. Cos it just kind of covers the box set. But maybe it’d fit on a dog, like a greyhound. Probably fit on a greyhound, the corset. If anyone needs a corset for their greyhound, let me know. I have no use to it. (strums guitar) Oh, that sounds nice.
(sings some of “More Than A Feeling”)

I woke up this morning the sun was gone
La la my music and get my day
Dream of a girl I used to know
…eyes and she drift away

Steve: Aw, I wish I knew that bit that joined up with the chorus.

(singing again) More than a feeling…

Steve: No, let me change it:

I am knackered
And I can’t get no sleep right now
I’m so knackered
And I la la la la
I feel I need a nap right now…

Steve: Aw, I can’t even think straight. Got any ideas for songs, Shovel, or see what happens?

Mr. Shovel: You don’t have to do a song.

Steve: I know, but I like to push meself. What have I spoke about? Anything, anything significant?

Mr. Shovel: Just your basic “knackered”…

Steve: Okay, knackered. (starts out on harmonica) I can’t even blow the bleedin’ harmonica. (Struggles with harmonica slopping and snorting, until he stumbles upon an interesting sound) Ay, that sounds like a Rolf Harris thing! (continues)

Mr. Shovel: Didgeridoo.

(it sounds surprisingly like one)

Steve: Yeah.

(Steve starts a song and Mr. Shovel joins in with some Rolf Harris-like percussion)

I’m so knackered at twelve bells
I’m so knackered in ze evening
Why am I so knackered all the time
I need some crackeroon
to pick me up at noo-oo-oon

I’m so knackered all the time
I’m so knackered it’s so not my kind
In the evening
Oh I can’t even think, let me whistle again

(jumps back to the “didgeridoo” and by now Mr. Shovel has added that weird Rolf Harris panting sound as an accompaniment until the song ends, or rather, until it knackers out.)

September 26 - "Instrumental" (plus a bonus track!) "Beheaded"

Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. (tests out harmonica) I’m just getting a new…I said I’d try and change it up with a different harmonica. I think this one’s “D”. But I don’t know if I’ve got it in the holder right. I’ve got gas today, so be careful.

Mr. Shovel: It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?

Steve: Huh? I haven’t farted on the air in a while.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah...about two minutes ago.

Steve: I just farted in Steele’s office (Indie Program Director Michael Steele). Nice. It just went on, on, on. It was one of them, it was one of them magma ones.

Mr. Shovel: I’m surprised you had anything left over for the one you just did in here.

Steve: (innocently) Oh, did I?

Mr. Shovel: (laughs)

Steve: Oh. No, I think there’s many more. Hold on a second. What’s going on, Shovel?

Mr. Shovel: We have tickets to Frampton to give away.

Steve: I heard Bush, kind of in the background, but Bush and some bloke from Afganistan was talking this morning for about twenty minutes, live. Do you know what that was about?

Mr. Shovel: No, but I’m sure it was not about anything that was actually happening.

Steve: Did you know that gas prices went down? You noticed?

Mr. Shovel: Um hm. A little bit.

Steve: I noticed that it cost twenty-six bucks to fill up my Prius. Normally it’s thirty. So that was good.

Mr. Shovel: By all means, you should shift your vote into the Republican column, then.

Steve: Oh, I know what I wanted…someone told me that Clinton ripped a new um, thing…bum-bum with that geezer on the Fox…did you see that?

Mr. Shovel: Um hm.

Steve: I wish I would have seen that. Was it, was it good?

Mr. Shovel: It was, but they just ended up making him look like a fool anyways, for being upset, “Oh, look at him. Look at him. Look at how upset he is”

Steve: Making who look like a fool?

Mr. Shovel: Clinton.

Steve: Really? I don’t think he come across like that, though. From what I…I didn’t see it, from what I…oh, well. You can’t win, can ya? Don’t matter what you do. (checks tuning on guitar) That’s sounds about…perfect. Just like the day it was made. Perfecto. (does a little la la warm up, blows into harmonica) What key is this in? Let me try and figure out. I’m into doing songs lately, I don’t know why. (blows harmonica) Oh, that ain’t right, is it? Oh, it’s “C”. (begins to play guitar and blow a tune on harmonica for a while, then stops) I don’t know what I’m singing, though. Got any ideas? Maybe I’ll just do instrumental. (continues to play)

(starts to sing)

Instrumental…(the "instrumental" has lyrics now. Mr. Shovel is heard laughing in the background)

Steve: (stops singing and playing) I can’t hear meself. What’s going on here? It’s all low and dodgy. Nothing’s happening. No echo or…the echo’s on strike or something? (starts song over)

Instrumental
Sentimental
Experimental
your life away

I am a test tube
Test tube, baby
Just finding my way
I like the sound of no words on this song

It’s better than words
They’re only words
and I like it
Yes I like it this way

Silence is golden
I’m going to send you to Coventry (?)
Did I mention that silence is golden
You’ve been sent
you’ve been sent to Coventry

I like it better with no words on this song
I like it better this way
I like it better with no words on this song
It’s more effective that way

Instrumental
Accidently
couldn’t write any words today
Instrumental
in the cathedral
of silence

It’s better off with no words on this song
I like it better this way
It’s much more fun
when you don’t have to
remember

I could never be in a play
with loads of lyrics
and cues and positions
and lights and action
and nervous stage fright

Instrumental...

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

From September 25th, a little medieval ditty by Sire

Be-headed


As I was walking through the village green
I saw bundles of hay
rolling down the cobblestones
I saw the huts were burning
And the men on their horses were waving their swords

I must run to the hills and get in the bushes
I must run and be a big coward
I’m not brave with swords
I leave it to the gruff men
I don’t want to be-headed

I saw some children get their arms cut off
And some women were getting ‘airy-aped
I think I knew one of the maidens
Better her than me

So I ran to the hills
cos I’m a coward
I don’t want them big grisly men
looking at me

I feel for the victims in the village
But you won’t find me
Because don’t want to be-headed
I want to see my head one more day
Where it should be on my shoulders
Looking out at thee

From September 25, 2006 Planes

It appears that we are in for another show from Jonesy's Bunker on Thursday the 28th. The band The Gossip will be the guest. Don't know a damn thing about 'em but they must be good in order to be deemed worthy.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Steve: You’re listening to Jonesy’s Jukebox on Indie 1031. It’s three minutes after twelve bells. Nice, summery day. It was a gorgeous weekend, absolutely gorgeous. We had a game of football yesterday against this German mob. We lost 4-2. We were all bickering around in the first half cos we…were losing so we all started moaning at each other. We kind of pulled it together for the second half and came back and got two goals. If we had another ten minutes I think we could have equalized with them. I got a goal from a corner. I kicked from the corner and it went in. That’s how…

Mr. Shovel: You bent it like Beckham.

Steve: I did. Bent it like Jonesy. It’s good, it was.

Mr. Shovel: Bent, like Jonesy.

Steve: Yep. Bent. Buckled, like Jonesy. It was gorgeous, though. Laid out and got some sun yesterday. Am I sunburnt or brown?

Mr. Shovel: A little pinkish on top of the brown.

Steve: It will be brown tomorrow. (sings) Golden brown, tan is like a orange, doo dee doo…never a frown with golden brown. What else is happening? Peter Frampton tickets?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah.

Steve: He’s not coming on The Box, you know. I just found out. He’s coming in the day of the…day he’s playing so he ain’t got time to come on The Box, which is a shame. He was good last time. What else is happening? Nothing much, is there?

Mr. Shovel: Looks like you’re ready to throw down some heavy, heavy duty rock and roll.

Steve: Yeah, I’m going to rock it today. I’m going to rock it like I’ve never rocked it before. I’m going to rock it so hard, we’re going to go into the outer atmosphere. We’re going to rock. Rock it so hard I’m going to fall off the chair. The walls are going to shake. Um. Do you like flying, Shovel? You a fan of flying?

Mr. Shovel: Not really. You mean like, a commercial airliner?

Steve: Yeah.

Mr. Shovel: No. Not at all. I don’t know anybody who does enjoy it.

Steve: Yeah…I hate it.

Mr. Shovel: Why do you ask?

Steve: I dunno. I was thinking about it over the weekend. I was just lying down, looking up and seeing these planes like, taking off and thinking how unnatural it is. You know what I mean? Like, a car, you can handle the speed and stuff but like, if a plane’s going and a hole went in the plane, you’d be sucked out. It’d be all over with. It’s like an unnatural thing.

Mr. Shovel: What’re the odds of that happening? I only remember that happening like, once or twice.

Steve: I saw it once. This plane from Hawaii. The whole roof came off. They were all sitting there. Thank God they were strapped…some of ‘em…I think someone…one of the stewardess ladies who didn’t have a thing on went flying out the roof with it. Can you imagine that? Flying along there and all of a sudden the roof comes off. God, never fly again if I was on that plane. I don’t want to fly again, anyway.

Mr. Shovel: I think it’s an irrational fear because you know, you’re just…as many weird things can happen when you’re driving a car.

Steve: I know, I know. But can you imagine being on the one plane that says, “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. We have some bad news. We’re going to plummet into the ground, smash right into the Earth. We have two minutes before this happens.” Can you imagine that? Them two minutes?

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, that wouldn’t be very…

Steve: It wouldn’t be fun, would it? What you gonna do in them two minutes? Not much you could do. And the other thing I don’t like about flying, especially when you go on long flights and you sit next to some bloke and he’s like a carpet salesman and he tells you his life story.

Mr. Shovel: Well, you just close your eyes and act like you’re sleeping.

Steve: Yeah? But then, you do get a little talkative when you’re up there for some reason. Something happens when you’re up there, all them many miles above the Earth. You actually do start talking to complete strangers. That’s why they have them magazines with all that junk in it? Sharper Image junk, you know. “Buy this bleedin’ tease, mate cos it’s what you need right now.” And you find yourself almost wanting to buy that stuff. There’s something about being up in the atmosphere that you are a bit susceptible to being a bit silly.

Mr. Shovel: Yeah, but how you gonna buy it?

Steve: Well, you order it, don’t you?

Mr. Shovel: Have you ever ordered anything while you’re flying?

Steve: I don’t order anything when I’m on the ground, mate. Cash is king.
But the worst is when you talk to the carpet salesman or the door-to-door guy. Or the car salesman and he’s telling about his life and he’s knocking back the little shots in them…you know, five hours into it he’s like telling you his deepest secrets, how he really wears women’s panties when he’s at home with his missus and his missus don’t know. And then the plane lands and then that’s it. You don’t even say goodbye. It’s like on a movie set where everyone’s friendly and the movie ends and that’s the end.

Maybe you’d get people to talk more like, if you want to get more out of like, bad people to make ‘em talk. Take ‘em up in a plane and say, “If you don’t talk, I’m going to sling you out of this plane”. Maybe they’ll do it a little bit easier than if they was in a cell, prison cell…you know?

Mr. Shovel: Maybe people talk cos they’re nervous.

Steve: Yeah, that could be it. That could be it. (starts to play his guitar) Am I on? Should I sing a song? (laughs) What should I sing a song about?

Mr. Shovel: I think it’ll have something to do with airplanes.

Steve: Yeah, okay. Let’s see if me old harp works. Gotta get some different harps cos I can only play in A (with the one he’s been using).

(sings)

Airplanes
I don’t like to fly the friendly skies at night
They give me the willies them little capsules
flying in mid-air it’s not right
No it’s not it’s not right
it’s not meant to be

Flying is for fools and silly jackabites and jack’napes
I like it when my two feet are on the ground
and not a million miles in the air
I like it when I’m in the driving seat
not with some bloke who’s had a drink
and he flies the plane

Flying is not my style
I don’t like jet planes or propeller ones
But I wouldn’t say no to a G5
if it was my own one
with no other people in it
making a mess in my G5


I wish I was mates with Bill Gates
We’d be flying high in his G5
I wish that I was mates with Bill Gates
We’d be flying around the world
in his G5

They have better mechanics on their private ones
Not like the ones on
American or United or Pan Am or TWA
I like it when the mechanic is working on my G5
he really does a thorough job

Better than the ones who are used every day
There’s more chance that you will plummet
into the ground with a load of strangers
Talking about their lives
to carpet salesmen

I’m not interested in your carpets
or your wives or your mistresses you jackabites
Carpet salesman on the plane sitting next to me
You imbecile you can take your carpets
and shove ‘em

If your carpets are so good
Why don’t you fly on one

~~~ ~~ ~~~

(BTW - yeah, "Jacobite" is the original spelling of the word, but I believe our host likes the word for what is sounds like, so I spells it "jackabite". - T)
~~~ ~~~ ~~~