Holocaust': The Means by Which the Richest Group in the World
Contrives to Cow and Milk the Rest of the Us in the Guise of Victims
who are Persecuted and Due Eternal Restitution
Reading through a thousand blog reactions to Duke v Blitzer on CNN, a
generalization crystallizes. People confuse being told something six
million times with knowing something. They are not the same. "It
ain't what you don't know, it's what you know that just ain't
so." The average man 'knows' the Holocaust exists because: 1)
everybody uses the term; 2) he has seen photos of stacked bodies; 3) he
has read Anne Frank's book; 4) authorities agree that questioning any
of this is 'hate.' In other words, the average man believes in the
Holocaust for no logical reason, but out of simple mammalian
conformity.
'Holocaust' is a loaded, dishonest term.
You can't debate with undefined terms without making a joke of
yourself, but the average man does not realize this. It is the part of
public school, reinforced by mass media, to disable his thinking so
that he's worse positioned to defend himself because he can't
understand how he is manipulated to accept the illogical.
Debate in the mass media of a democracy is nothing but the shuffling of
loaded terms. 'Holocaust' is no ordinary noun. Rather, it is a
loaded gun leveled at the head of the West and the rest. Give them
their money and their pride of place or get your head and reputation
blown off. You will notice that never, ever does debate in the captive
media condescend to deconstruct the Zionist Privilege embodied in and
sanctified by the designer label 'Holocaust.' Worship the Zionists
and submit to their demands - that is what the term Holocaust means.
A demand for special privilege protected by a shell of pseudo-history;
that is an objective description of the term. The heart of the
'Holocaust,' taking at face value the term's pretension to
historical designation, is the claim that six million Jews were
murdered by Nazi Germany, most of them by gassing. The evidence for the
gassing is never discussed. Photos of crematories and bodies stacked
like cord wood are shown. No context or explanation of the reason for
showing them is given. The connection is to be assumed. But never is
any ordinary evidence, let alone proof, of the gassing allegation
advanced. That Jews were gassed is treated as though it were already
proved and therefore unquestionable, save by the depraved. Thus, the
practical job of the media and the well intentioned everyman is to
smear and ostracize anybody who argues against settled truth. We all
know that Jews were gassed, and that those who say otherwise are
deniers driven by hate. But it ain't so just because "everybody
knows" it is.
We are told repeatedly that the 'Holocaust' is both the worst thing
that ever happened and the best documented thing in human history. We
are to take these assertions on authority, since no genuine debate is
allowed.
There are men who can prove the 'Holocaust' is a Big Lie.
You can find them in jail.
Their imprisonment is scarcely mentioned in the mass media. Their
imprisonment goes unlamented by the mass columnists. To discuss these
men and their work would endanger the Propa-sphere the media construct.
They must disappear.
But we know, mass media. And we're not going away. We're getting
louder and stronger. And there's nothing you can do to stop us.
Karl
> Schwachsinn entsorgt
Das sieht man, woher Nazis ihre Info holen.
Von Islamisten.
Ich sag's ja immer.
Nazis und religiöse Fanatiker haben das gleiche Menschenbild.
Gruß
Michael
> By Alex Linder
> Al-Jazeerah, December 18, 2006
>
> Holocaust': The Means by Which the Richest Group in the World
> Contrives to Cow and Milk the Rest of the Us in the Guise of Victims
> who are Persecuted and Due Eternal Restitution
>
Damn! And here I am, paying a mortgage and a car note.
How do I get some of that "richest in the world" money?
--
Ben Cramer: bettered, bested, battered, basted, buttered, busted, bastard.
-- Eugene Holman
My Master holds the rope just so.
He knows me. Knows my moods. Knows the fear behind my eyes, both real and
imagined.
Those eyes widen as he gently lays the rope down, as he carefully,
methodically, systematically, lays the toys down on the bed.
Soft moans escape from behind gagged lips. I have been told to watch.
To see each and know that soon each will touch me.
He looks up briefly as he lays each down on the bed. Checking reactions.
Watching.
The short whip. A sigh.
The deerskin. The suede.
The small braided thong, the one that stings. A short moan.
The horsehair that stings but never marks.
The canes. The paddles. A pause.
I wait, knowing.
The small velvet bag that holds clamps. Clamps too severe for my breasts,
yet applied anyway.
A gasp. And then his smile.
He knows me. He knows I will take the pain to please him. He knows the
sacrifice I make to his Gods of Pain. He sees the torment in my eyes. The
desire to please. The love. The fear of the pain.
My Master holds the rope just so.
Through his fingers, around my wrists, making delicate rings softer than
steel. Stronger than steel. One on each wrist, a gentle bracelet that is
soon pulled tight, stretched to the bedposts and wrapped tightly. One on
each ankle. No matter how I tighten my muscles as he wraps the rope, still
it is perfectly tight. The circulation moves.
The ankle does not.
I lie face-up on the bed, my body a perfect X. Face up. Oh, Goddess, he's
going to whip my breasts.
But first, two small wooden clothespins bob before my eyes. I turn my
head, remember I am instructed to watch, turn back. The clothespins bite
the delicate flesh of each nipple. Grasp. Sting. Burn. He waits.
My Master knows me. Knows he can whip me, clothespins and all. Knows the
pain, where it will hurt the most, what I can and cannot take.
He waits.
The burning increases as the pins are removed. Ah, he will not whip me
with clothespins in place. But the moment when I was unsure, when the
blood pounded in my temples and the fear covered me like a shroud, then he
watched my eyes.
The whip falls. Which one is it now? I cannot turn my head to see which he
reaches for. But I know them all. I arch my back, try to stay still.
My Master knows me. Knows I will hold position as long as possible, before
the pain forces me to writhe, to turn, to try in vain to shield my
breasts. Knows the moment when I can no longer stay still. And precisely
then, says gently, "Don't move."
My Master holds the rope just so. Gently tugging at the knots, to release
arms and legs from bondage. Gently unwraps each wrist, each ankle. Rubs
each, and kisses the places where the rope has left its mark. The gag is
removed. I swallow.
"Kneel."
I crouch on the bed, head down, ass up, as he mounts the bed behind me.
His hands caress my ass softly, then spank sharply. Slowly, quickly, his
hand falls upon my ass. I wait for the moment, the pain/pleasure as he
will enter me. But not yet. First a gentle tapping, soft touch, as he
marks the place the cane will fall. I brace myself, plead with myself to
hold position, knowing each stroke brings a fire hotter than any flame.
Five strokes. Six. I have not moved. As the pain from each begins to
subside, a soft, half-sob. "Thank you, Master."
Eight. Nine. My knees give out, and I fall to the bed, sobbing. But
immediately back on my knees again. "Thank you, Master."
Ten. I am aware of nothing, save the pain. And his voice, as I am
commanded to orgasm, not from stimulation, not from his fingers or his
cock, but from pain alone. My body responds without hesitation. My
pleasure is screamed out for his pleasure.
Later, I will feel his cock inside me. I will feel the force as he thrusts
deep into me, bruising the tender flesh with his strength. Later I will
come, and come, and come, but only by his command. Later, we will lie
back, exhausted, as he cradles me in his arms, strokes me gently, whispers
in my ear.
But not yet.
Now he rises from the bed, returns to the toys so carefully laid out before
me.
My Master holds the rope just so.
Sassy Sara
"Ben Cramer" admits that he's a troll:
"I'm not here to rebut anything or anyone, cuntface. I'm here
to antagonise and keep you occupied." -- "Ben Cramer",
Message-ID: <dv0e2v$l5a$1...@otis.netspace.net.au>.
RJ.
Kurt Knoll.
<positi...@lycos.com> wrote in message
news:1166946811.6...@n51g2000cwc.googlegroups.com...
Kurt Knoll.
"Adenauer" <Karl.A...@gmx.de> wrote in message
news:94nso29kc72hh90sf...@4ax.com...
He hasn't the intelligence to be anything else but a troll.
No education, low IQ and a list of criminal charges for sexual
misconducts as long as your arm.
He's a suspected pedophile who gets beaten to a pulp twice a week
by his neighbors.
Oh Christ, not again!!!!
Big snip.
When are you going to "admit" what *you* are, the resident bore.
If
you're not careful you will be typing the moron OyVey McKay's
record of
posting the most inane drivel over and over again in this group.
Raul Hilberg, "Die Vernichtung der europäischen Juden." Drei Bände,
Frankfurt: Fischer Verlag
Wieslaw Kielar, "Anus Mundi. Fünf Jahre Auschwitz", Frankfurt: Fischer
Verlag
Franciszek Piper, "Die Zahl der Opfer von Auschwitz", Oswiecim, 1993
Franciszek Piper, "Massenvernichtung von Juden in den Gaskammern des
KL Auschwitz" in Staatliches Museum Auschwitz-Birkenau, "Auschwitz
-Nationalsozialistisches Vernichtungslager" Krakau 1997
Staatliches Museum Auschwitz-Birkenau, "Auschwitz
-Nationalsozialistisches Vernichtungslager" Krakau 1997
Rudolf Höss (hg. Von Martin Broszat), "Kommandant in Auschwitz.
Autobiografische Aufzeichnungen des Rudolf Höss", München: dtv, 1989
[12]
Jean-Claude Pressac, "Die Krematorien von Auschwitz. Die Technik des
Massenmordes", München: Piper, 1995 [2]
http://www.holocaust-history.org/auschwitz/pressac/technique-and-operation/pressac0011.shtml
Eric Friedler, Baarbara Siebert, Andreas Kilian, "Zeugen aus der
Todeszone. Das jüdische Sonderkommando in Auschwitz", München: dtv
Götz Aly, Susanne Heim, "Vordenker der Vernichtung. Auschwitz und die
deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung", Hamburg: Hoffmann
und Campe, 1991
...
Karl
Karl
Wow, lots of books and no real evidence for the core claims.....