It’s Also Getting Beaten Almost to Death, Due to Being Suspected of Being an Intestine-Eating Satanist!

Reader warning: Intestine-eating Satanists and penis thieves, and those hunting them may both find this item offensive.

When our son was born, he was, in our thoroughly objective judgment, the most beautiful newborn in the entire hospital nursery. In addition to his handsome visage, he was distinguished by a goofy expression and a birth mark. (In spite of what one hears, not all newborns look that great. And yes, goofy and handsome can go together.)

Nowadays, parents whose children are born in urban hospitals have to worry about their baby being accidentally or deliberately switched with another baby, not to mention prowling kidnappers. Hence, parents immediately look for distinguishing marks, just in case.

However, one concern we didn’t have was whether a prowling Satanist would put his hand on our son’s mouth, and gut him like a fish, in order to sup, Hannibal Lecter-style, on his intestines.

Note that one cannot conclude from the below-linked story that “intestines eating Satanists” really are on the prowl in Zimbabwean hospitals. Indeed, no evidence is provided for their existence, scrutiny of the language used suggests that they are a phantasm existing only in the minds of evil hysterical rumor-mongers. Granted, equally depraved forms of evil, such as child sacrifice, certainly have precedent among sub-Saharan black Africans, both in the motherland, as well as abroad, but “intestines eating Satanists” are likely yet another African fever of the mind, like the “magical penis thieves” who make black African men’s sexual organs disappear and reappear at will.

Whether or not “magical penis thieves” or “intestine-eating Satanists” exist, large swathes of sub-Saharan black society believe in their existence, and are willing to kill those accused of, or even rumored to have committed said crimes. And in the stories I’ve read about the falsely accused being beaten, maimed, and even murdered, no one ever expresses any regrets, after the fact. Note the relish, for example, with which reporter H Metro writes below about the beating two apparently innocent men received, and the similarly supportive statement from a witness Metro quotes.

Do we really want to accept any such people, let alone potentially millions of them, as immigrants and refugees into America?

If you have taken up mental residence in The Diversity Zone, the answer must be an unequivocal yes!

Two men were given a hiding fit for a devil before being detained at the Harare Central Hospital’s pediatric unit after they were allegedly caught loitering there and messing with a five-year-old patient’s clothes last Wednesday.

They were beaten up by the public under suspicion that they were Satanists trying to extract the child’s intestines. The accused have however, denied being evil saying their hands are very clean.

This follows a rumour that satanists were on the prowl in the country and especially at Hospitals. However, the Harare Central Hospital authorities have refuted [N.S. read: rejected] this claim.

The two, Shepherd Tabarwa and Claytos Dzinumwe, were found loitering around the five-year-old’s bed where they appeared to be measuring his clothes as they held him by the waist.

However, the two DENIED being satanists and justified their illegal action and presence in the ward by saying that their company was contracted to supply the hospital with clothing hence they were surveying on the pattern that would suit the new borns!

“Its a problem when dealing with people who do not know how to handle business. Hospital security wanted to get us killed by the crown [crowd?] after one of the women whom we are training as a tailor raised false alarm and told the crown that we are satanists. I am not a satanist, I am a Christian with an apostolic sect.”…

It is not clear whether he also enjoyed [?!] the thorough beating he received since he got his personal defence outline. His ‘accomplice’ Shepherd claimed that his ear was damaged in the beating after he was slapped stupid!…

We caught up with the owner of Power 6 Trading which has since relocated [I wonder why?]. She identified herself as Mai Mpopoma.

She CONFIRMED that her workers were detained on allegations of unlawfully entering the children’s ward prompting people to suspect that they were part of the Satanists that have taken a prowl at the children’s ward.

“Yes my employees were detained but circumstances surrounding their detention are not true. We are not Satanists, we won a tender to supply the hospital with clothing and the guys were just checking out the pattern. In fact this will discredit my company at a wrong time because i was also bidding for the same tender at Chitungwiza Central Hospital.”…

However, residents from neighbouring Southerton and some staffers told us that there has been a fear of evil elements invading the children’s ward.

“Children are dying in unclear circumstances amid rumours that Satanism is taking toil [toll?]. How can the security personnel leave people getting into the pediatric ward without verifying if they are the parents or next of kin?”

“If it was measuring the size of the clothes or taking the patterns as claimed, they could have followed the official channels,” charged one of the visitors who witnessed the incident.

[Suspected intestines eating satanists beaten up in Harare Hospital children's ward by H Metro, Zimbabwe Online Press, 27 October, 2011.]

 

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

In Entry on the U.S. Census, the Encyclopedia That Any Leftwing Fraud Can Edit Promotes “Race Does Not Exist” Myth

[Photo - Scientific fraud Franz Boas as a young buck]

[Previously, see: “Wikipedia on Race: ‘World’s biggest encyclopedia’ serves up propaganda.”] The following passage comes from the entry in Wikipedia, or as I call it, The Pretend Encyclopedia, on “Race and ethnicity in the United States Census.”

==Relation between ethnicity and race in census results==

The Census Bureau warns that data on race in United States Census 2000|2000 Census are not directly comparable to those collected in previous censuses. Many US residents consider race and ethnicity to be the same concept. American Anthropological Association. ” A Brief History of the OMB Directive 15.” 1997. May 18, 2007.

[N.S. How many is “many”? WP/TPC’s own guidelines prohibit such squishy language, but in practice, the rules never apply to lefties. If there is confusion about the simple distinction between “ethnicity” and “race,” the confusion owes much to generations of mischief by organized, Marxist anthropology professors and their comrades in other departments and outside of academia, which the editor who inserted the approving reference to the AAA somehow failed to note.

I removed a statistical table that appears in the WP/TPE entry, which was created not as a graphic, but via a text coding method unique to WP/TPE, which does not work elsewhere.]

In the United States Census 2000, respondents were tallied in each of the race groups they reported. Consequently, the total of each racial category exceeds the total population because some people reported more than one race.

According to James P. Allen and Eugene Turner from California State University, Northridge, by some calculations in the 2000 Census the largest part white bi-racial population is white/Native American and Alaskan Native, at 7,015,017, followed by white/black at 737,492, then white/Asian at 727,197, and finally white/Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islander at 125,628.

The Census Bureau implemented a Census Quality Survey, gathering data from approximately 50,000 households in order to assess the reporting of race and Hispanic origin in the United States Census 2000 with the purpose [sic] creating a way to make comparisons between the United States Census 2000 with previous Census racial data.

In September 1997, during the process of revision of racial categories previously ]declared by OMB directive no. 15, the American Anthropological Association (AAA) recommended that OMB combine the “race” and “ethnicity” categories into one question to appear as “race/ethnicity” for the United States Census, 2000.

The Interagency Committee agrees, stating that “race” and “ethnicity” were not sufficiently defined and “that many respondents conceptualize ‘race’ and ‘ethnicity’ as one in the same {{sic}} [N.S. “{{sic}}” was in the Wikipedia text] underscor[ing] the need to consolidate these terms into one category, using a term that is more meaningful to the American people.” [Read: “More meaningful to” Marxists and others waging race war on white Americans.]

The AAA also stated,

“The American Anthropological Association recommends the elimination of the term “race” [sic] from OMB Directive 15 during the planning for the 2010 Census. During the past 50 years, “race” has been scientifically proven to not be a real, natural phenomenon. More specific, social categories such as “ethnicity” [sic] or “ethnic group” [sic] are more salient for scientific purposes and have fewer of the negative, racist connotations for which the concept of race was developed.”

“Yet the concept of race has become thoroughly—and perniciously—woven into the cultural and political fabric of the United States. [The concept of race is older than the United States.] It has become an essential element of both individual identity and government policy. Because so much harm has been based on “racial” [sic] distinctions over the years, correctives for such harm must also acknowledge the impact of “racial” [sic] consciousness among the U.S. populace, regardless of the fact that “race” [sic] has no scientific justification in human biology. Eventually, however, these classifications must be transcended and replaced by more non-racist and accurate ways of representing the diversity of the U.S. population.” [N.S.: My use of “sic” in the previous two paragraphs is due to Wikipedia’s improper use of double quotes both to open and close quoted paragraphs, and for words within the paragraphs, which should receive single quotation marks.]

The recommendations of the AAA were not adopted by the Census Bureau for the United States Census 2000 or the United States Census 2010.

Race has never been “scientifically proven to not be a real, natural phenomenon.” Apparently, professors of anthropology understand under “scientifically proven,” endlessly repeating what they know to be a lie, and destroying the career of anyone who refuses to play along.

The myth that the races are identical in their abilities was spread by Franz Boas (1858-1942), a German Jewish immigrant, whose true faith was socialism. The reason Boas invented the myth was purely political, and anti-scientific. As Zygmund Dobbs showed in The Great Deceit: Social Pseudo-Sciences (1964), Boas was a fanatical socialist who had no training in anthropology, as opposed to physics and geography, and who undertook a deliberate political campaign to hijack anthropology, and turn it into a propagandistic tool of stealthy, organized socialism. Boas was hugely successful.

He and his comrades took over one anthropology department after another. The anti-scientific origins of the “race does not exist” hoax were in Boas’ plan to impose socialism on America. He knew, as everyone did, that there were different races, which were distinguished by their respective inherited characteristics. However, the facts were inconvenient to Boas’ goal of imposing an ideology and state form that asserted that all men had identical abilities. As he wrote, early on,

The anthropologist recognizes that the Negro and the white represent the two most divergent types of mankind,

And

It is true that the average size of the Negro brain is slightly smaller than the average size of the brain of the white race. [Zygmund Dobbs, The Great Deceit: Social Pseudo-Sciences, 175.]

Boas and his acolytes, such as Ruth Benedict and Margaret Mead, routed the empirical, scientific study of physical racial differences, and replaced it with “cultural environment theory”: All nurture, no nature. He also committed scientific fraud, in writing a “study” falsely claiming that the skulls of immigrants’ children grew larger, due to the environment in America.

Just as college departments of anthropology were reduced to socialist fronts providing propagandistic pseudo-science by Boas and his devotees (e.g., Margaret Mead and Coming of Age in Samoa, Ruth Benedict and Patterns of Culture, Boas’ works, etc.), Boas also helped socialist fronts outside of academia.

[Scientific fraud Margaret Mead at app. 30 years of age, on a U.S. postage stamp, which was as phony and prettified as her long-time prestige in the social sciences]

[Scientific fraud Margaret Mead as she really looked at app. 30 years of age, in the photograph which was used as the basis for the phony-looking postage stamp]

Boas was long involved with one such non-academic front, the NAACP. He sought to use this radical organization, in order to promote race mixing, blend the two races into one, thereby eliminating the white and black races (in America, at any rate). To this end, he also spread lies touting great black African advances in antiquity.

[Scientific fraud Ruth Benedict]

As Dobbs wrote,

Boas busied himself with giving a professorial tone to the NAACP movement. The nation began to be bombarded by a barrage of so-called scientific opinion on the racial question. The major theme projected was that there are no fundamental differences among races. There was constant repetition that all mankind was cast from the same mold. Only some mysterious compound called the culture complex was said to create differences. For example, Boas would team up with Mary White Ovington in a book which emphasized that the only major differences between the white and Negro races are those of cultural environment. A whole bevy of transitory socialist fronts were created….

In the course of a few decades the well-organized Boas leftist anthropological phalanx had managed to cripple physical anthropology as a scientific discipline. This was done by degrees. The early works of Boas began with a mixture of the cultural approach with anthropometrical and biological data about the different races. Little by little, the physical aspects of anthropology were pushed into the background through ridicule [sound familiar?] and politically inspired charges. By the time Hitler rose to power, the socialists throughout the world, and the Boas group particularly, began to apply epithets of “racism” and “genocide” to those who endeavored to carry on scientific studies of the various races and sub-races of humankind. They were greatly helped by Hitler’s use of the racial theme to excuse his inhumanities.

The Nazi pre-occupation with the theory of Aryan “superiority” to justify their massacres of millions of innocent civilians was cited in literature, speeches, university lectures and newspapers, as the reason for damning all physical investigations into racial differences. [See the Left’s ongoing war on the Pioneer Fund and all whose research it has funded, including some of the world’s foremost scholars of intelligence, e.g., Richard Lynn, J. Philippe Rushton, and Linda Gottfredson.] By imperceptible degrees the Boas leftist school, which was made up of both socialist and communist partisans, began to create the impression that the Aryan “superiority” theory was a Fascistic abomination and invention. [Dobbs, 175f.]

Dobbs shows that it was the Left, above all Marx’ collaborator, friend, and benefactor, Friedrich Engels, that had embraced and promoted the Aryan myth generations before Hitler did.

[The real deal: Zygmund Dobbs]

Boas’ fraudulent assertion that the races were equal in abilities was designed to become self-fulfilling through socialist agitation and social policy. Today’s phony “anthropologists” and other leftist pseudo-scholars (e.g., the late Stephen Jay Gould) are consciously continuing Boas’ work, and have extended his fraudulent claim that the races are identical in abilities to the even more obviously fraudulent claim that there are no different races, and that race exists merely as a “social construct.” And yet, they demand in all areas of human activity that one non-existent race be privileged, and other non-existent races be harmed.

The leftists who control WP/TPC are likewise continuing such pernicious propaganda, with the goal of wiping out the white race. Note that they do not even feign impartiality by at least citing dissenting, more scientific voices, let alone permitting anyone to expose Boas’ deceit, which Wikicensors such as anti-scientific Marxist S.L. Rubenstein have continuously covered up , in Boas’ WP/TPE entry. In this regard, see also the WP/TPC Franz Boas “talk page.”

[I thank my friend and colleague Joel Lefevre for providing me with the brilliant, fearless Dobbs’ research.]

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

Comes the lead-in by CBS Early Show host Chris Wragge, on September 13: Survivor: Samoa begins tomorrow night right here on CBS. It’s the first time the show has returned to the island nation since the deadly tsunami two years ago….

CBS News “journalist” Betty Nguyen, in the studio:

It happened so quickly. Just before 7 a.m., kids on their way to school — and many others were just waking up. A massive, 8.1 magnitude earthquake hit near Samoa on September 29, 2009. And what happened minutes later changed so many lives.

Joe Annandale: “We started panicking when we saw the water receding.”

Nguyen: Joe Annandale and his wife Tui knew what to expect of the tsunami — but NOTHING could prepare them for what would unfold.

Wait just a doggone minute. Clichés are already intolerable, but mutually contradictory clichés?

Either the Annandales did or did not know what to expect of the tidal wave. Nguyen has them simultaneously riding two horses going in opposite directions. That ride can’t end well.

Nguyen:

Tui was one of 189 people to perish that September afternoon, many of them, children. The devastation to the island was un…imaginable…. The tsunami destroyed much of the island, but it couldn’t kill the people’s spirit.

So intoned, with overwrought reverence, Betty Nguyen, on CBS’ Early Show on September 13.

The Boss remarks: “So what, the people are happy, just as if the tsunami never happened?”

Annandale is a resort owner, and though many other resort owners gave up on rebuilding, he didn’t [Nguyen:] “… [B]ecause his is not a survivor’s story, but a love story.”

Nguyen went to an otherwise idyllic Pacific island, Samoa, that got hit by a tidal wave two years ago. But it could have been any generically “exotic” South Sea island—as long as it was the locale for a profitable CBS show—for this was a generic story of tragedy and re-birth… and hope … and affirmative action … and marketing.

Survivor is one of CBS’ biggest franchises, and a female TV “doctor” of South Asian descent had been on the other side of the island, which didn’t get hit, and so Nguyen plugs her rescue efforts, real or hyped, since she gets to thereby plug one of CBS’ properties, and to plug a South Asian employee, which the networks and cable stations obsessively do, these days.

Then Nguyen profiles elderly white resort owner, Joe Annandale, who lives on the island, and whose white wife, Tui, drowned in the tidal wave. According to Nguyen’s storyline and the widower, the dead wife is “everywhere” in the idyllic resort they built, and which she she designed. Except that, in the real world, she’s gone, and the resort is a reminder of everything he’s lost!

This is supposed to give viewers hope? This is supposed to be a happy ending? For lobotomized zombies, maybe. I see this poor son of a gun, grieving for his love of 40 years, and I want to shoot myself!

[B]ecause his is not a survivor’s story, but a love story.”

Annandale: “And her last words—and I still remember—her last words is ‘Jesus, help us.’”

Nguyen & Co. must have loved that part.

And the worst of it was that Nguyen wasn’t even telling the story of that island or that man. She was reading boilerplate with emotionally overwrought intonations, that could just as well have been about anywhere. All she had to do was insert the type of disaster, the place name, and constantly insert the word “survivor,” so as to crudely imprint the show in viewers’ memories:

Nguyen: The [disaster] destroyed the [type of locale], but it couldn’t kill the people’s spirit…. [B]ecause his is not a survivor’s story, but a love story.”

Tune in tomorrow, when Nguyen will continue with Part II, on “survivor economics.” You can’t make this stuff up!

A computer program could have written the story.

So, what is a Betty Nguyen? She’s female, attractive, non-white, and must, of necessity, have the right politics.

Time was, being Asian (Nguyen is a Vietnamese name, as anyone of my generation will readily recognize) didn’t generate any affirmative action points, but the Asian-American Journalists Association has been agitating for years—apparently, successfully—to change that.

Following South Korean Cho Seung-Hui’s April 16, 2007 massacre of 32 students and instructors at Virginia Tech University, I spent 10-15 minutes arguing on the phone with an AAJA propagandist out in California, I believe, who insisted on referring to Asians as “people of color.” When I pointed out to her that that phrase was a euphemism for “black,” she peed on my pants through the telephone wire from over 2,000 miles away—quite a feat—in insisting that she knew no such thing.

The reason I was speaking with a race hustler flack was that AAJA was working hard, and with a good deal of success, to prevent anyone in the MSM from committing journalism, in the wake of Seung-Hui’s massacre.

In spite of having, on average, a much higher IQ than blacks and Hispanics, and a better work ethic, today’s professional Asians want you to know that they are just as competent as the rest of the racial socialist coalition, when it comes to punching out brain-dead boilerplate, be it for “human interest” stories, multicultural propaganda, or marketing thinly disguised as journalism.

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

Was Mohamed Dawod, “of Glendale, AZ,” Celebrating the Anniversary of 9/11, When He “Allegedly” Murdered Ohioan Justin M. Hall by Shooting Him in the Back in a Springfield, MO Bus Depot? Springfield PD, FBI Order Public Not to Connect the Dots, or State the Obvious.

Springfield PD spokesman: “We’ve run into a language barrier,” and “This is going to be an isolated incident.”

How do we know that this “This is going to be an isolated incident”? That sounds like a pretty reckless assumption to me.

Springfield, Missouri, police expect the public to believe that the “suspect” insisted to police that he didn’t know any English, and that “because of his limited English, he did not understand his rights,” yet that he knew to immediately demand that he be taken to the hospital, and then to lawyer up, to explain to police that he would not speak to them without a lawyer present, and that he had no problem communicating with a lawyer. “Crazy” people don’t show such sophistication, nor do people suffering from a “language barrier”—heck, not even millions of native-born Americans do!—but terrorists are trained to conduct themselves that way. Heck, the guy sounds like a Philadelphia lawyer.

That would be the same “suspect” who 10 people say they saw saying some words to himself aloud (“Allahu Akbar”?) that they couldn’t hear, as he drew a gun and shot bus passenger Justin M. Hall, 32, in the back, at the Springfield bus depot on Thursday at 6 p.m. Local police also expect the public to believe that “the language barrier” is the only reason they brought the FBI in on the case. The FBI further expects us to forget everything we know about Moslems murdering “infidels.”

FBI spokeswoman Bridget Patton said,

“At this point, we have been called in by the local police department, the Springfield Police Department, to assist them in trying to determine the motivation behind the suspect’s actions.”

More like, to assist them in trying to come up with a cover story distracting the public from the suspect’s real motivations.

In the mortal words of spokeswoman Bridget Patton, the Bureau does not want us to make “any snap type of judgment.”

I said “mortal,” rather than “immortal” words, because if the folks who watched Mohamed H. Dawod calmly, coolly slaughter Justin M. Hall had followed Bridget Patton’s advice (which we’ve heard a million times from lying “experts” in the past 10 years), we’d now be talking about the Springfield Massacre. We—not the media, and not law enforcement authorities, who would be busy covering it up or, failing that, rationalizing it away.

Bridget Patton doesn’t, perchance, have a history as a diversity trainer?

Fortunately, a bunch of witnesses did everything that law enforcement “experts” and diversity trainers always say not to do:

• They correctly made a “snap type of judgment” that Dawod was a Moslem terrorist;
• They made a “snap type of judgment” that they wanted to live, and therefore correctly jumped on Dawod, rather than defer to police chalk artists, after he had slaughtered them;
• They correctly disarmed their would-be killer, in spite of LEO “experts’” orders never to try and do that; and
• They correctly beat the hell out of him, in spite of advocacy on behalf of American and foreign-born cut-throats of color by law enforcement, the ACLU, NAACP, SPLC, Center for Constitutional Rights, Justice Department, White House and the U.N.

There are only two reasons for involving the FBI in this case: 1. Because the local PD is convinced this was a terrorist attack, whether due to Sudden Jihad Syndrome or something involving more planning; and 2. In order for the Bureau to engage in sharia-compliant damage control, by peeing on our pants, and telling us that it’s raining. You know the drill: It was a “random” attack by a “deranged” person who, just coincidentally, happened to be a Moslem, you know, the religion that orders its followers to “randomly” murder anyone who fails to submit to it?

And let us not neglect Greyhound’s contribution. Their spokesman, Timothy Stokes, said the bus line does not search but does do “random wanding and random bag checks” of passengers at certain locations. Translated out of the newspeak, that means they look for the least threatening, white, non-Moslem-looking passengers—e.g., eighty-year-old, Baptist grandmothers—and search them, while ignoring Moslems. Spokesman Stokes proudly emphasized that “The most important measure we have taken is to aggressively enforce our zero tolerance policy, with respect to unruly or aggressive passengers.”

By that standard, the unruly and aggressive heroes who tackled, disarmed, and beat up the murderous Moslem terrorist would have been ejected, and can look forward to a lifetime ban from Greyhound’s buses.

Timothy Stokes’ pride was surreal in a story about a quietly murderous, Moslem terrorist. Spokesman Stokes was practically inviting Moslems to ride Greyhound, where they will be left in peace to murder as many “infidels” as possible, as long as no unruly or aggressive passengers spoil things.

Meanwhile, the local media—in this case, “reporter” Emily Rittman, of Springfield ABC affiliate KSPR33—are doing their sacred duty, in order to inflate civilians’ dry cleaning bill, by uncritically repeating sharia enforcement officers’ (SEOs) talking points, and referring to the “suspect” as being “of Glendale, Arizona.”

That’s funny. I don’t know of any “Glendale, Arizona” men who don’t—or who claim not to—speak a word of English.

Fortunately, we’re not forced to subsidize the dhimmi/anti-American MSM—yet. But will someone please tell me, 10 years after 9/11, why we are paying for local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies whose primary mission appears to be to run interference for people who seek to murder us, and who make it their business to disarm, confuse, harass, sexually fondle, and even arrest patriotic Americans of sound instincts and judgment?

And why was this man even in the country, in the first place?

Don’t expect to get any honest answers to these questions.

Meanwhile, on the 10 o’clock news tonight (Saturday) at Rupert Murdoch’s New York affiliate, Fox5, “reporter” Dick Brennan narrated a story about “unity” 10 years after 9/11, regarding a group of dhimm-witted local teenagers, with one exception, who had lost family members on 9/11. He spoke of a Jewish kid being friends with a “Palestinian” girl (wearing a scarf covering her hair), who had also lost someone on 9/11. That Jewish boy is as delusional as his great-grandfather would have been, had the latter thought that he was friends with Heinrich Himmler’s daughter.

I recall jubilant “Palestinians” celebrating on 9/11, both in New Jersey and in the territories in Israel, and handing out candy.

That the Arab Moslem girl lost someone on 9/11 was an accident; that the other kids lost someone was planned.

On 9/11 and immediately thereafter, Murdoch’s Fox network was the only patriotic, major MSM news outlet on TV. Murdoch has since gone pc in every way.

Fox5 talked tonight about us having lost 2,753 people on 9/11, and 6,135 fighting men since then (6,210, according to the New York Times), but to what end? Towards imposing the caliphate?

As Diana West has written, our fighting men in Afghanistan are ordered, as per the dictates of Mohammedanism, not only to “protect the Koran” (but not the Bible), but to “Never talk badly about the Qu’ran or its contents,” and to make American military and security practices submit to shariah.

But as West argues, for the past 10 years, all American public institutions have embraced Islamization. She writes, “As a result of this policy of appeasement – submission – we now stand poised on the brink of a golden age.” West is referring to a “golden age of Islam.”

Right after 9/11, people who considered themselves patriots criticized others for having a “9/10” mentality. But after ten years of sharia-compliant propaganda, starting with none other than George W. “Islam is Peace” Bush, “9/10” thinking would represent great progress.

(An unruly and aggressive shout-out to my patriotic friends at 1389 Blog – Counterjihad!)

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

I never forgot it. When I was maybe eight years old, I saw the picture, The Battle of the Bulge, for the first time. I didn’t get the point of the title, but I did get “Nuts!”

That was the response, on December 22, 1944, of Brig. Gen. Anthony C. McAuliffe to the demand by the Gerries, who had laid siege to us four days before in the Belgian town of Bastogne, that we surrender.

McAuliffe’s Web page at Arlington National Cemetery calls his one-word response “probably the most famous quote of World War II.” It became synonymous with the American can-do spirit.

Beginning on December 16, the Germans had made one last, bold, mad offensive, and broke through Allied lines, causing a “bulge.”

Bastogne was a hub of seven roads, which made it crucial for the Germans’ westward thrust, and thus it was crucial for us to stop them there.

Bastogne was hopeless. Due to inclement weather, we had no air support, and dwindling supplies. The town was occupied by the paratroopers of McAuliffe’s 101st Airborne Division, crack soldiers, to be sure, but men who were overmatched in numbers and weaponry by the encircling German forces. And yet, our boys held until the bad weather cleared, and we could get them air support and fresh supplies. We had inspired leadership, fresh troops, and good morale, while the Germans were weary, and their morale low. And then, on December 26, it was the Gerries who were surrendering.

And that helped break the back of the German offensive.

My mom says that my late Uncle Irwin, who made it to sergeant in the war, and then went back for more in Korea, fought in the Battle of the Bulge, but I don’t know if he was at Bastogne.

During Memorial Day weekend, my 11-year-old and I had the pleasure of watching Battleground (1949), the first movie depiction of the Battle of Bastogne.

Shortly before McAuliffe’s 46th birthday, he “parachuted into Normandy [with his men] on D-Day and … entered Holland by glider.”

A mere 19 days after McAuliffe’s men won the Battle of Bastogne, FDR awarded him the Distinguished Service Cross…

…for extraordinary heroism in connection with military operations against an armed enemy while serving as Acting Commander, 101st Airborne Division, in action against enemy forces from 17 to 26 December 1944, at Bastogne, Belgium.

During this period General McAuliffe was in command of the 101st Airborne Division during the siege of Bastogne, Belgium, by overwhelming enemy forces. Though the city was completely surrounded by the enemy, the spirit of the defending troops under this officer’s inspiring, gallant leadership never wavered. Their courageous stand is epic.

General McAuliffe continuously exposed himself to enemy bombing, strafing, and armored and infantry attacks to personally direct his troops, utterly disregarding his own safety.

Brigadier General McAuliffe’s courage, fearless determination and inspiring, heroic leadership exemplify the highest traditions of the military forces of the United States and reflect great credit upon himself, the 101st Airborne Division, and the United States Army.

Which brings us to Cong. Allen West (R, FL), who is a retired Army lieutenant colonel. The jihadis at CAIR (the Council on American-Islamic Relations) demanded that West surrender, and denounce what they called “Anti-Islamic” groups, to which he has ties. Channeling the spirit of “General Mac,” the Congressman replied with a letter that simply said, “NUTS!”

That our Moslem enemies should fail to understand West’s response was to be expected. And I suppose it was to be expected that the MSM didn’t get it, either, under the category of shocking, but unsurprising. After all, they’re just as much our enemies as the jihadis, whom they support.

The matter most important to the alleged reporter supposedly covering the story for CBS News, Gio Benitez, who knows considerably less American history than my 11-year-old, was that he pronounce his name as if he were in a Latin American country. Senor Benitez told viewers, “This letter is extremely short, and nobody seems to know exactly what it means.”

But the people on the street interviewed by Benitez didn’t get it, either, and stupidly criticized West. “It doesn’t look too professional to me. It doesn’t look too thought out,” said one forty-something white man.

“Uh, maybe another sentence. Explaining?,” said an attractive woman in her thirties with a Spanish accent.

In its exquisite simplicity and powerful symbolism, West’s response could not have been better thought out, and explaining it would have ruined it.

Not that those dunces would have supported him, anyway.

One of the crack researchers at Benitez’ station then googled, apparently, and found what all patriotic Americans already knew, which the intrepid Senor Benitez announced as a scoop:

“Then we found this. During World War II, Gen. Anthony McAuliffe famously wrote a one-word letter to the Germans in response to a surrender ultimatum. The word used? Nuts!”

How can Benitez call it “famous,” if he’d never heard of it? Either the letter wasn’t famous, or he’s an utterly incompetent, affirmative action hire.

Benitez: [CAIR Jihadi Nezar] “Hamze doesn’t think he’ll ever find out what Congressman West meant with the word, because, he says, West has turned down all meetings with CAIR Florida.”

That’s funny. The Gerries figured it out, back in ‘44. Then again, back then the typical German officer knew more about American culture than today’s typical jihadi, reconquista, or media saboteur/insurgent. Heck, those people glory in their ignorance of American culture.

When Benitez asked CAIR Florida jihadi Nezar Hamze what he would say to West, Hamze replied, “I’d tell him to grow up, you know, to act like a congressman, and engage in dialogue, and to stop the schoolboy insults.”

What is there to talk about? The terms of surrender? To jihadis, “dialogue” has the same meaning that it does for black racists: ‘We dictate, and you submit, while nodding in assent.’

Benitez: “Now West did turn down an interview request from CBS4 News, and we are still waiting for a statement from his office.”

West had already made his statement.

Let me get this right. Even after one of the station’s researchers learned the meaning of “Nuts!,” the jihadi and Benitez still don’t understand what West said? No; they couldn’t possibly be that stupid. What they are saying is that they refuse to accept what West said, and want to wear him down, by demanding that he “explain” himself.

I don’t need to read any polls to know that Congressman West just got himself a big surge among patriots.

So, how’s he on immigration? According to NumbersUSA, where illegal immigration is concerned, he’s as good as it gets. I was unable to determine the Congressman’s position on legal immigration.

Remember, “You can have any color you want, as long as it’s black.”

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

The New York Times’ Newest Anti-Morality Crusade

For a person whose moral compass is intact, the story of a 16-year-old who knocked up his then 13-year-old girlfriend (leading to her parents making her get an abortion), and who, when forbidden by her parents from continuing to “see” (read: sleep with) her, savagely strangled her, stuffed her corpse in a barrel, and then feigned concern, as he “helped” search for her body, is a story of unmitigated evil. But for the psychopaths at the New York Times, it is a love story for our time.

On August 21, the New York Times ran the first part of a two-part series by Michael Wilson, on what seemed to be an unsolved, 35-year-old mystery. The newspaper version was entitled, “Decades Later, Inmate Recalls Summer Love”; the Web title is “An Inmate’s Letter Recalls a Certain Summer.” How romantic. Wilson tells of how mullatto 15-year-old Dempsey Hawkins and white 13-year-old Susan Jacobson moved from being good acquaintances to very good friends, and then lovers. Wilson opens,

The letter sounded like something from another age, but in fact, it was written July 31, with the return address of Mount McGregor Correctional Facility in Wilton, N.Y. It was from a 51-year-old inmate named Dempsey Hawkins, and it told the story of a stitch of time 36 years ago, when the writer fell in love with a girl named Susan Jacobson.

“I was 15, Susan, 13, when we moved beyond a casual association and began a teenage romance in the spring of 1975,” Mr. Hawkins wrote. They were neighbors and moved in the same circles, but met in earnest during a game of baseball. “I got hit in the face by the backswing of Susan’s bat,” he wrote. “As I was up next, I was standing too close to home plate and inattentive the moment the swing came round.

“Hours later I assured her I was O.K. and joked with her. Continued to joke and laugh with Susan in the following days, and began talking with her on the telephone, her front porch and during walks around the neighborhood.

” Susan’s parents were not happy about the relationship, but did nothing to stop it, until Hawkins got their daughter pregnant. Then they ordered her to stop seeing him, but she continued, anyway, on the sly.

[Note how extraordinary it was in 1975 for a 13-year-old girl of any race to get knocked up. In 1976, a poll in a ladies’ magazine reported that over 80 percent of 18-year-old girls were still virgins. The public school campaign to get all kids to “just do it,” and the switch to where, as my wife says, “The most important lesson [taught] is how to put on a condom,” was just gearing up.]

Then, on May 15, 1976, Susan disappeared, seemingly never to be found again.

Her family called the police, and friends and neighbors searched for her. Dempsey said he had no idea where she was, and he helped look for the girl he loved….

It seemed no one knew what had become of a 14-year-old girl in a close-knit island neighborhood on that Saturday afternoon. It would be two years before the truth emerged: a truth that will be more fully explored in this space next Saturday.

But in 1976, one person did know what had happened: Susan’s boyfriend, Dempsey Hawkins.

“I strangled Susan,” he wrote in the letter, “and concealed her body in a metal barrel in a wooded area across from a Procter & Gamble factory on Staten Island.”

That’s where Part I ends.

Timesman Michael Wilson implies that now we finally know what happened to Susan Jacobson.

I googled under her name, and found the following comments from last year at the blog, City Noise, at a page devoted to an “Abandoned Shipyard.”

ramairgto: 15th Sep 2010 – 05:33 GMT

A 14 year old girl named Susan Jacobson was murdered here on May 15,1976 and dumped in a shaft by her 16 year old boyfriend Dempsey Hawkins. Her body was found 2 years later. Hawkins was tried and convicted in 1979 and is doing 22 years to life. As of today he is still in jail.

ramairgto: 11th Oct 2010 – 03:55 GMT

He is serving 22 years to life sentence at MT. MCGREGOR CORRECTIONAL FACILITY in upstate Wilton, New York.

http://nysdocslookup.docs.state.ny.us/GCA00P00/WIQ3/WINQ130

There is no mystery. The case was solved, the perpetrator duly convicted and imprisoned 32 years ago. Hawkins was not imprisoned for some other crime, and decided to reveal how he had also murdered Susan Jacobson; he was imprisoned in Mount McGregor for her murder.

Dempsey Hawkins, now 51, is a gifted writer of lush, lyrical prose that shows few of contemporary writing’s vices. He has clearly spent years studying classic, English literature. He had some free time. He has firm control of his metaphors, but unfortunately a history of a lack of control of his hands.

Excerpts from Hawkins’ hand-written letter follow. (He wrote without paragraph breaks; I inserted 10, for ease of reading, and italicized a title that he had underlined.)

I was in London for a moment. Just long enough to learn how to walk and talk and gather a few memories before leaving for Staten Island, where I grew up. Grew up too fast in some respects but not fast enough to outgrow the adolescent flaws and shortcomings of character to which I would steadily succumb in a bad way. I was 15, Susan, 13, when we moved beyond a casual association and began a teenage romance in the spring of 1975….

Our attachment began when a group of us were playing baseball and I got hit in the face by the backswing of Susan’s bat. As I was up next, I was standing too close to home plate and inattentive the moment the swing came round and sent me to the hospital for three stitches. Hours later I assured Susan I was O.K. and joked with her. Continued to joke and laugh with Susan in the following days, and began talking with her on the telephone, her front porch and during walks around the neighborhood….

I had come across Susan countless times, whether as teammates in whiffleball games played when the summer air turned aromatic from backyard barbecues or among a group sledding down the steep, icy street past snowmen sitting hatted, scarfed and smiling under winter moonlight….

We [my friends and I, not Susan and I] pretty much always had something to do, whether playing hockey on a residential street or shooting basketballs at the CYO, our energy and enthusiasm ran like a river toward an eddy where it whirled round a few times before rushing on. Spontaneity was the spirit with which we chased fun the way we chased one another from house to house on blustery Halloween nights when jack-o-lanterns inflamed the darkness and our shouts and laughter carried in the cool air and mingled with the hurly-burly of blowing leaves.

I never envisioned a moment when I’d spend more time with someone other than my immediate friends to whom I felt solidly anchored, yet I gradually became unmoored by my attraction to Susan and drifted toward her, her interests, her world. I began attending church with Susan and her siblings on Sunday mornings as well as playing afternoon card games with them in their home. After school Susan and I typically got together to do our homework at the Port Richmond Public Library. Some Saturdays we’d bike ride to Clove Lakes Park and sit on a bench and talk while ducks spun languorously atop the water. Other days we’d visit a local pizza parlor to sit and chat with pizza and Pepsi on the table and the smell of fresh dough creating an evocative comfort.

The snows of December arrived and I was genuinely infatuated with Susan. Happy in her presence and seeing her in song and dream when not….

School became an hourglass through which the sands of my anticipation gradually streamed until I was with Susan again at her dining room table playing Monopoly with her brothers and sisters amid a volley of giggles and chatter resonating with the undertone of Welcome Back, Kotter on television in an adjacent room….

In came 1976 and the insanity and the whole Painful mess I am about to relate succinctly simply because it’s disturbing. I strangled Susan and concealed her body in a metal barrel in a wooded area across from a Procter & Gamble factory on Staten Island.

The crime occurred May 15, 1976. I was 16, Susan 14. I commited the crime because Susan and I had had sex which led to an abortion and an end to our relationship.

I was distraught for weeks and considered suicide and then murder as a means of ending the hurt. Began to think and began to be undermined. Deluded myself into believing I could kill someone I loved and escape the emotional vortex I was too weak to pull myself from, Had no sense of Time’s ability to heal, knew nothing of its mercy. Committed my crime, and engaged in a sweeping act of betrayal in an effort to conceal it.

Time commenced as did my guilt. I confided in two friends in an effort to share my guilt and lessen it. It didn’t work, couldn’t. I was alone with my burden, my horrors. I no longer fit in with my friends. I had stepped over a divide from which I couldn’t return. A murder I committed for reasons I couldn’t possibly articulate. I don’t recall how long I remained standing in that room confronting the permanence of my crime. Its magnitude, madness, senselessness. In many senses I have never relinquished that moment. Never stopped mining for answers that don’t exist.

So, what is going on at the Times? The usual. Hawkins is up again for parole in March, 2012, and the newspaper is pulling out all the stops, trying to spring yet another “black” murderer. Part II will surely be followed by other reportorials and open editorials, clamoring for his release. Other lefty rags and celebrities will then join the Times’ crusade, maybe even Angelina Jolie. The crusaders will encourage the Jacobsons to embrace their daughter’s killer, the way Amy Biehl’s parents did.

This is an obsession of stupid, rich, white people, and not just communists like Times publisher Arthur “Pinch” Sulzberger Jr., though leftists are certainly the worst of the lot.

Look at Republican Mike Huckabee. When Huckabee was governor of Arkansas, he paroled violent, black predator Maurice Clemmons, over the strenuous protests of prison officials and prosecutors. You may have heard of Clemmons; in 2009, he ambushed and murdered four white police officers in a coffee shop in Lakeview, Washington, near Seattle.

I can hear the calls: “Free Dempsey!” “He’s been rehabilitated!”

First of all, the purpose of prison is not to rehabilitate murderers, but to punish them, and even so, it fails at that. Three hots and a cot, cable TV, weight lifting facilities, easy access to drugs, the option to commit still more murders and other crimes, and all the white men you can rape, sounds more like heaven for black felons than punishment.

The only proper punishment for murder is execution. The only condition that I can imagine fitting the notion of “rehabilitation” would entail the killer completely transforming himself morally, and resurrecting his victim.

Susan Jacobson’s murderer will get a book deal, be paroled, and hired as a college English professor or journalist. He’ll be celebrated as a hero/victim of the white supremacist, criminal justice system, who should have gotten probation, or at worst, been put in kiddie prison, and released at age 21. He’ll embark on a sexual relationship with a young, dark-haired, white girl, … and strangle her.

It’s not about “rehabilitation”; that’s just a cover story for the loyalty some people feel towards violent black felons (or craven killers of other ethnicities, if a literate, or even pseudo-literate black, like mass murderer Tookie Williams, isn’t handy), on whose behalf they will use any subterfuge to foist them back on the rest of us, “the little people,” who are banned from carrying firearms in America’s big cities. Times publisher Pinch Sulzberger, who ardently advocates against the gun rights of the little people, never goes anywhere without his own pistol—yes, he carries—as well as a chauffeur who doubles as a bodyguard.

Been there, done that. In 1980, the late lefty writer Norman Mailer, himself a violent man who should have spent 20 years in prison for stabbing one of his many wives, Adele, almost to death, but did no time, organized a movement that succeeded at getting convicted, psychopathic, Eurasian killer Jack Henry Abbott paroled. (Abbott’s mother was Chinese.)

Abbott and Mailer’s correspondence written while Abbott was in prison was published as the book, In the Belly of the Beast.

A mere six weeks after Abbott was paroled, on July 18, 1981, he went with a couple of new female companions to a 5 a.m. “breakfast” at a restaurant in Manhattan’s East Village. He started a seemingly low-level argument with Cuban immigrant waiter Richard Adan, 22, a playwright and aspiring actor who was owner Henry Howard’s son-in-law, over the eatery’s rule prohibiting customers from using the lone bathroom, only to suddenly stab Adan to death with ferocious speed and skill on the street outside. (I have lectured my son: Never turn your back and walk away from a fight. Always back away. Richard Adan was wise to New York sucker-punch artists, and backed away from Abbott, but Abbott was a whole different species of coward. He stabbed Adan, just as the latter turned to re-enter the restaurant.)

The very next morning, July 19, 1981, the Sunday edition of the New York Times carried the review of Abbott’s new book, In the Belly of the Beast. Reviewer Terrence Des Pres gave a mostly favorable report and expressed gratitude to Abbott’s mentor, Norman Mailer. “We must be grateful to him (Mailer) for getting these letters into publishing form and, a job more difficult, for helping to get Abbott out on parole.”

Communist movie star Susan Sarandon attended Abbott’s murder trial.

Sarandon especially, became enamored by Abbott. Shortly after the trial, she gave birth to a baby. She and the father, actor Tim Robbins, named him “Jack Henry.”

Abbott was convicted for killing Adan. The megalomaniac defended himself, and wove jailhouse cock-and-bull stories of how he was a victim of the American juvenile justice system, and was a reticent bloke who had only defended himself against the attacking Adan. Even after the prosecutor countered by reading Abbott’s description in his book of how to skillfully gut a man the way he did Adan, and eyewitnesses gave the lie to Abbott’s description of his crime, half of a Manhattan jury sympathized with Abbott. The non-evil half of the jury was forced to compromise with the Jack Henry Abbott Fan Club, and as a result, he was only convicted of manslaughter, and thus sentenced to a mere 6-25 years in prison.

In June 2001, Abbott, who did not even feign remorse, and who in his book had demanded that society “apologize” to him, was denied parole. The following February 10, he had the decency to hang himself in his prison cell.

Henry Howard, who loved his late son-in-law, Richard Adan—who by all accounts was as wonderful as Abbott was evil—said it best:

He got it right this time. That’s the third person he murdered and he got the right one.

The world does not want for eloquent murderers. Just look at Black Panther and convicted cop-killer, Wesley Cook, better known as Mumia Abu-Jamal. Or that incurable romantic, O.J. Simpson. (He can’t write, but he sure can talk a good game.) Let Hawkins continue writing… from prison.

Now let’s recall the titles that Michael Wilson’s editors gave his propaganda piece: “Decades Later, Inmate Recalls Summer Love,” and “An Inmate’s Letter Recalls a Certain Summer.” “Summer Love”?! “A Certain Summer”?!

More accurate and decent titles would have been, “Decades Later, Inmate Recalls the Promising Life He Ended,” and “An Inmate’s Letter Recalls the Savage Murder He Committed.”

The New York Times isn’t “vile”; it’s evil.

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

The MSM Send the Case Down the Memory Hole, and the Alleged Killer’s Employer, Allied Barton Security, Sandbags Journalist, Yet There is News to Report! 

Brittney Watts’ accused killer, Nkosi Thandiwe, was working as a security guard for Allied Barton Security Services, when he encountered the young advertising woman. Thandiwe manned a security console in the Atlanta building, 1170 Peachtree St. NE, in which Watts worked at 22squared, as a digital media supervisor. That allowed him to observe and communicate with elevator riders through a closed circuit TV (CCTV) camera and speaker system, which he used to stalk and eventually murder Watts.

That’s the story an Atlanta source, speaking on condition of anonymity, told this writer. The source contacted me after reading the first three blog items I’d published, variously written by my reader-researcher-legman, David in TN, and culled from MSM reports, on the Watts murder. The source said that after the murder, Thandiwe’s employer, Allied Barton Security Services, reviewed the building’s security tapes, and discovered that Thandiwe had used the security system to surveil Watts when she rode the elevator. He had spoken to her at least once while she was riding alone in the elevator, and the day he murdered her, he had seen her coming down in the elevator on the CCTV, and left his station at the console, in order to get to the parking garage across the street, where he hunted her down and killed her.

I tried to get Allied Barton to confirm or deny the story, but instead, as so often happens when dealing with flacks, I got sandbagged.

I spoke on the telephone with Alan Stein, an Allied Barton VP, at the company’s main office near Pittsburgh, but Stein wanted me to apply for an interview, writing him, with my journalistic background. I told him that I’d been published by the (New York) Daily News, New York Post, Newsday, and dozens of other publications, which is true. He asked who I was writing this story for, and I said that I might run the story at my blog.

He said he’d be away the next day (Friday), but that I should write him with my background.

Well, I’d already given him my background. Only twice in 28 years had a potential interview subject demanded that I apply for an interview. The other case was that of a pollster, following the 2004 presidential election, when several networks had considered throwing the presidential election for socialist John Kerry.

In late 2004, I actually started writing a long list of credits and a cover letter, before thinking: This is ridiculous. If the guy were serious about speaking to me, he would have done so, right then. Having interviewed perhaps a couple hundred people as a journalist, I can confidently say that you don’t “apply” for an interview the way you do for a job.

Back in the present, I’m running late one day, and Stein wanted a note, so I e-mailed him, as preparation for calling him the next day, repeating what I’d already told him, while adding another prestige credit, the weekly standard.

He immediately wrote back:

Please forward a sample of your published pieces from these publications Daily News, New York Post, NYPress, Weekly Standard, Newsday [sic] Additionally, please forward the credentials for the publication you are writing this piece as well as a contact email for someone from the publication so I can validate that your [sic] writing for a credentialed source. We receive a number of media requests and this is standard proceed [sic]. Thank you, Alan Alan L. Stein Vice President, Marketing & Sales Services AlliedBarton Security Services

“A credentialed source”? What the heck is that? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Does it refer to the publisher’s college transcripts? No. It’s just a snow job.

A typical interview only lasts a few minutes, and if the flack isn’t commenting, seconds. Even when the voice on the other end is cooperative, he usually only has a modest amount of information to give me. We’re not in Deep Throat territory.

By the time I first spoke to Stein, he already knew what Allied Barton knew about Thandiwe and the crime, and knew the firm’s crisis PR strategy, because as the VP dealing with the media, he’d helped formulate it.

If one checks out Allied Barton’s Web site, one finds … almost nothing. It is one of those contemporary, corporate Web sites that is designed to look nice, while providing almost no information, not even a flow chart or list of executives.

And after all, discretion is a byword in the security field, whether regarding one’s clients or one’s own corporate business.

Otherwise, except for two developments almost one month old, the Brittney Watts case has gone under the radar. The MSM are in “don’t ask, don’t tell” mode. They’re not asking any questions about race, motive, or stalking, so that no one gives them any answers they have no intention of publishing. Of course, nowadays, police and prosecutors also practice DADT, where black-on-white crimes are concerned.

Thandiwe’s lawyer, Rickey Richardson, is playing the “crazy card.” Late last month, he requested a psychiatric evaluation for his client. When an attorney plays the crazy card, he is admitting that his client committed the crime in question, because otherwise he would simply plead not guilty, straight up.

Thandiwe, whose mother is a high-profile Constitutional attorney and anti-death penalty advocate, is so crazy that he engaged Richardson, before even turning himself in. He’s crazy, alright; crazy like a fox.

Not that mom—who surely helped secure Richardson’s services—needs to worry about her son meeting with justice. Black Atlanta jurors are so racist that they wouldn’t even vote to give mass murderer Brian Nichols the death penalty.

And local black politician, “Able” Mable Thomas, has undertaken a vicious campaign, demonizing the store which legally sold the apparent murder weapon to Thandiwe, which fully cooperated with the Atlanta PD, and which got a letter of commendation from the PD for their help, though the PD has since backtracked, and now insists that the letter is meaningless. (The results of ballistics testing have not yet been released.) The store must have a white owner.

Maybe Alan Stein will comment after reading this story.

You’ve got my telephone number and email, Mr. Stein.

Previously, at WEJB/NSU:

“What Was the Motive in the Atlanta Murder of Brittney Watts? APD Bigwig Calls Craven Killer ‘Bold’”;

“Brittney Watts Murder Update: After Triple Shooting, CBS News Reporter Asks, Is Midtown Atlanta Safe?”; and

“The Brittney Watts Murder: Fellow Victim Lauren Garcia, 23, May be Paralyzed for Life.”

© Nicholas Stix

Mr. Stix blogs at Nicholas Stix, Uncensored

 

WesternFront America

Last week, following his revelation that someone had hacked into his computer, and sent fake photographs of his bulging underwear from his twitter account to various young women, Cong. Anthony Weiner (D-NY) announced the formation of a detective partnership with widowed NFL Hall of Famer O.J. Simpson.

“Congressman Weiner and I have both been the victims of criminals and smear campaigns, and we both wish to clear our names. Therefore, we are going to partner up, and do just that. He is going to hunt down the person or persons who murdered my wife, Nicole, and I am going to hunt down the hacker who did this to him,” announced Simpson via a telephone press conference, from prison.

Simpson, who is serving a sentence of up to 33 years for kidnapping and armed robbery at Nevada’s Lovelock Correctional Center, planned on having associates of his presumably not presently in prison do the gumshoe work.

After Cong. Weiner’s press conference on Monday, in which he admitted that he had not been hacked, Simpson released a terse statement regarding the partnership: “It’s over.”

Simpson could be released as early as 2017. At present, no criminal charges have been laid against Weiner.

© Nicholas Stix

 

WesternFront America

By Nicholas Stix

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) is the story of three World War II combat veterans who meet and befriend each other on a freight plane on their way home, and their difficulties re-adjusting to life in their Midwestern hometown. The idea for the picture came from producer Samuel Goldwyn’s wife, Frances, who had read an article in 1944 about the problems some veterans were having, returning to civilian life. Goldwyn commissioned Iowan Mac Kinlay Kantor (here and here), who had served in the Army Air Force to write a script, and Kantor duly headed to a cabin in the country with a few cases of scotch, only to return a few weeks later with a … poem!? Glory for Me was published in 1945 with the subtitle “A Novel” on the cover, but it’s a 268-page, narrative poem that opens,

Fred Derry, twenty-one, and killer of a hundred men….

And a powerful poem it is, but Sam Goldwyn was not amused. He had to hire a second screenwriter, the legendary Robert E. Sherwood, winner of three Pulitzer Prizes, including Abe Lincoln in Illinois, to translate and shape Kantor’s poem into screen prose. Sherwood did a marvelous re-working, but the magic and most of the story about Army Sgt. Al Stephenson, Army Air Force Capt. Fred Derry, and Navy Seaman Homer Parrish are Kantor’s. Al was played by Fredric March, Fred by Dana Andrew, and Homer by Harold Russell.

(“Mac” Kantor would go to become a legend himself, winning a Pulitzer for Andersonville, and writing other acclaimed works of fiction, but he was a conservative patriot. Before he died, the press, Hollywood, and the universities would run red, and he would become an exile in his own land. In today’s multicultural America, whose most acclaimed writers are the likes of Maya Angelou, Edwige Danticat, Barbara Kingsolver, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Tony Kushner and “Barack Obama,” Sherwood and Kantor are forgotten men, and would only be mentioned, in order to condemn them.)

Because Goldwyn had engaged Freddie March to star, the focus of the story was shifted away from Fred to Al, while Homer’s affliction was changed from extreme spasticity to having had his hands burned off in an accident. (And a good thing, too. As bad as Harold Russell’s hooks are, Homer’s spasticity in the poem is too heartbreaking to take.) And yet, running at two hours and 50 minutes, each character has as much screen time as a lead in a typical, 80-100 minute “A” picture of the period.

March imbues banker Al Stephenson with his signature blends of tragedy and comedy, and the aristocratic and the common touch.

Nobody played a comic drunk better than March, and Al Stephenson is a functioning, jovial drunk, but a drunk, nonetheless. He loves his family, but hates his job, working for Mr. Milton (Ray Collins), “the old hypocrite,” at the bank.

I don’t know of any harder scripting task than writing a good speech. Can’t be too short, or too long. Can’t be too melodramatic, but in a major drama, it shouldn’t be lightweight. Sherwood gives March’s drunken Al Stephenson an oft-times hilarious speech as the guest of honor at a dinner held by his boss, to celebrate his return and promotion, during which Al goes from the pinnacle of his career to almost talking himself out of a job. It’s a tightrope act, but with Myrna Loy’s help, March pulls it off.

March uses some stage business as subtle punctuation to the misery Al feels in his work life. Anytime he has to deal with Mr. Milton or some other intolerable situation, he must have a drink or a cigarette in his hand. His creeping problem is that he also needs a drink in his hand, even when he’s in a happy situation.

Although Al is upper-middle-class, he served as a sergeant in the infantry, which comes from Kantor’s poem, and matches March’s signature character in his best roles (e.g., Les Miserables, Inherit the Wind), of the aristocrat with the common touch. This character reveals itself particularly in his dinner speech, and in a later confrontation with Fred.

Speaking of Fred, Dana Andrews’ role as the poor kid who made it to bombardier captain, the tortured hero who saw his buddies die in front of his eyes on a burning bomber, permitted him to display his own unique blend of easy masculinity and doubt-ridden vulnerability that he’d established in 1944’s Laura.

Andrews had a role big enough to qualify for a Best Actor nomination, along with March, and gave one of the greatest supporting actor performances ever, up there with Karl Malden in On the Waterfront, and Walter Brennan reading from the telephone book.

This was Andrews’ Oscar, but it was not to be.

The Academy wanted to do something for veterans that year. An admirable sentiment, that. Harold Russell was a veteran who’d had both of his hands burned off in a training accident. It would have all been fine, if the Academy had simply given Russell the honorary Oscar that it ultimately bestowed on him. But they couldn’t leave well enough alone, and the powers that be not only gave Russell an honorary Oscar, but nominated him for the official, competitive Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, as well. And who was going to stand in his way? Not that year.

The citation for Russell’s honorary Oscar reads, “For bringing hope and courage to his fellow veterans through his appearance in The Best Years of Our Lives.”

Don’t get me wrong; Russell gave an excellent performance by professional standards; never mind that he was a “civilian.” He was particularly good in his scenes with Dana Andrews. But Andrews gave a performance for the ages. And that was it for him.

As Al’s daughter, Peggy, Teresa Wright’s insistent performance can be annoying at times, and yet, even it works, because she is paired with Myrna Loy as her mother, Millie, whose light touch is the perfect counterpoint. Wright was up again for Best Supporting Actress, but Loy should have been. Unfortunately for Myrna Loy, the Academy has never been a friend to restraint.

This was one of the last pictures that Greg Tolland shot. His legendary “deep focus” technique of filming a scene on a sharp angle, in order to show the action clearly both in the foreground and background, was put to its best use in the saloon scene, where Al, Homer, and Uncle Butch are in the foreground, but the real action is in the background, as Fred makes a fateful call from the telephone booth at the other end of the bar, a call whose content only Al knows.

Director William Wyler wanted Aaron Copland to score the picture, but Copland was busy with other projects, and so Wyler instead engaged Hugo Friedhofer.

Friedhofer wrote a bold, ambitious score, but also gave the picture some distinctly Coplandian flavor. He took an up-tempo theme exemplifying the speeded-up nature of town life from Copland’s score to the 1937 ballet, Billy the Kid, slowed it down, and made it lush with strings, as the leitmotif of Homer’s longsuffering fiancé from next-door, Wilma. It’s called, “I’m a Dreamer, aren’t We All?” but would more accurately have been called, “Wilma’s Theme,” as it expresses her romantic and domestic yearnings.

I believe that Friedhofer was paying homage to Copland, rather than plagiarizing him. At the time, the score to Billy the Kid was so famous that many viewers would have caught the allusion.

(In the Old West, town life represented accelerated modernity; by the time World War II was over, it represented a decelerated return to normalcy.)

Over 40 years later, the critically acclaimed but ratings-poor TV series China Beach, about the true, eponymous hospital and R&R installation during the Vietnam War, paid an homage to the The Best Years of Our Lives. The series’ third season was set stateside, after we had pulled out of Vietnam, but in each episode, the featured character would have flashbacks in which she was back at China Beach. The message of the series became that, far from having sacrificed “the best years of their lives,” the war years had represented the best years of their lives, and all that followed them was a come-down. To underscore that message, and as an homage to the movie (and Copland?), series composer John Rubinstein arranged a version of “I’m a Dreamer,” which thenceforth became a parallel theme to the show, along with its official theme.

Rubinstein’s homage was a grand gesture to the few viewers who would have caught the allusion, so many years down the road.

To return to the movie, “The Apacus,” who uploaded an early passage from Friedhofer’s score, dubbed it, “The Homecoming.” It depicts the emotions felt by the three protagonists, Al Stephenson (Fredric March), Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), and Homer Parrish (Harold Russell) as, sharing a taxi from the nearest airfield, they hit their hometown of Boone City, after four years off fighting the war. First comes the thrill of watching city life—their city, with pretty American girls walking down the street all dolled up—and yet, it’s like they’re seeing it for the first time. Then comes the foreboding each feels as he nears his family home, after having been away for so long. Has the world back home passed them by?

Another uploaded recording is much longer, and features highlights from Friedhofer’s entire score. Unfortunately, as one commenter observed, the transitions are muddled.

Thanks to Friedhofer, Tolland, and Andrews, the scene at the airplane graveyard is the most powerful in the entire picture. That scene comes early in Glory for Me, but Sherwood wisely moved it towards the end, and juxtaposes it with Fred’s father finding the medals and citations for bravery, including the Distinguished Flying Cross—just below the Medal of Honor—that the humble Fred had not so much as mentioned to him and his stepmother.

In his combination of incredible valor and the steadfast refusal to brag or even talk about it, Fred Derry stood for hundreds of thousands of American combat veterans.

Because the picture was made immediately after war’s end, Sherwood and Wyler were able to freshly capture the mood of the nation, and at the same time, certain ephemeral physical conditions, e.g., aircraft graveyards, were available that would soon be gone. Note that at the time Hollywood, which had many performers and directors in uniform, and more than a few who’d seen actual combat, was patriotic, rather than the enemy of the people that it has since become.

The Best Years of Our Lives was nominated for eight competitive Academy Awards, of which it won seven, plus Harold Russell’s honorary Oscar. The title is ironic, and comes from a speech in which Fred’s floozy of a wife (Virginia Mayo) complains that she gave up “the best years of my life” for him while he was off fighting in the war. (Not that the slut gave up a thing!) The double irony is that the title became an iconic phrase, due to its connection to the picture, yet shorn of its ironic origins. Over the next 20-30 years, it became standard usage in the vernacular to speak of veterans as having sacrificed “the best years of their lives.”

This picture has got to be on the short list with The Godfather, The Godfather, Part II, and Citizen Kane, for the greatest movie ever made.

Nicholas Stix

 

WesternFront America

By Nicholas Stix

Jonathan Schwartz is a New York radio legend. I remember cutting school one day when I was about 15, sneaking back home, and lying on my bed, listening to him play Sinatra on old WNEW-AM. Seeing as later this month I’ll be celebrating my annual 21st birthday, that would have been about … six years ago. In those days, he would work weekdays and Saturdays at WNEW-AM, playing Frank, Ella, & Co. singing standards, and Sundays at rock station WNEW-FM. He was unique, and his Sunday cabaret show would feature the likes of Judy Collins, Joni Mitchell, and Tony Bennett.

Schwartz, who is the son of the late composer Arthur Schwartz, of Schwartz & Dietz fame (The Bandwagon, “I Guess I’ll Have to Change My Plan,” etc.), is best known as possibly the world’s reigning expert on Sinatra’s music, and was a one-of-a-kind raconteur on WNEW-AM. (“Eleven-three-oh … in New York.”)

He was a short story writer and novelist—I never read his stuff, so I can’t say how good it is—and occasionally he would just make up stories. Once he played a song involving daffodils or pansies or marigolds (but not tulips!), after which he fabulated a tale in which Sinatra and his entourage of tough guys like Jilly Rizzo were passing a field of flowers, somewhere out in the countryside. Sinatra had the driver stop, and made everyone get out, take off their shoes and socks, and go tiptoeing around, counting the flowers, or measuring the marigolds.

These days, following the demise of WNEW-AM (1992) and its successor, WQEW-AM (1998), Schwartz is ensconced weekends at leftist WNYC, of National Public Radio, and does a show weekdays on XM satellite radio that you have to pay for. The local pizzeria carries it. The music is great, just like his old weekday afternoon show, but if there’s any patter, it’s lost amid patrons’ conversations.

Schwartz never talked politics on ‘NEW or ‘QEW, that I can remember. He once tried his hand at interviewing then-New York Gov. Mario Cuomo, about 20 years ago, but flubbed it.

WNEW-AM was sold in 1992 to “a financial-information entrepreneur,” some mook named Bloomberg. As the clock was running out on ‘NEW, someone put a deal together, whereby the New York Times would lease one of its twin stations—which played identical programs—WQXR-AM, to a group seeking to preserve the old ‘NEW format. Thus was WQEW-AM born. But in 1998, the Disney people offered the communists at the Times a pot of gold, to let them lease the station for little kids’ music.

All Christmas week, with no more live programming, the station instead ran recordings of classic shows with guests like the late Nancy Lamott and Burton Lane, talking and performing their music in the studio. I have a shoebox somewhere of recordings I made off the radio that week.

And so, as if it hadn’t been bad enough, losing Sinatra that year, when the clock struck 12 on January 1, 1999, it was a most unhappy New Year for those of us who love the best in American music, when American music was the greatest in the world. Eventually, the Times sold the station to Disney.

WQEW-AM still had a large audience (I don’t have any numbers handy), but it skewed old, and major advertisers refuse to spend serious money on older demographics, no matter how many middle-class consumers are involved.

Once Schwartz started working at WNYC in 1999, he revealed himself to be a conventional lefty, either socialist or communist. When the fiftieth anniversary of the execution of the Rosenbergs passed in 2003, he mentioned awkwardly in passing that he had often walked by their apartment building as a boy. Just that. Nothing about their being traitors. At the same time, he refrained from calling them victims of “anti-Communist hysteria,” as communist Pinch Sulzberger’s New York Times did.

It’s a tricky business, hosting an entertainment show with a politically diverse audience…when you really want to talk politics. It’s easy to offend a portion of the audience, without gaining listeners elsewhere. Things are much safer with a politically monochrome audience. But it’s also a much smaller audience than the one Schwartz enjoyed at WNEW-AM and WQEW-AM.

One Sunday a few springs ago, Schwartz gave in fully to his NPR side. He was talking about his old family friend, the lyricist Alan Jay Lerner (My Fair Lady, Gigi, Camelot, etc.). It seems that in one room of Lerner’s Manhattan apartment, the lyricist was fond of throwing cigarettes, filter-side up, underhanded at the ceiling. The ceiling was covered with cigarettes, sticking by their filters.

It was a charming, funny story from the Smoking Era … until Schwartz ruined it with an NPR moral:

Alan Jay Lerner, killed by cigarettes.

To give you an even better idea of the NPR sensibility, the host that followed Schwartz that day approvingly told a story—I can’t vouch for its truthfulness—of MSNBC host Rachel Maddow waiting in the green room of a talk show. Seeing Rush Limbaugh pass in the hall, Maddow bellowed at him, “Hey Rush, you fat f–k!” (Can you see into the hall at those places? Had Maddow stepped into the hall for a smoke, I mean, break? Beats me. I was only a guest on a cable TV talk show once, 21 years ago, and can’t remember.)

The WNYC guy thought that cursing out Rush Limbaugh for no reason was the greatest thing. He was bleeped, but not completely.

So, to make a short story long, Schwartz has just begun his show today, and recalls the following story.

When Woody Allen was having his problems, one of Mia Farrow’s two ex-husbands, I can’t for the life of me remember which one—said he’d break Woody Allen’s legs. I just can’t for the life of me recall if it was Frank Sinatra or Andre Previn.

But then it’s back to the present, as Schwartz mentions, in the course of describing someone else,

I’m an MSNBC kind of guy.

 

WesternFront America