Saturday, May 30, 2009

The Savage story--it got legs, again.

We lost a lot of time around here the last ten days. I blame it on the pain, and the pain meds, and on my friend Ted who was here for five days, and the beer. Today when I started coming ‘round, I was buried under a load of work. That’s how it is when you do not have, as the Jewish Anti-Defamation League has, some 40-million dollars a year to hire a couple extra people to take care of the office. Not a complaint. An observation. If I had only half that budget, I could get a lot more done.

I was aware that I was behind the curve on the Michael Savage story. It jumped up out of nowhere on 05 May. The internet was full of it. Three, four days later it subsided. Today, rather late in the game, I put together a press release addressed to Ellis Washington, a very sophisticated guy. We sent it to our radio talker’s list, and were still in the process of sending it to our press list, when I discovered two stories just up on how Michael has done what he said he would do—he’s sued the British Home Secretary for defamation.

So the story still has legs. We’ll see if anyone wants to bite.

Michael Savage, Hero or Hypocrite?

CONTACT: Bradley R. Smith
Tel: 209 682 5327

31 May 2009

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE


Ellis Washington
The Report From Washington

I have read your interesting column "The Savage silence of the lambs," where you look into the reasons why “….virtually the entire conservative and liberal media so hardened their hearts and closed their bowels of compassion against this magnificent conservative intellectual, Michael Savage?"

You suggest that those other so-called conservative commentators are bought and paid for, that they all sing off the same sheet of music, that they are shameless hypocrites. I agree with you, but suggest that we put Michael Savage with those against whom he levels his ad hominem attacks.

Savage is protesting his being banned from Great Britain, a European country, solely because of his opinions. Has Savage ever talked about how in eleven countries in Europe, and in Israel, it is against the law to express an opinion about the German gas-chamber story that is not approved of by the State?

Has your hero, Dr. Savage, ever spoken out about European citizens being prosecuted and imprisoned in European countries for their opinions, or is his idealism with regard to free expression in Europe limited to Great Britain and only his own opinions?

There is a suggestion here of hypocrisy. Or is there not?


Bradley R. Smith, Founder
Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust
PO Box 439 016
San Ysidro, CA 92341

Tel: 209 682 5327
Email: bradley1930@yahoo.com
Blog: http://bradleysmithsblog.blogspot.com/
Web: www.codoh.com

Friday, May 29, 2009

President Obama : Good luck with the Palestinian issue

"When the Lord your God brings you into the land you are entering to possess and drives out before you many nations…then you must destroy them totally. Make no treaty with them and show them no mercy.”
Deuteronomy 7:1-2,

"…do not leave alive anything that breathes. Completely destroy them…as the Lord your God has commanded you…”
Deuteronomy 20:16

Gilad Atzmon referenced these two texts, and went on from there.

Memorial Day vs. Veteran's Day

When Ted was here he reminded me of the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran's Day. I apologise. I could edit my post about Veteran's Day, but I believe it suggests that I was being honest when I said The Day did not really have my attention. So I'll leave it the way it is. I think it usually a good thing when you have said something foolish to go ahead and live with having said something foolish. I think the same would be a good thing for Elie Wiesel to consider, if he has any respect for his son. He could start with being truthful about flying through the air down Broadway in NYC for some 200 feet, without the benefit of wings.

There’s revisionism, and then there’s life

Ted was here for a four-day visit. He had a cold, I have the pinched sacroiliac nerve. We took naps in the afternoon, Ted because he gets up at 5.30 in the morning and me because of the pain meds. Then we mostly drove around, talked, drank beer, talked, ate, and drank beer and talked. Just the ticket for a couple guys getting on and under the weather with big work loads. Two things about the pain meds. They make me groggy, and they don’t work. Now Ted’s gone, and I have to put together issue 162 of Smith’s Report. There’s revisionism, and then there’s life.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Veterans Day, a core story

I'm a veteran, can't escape it, but I don't appear to much identify with the holliday. Never joined a veteran's organization, don't celebrate the day, don't think about it. When it comes up each year, thought seems to go back to the horrors of trench warfare, hand to hand fighting, of WWI. I remember we used to see men stumbling and shaking along the streets in downtown Los Angeles in the 1930s. My father told me they were men had been in the war, WWI, that they were suffering from shell-shock. It’s not that they were all over the place, but that it was not uncommon to see them.

Memory recalls being with Joe Hunter, a boyhood friend. It was probably about 1946. We were at his house on the small wooden front porch in South Central Los Angeles. His father was sitting in a rocking chair there. A big, healthy man who had been an infantryman during WWI. Joe had told me the story before, but now he asked his father to tell it to me. He had to ask a couple times until his father smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

He showed us the narrow, well-healed scar beginning in the right eyebrow that ran upward to the right temple. A German bayonet. The Americans had attacked and when they reached the German trench it had become a hand to hand affair. Somehow Mr. Hunter had fallen, a German infantryman had appeared above him and thrust down with his bayonet. As the German—and they were in all likelihood young men in their twenties, Mr. Hunter had thrust upward with his own bayonet. While the German almost drove his bayonet into Mr. Hunter’s eye, Mr. Hunter drove his own bayonet upwards unto the stomach of the German and then ripped it up into his chest.

It was a really interesting story. Joe and me, we were probably sixteen years old, we wanted to know more. I wanted to know what happened next. Mr. Hunter shrugged his shoulders. Joe asked him to tell the rest of the story but Mr. Hunter had become quiet. Joe was laughing, me too, but Mr. Hunter had become quiet and would only shake his head, very, very slightly. No.

In the moment, sitting here at the keyboard, I am unexpectedly moved by relating this story. For no reason why, I am moved to tears. At this moment my wife comes into the office and I have to hide my face from her. She probably saw it. She'll probably ask me about it later. It began to happen as I recalled how, that day on his front porch so long ago, that Mr. Hunter had become suddenly quiet, not wanting to remember, or to talk about what he remembered, from almost thirty years before.

In Korea in 1950 and 51 we all carried bayonets but my platoon was ordered to fix them only one time while I was there. It was morning and we were in the mountains maybe fifty miles north of Seoul. We were moving up a finger through the trees and had run into Chinese infantry and a machinegun nest. The finger was very narrow, maybe twenty-five feet from side to side with deep gorges on either side, so there was no practical way to outflank the machine gunner. I think I have written about this before, but I don’t know where.

The captain ordered the platoon to fix bayonets. Then he ordered one squad to move up the ridgeline in marching fire, a methodical exercise meant to encourage the guys on the other side to keep their heads down. If their heads are down they can’t see you, so they can’t shoot you. A practical business.

On that morning the little maneuver went well for the first few moments, but then our own fire died down. The guys had fired too fast, or moved upwards too slowly. They had emptied their clips before reaching the Chinese positions with fixed bayonets. Now it would only take a moment, the Chinese would come up out of their holes and shoot down the third squad.

That was the morning when the captain and I were sitting behind a boulder with the Chinese machine gunner sweeping the ridgeline, and shooting little Todd in the ass as he made a run for it. Anyhow in this moment, when our guys had emptied their clips and there was a moment of silence, the captain and I both understood what the problem was.

Without thinking, it had nothing to do with courage because there was no reflection involved, I jumped up and with fixed bayonet ran the few feet up the ridgeline to where third squad was hesitating to cover them while they reloaded. I moved forward slowly, firing in a proper, deliberate manner, first a little to the left, then a little to the right where I saw possible Chinese positions. The Chinese did not return fire. Behind me, I understood that Third Squad needed only a few seconds more to reload. All this happened in a matter of 30, 40, 50 seconds.

Then I surprised myself. I had emptied my M-1 clip. It had eight rounds, if I remember correctly. Maybe I should look it up. There was nothing for it. I had to reload. Behind me a few steps, I supposed third squad was just about reloaded. As I pulled a new clip from the bandoleer around my chest thought told me to be very careful. I was there by myself, third squad a few feet behind me. Thought told me it would be better for me to move a little too slowly and get it right, than to move a little too quickly and get it wrong.

With the M-1 that we used in those days you put the ammo clip in from above and pushed it down firmly until it clicked in place. If you moved too quickly and didn’t push it all the way in, when you withdrew your thumb the clip would jump back up at you. At that moment I was in front of third squad, between my guys and the other guys, I probably recognized how exposed I was, and when I pushed the clip down into the M-1 and released it, the clip jumped back up at me and the shells with their bullets fell in the leaves at me feet. I had been careless. At the same time, there was no firing, either from our side or theirs. It was a moment of unusual, empty silence.

It was at that moment that I saw the Chinese soldier stand up from a fox hole maybe 15, 20 yards up the ridgeline in front of me. I can still recall his face, long, narrow, aristocratic if you will. Then I saw that he had something in his left hand, and it was smoking. It was a hand grenade. I had seen them before in positions we had over run. A big soup can with a wooden handle. In WWI they called them “potato mashers.” It was said the Chinese had gotten them from Czechoslovakia. In the moment I didn’t recall all that. What I understood in the first instant was that the other guy had a fragmentation grenade in his hand, that he had already pulled the pin and that’s why it was smoking, so he had probably been watching me, and now he was going to pitch the thing down on top of me.

Again, this multifaceted series of observations went through the brain in an instant. In that instant though, acting on its own without any input by me, whoever I am in these moments, thought organized a series of inventive and rational actions that in other situations, other moments, might be the source for a good deal of thinking. But here’s what I understood immediately, without thought.

The Chinese was above me, the grenade was smoking so he had already pulled the pin, and in the next instant he would pitch it downhill towards me. Because the Chinese was on higher ground than me, if I turned and went down hill to escape the blast of the grenade, it would, it might, follow me downhill. So the right thing to do was not to move down and away from the pitch, but to run a few steps up hill toward the Chinese to allow the grenade to pass over my head in its natural arc, fall to the ground behind me, and bounce downhill for a few feet further before it exploded.

My understanding of the situation was reached without thought, in an instant. There was no time for thought. I ran up the hill a few steps until I was only 15, 20 feet for the hole the Chinese was in and fell to my face. I had no shells in my M-1 but my bayonet was fixed. The grenade would pass over my head, I would stay down until the explosion, then I would get on up to the hole where the Chinese was. I was not thinking about what I would have to do when I got there. I understood I would do what was necessary.

At that moment I was surprised to find that the Chinese potato masher that was supposed to pass over my head in its natural arc landed in the dirt near my right shoulder. Again, without the benefit of thought, I jumped over the side of the ridge and into, for all I knew, 200 feet deep gorge. As luck would have it, and luck can be good as well as bad, I immediately landed on a little ledge a couple feet below the ridgeline. I’d had no idea it was there. At the same time my M-1 has caught in some kind of shrub above me. I was holding on to it. I wasn’t in a place, or in a situation, where I wanted to be without my M-1. I gave it one quick tug, it didn’t move, and then the grenade exploded.

There was the blast of the grenade, the shock of the hand holding onto the M-1 being blasted, the sound of small arms fire again so I understood that third squad was back in action, and then the understanding that I had to get off the little ledge I was on. I climbed back up on ridgeline using the left hand because the right one had become useless. And then I was sitting with my back to a tree in a bed of leaves. The small arms fire was so intense that clouds of leaves and small branches were falling all around me as I sat there.

The noise and commotion was somewhat distant. I was looking at the right hand. I could see the bone above the two middle fingers in and the splayed out mouths of what I supposed were two arteries, a whitish, pale yellow color. The index finger wasn’t there at all and I was looking for it in the leaves between my legs. I think there was the idea that if I could find it someone could sew it back on. I realize now that I was finished with acting, that I was thinking. And then Prescott, our medic for second platoon, was there. He was from New Hampshire and one of his front teeth was broken off at forty-five degree angle.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“I’m looking for the finger. Maybe they can put it back on.”

“The finger is there, Smith.”

“I’m looking for it.”

“It’s hanging down.”

I looked, and there it was, hanging down. “It’s hanging down,” I said. I couldn’t see it from above. I had to hold the hand up. But there it was.

Prescott bandaged the hand, putting the finger more or less in its place. In only a moment blood had soaked through the bandage. The noise was terrific. Stuff from the trees was raining down. One tattered leaf fell on the bandage and stayed there, maybe using blood for glue. I wasn’t hurting. It was as if I were outside of what was going on. I was no longer a part of it. Nothing really mattered. Prescott got a needle and some morphine from his kit and gave me a shot. He said I would be okay. I took it for granted I would be okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?

I’ve told this story a hundred times. I’m attached to it, and attached to telling it. I think I have written about it, but I don’t know where now, or how many times. It would be interesting to know if I told it the same way this time that I told it a long time ago.

Later, when I was back in the States in the hospital at Camp Cooke, California, I would sometimes go home to South Central Los Angeles over the weekend. One day I was in the car with my mother and father, I don’t know where we were going, when my mother turned around from her front seat and observed that I never talked about what had happened to me in Korea.

I was rather surprised. I hadn’t understood that I did not talk about it. I had to think for a minute. And then I said: “I don’t want to talk about it to anyone who wasn’t there.” I don’t know now if I was being truthful when I said that. I do remember that the question had rather caught me off-guard. I still don’t understand why. In any event, I soon overcame that reservation. In the end, I never did get tired of talking about it. But not to my parents.

Earlier today, when the issue of Veterans Day came up, the first thing memory recalled was that morning long ago with Joe Hunter and his father on their wooden porch in South Central and the father, after telling the first part of his story where he bayoneted the German in his stomach, wanted to let it lay. The second thing memory recalled was that last morning on line in Korea when I faced the possibility of having to drive my bayonet into that young man's chest, if that was something I really would have been able to do. Would I have wanted to talk about it, write about it? Or would I have wanted to keep it to myself as did Mr. Hunter that day.

I don't know if I would have wanted to talk about it, but almost certainly the day would have come when I would have wanted to write about it. That's what I do.

Friday, May 22, 2009

The very description of John Demjanjuk as a “Nazi war criminal” is misleading

Orest Slepokura writes: At 89, JD has eternity peeping over his shoulder. His 89 years have, for the most part, been years of torment and persecution. If you tick off on through the decades, you realize that JD's has been an epic story of profound suffering, which is likely to continue to the last day he draws breath. It's mind-blowing! And included in this is the hum-ho sense of business as usual that's part of this latest installment of torment and persecution in Germany. You pinch yourself until you're black and blue, and then realize that this is for real, and that JD's torments and persecution will go on as though they were a normal, seasonal feature, along with spring rain and winter snow, summer sun and autumn fog. What's no less amazing is the response to this torment and persecution: So abysmally downbeat. As if it was normal, natural, routine. It brings on a jarring realization that we're truly in an age of abject decadence -- degeneracy.

===============

John Rosenthal places Demjanjuk’s story into perspective in Pajamas Media

“The smallest of the small fish.” This is how the Dutch law professor Christian F. Rüter has described John Demjanjuk and his role in the Nazi death camp system. Rüter is the co-editor of the projected 50 volume Justiz und NS-Verbrechen or “Nazi Crimes on Trial,” a comprehensive collection of trial judgments handed down by German courts in Nazi capital crimes cases.

Once upon a time, it was thought that Demjanjuk, born Ivan Demjanjuk in Ukraine, was “Ivan the Terrible,” a particularly sadistic Ukrainian guard at Treblinka. Israel even tried and convicted Demjanjuk for the crimes of Ivan. And then released him five years later after evidence emerged that Demjanjuk had been a victim of mistaken identity: he was not that Ivan, after all. “Nobody would pay any attention to Demjanjuk,” Rüter told the German daily Die Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (FAZ) , “If the rumor had not stuck to him that he was ‘Ivan the Terrible’ — which he demonstrably is not.”

Thursday, May 21, 2009

JINSA advocates military strikes on “partisan” media outlets

Here we have a forthright call for ultimate censorship—kill ‘em all, let God sort ‘em out.

==============

JINSA is the Jewish Institute for National Security Affairs. The new edition of their house organ includes this remarkable gem, Wishful Thinking and Indecisive Wars, from retired US army officer Ralph Peters who says openly what we all suspect to be true every time an Al Jazeera office accidentally gets blown up in a war with the US, or the Israeli Defense Forces accidentally shoot a reporter. Revealing both constitutional contempt and the creepy linkages between right-wing Jews and fundamentalist Christian Zionists, Peters actually calls the media godless “neo-pagans” and advocates not only censorship but military strikes. The media, he insists, are a “hostile third party” in war, and must be treated as such.

Peters writes: “[….] Although it seems unthinkable now, future wars may require censorship, news blackouts and, ultimately, military attacks on the partisan media. Perceiving themselves as superior beings, journalists have positioned themselves as protected-species combatants. [….] Such a view arouses disdain today, but a media establishment that has forgotten any sense of sober patriotism may find that it has become tomorrow’s conventional wisdom.”

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The State is attempting to limit free expression with HR 1955

I agree with the language in the petition below. I do not have to be a Christian to agree with it. I do not agree that the language in House Resolution 1955 will further liberty, but constrain it. I believe our friend Michael Savage would stand with me against the language in HR 1955, though I have not yet heard him reference it. I signed the petition.

===============

SIGN OUR PETITION TODAY

We agree that violent crimes should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

We agree that all Americans should receive equal justice under the law.

However, we urge you to actively oppose all "hate crimes" bills which allow federal prosecution for crimes based on "actual or perceived" sexual orientation.

Hate Crimes legislation is ultimately a Thought Crime law, allowing citizens to be prosecuted for their religious beliefs.

Hate Crimes legislation is a violation of our First Amendment rights of Free Speech and Free Exercise of Religion.

Hate Crimes legislation creates a special class of people based on their "sexual orientation" or "gender identity."

The Constitutional rights of pastors and religious individuals to peacefully disagree on issues of sexual orientation should be protected.

PROTECT THE FREE SPEECH RIGHTS OF PASTORS AND CHURCHES

"Hate crime" legislation will lay the legal foundation and framework for investigating, prosecuting and persecuting pastors, business owners, and anyone else whose actions reflect their faith.

Violent attacks upon people or property are already illegal, regardless of the motive behind them. With "hate crime" laws, however, people are essentially given one penalty for the actions they engaged in, and an additional penalty for the politically incorrect thoughts that allegedly motivated those actions.

Approximately half the "hate crimes" in the FBI statistics are considered "intimidation" and the new legislation will establish a new federal offense for so-called "hate crimes" and add "sexual orientation" and "gender identity" as protected classes.

"Intimidation" has already been broadly interpreted to include the public criticism of homosexuality.

"Hate crime" legislation seeks to federalize millions of state and local crimes, creating a two-tiered system of justice.

ALL people deserve to be protected from crime, not just certain groups. Sign our petition TODAY to say equal protection under the law means equal protection for ALL.

Please join the over 60,000 people who have already signed this petition.
Sign Our Petition Today!

Tony Perkins, President
Family Research Council

Michael Savage vs. Free Speech

This press release was sent to the press nation-wide.

===============

CONTACT: Bradley R. Smith
Tel: 209 682 5327

20 May 2009

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Michael Savage is suing British Home Secretary Jacqui Smith for placing him on a list of individuals banned from Great Britain as a risk to public safety. Savage insists he is being banned for his opinions. See MichaelSavage.com

Referencing the British government, Savage might well argue with Baruch Spinoza that “The most tyrannical of governments are those which make crimes of opinions for everyone has an inalienable right to his thoughts.”

But Savage makes gross exceptions in his free-speech idealism. There are eleven countries in Europe, and it is true of Israel as well, that have made it a criminal offense to question the German gas-chamber stories. Savage has nothing to say about that. Michael Savage has never argued that any one visiting Israel should have the right to express doubt about the historical reality of the German gas chambers.

How far is Michael Savage going to be allowed to follow this double standard? He screams (as only Savage can) with rage that a European country would ban him from its shores for his opinions. But he says nothing about Europeans who are prosecuted and imprisoned by one European State after another for their opinions about German gas chambers.

Michael Savage can be seen as a victim of his own double standard with regard to free expression.


Bradley R. Smith, Founder
Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust
PO Box 439 016
San Ysidro, CA 92341

Tel: 209 682 5327
Email: bradley1930@yahoo.com
Blog: http://bradleysmithsblog.blogspot.com/
Web: www.codoh.com

Good News from Germany

"The German soul, bruised and discredited by the Nazi era, has to a large degree been healed," said Eugen Buss, a sociology professor at the University of Hohenheim. "We're seeing a normalisation," said Buss, a consultant for the German Identity Foundation.

It is now no longer unusual to see the black, red and gold colours of the national flag now streaming from houses and flats the way Old Glory drapes from every other home in America. Politicians are even daring to discuss bringing back a bravery medal like the Iron Cross of old to honour servicemen abroad who currently have nothing to celebrate.

Germans have also begun treating the Nazi past as historically interesting instead of merely shameful. Interest in other periods of German history has also surged with bookshops reporting huge sales in books about Prussia, the Middle Ages and the Holy Roman Empire.

According to the Identity Foundation survey, Germans see themselves as a nation of poets and philosophers in the tradition of Goethe and Schiller, and having a strong liking for democracy.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Letter to radical free-expression advocate Michael Savage

Here is the language quoted from the Savage complaint.

===============


[Sent via USPS]

Michael Savage
710 KNEW RADIO
340 Townsend St.
San Francisco, CA 94107

16 May 2009

Dear Dr. Savage:

Re your run-in with the British Home Secretary Jacqui Smith and her placing you on a list of individuals banned from Great Britain. In your case you have been banned because of your opinions, while others on the list have been banned because they are murderers, terrorists, and other authentically bad guys. You have the right to be incensed. I agree with you that it is the antithesis of a free society for it to be a crime to say what you think, to reveal to what is in your heart.

In your letter to Secretary Hillary Clinton, asking for her help, you draw her attention to Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, which protects the right of freedom of expression and you quote Article 10(1) which provides in part: “Everyone has the right of freedom of expression. This right shall include freedom to hold opinion and to receive and import information and ideas without interference by public authority and regardless of frontiers.”

Your letter further notes: “The European Court of Human Rights (Case of Surek v. Turkey, NO. 1) has held that the ‘freedom of expression constitutes one [of] the essential foundations of a democratic society.’ The Court went on to say that this freedom of expression is not only applicable to information and ideas that are favorably received, but ‘also to those that offend shock or disturb.’”

Are you aware that at this moment men and women all over Europe are being arrested, prosecuted, and imprisoned by the State for questioning one aspect or another of the Holocaust story? What do you think about that? If you believe you have a right to say what you think, do not those who question the gas-chamber story have a right to say they question it and give their reasons for questioning it?

Example: I have asked some 3,000 American professors if they can provide, with proof, the name of one person killed in a gas chamber at Auschwitz. My understanding is that if I were to go to any of eleven countries in Europe, or to Israel, to ask that question that I would be arrested, prosecuted, and imprisoned for expressing “doubt” about one aspect of the Holocaust story. Do you agree with these laws against free expression? Have you ever spoken out against them?

While I understand that such questions “offend, shock, or disturb” some, do you not believe that to prohibit such questions will further the liberal/fascist tyranny of State censorship throughout Western culture that you are battling right now?

I look forward to hearing from you. Thanks.



Bradley R. Smith, Founder
Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust
PO Box 439 016
San Ysidro, CA 92341

Tel: 209 682 5327
Web: www.codoh.com

40 percent of Israeli Arabs reject Holocaust

While there is no definition of "Holocaust" here, while we don't know what it is expressly that Israeli Arabs no longer believe, this news item reflects a world
wide drift away from the simplistic acceptance of The Story that our professorial class clings to with such single-mindedness.
==============

May 17, 2009

JERUSALEM (JTA) -- Some 40 percent of Israeli Arabs believe the Holocaust never happened, according to a new survey.

The figure is up from 28 percent in 2006, according to an annual University of Haifa poll of Jewish-Arab relations released Sunday.

The poll also found that 41 percent of Israeli Arabs believe the country should exist as a Jewish and democratic state, down from 65.5 percent in 2003. In addition, some 53.7 percent believe that Israel has a right to exist as an independent country, down from 81 percent in 2003.

The survey polled 700 Arab-Israeli and Druse men and women.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Anti-Defamation League supports Federal Hate-Crimes bill, HR 1913

The ADL, a primary Holocaust-fraud denier organization, is heavily involved in Homeland Security’s locally based “fusion centers,” which collect personal data for intelligence databases that synchronize national intelligence collection with local police. ADL has a record of illegally spying on American citizens and providing false information to law enforcement officials.

A fusion centre in Missouri recently distributed an “intelligence” document on “hate groups” to local police, which was written by the ADL and the SPLC (Southern Poverty Law Center). It instructed the police to look for Americans who were concerned about unemployment, taxes, illegal immigration, gangs, border security, abortion, high costs of living, gun restrictions, FEMA, the IRS, and the Federal Reserve, as well as supporters of third party presidential candidates! Mainstream Christian organisations that espouse a traditional orthodox view of homosexuality were lumped into a list filled with violent neo-Nazis and skinheads while Roman Catholic institutions were singled out as “encouraging anti-Semitism and ethnic and religious chauvinism.” The report also predictably vilified religiously observant Muslims and anti-war activists.

The dream and the difference between thought and awareness

Last night I decided to cut back my pain meds by one tablet. Woke up at 4.30am with the pain so insistent I couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided to take the tablet I had not taken the evening before. Somehow I put four, maybe five or six pain meds in my mouth and when I took a big drink to swallow them I could hardly get them all down. It didn’t matter. They didn’t help. From 4.30 until the alarm at 8.30, I tossed and turned with the pain. Once the alarm rang and I got my wits about me I realized I had not taken any extra pain meds after all, that I had dreamed I had taken them. It was pretty impressive to find, once again, how real a dream can be. At the same time, it was a small reminder that in real life suffering is part of the equation. Complaining is neither here nor there.

Typing those words causes thought to suggest to me (who am I?) that thought itself is yesterday’s product. I don’t get the connection. I suppose the idea is that thought does not operate without a history, an experience to base it on. Thought doesn’t start from nothing. It starts from something. Awareness is different. It appears without thought. No history. It’s as if thought comes out of the noise of life, while awareness appears in a moment of stillness when thought is not there.

Getting control of free speech in Israel

Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman's party wants to ban Israeli Arabs from marking the anniversary of what they term "the Catastrophe" or Nakba, when in 1948 some 700,000 Arabs lost their homes in the war that led to the establishment of the state of Israel. Legislation will be proposed next week for a ban on the practice and a jail term of up to three years for violators. Palestinian refugees around the world and Israel's Arab citizens mark the Nakba on May 15, the day after the British mandate over Palestine ended in 1948.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Michael Savage and Article 19 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political rights

On 13 May Richard Thompson, President and Chief Counsel of the Thomas More Law Center, wrote Hillary Rodham Clinton asking for help in dealing with Michael Savage being banned from Great Britain for his opinions, an act that appears to be against the law in Great Britain.

===============

“Madam Secretary:

[….] I respectfully request that you take all necessary action to protect Mr. Savage’s rights under Article 19 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political rights to which both the United States and the United Kingdom are signatories. Article 19, section 2 provides in part:

‘Everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print….’

===============

I’m with Mr. Thompson and Mr. Savage on this one. I think we ought to ask these two gentlemen if Holocaust revisionists do not have the freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, either orally, in writing or in print, with regard to the gas-chamber question. And if so, why are they prosecuted and imprisoned for seeking and imparting revisionist information and ideas? Any suggestions on how best to do this will be warmly received.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Michael Savage and Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights

Michael Savage, the third most widely followed talker on American radio, has been banned from Great Britain for opinions he has expressed about American cultural and political issues. Generally his opinions are conservative, libertarian, and in a sense main stream. With regard to style, he’s an off-the-wall kind of guy I stumbled on a few months ago and find increasingly likeable.

Attorneys for the controversial San Francisco host say the ban is a blatant human rights violation and demand that British Home Secretary Jacqui Smith "rescind the arbitrary and capricious decision" last week to "name and shame" 16 individuals, including Savage, who have been barred from entry into the country.

Moreover, they contend the move by Smith is clearly illegal: Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights clearly protects the right to "freedom of expression." Article 10 states that "this right shall include the freedom to hold opinions and ideas without interference by public authority and regardless of frontiers."

And that Article 19 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, signed by both the United States and Britain, "protects the right to freedom of expression."

This afternoon when my wife and I were returning from the other side from mailing the last issue of Smith’s Report and I was listening to Savage go on about how he is going to sue British Home Secretary Jacqui Smith, my wife grew increasingly restless and finally she said she wanted to know what Savage was talking about and why it interested me so. I explained in Spanish that he was working with a free speech issue, just as I’m working with a free speech issue. We’re comrades in arms, Michael Savage and me.

And then my wife said something that surprised me. She said: “Why don’t you send him one of your newsletters?”

Good grief, I thought. Why not? Michael Savage. He believes in free speech. Surely he would be interested in a newsletter that argues for free speech about a historical question that is suppressed, censored, and increasingly illegal. It would not be merely a matter of sending him a newsletter, but thinking of ways to follow up that might get his attention.

Just checked my computer clock. 11.49pm. I thought so. I can feel the new pain meds checking in. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep.

What's amusing to one is a pain in the ass to another

The sciatic nerve can be, literally, a pain in the ass unlike anything you have probably experienced. It’s like a hot knife that goes into the buttocks and then cuts on down the back of the leg. Impossible to stand up straight for more than a moment. Hard to sit, hard to sleep. Hard to. . .

Memory recalls the morning in 1951 when second squad, third platoon, was nailed down on a mountain finger in a Korean forest. Captain Grey and I were sitting with our back to a boulder while a Chinese machine-gunner tried to blow the rock apart. We were okay. But Todd, a smallish guy with us decided to make a run for it. He had to travel about ten yards down the finger and around an outcropping of rock. He made it to the outcropping when he got a machine gun slug in the ass. He let out a yelp, and then a series of yelps the like of which I had never heard before, and have never heard since.

Captain Grey and I thought it amusing. Sounds odd to say so. Afterwards I was to find that there is a difference when you take a round through the flesh, and when you take one that crashes through a bone. Those with the flesh wounds yell with pain. Those with smashed bones are too stunned to complain at first, and when the pain does come the sounds are very different, nothing comic about them.

I have been taking drugs given me by my Mexican doctor and the doctors at the Veterans for my excruciatingly sciatic pain in the ass that, while they do nothing for the pain, muddle my brain so that half the time I don’t know what I’m doing (again, not a straight line).

Today is Friday. Wednesday my wife and me were on the other side, I don’t even know what for now, but we were supposed to buy stamps to use to mail out the May issue of Smith’s Report. The pain is such that I can’t walk standing upright, but move around with my nose down toward the ground. So I gave her my Visa debit card and the list of stamps we needed and my pin number. I was so dopey I gave her the wrong pin. I’ve been using the same pin for maybe six years now, but I got it wrong anyhow. Inside the skull, it’s thick in there. Inside the Post Office she tried three times to pay using the wrong pin and the bank blocked the use of the card.

So we returned to Baja without the stamps. Yesterday she went to the other side herself using the buses and bought the stamps with a check that I managed to sign with my right name. This morning she and Hernandez finished stamping and stuffing the newsletter and because it is almost two weeks late we drove back up to the other side to mail it. I screwed up my macho and walked, if what I do nowadays is called walking, into our bank and got the Visa cards straightened out. The round trip took four hours, what would have taken 15 or 20 minutes if I could have dropped the mailing with my local mailer but could not because the newsletter would not have gotten to the other side until Monday, another three days.

And so it goes.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Drugs, the Veterans, and some confusion

Sunday afternoon I drove north and crossed the border at San Ysidro and drove on to the Veteran’s Hospital in La Jolla for a date with my oncologist. For three days I had been having severe back and leg pains, I had hardly slept the night before, and was uncertain if I could make it. I made it okay.

I logged in with lodging, then went up to find my bed. The pain of walking was excruciating. There were five beds in the room, and I lay down on the one assigned to me. The pain was so bad I knew I would not be able to sleep. I went to a nearby nurse’s station and asked for some ibuprofen or anything. She could not give it to me. I would have to go back down to emergency and get it from the doctor on duty. The nurse found me a wheelchair and offered to push me down to Emergency. I told her it wasn’t necessary.

I wheeled myself to the elevators, and when I was down on the first floor wheeled myself to Emergency. It took more of an effort than I had expected, but it was not big deal. In about 45 minutes a young doctor came out, called my name, and after a cursory examination said he did not believe I had a spinal column issue, but a strained muscle. He ordered me some muscle relaxant pills. Pharmacy brought them to me quickly and I took one and wheeled myself back up to my bed.

After an hour or so the pain was so bad that I went back down to emergency to ask for something else. I waited three hours. The pain and the exhaustion became so great that I decided it was not worth it. I was so tired that I figured I could sleep on through the pain. Back in my bed for maybe fifteen minutes and I knew it wasn’t going to work and I wheeled myself back down to emergency. There was another wait for about an hour; I couldn’t remember ever experiencing a similar combination of pain and exhaustion. After another 45 minutes my name was called by a lady doctor who gave me a cursory examination and told me that in all likelihood the muscle relaxant was not going to help in the near term, that I was probably having a bout with the spastic nerve. She prescribed an anti-inflammatory drug and one for pain. I was pretty much under the water by this time and could only promise to follow direction when I took them.

I took three of the new pills there at the drinking fountain in the Emergency waiting room, rested for a bit, the wheeled back up to the lodging on the third floor. This time I tried to relax, drew my knees up to my chest and hoped for the best. It was four AM. My wake-up call was for 7.30. The pain was about the same, and I felt pretty dopey (not a straight-line). So long as I didn’t have to stand up for more than a moment at a time, I was okay in the wheelchair.

My first business was to go down to the first floor to get some labs, some blood drawn. I was there about 8.15. At 9 am I was on the 3rd. floor having the port in my chest irrigated. At 9.30 I was back down on the 1st floor in radiology to have the knees x-rayed. At the same time, I worked it out with scheduling to have the lower back x-rayed as well. They were very cooperative. The lady who did the work was very careful with me, lifting and moving me around on the gurney, but it was very painful when I had to be on my back.

Then it was time for my check up with Dr. Go, my oncologist. He already had the labs in his computer and was checking them. They looked fine, except for the fact that my white blood count is low. That was a matter of concern for him, but he had no advice for me. He made two observations. One, that low white blood counts are worrisome in that it could predict in some cases that the cancer might come back as leukemia, if I understood him right. I was so tired after the last two nights that all I could do was listen.

He also said that he had taken a “gamble” with me, in that he had given me very strong doses of chemotherapy, in the upper range of what is given, and he had been impressed by the willingness of my body to absorb the hits. Causes me to recall an earlier check-up while I was still doing the chemo, after I had asked some question, who knows what now, he had mentioned that he was “slamming” me with chemotherapy. This time, when he spoke about taking a “gamble” with me he laughed thinking about it.

If it worked. . . .

Now I had to go back down to the first floor and back to radiology to schedule an appointment for a cat-scan of the neck, where the first tumor was discovered. Then it was up to the 4th floor to Nuclear Medicine to schedule a pet-scan, a full-body scan. As I sat there in the wheel chair trying preparing to turn around to head for the elevators, the scheduling nurse, a man in his 50s maybe, offered to wheel me up. I told him I was okay, but thanks. I must not have moved because the next thing I knew the man had come out of his office and took hold of the chair. “I’ll take you,” he said.

In Nuclear Medicine I waited by the office window while the forms were being filled out. Once I fell asleep and only head falling down woke me up in time. I sat up as straight as I could in the chair then so that would not happen again.

Once the pet-scan was scheduled I rather woke up and wheeled myself to the elevators and back down to the first floor laboratory. I had to rest a couple, three times. There I explained that I needed to do more labs, as I had carelessly eaten a candy bar at midnight the night before while I was waiting in Emergency. My primary care doctor had wanted what they call “fasting labs,” blood drawn after at least ten hours of not eating anything. The lab nurse agreed, did the computer work, drew the blood, and I was finished with the VA Hospital in La Jolla. For the time being.

I wheeled to the main entrance, left the chair and walked outside. It wasn’t easy, and it was very painful. I stopped to sit on a stone bench for a few minutes. Anything to get off the right leg, where most of the pain was. Then I walked across the two-lane entrance street to the parking lot, to the valet stand. I couldn’t make it to my car without resting again. I young Black guy asked if he could help me. I gave him the keys to my car and he brought it over to me. Thank you very much. You’re reward will be in heaven.

Once in the front seat of the Jeep I was more comfortable. I started the drive down South. After a few minutes I noticed that I was weaving back and forth in my lane. I recalled that when I was given the muscle relaxant the night before, the young Chinese pharmacist had told me expressly that I should not drive the car. I had nodded okay to her. It’s been my experience that these precautions are always, usually, over-stated.

I soon found that I was driving so poorly that I had to get off the freeway. I had not yet covered the ten miles or so to down to San Diego. I pulled up into a residential street, put the car seat back and down, stretched out my legs and closed my eyes. I was so exhausted I could no lie quietly. The legs were restless. I got back on the freeway and started slapping myself first on one side of the face then the other until I reached Chula Vista, another fifteen miles maybe. I surprised myself to note how hard I was willing to do the slapping.

I drove to the Starbucks near Wal-Mart, parked, and went in. I could just barely walk for the pain, and I was so confused with the tiredness and I suppose the drugs for the pain that I had a difficult time ordering the coffee—a regular with three shots of espresso, I had to ask where the milk and stirring sticks were because I couldn’t find them, and then I had to get back to the Jeep. There I rolled down the windows and drank as much of the coffee as I could. Walking was very painful, but back in the seat of the Jeep it wasn’t too bad.

I started south again toward the border. I rather woke up. I had not eaten anything yet and the espresso must have it me with a little real lightening. I made it across the frontier and down to where we live in less than an hour. Outside the house the pain was very bad but I was still at least half awake. I went in the house to our bedroom and Irene came in and I told her about what had gone down. I lay around for a couple hours, then checked my email. I couldn’t get the brain to focus. I was taking the pain pills just as they were prescribed for me. Nothing with the pain was changing. The one thing that had changed was that I could lie down, and I didn’t have to do anything. So long as I didn’t have to take more than three or four steps, I was okay.

At 11.30 I went to bed for good. By 3.30 I think I was asleep. I woke at 8.30 this morning to the alarm and got up. I had a lot of work to catch up on. After a few steps to the bathroom and back, getting my pants on and so on, the pain was back where it had been the night before. And then we discovered, and I say we because I did not really understand what was happening until my wife appeared to be concerned and our daughter was burlesquing my behavior. I could not carry on a conversation, I was mumbling, it was difficult to walk, the pain was very bad, and my daughter was making fun of my slurred speech.

I was to get a massage at 2pm. Now that it was in my mind that the pain might be from a pinched sciatic nerve, I had reservations about a massage. I was dizzy, couldn’t walk more than a few steps, and was in severe pain. I decided to go around the corner to our family doctor. I called the massage guy and cancelled my reservation. It was decided that I would not drive the Jeep myself, but that Pretty would take me. Then I discovered that I could not find the car keys. Pretty got the keys from Irene and I got in the car.

At 2.30 I was with Doctor Olivia. I outlined the problem for her and told her what drugs I had been given for the pain. I was pretty non compass mentis, if that’s how you say it. I had to stop in the middle of a sentence to figure out what I was going to say. I recognized myself that I was slurring my words. I was exhausted. I got so many things mixed up that it became funny for both of us. Before we left the house I had just enough sense to take with me the bottles of pills I was taking.

10 mgs of Cyclobenzaprine HCL every 8 hours as a muscle relaxant.
500 / 1,000 mgs of Hdrocodone every four hours for pain.
800 mgs Ibuprofen each eight hours for pain

Doctor Olivia told me to get off the Cyclobenzaprine immediately. That was the one that was making me dopey, particularly in combination with the other two.

She gave me two substantial injections in la nalga (the butt), one some kind of B-vitamin concoction, and another that I can’t remember. Maybe for pain.

Pretty drove me back to the house and I went to bed. Slept for close to four hours. When I woke the pain was somewhat reduced. I couldn’t walk without the pain, but I could be there in the bed without pain, and when I did walk a few steps and sit down I was rather okay.

I understand. This is more than you could possibly want to know about anybody’s bad day. Still, I am pleased to be able to write even this, pleased to find myself sitting in a chair without feeling a need to whine about the pain, pleased that I am not exhausted, and that my head is relatively clear. And pleased to be able to report that tomorrow or the day I expect to be back to work.

For the present, however, I am not inclined to reflect on the peccadilloes of our Holocaust-fraud denier friends. As I say, maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Mother's Day

Well, I’m going to have to let the Holocaust-fraud deniers run with the ball the next couple days. Tomorrow morning my wife and I will have brunch at El Nido (The Nest) for Mother’s Day. Then we’ll go to one of the local nurseries and buy some plants. We do plants rather than flowers on Mother’s Day. In the afternoon she will have a grand child to take care of while I drive to the other side to the VA where I will stay overnight.

Monday morning I’ll do blood work at 8am, see my oncologist at 9.30, get the port in my chest irrigated at 10,30, then stop in radiology and have the knees x-rayed. Pretty good scheduling, eh? There’s no evidence that the cancer is coming back, but the knees have become a pain in more places than just the knees. And then day before yesterday the back went out for the second time in two weeks. First it’s one thing, then it’s something else.

If I had the swine flu I’d have something to complain about.

Meanwhile … be back here Monday night or Tuesday, the fates willing.

Holocaust dogmatists demand Pope support Thought Crime

The headline reads:

"Israel demands Pope Benedict XVI condemn Holocaust deniers"

The story deals with the Israeli government demanding that Pope Benedict XVI explicitly condemn Catholics who deny the Holocaust. Father Federico Lombardi, the Pope's spokesman, said the Vatican had already made its position on the Holocaust clear.

"I don't understand what we have still to say," he told The Daily Telegraph. "It is clear that the Pope condemns those who deny the Holocaust.

A reader writes:

“This is a Jewish demand that Jews edit the Catholic religion to suit Jewish purposes, that Catholicism be a stepchild of Holocaustianity, and that a vicious blood libel against the German people become the heart of the Catholic religion.”

Holocaust-fraud deniers committed to thought control

Paul Craig Roberts has published an article in Counter Punch titled Criminalizing Criticism of Israel. Roberts is coauthor of The Tyranny of Good Intentions. With regard to an open debate on the Holocaust question he writes:

“Most of Europe has already criminalized doubting the Holocaust. It is a crime even to confirm that it happened but to conclude that less than 6 million Jews were murdered. Why is the Holocaust a subject that is off limits to examination? How could a case buttressed by hard facts possibly be endangered by kooks and anti-semitics? Surely the case doesn’t need to be protected by thought control."

Holocaust-fraud deniers disagree. They need thought control to cover up the massive fraud they are involved with. Thought control, through the use of retrogressive law, is just the ticket for them. They understand that if they were to allow what is fraudulent in The Story to be revealed as fraud, it would diminish profits considerably.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Where do Holocaust-hoax deniers stand with regard to the torture and killing of Arabs—today?

Here is some back ground from Raw Story

“Nagem Sadoon Hatab… a 52-year-old Iraqi, was killed while in U.S. custody at a holding camp close to Nasiriyah,” the group wrote. “Although a U.S. Army medical examiner found that Hatab had died of strangulation, the evidence that would have been required to secure accountability for his death – Hatab’s body – was rendered unusable in court. Hatab’s internal organs were left exposed on an airport tarmac for hours; in the blistering Baghdad heat, the organs were destroyed; the throat bone that would have supported the Army medical examiner’s findings of strangulation was never found.”
In another graphic instance, a former Iraqi general was beaten by US forces and suffocated to death. The military officer charged in the death was given just 60 days house arrest.”

“United States interrogators killed nearly four dozen detainees during or after their interrogations, according a report published by a human rights researcher based on a Human Rights First report and follow-up investigations.
In all, 98 detainees have died while in US hands. Thirty-four homicides have been identified, with at least eight detainees — and as many as 12 — having been tortured to death, according to a 2006 Human Rights First report that underwrites the researcher’s posting. The causes of 48 more deaths remain uncertain.”

Holocaust-hoax deniers show little interest in the torture and murder of Arabs in our own time, but are in love with, they are enamored of, the possibility that they can imprison and even kill one old man charged with being an accomplice to 29,000 murders more than half a century ago. How could that be, you ask?

Well, follow the money.

Holocaust-hoax deniers obsessed with John Demjanjuk

The U.S. Government has served John Demjanjuk with a notice to surrender to an immigration office in Cleveland, continuing its 30-year legal battle in cooperation with the organized Holocaust-hoax-denier community. The old man faces deportation to Germany, again. The arrest warrant in Munich accuses him of 29,000 counts of accessory to murder at Sobibor in German-occupied Poland during World War II.

A spokesman for the immigration agency said the U.S. Government is working with the German Government to implement the deportation. Looks like Berlin authorities have ruled that the final deportation decision lies with the U.S. authorities. The Germans cannot force the American Government to deport Demjanjuk. I expect they will, however. Who is there in the U.S. Government who is willing to stand up to the organized community of Holocaust-hoax deniers?

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Revisionism is a listless word

A reader writes:

Hi Bradley,

"Revisionism" is a listless word, isn't it? What does it really mean, eh? It reminds me of a tailor with a mouthful of pins, in a little shop in some poor neighborhood.

Some guy with a stubby piece of chalk in his hand, marking up a cheap suit. ... ah, I'll take the gas chambers outa here ... loosen it up, a little ... maybe leave a totalitarian dictatorship there ... could leave half-million homicides here ... we're all god's children ... so long as everybody's happy.

Maybe, if we used the right words for the right things, it would not always be one step forward and two steps backward.

What it is, is holocaust hoax exposure, isn't it? Not just something that could go either way, depending? Split the difference? No intention to offend, eh?

If it was ""Holocaust" hoax exposure", or ""Holocaust" hoax analysis," instead of "revisionism," you could call Deborah Lipstadt a ""Holocaust" hoax denier." It's what she is. Some kind of a denier. Details to be filled in, later. So the frustration would make her head explode, like an artillery round. All that work, inventing the word, "denier," and pasting it on to you, like smearing a booger. All of it for nothing.

Deborah Lipstadt should never be mentioned in print or speech as anything except "Holocaust" hoax denier Deborah Lipstadt.

It would start a destructive game of Whos on First. Now, are you a Holocaust denier, Bradley, or are you a "Holocaust" hoax denier? Or are you "Holocaust" hoax exposer Bradley Smith? Maybe, some days, you could be a "Holocaust" hoax analyst?

Every living "Holocaust" hoaxer and every living "Holocaust" hoax denier should always be identified as a "Holocaust" hoax denier. Dead "Holocaust" hoaxers and dead "Holocaust" hoax deniers should always be identified as "Holocaust" hoaxers or scammers, or some other kind of a "Holocaust" hoax shit heel, as soon as they slip beyond the reach of a get-well card.

No one could possibly complain, "Your honor, he says I deny that the "Holocaust" is a hoax." And no one could possibly complain, "Your honor, he says I'm a ""Holocaust" hoaxer."

Also, the word "Holocaust" is part of the sucking apparatus of a parasite. So It should always be used enclosed by sneer quotes, shouldn't it? Like so: In a tragic, four-car pile-up on New York City's Riverside Drive today, long-time "Holocaust" hoax denier Elie Weasel became a "Holocaust" hoaxer.

Best

John Demjanjuk to stand trial in Germany

A U.S. federal appeals court on Friday denied a motion by alleged Nazi war criminal John Demjanjuk to block his deportation to Germany to stand trial as an accessory to the murder of 29,000 Jews at Sobibor. Demjanjuk claims he was not a guard there.

At the same time the Americans who intentionally burned alive a couple hundred thousand innocent civilians in Tokyo, Nagasaki, and Hiroshima and admitted it, were lauded as members of our Greatest Generation. They still are.

Of course, burning Japs is one thing, killing Jews another. I keep forgetting.

Mark Cuban's attorney challenges FaceBook on allowing Holocaust Denial on its pages

Technically Incorrect has posted an interesting article on censorship instigated by Dallas Cowboys owner Mark Cuban's brother and attorney for his companies, Brian. Brian has written to Facebook demanding to know why the social-networking site allows Holocaust denial groups. His opinion is that this is not a First Amendment issue.

"The belief that the First Amendment protects speech in the private social media arena or at your place of employment is a common misconception," he says.

Facebook is able, as a private entity, to choose its own rules with regards to free speech. However, he believes its terms of service very clearly limit the content that can be featured on any Facebook page. You cannot "upload, post, transmit, share, store or otherwise make available content that would constitute, encourage or provide instructions for a criminal offense, violate the rights of any party, or that would otherwise create liability or violate any local, state, national or international law."

Although Holocaust denial is not illegal in the US, it is a crime in Austria, Belgium, the Czech Republic, France, Germany, Lithuania, Poland, Romania, Israel, Slovakia, and Switzerland.

To Cuban, any Holocaust denial group is clearly committing an illegal act in those countries. He has therefore written to Facebook asking the company why it permits the five Holocaust denial groups he has found on the site.

Chris Matyszczyk had a detailed e-mail Q&A Wednesday with Facebook's spokesman, Barry Schnitt. He publishes it here in full.

Not a word that is new, but an interesting back and forth. Once again the rich and influential want to censor revisionist arguments for reasons that go deeper than mere thought

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Youngstown State University: Arthur Butz replies to Dean Shearle Furnish

Following is an email communication I received from Shearle Furnish, Dean of
the College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences at Youngstown State University. It is in response to my letter addressed to the President of Youngstown State, Dr. David Sweet, where I demontrated that while he had referred to me as a "systematic liar" he could not demonstrate that I am, that he did not attempt to, and for other silliness. I copied my letter to Youngstown faculty and student organizations. Dean Furnish here attempts to protect the reputation of Dr. Sweet. Not easy. Following the Dean's letter, we have Dr. Butz's reply.
===============

24 April 2009

Mr. Smith:

As the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences at Youngstown State University, home to the Jambar, YSU History Club, and the Center for Judaic and Holocaust Studies, I have been offered the opportunity to write the response to your email of 14 March.

The History Club hosted an open forum on your ad, the Jambar’s decision to publish it, and controversy in the wake of publication. The forum took place in the student center on campus, on the evening of Thursday, 19 March 2009. I judge that the attendance fell between forty and sixty, mostly students but also small numbers each of administrators, faculty, and community members. Asked by the officers of the History Club to do so, I moderated the discussion. It was covered by the Jambar, whose student editors also attended as interested parties.

Though there were those present who challenged the propriety of the paper’s decision to accept and run your ad, they were few, and little of the evening’s proceedings dwelt on the rather clear first-amendment issues, upon which the student editors spoke with eloquence and confidence. Instead, the interest of those assembled turned quickly to your views on the Holocaust, the State of Israel, the movement you call "revisionist," and the rhetorical strategies of your ad, blogs, and published address. No one in attendance spoke in your defense.

Your blogs and address at the Tehran Holocaust Conference make frequent, derisive reference to “professional” scholars’ evasion of your One Question, so I imagine you might have enjoyed two hours of sustained attention from scholars young and old, paid and unpaid.

Contributions to the discussion shed light on why “professional scholars,” as you call us, regularly and correctly choose not to engage you. Your One Question, besides constituting a reductio ad absurdum, also begs the question. As one who has charged hoax, the burden of proof belongs to you. You might feel an intellectual annoyance similar to that which readers of your ad experience if I ask you, “can Bradley Smith prove (to my satisfaction) that the number of Jewish dead by gassing at Auschwitz is zero?” Neither question answered to the satisfaction of the interrogator would prove anything much larger than itself. Scholars know a trap of sophistry when they see one. You argue disingenuously with the academic community. They choose not to respond.

For another instance, it was clear to those in attendance that your chief interest is not “the gas-chamber fantasy” but rather the founding of the modern state of Israel, whose legitimacy you seek to draw into question by suggesting that somehow it would make a difference if the dead at Auschwitz were shot or starved, not gassed, or if the total number of dead could be shown to be fewer than historians have estimated or calculated. Again, you argue disingenuously.

Other problems mentioned at the forum were the hardly checked violence of your imagery and expression and your sarcasm, which is supposed to pass for wit. If instead you were to play fair with the broad field of evidence, do genuine scholarship and research, and avoid trying to prove propositions by negatives, you might enjoy more attention from “professional scholars.” Otherwise, they have much other good work to attend.

Sincerely,

Shearle Furnish, Dean
College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences
Youngstown, Ohio
===============

ARTHUR BUTZ REPLIES

May 4, 2009

Dean Furnish's letter is difficult to follow because the sole useful
paragraph is confusing and I don't see the "reductio ad absurdum"
alleged.

She asks "can Bradley Smith prove (to my satisfaction) that the
number of Jewish dead by gassing at Auschwitz is zero?" Your
original "one person,with proof" question did not have the
parenthesized "(to my satisfaction)".

You surely can't be annoyed by his question, except in one sense I
shall mention below. To the extent that there is any burden of proof
that is yours, you have the proof.

Revisionists have shown, not strictly speaking that there were
no gas chambers at Auschwitz, but that the specific alleged
homicidal gas chambers there were not that in fact. It follows
that not a single Jew was gassed at those sites, nor a single
gypsy, nor a single unemployed poet, nor a single ex-weightlifter.

On the other hand your challenge ("one person, with proof") is
regularly met, with forensic and other evidence, in ordinary murder
trials. The question you are asking is not "sophistry" but
perfectly routine. Prosecutors do not "feel an intellectual
annoyance" in being asked to provide proof beyond the usual
standard of a reasonable doubt.

Both your question, and Furnish's question, are acceptable bases for
useful historical discussion. Her assumption that they are not is
supportable only on the basis of radical skepticism, which must be
rejected if historical discussion is to be possible at all. For
example, I can't prove George Washington was our first President
in the sense that I can prove a mathematical proposition, given
the axioms, or in the sense that I can prove there are trees in
front of my home, but surely I believe in George. If the
Dean's game is radical skepticism, we ought to be annoyed, but
we ought also note the nature of the intellectual refuge she
has taken.

Arthur R. Butz

[END]

Murray State University

A Professor at Murray State U responds to our One Person with Proof question.

===============
Dear Editor,

In reference to Bradley Smith’s recent ad in The Murray State
News about the Holocaust, I have not been to Auschwitz, but I
have been to Dachau. I did see the gas rooms and the crematoria
there, and I did see records of the names of persons executed,
which were kept by the Nazis. I recall in particular a picture
of Gustav Hinz, who committed suicide by hanging his emaciated
body from a urinal on Feb. 19, 1941. There can be no doubt
the Holocaust happened.

– Winfield H. Rose, political science professor, Murray, Ky.
===============

Professor Rose does not know that the Dachau gas-rooms story is a real scandal, created and maintained for years by the U.S. military. I wrote about it early on in Confessions of a Holocaust Revisionist, Chapter 7. For a brief academic look at the story see Mark Weber on the Dachau fraud in the Journal of Historical Review.

Here is the Murray State News if you would like to comment.

Back in Baja

We were three days on the road in and around Los Angeles, saw old friends in El Segundo, drove past old haunts in Hollywood, ate dinner in Chinatown, had one short business meeting in a club for pole dancers in West L.A., and drove down to South Central Los Angeles to see the old house and further down to show Irene where we used to keep horses.

At Hollywood High I was able to watch dozens of kids practice on the track. There wasn’t an Anglo face to be seen anywhere. Hollywood Boulevard is going through a construction boom as if there were no recession. Houses of old friends are gone, replaced by apartment buildings and businesses. Fences are everywhere, where a couple decades ago most everything was open.

Driving south we got off the freeway so I could show Irene where I had boarded horses at 116th Street and Vermont. Obliterated by the freeway. Tex’s Café at 134 and Broadway and the open country all around filled with warehouses and petroleum businesses. It was all gone. Obliterated. The most prized memories of my teenage years gone. Covered over. What did I expect?

Wanting to have things as they were in America fifty and sixty years ago is a dangerous preoccupation. Here and there maybe it works. Those who want the Holocaust to remain what it was decades ago are in the same boat. Won’t happen. Uncounted Holocaust stories have already been obliterated by exposure to the light of day. The desire for it not to change is sentiment at its most useless. Only loss can come from it. As it was for me yesterday morning looking at the hole in the earth where the barn and the stables used to be and where on rainy winter mornings I would stand inside the stall with Yankee looking out the top of the Dutch door at the falling water, the side of my face pressed against his warm, soft muzzle.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

I’m going to do a once-over on the blog

As I move along you’ll tell me what you think. I’m sure

When I set up this page I modeled if after Deborah Lipstadt’s blog, simple, focused, no bells and whistles. I’m still good with that.

A few days ago I was going through Arts & Letters when I came across an article that went on a bit about Andrew Sullivan’s Daily Dish. I don’t follow any blogs, but I decided to take a look at this one. In about 15 minutes I decided that I would forget the Lipstadt model and use Sullivan as a model.

I mean the structure of his Dish, not his interests, which are much broader than mine. There is no possibility that I can make of this blog what he has made of his. But the structure, the form, the approach he uses. I think that’s what I should do, tho I understand that mine will be a pale imitation of his.

It amuses me to note that I first followed the model set up by what I suppose is a lady homosexual, tho she would never talk about it, and now I have turned to a model created by an avowed male homosexual who is committed to talking about it. Maybe Michael Savage is right. San Francisco (where apparently Savage lives), California, the entire nation have been taken over by the homosexuals.

I was going to go on about this tonight but we lost our electricity for three hours and now it’s too late. I’ll be on the other side for the next two days. Driving north across the border tomorrow up to Los Angeles for beer and pizza with the remnants of the old David McCalden group. David was the young man who invented The Institute for Historical Review back around 1978 and edited the first issues of its Journal. With regard to context, I am inclined to note here that David died of Aids. So did Keith Stimely, a later editor of the Journal. I gotta stop this.