Start with this (thought). For a play/story? Not sure.
GAB.
Before WW2 the GAB organized large gatherings in US promoting Nazism. They even had a gathering at Madison Square Garden (I think). Who were the speakers? McCarthyism was childs play compared to the roundup of German, Italian adn japanese people.
Fritz Kuhn – head of GAB.
George Lincoln Rockwell was the Nazi counter to ML King. Rockwell was killed by fellow nazi who was angry about Rockwell’s belief that lighter skinned whites were superior.
Skokie, Il., outside of Chicago–most jews who survived German concentration camps.
Turner Diaries by William Pierce, pseudonym Andrew MacDonald.
A racist named Robert Jay Matthews read Diaries and took action to make it (the Turner Diaries) happen. He was founder of The Order. Allen Bern, radio host, Jew, was murdered by David Lane. See info about life in jail of Matthews. Also see:
- Ruby Ridge
- Davidians, Waco
- Tim McVieh – obsessed with Turner Diaries, Oklahoma bombing, exhibit 1 in his trial
Break. Nuff. Move on to self and other forms of loathings.
Have grievances. Only a pride blocked up with arrogance. Is there a plumber to fix it? My diarrhea. I return in two days from this farce of a soul-searching. What a useless endeavor/trip. Return to what? To a woman that loves me? She says and I believe her that she believes in me. But what is there really to believe in? Failure. Should have never married in the first place. At least not until I knew what I wanted. But why didn’t wife1 know what I wanted. Coward. What will I take away from this trip, though? The visit. The knowledge that I can’t stop living in my past? Is that why I am unable to heed? The advice of my American brethren and just “do what it takes”. Sounds and feels like the nike swoosh. How superficial. What a turn off. It’s all too late. Everyone here is so indifferent–as though America were a battered divorcee who might still look good on the outside but inside is one big fucked up emotional mess. Some fellow last night yelled across the bar that politics was taboo. That has really become engrained in the psyche here. We live an swim in that taboo. We eat it. It is/has become us. And we can’t talk of it/about it. Indifference is the easiest way out. But is my imagination running wild when it thinks there is a solution? Truth, wisdom & passion (see previous post, by date). Is that the solution? All the people in their cars, he sheople mobiles. Nothing left to say. Just survive. But how can one do that if one can’t consume? Annoying how that all works out. But I was trying to talk about me. As always. This is my place to do it. The fact that I’ve been here for more than four months and am not the better for it. Just more wasting of time. Times wastes after a certain age, after certain qualifications run out. Does this feeling I have drive me back (to the old country) to my (new) dear or is it the offer of love and vacation? Silly trinkets are certainly not my motivation. If only I could write. And. Why would such a woman
Cease.
-tommi
worstwriter 