Jezekiah! See the Wheel Way Up In The Middle of the Sky!
I’m the Furious Buddha. Usually you have to say my name three times to summon me. You only said it twice, but I can’t suffer to watch you squirm anymore. I’m now sure you’ll read every last word I write here to you, and I really couldn’t ask for anything more than that.
The plank in my eye is enormous. I am a flawed person. In my life I have made many mistakes and hurt other people. Most often I hurt people that I care about. Like, I drank too much when I drank. So, now I don’t drink. I don’t really talk about it much because there’s really nothing to talk about; endlessly talking about the things you don’t do is not a healthy obsession. I just wanted to give up a slice of my vulnerable private humanity to you, to let you peek under my mask because I’m about to reach for the splinter in your eye.
Here’s the problem with your worldview; it depends on someone or some group ultimately being in control. It requires that world events are scripted and directed by some cabal which has already decided all our fates. It presupposes a hierarchy of omnisciences moving invisible levers for inscrutable reasons. You say that because you did research on teh internet, you believe you have special knowledge and understanding of these reasons, levers, and hierarchies. Your perception is flawed, but then, so is everyones. We all see through a glass darkly.
History is tricky. There’s a couple of ways of looking at history; there’s living history, and then there’s the past. The past is what no living person can recall. All we have to rely on to interpret the past is documents and archeology, neither of which are perfectly reliable testaments.
Augustus Caesar was a great propagandist. He burned all the histories, prophesies, and other writings he did not care for. He consciously encouraged the notion of his godhead, with many statues proclaiming him ‘King of Kings’ scattered across the Empire. The history of the Roman Republic is the one that Augustus wanted us to have. Well, not quite. In 416, St Cyril murded Hypatia, the Head Librarian of the Library of Alexandria, which contained the sum knowledge of the ancient world. (Interestingly, the three contemporaneous accounts still extant are an excellent illustration of historical record as propaganda if you are really interested in the subject.) There were certainly repositories elsewhere, but many of these were lost in similar purges. Years ago I saw the Archimedes Palimpsest in a museum; it is an ancient Greek math text that had been turned into a prayer book in the 12 century. This sort of self-lobotimization by a culture happens more frequently than people think; propaganda is often the source of the popular understanding of historical events.
Then there is history where the events are fresh in the minds of the living. I have met survivors, heard their testimony, and witnessed the firsthand evidence of the Holocaust. It is the goal of Nazi apologists to distort the historical record at this essential moment when living history is transformed into the past; people who were in their 30’s during WWII are well over a hundred today. Soon the Holocaust will become the Past. The Fourth Reich daydreamers are trying to pull a Caesar and rewrite recent events; but I suspect they’d much rather do a Cyril and erase the Holocaust from human memory if they could. The reason Eisenhower and other eyewitnesses of this atrocity have put such importance on not forgetting is because they knew how easy it could be to forget something so nightmarish. Forgetting begins with rewriting.
These people you admire and apologize for do not strike me as happy individuals. But I can’t imagine a happy person carrying the standard of the Nazis into the 21st century. I have heard them speak and read their writings, and yes, they sound to me like insects singing of the death of humanity. It is a terrifying and repulsive image, but I am a very sensitive artist type, prone to forming powerfully imaginative reactions to the stimulus around me. When I hear Nazis speak the image of them in my minds eye is of a giant mantis thing wearing human clothing. It is only a poetic metaphor, but it hurts my soul to think you have that horrible thing inside you. It must be terrifying.
I’m nobody important, just another posuer trying to understand the world and live my life; I am that I am and that’s all that I am. I am not a psychiatrist or physician, and I don’t know you. You are an anoymous voice singing an insect song to me. Perhaps you have excellent relationships in your life that give you happiness. Perhaps small children and animals aren’t afraid of you. Perhaps you sleep peacefully. I don’t know. All I really know is what you have written here and a few things over at your blog.
I won’t argue with you about gas chambers for the same reason I wouldn’t argue with somebody about whether or not it is raining; it is not an arguable topic. Actually, based on your comments here, I won’t argue with you about anything; in your brief posts you demonstrate tremendous intellectual dishonesty, but that sort of thing should be expected from someone who is trying to argue… well, it’s difficult to determine what you are trying to argue. I mean, why, if the Holocaust happened, would the Allies go to such great lengths to lie about a detail like gas chambers? It doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. To believe that is to have lost your understanding of how humans actually behave.
I wish you the best of luck and urge you to reconsider your beliefs.
The Furious Buddha