On the day we went to eat at Wilma’s Real Good Food, the real Wilma, Brett’s Mom, was helping around the trailer. That’s why I had to scrap my original clever titles Inside Wilma’s and Wilma’s Under The Covers. Seeing Wilma talking to customers and helping her son was just as much fun as actually eating Brett’s amazing food. Naming a business after your Mom must be an ultimate quality control.
I know, I know, these are pictures of Hitler. And maybe it’s not the best idea to put them here, me being who I am. But these photos are amazing, shot by Hitler’s personal photographer Hugo Jaeger in color and such close proximity that as a fan of historic photography I cannot just pass them by. And yes, I know what was happening while Hitler was greeting adoring women, checking out cars and watching parades, and I have these photos too. If anything these photos make one wonder how a grim, plain-looking and not extremely bright individual could achieve absolute power over a civilized country.
Learning on someone else’s mistakes is sadly not a quality well-developed in most people, leaving the ones who already know the outcome to sit and watch another crash and burn just to say “I told you so” when it’s all said and done. Many people already have experiences similar to the ones about to be encountered by the American people; they recognize the similarities and know the lessons, but it’s next to impossible to overcome the “it can’t happen here” attitude. Knowing that, I long ago limited the amounts of “I told you so” I dispense on the daily basis.
The above explains why I am not going to dwell on the video below posted by the LAPD:
httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LciBRRkG_y8
My favorite part is on the 27th second when the actor says “let the law enforcement determine if it’s a threat” and the other one says “let the experts decide”. Anyone with the knowledge of the Soviet history would draw a connection the the Great Purges of 1930’s when regular citizens were encouraged to uncover the “enemies of the state” among their friends, neighbors, co-workers and even relatives. Even small things could be important to the wise authorities, who will then decide if your elderly uncle is really a foreign spy. Authorities wouldn’t send an innocent person to a labor camp for 20 years, right? Most people informed on their friends and relatives with the best and the purest of intentions (except in cases where they wanted to expand their living space once another “spy” gets arrested).
The “authorities” of the Soviet 1930’s would be proud of this video but they had their own means of propaganda.
Be Vigilant! Uncover the enemy under any mask!The enemy is deceitful - be vigilant!Vigilance is our weapon! Be Vigilant!
Written on the snake “Spying, Sabotage, Provocation”.
Foreign spies are seeking out drunks. It's well-known that drunks speak their mind.Militiaman! Be Vigilant! You can't lose your alertness even for a minute!Blabbermouth - enemy's treasure!Be vigilant everywhere. Remember, the enemy is mean and deceitful!Your chatter is helping the enemy!Don't even try!
People, be vigilant! (The snake spells "revanchism")Vigilance is our weapon!Be Vigilant! Comrade, don't let peaceful days fool you! Throw your kindheartedness out! Remember, the enemy is among us!Be vigilant! The enemy doesn't sleep!
Uncle Sam’s bony fingers holding a wad of cash and a binocular peering at the map of the USSR.
Don't Yak! The enemy is listening!The types of spy accessories
Top left: “long tongue” can disclosed military secrets.
Bottom Left: “rose colored glasses” make wolves seem like harmless goats.
Top right: “making elephant out of the fly” (like mountain out of the mole hill).
Bottom right: “catch the enemy’s helpers, be on guard”.
No Chatter! Be on guard, these days even walls are listening! Idle chatter and rumors are not that far from treason!Continue reading →
Exactly 20 years ago, on July 8th, 1988 I had to report for duty at the local draft station. Several hundred young men gathered in the yard waiting for their fate to be decided by chance and lucky or unlucky circumstances. We all wore old clothes and had backpacks with personal items, we all tried to act brave pretending that this was just another day in our so far mostly care-free lives. In reality, for many of us it was the first day of our adult lives. Most of us have never been separated from our parents for more than a few weeks, many of us never traveled far away from home, we stood there looking like we could care less but our future couldn’t have been any more uncertain.
In the middle of the yard on a desk there were stacks of personal files. Once in a while an officer walked in (they called them “buyers”) with a requisition for a certain number of people and grabbed a handful of files from the top of the stack. That simple act decided where the draftee would spend the next few years: the most unlucky ones were stuck for 3 years in the Navy where being short almost guaranteed a submarine; the others got the Army and shorter guys didn’t fare much better – they were a perfect fit for a tank. In 1988 they were still sending people to Afghanistan, so your file being on top in the wrong time could ultimately decide if you would come home in a zinc coffin. And then there were locations – anywhere from remote posts inside the Arctic Circle, to scorching desert sands; mountains, faraway borders, big cities, resort towns, or somewhere deep in the woods where you’d see people once in 6 months – military was everywhere and all these places needed new “meat”.
My parents didn’t try our “Jewish luck” – a friendly (bribed) officer kept taking my file off the top of the stack until a good buyer showed up. I ended up only a few hundred miles away in the engineering regiment. My parents were happy – I was not too far, I never found out how much money and favors did it cost my Dad. I was happy – I didn’t end up in some horrible dump. “Friendly” officer was happy – he had a reason to celebrate. And the Soviet Army got one of the most worthless soldiers in its history.
That hot day in July of ’88 is still with me. Anxiety and fear long ago faded away but I still remember the buyer grabbing my file from the stack, like a hand of fate grabbing my life and pulling it into a mysterious unknown future.
These photos of the Santa Claus School where one could get a B.S.C. (Bachelor of Santa Claus) degree for $75 were published in the Life Magazine in 1961. Nowadays, our kids are forced to sit on the laps of uneducated Santas who probably can’t even pass the drug test.
When I was growing up© every able-bodied male over 18 years old was drafted to serve 2 years in the Army or 3 years in the Navy. Very few people were able to escape the draft based on health and other reasons. Going to college resulted in getting the lowest officer rank but even then a person had to serve some time and if you quit or got kicked out of school, guys in uniform came looking for you without delay. Threat of the military service was probably the single largest stimulus for getting into and staying in college for any male.
