I Really Don’t Remember…

I have mentioned here before that I was well acquainted with a “holocaust survivor”. 
This person has passed on.  But not before he had many chances to relate to me, all of his horror stories about Germany during WWII.  And that is what they were.  
His father was a German jewish man involved in the import business.
Along with hundreds of thousands of well-heeled jews, this man’s father was taken to a Nazi labour camp.  Birkenau to be precise. As the holohoax industry would have you believe…this section of Auschwitz was the very heart of the Nazi “death” camps.  And it was.  As in all internment camps throughout the history of war…people died.  Sometimes intentionally.  Sometimes not.  Birkenau was of the latter group, according to my friend.  There were no gas chambers there in which millions of jews were exterminated.   There were no ovens to bake jews alive.  There was no shrinking of jewish heads.  There was no soap made from jewish fat.  Despite the fact that many well-to-do yiddish people left over from the hey-day of the Weimar Republic…the wealthy…were interned there, a great deal in these camps fared better there than that to which they were accustomed.  These were mostly Polish jews and Gypsies that had come from the ghettos or were essentially nomadic.
So three hots and a cot, was luxury to them…or so my friend related.
My friend was privy to these facts because his father wrote to he and his mother regularly from the camp.  His father died of typhus, which was brought to the camps by the above mentioned ghetto dwellers. This was early in 1944, I believe.
In spite of all the inhuman treatment that the prisoners supposedly endured at what is known as a “death camp”, my friend’s account is much more believable.  He told me of the letters describing what was essentially a POW labor camp, with a surprising amount of ammenties designed specifically for jews.  Kosher food. Prisoner currency. A trading post.  Organized entertainment.  Sports teams.  Even a brothel.  
Of course these descriptions relayed to me can be verified by historical documents and photographs…if you are so inclined to seek them out.  To view our world today with any kind of objectivity, you must research this.

So many lies have been told about these camps over the years.  And these tales fluctuate from rather innocuous fibs to sheer perverted fantasy.  But why should anyone save the descendents of those prisoners even care?  Because so much that is happening in the modern world depends on two aspects of that war and those labor 

camps.  The blackmail with which zionism holds the world hostage; and the ‘eternal victim’ status to which the modern Western jew clings.  Without these myths of inhuman treatment at the hands of Christians gone berserk…jewish behaviour in history is laid bare to scrutiny.  And no zionist jew wishes that to happen.  In fact no ashkanazi in the world would welcome such examination of the track record of his culture.  The history of Christian atrocity is available to all…and is a source of shame for the followers of the church.  But it pales in comparison to the history of yiddish horror visited upon the Gentile world.  Especially when such villainy can be factually ascribed to such a miniscule percentage of the world’s population…which the jew has always been.  The “holocaust” is a stopper of sorts, that precludes such historical…AND contemporary examination.  There would be no israhell were it not for the myth of the holocaust.  There would be no zionism infiltrating the halls of governance throughout the world without the wholesale purchase of these lies about Gentile atrocity.  
So yes, it is important to debunk this pivotal hoax.  Without this lie…all else falls.

I was reminded recently of an event that took place in my home when I was just a kid.  Before I could really form permanent and accurate memories.  A neighbor of ours back then in my childhood home, was cousin to a very famous singer of the time.  She told us about her famous cousin ad infinitum…that I DO accurately remember…for it continued up until my teenage years.  And that’s ok…it was her “claim to fame”.  Anyway…one evening she proved it to us.  She brought her cousin over to our house.  Wow.  I remember the weight of the event.  I don’t recall much more than that.  I couldn’t have been much more than 6 or 7.   My sister recalls it vividly…how this popular singer came down the stairs to our basement, and spent time getting to know us…how she giggled and refused to sing more than a couple bars of her current hit.  
I would like to remember more with my Sis.  I truly would.  I try when she recounts the tale…and can even “kinda” see the vision that she describes.  After all…I WAS there at the time.  But I really can’t.  The images I see in my mind’s eye, are of the descriptions of it that I have heard over the years, related by my family.  This may sound a bit odd and overly important…but this gal was HUGE famous at the time.  So it became a bit of our claim to posterity as well as our neighbor’s.  I could lie about my memories of the event.  It would be easy…and verifiable.  But I don’t.  Neither do you.  You don’t lie about important things, as a rule…because you are taught not to.  You were told that you will always get caught in such fabrications.  And whether or not you actually would…the fear of that…and as you grew, more importantly, the integrity of normal adulthood usually intervenes and you merely say…”well…I don’t fully remember it…but I was there…I’m told.”

Having met a famous person is a big deal to most people…as it should be.  You personify their fame.  You can bask a little in their glory.  Just a bit.  But you don’t over-do.  You know better.
But some don’t.

When you are taught that lying is normal.  When you are raised in a home in which such an ethic is excusable when it is practiced on all outside your particular culture…as are the Western descendents of the Khazar…then altered memories that can benefit you and/or your ‘tribe’…will be told.  And the more they are told…the more they are rewarded…the more real they seem, even to the teller.  And to their offspring.  These are dangerous lies.  They have reshaped our world as we know it today.  They must be stopped.  They must be debunked at every turn, if we are to remove the mantle of ‘victim’ from the zionist jew…and dismantle his fantasy which in his eyes sanctifies a reign of terror to match those horrid tales which he truly does NOT remember.  He doesn’t  remember, because it didn’t happen.


13 thoughts on “I Really Don’t Remember…

  1. Hey Timster,…1. When my family first moved to rothschalia, approx' 1966; my parents rented a house from a German couple, I remember my parents always referring to the landlord and his wife as "The Cromboltz", which was their surname. They were in their 50's and were very German, their house was (like many Nordic and Germanic peoples) stylised in the manner of their minimalist purist culture; attractive, under-stated yet effective, simplistic and functional, it was also immaculately clean.I was a precocious child and sophisticated beyond my years. As a matter of negotiation, we received a discount on the rent if we allowed the gentleman to retain one of the four bedrooms for his collection of Militaria. We were forbidden by our father to enter this room, "on trust" an honour system that was familiar to us kids, as it was used at school.After some time the landlords befriended my mum and dad and would visit with German treats like gingerbread, homemade conserves and sausage. Toward the end of one such visit, Mr Cromboltz, slightly the worse for ware due to the homemade wine they had brought for my parents.In a rather magnanimous gesture Mr. Cormboltz suggested that due to the fact that we had been good to our promise of not entering the room containing his collection, Mr. Cromboltze would show us his collection. Yipppeeee! My brothers and I were thrilled at the prospect.Well, as we followed our father into the room, Mr. Cromboltz, in mock ceremony stood aside holding open the door like a concierge, we were shocked into silence, from the ceiling were hung small WW2 era jet-fighters, British and German, on the walls were hanging the most detailed and colourful prints of German/Prussian Officer uniforms dating back to the Napoleonic period. We were gob-smacked, Mr. Cromboltz offered me and my brothers a small model plane of our choice – I chose the Messerschmidt ME 109E – a beast! My brothers chose the Hurricane and Spitfire.What larks we made Timster, what battles were fought! Vrrrooooom, gadda gadda gadda, gadda gadda gadda!/2.

  2. Hey Timster,…2.There were several photographs of Mr. Cromboltz in the uniform of a Luftwaffe fighter pilot, WOW! In one of the pictures Mr. Cromboltz was posed with a number of smiling Kamraden in front of a most magnificent looking ME 109E…As we moved back into the kitchen, Mr. Cromboltz became subdued, my father was asking him questions about his service, my father was an ex-servicemen that served with the King's Own Troop, Royal Horse Artillery during the Korean fiasco.Years later my father told my brother's and I of the conversation he had with Mr. Cromboltz later in the afternoon of that amazing expose.Due to a lack of fuel and combat attrition, Mr. Cromboltz was assigned to a Luft Stalag as an Officer of the Guard. Near this military establishment was a "work camp" that housed yids as well as political prisoners etc. Cromboltz recounted to my father how the guards at the Luft Stalag would exchange amerikan cigarettes and other red-cross bits and pieces for fruit and vegetables grown at the work camp(!!!), the camp was eventually over-run by amerikan soldiers and Cromboltz became an inmate in the Luft Stalag, ironic huh? His stories of the harsh treatment meted out by the amerikan MPs many of whom were amerikan yids, enlisted toward the end of the war, for this very role – prison guards in post-war Europe (fucking typical coward bastards), were horrific. Mr. Cromboltz told my father that most of the problems that faced the inmates of the work camp near by, vice, forced prostitution of minors, violent bullying, murder etc, was perpetrated by yiddish gangs from the ghettos; the same scumbags that became the irgun and haganah.Mr. Cromboltz told my father that the yiddish gangs virtually "ran" the camps after dark, he said it was a most sinister and vicious regime that existed in many of the camps we now know as the WORST of them!I will research this issue and Post an article about it.Great work Timster,veritas

  3. Timster-Seems the blond in the middle has a six pak going on. Did they have exercise rooms too? Sorry about that, I'm still trying to recover from the murder of Gaddafi and that look on Hillary's face. I guess I'm not as jaded as I thought I was,but I did learn that Wetikos are indeed real.

  4. Excellent post once again.Postage office, brothel, orchestra, swimming pool, a good dietary regimen albeit a bit on the lean side due to wartime restrictions, theatre groups, these folks were not so badly looked after. POW camps are not fun. What you don't mention here, mon ami, is that these Jews were there in the camps courtesy to a great degree of the Zionists themselves. They may have refused to relocate to Palestine. They might be older or not strong healthy young bodies bound for Palestine. The Transfer Agreement covers it all.This does not mean atrocities did not happen but not on the scale of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Dresden, or even London.But then, no one else feels pain because only human beings are capable of that. So they dun count.

  5. Found at Noor´s place:The pilot was Jewish, and the co-pilot was Taiwanese. It was the first time they had flown together, and it was obvious by the silence that they didn’t care for each other.After thirty minutes, the Captain finally spoke. He said, “I don’t like Chinese.”The co-pilot replied, “Ooooh, no like Chinese? Why dat?”The pilot said, “You guys bombed Pearl Harbor. That’s why I don’t like Chinese.”The co-pilot said, “Nooooo, noooo….Chinese no bomb Pearl Harbah.That was JAPANESE, not Chinese.”The pilot answered, “Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese… it doesn’t matter. You’re all alike.”Another thirty minutes of silence ensued. Finally, the co-pilot said, “I no like Jew.”The pilot replied, “Why not? Why don’t you like Jews?”“Jews sink Titanic.”The pilot tried to correct him, “No, no. The Jews didn’t sink the Titanic. It was an iceberg.”“Iceberg, Goldberg, Rosenberg ..no mattah ..all same!”The end.

  6. Damn Timster! I enjoyed your article very much. I stayed around and read all the great comments, stories and jokes. Whoowee! They were good! Like two treats for one!!! Your good Buddy, Glenster…

  7. Hi Timster, as long as we're doing anecdotes…….I grew up living next door to a German/Yugoslavian couple who had the numbers tattooed on their arms. Neither were Jews. I think that shows equal opportunity incarceration by the Germans, not limited to Jews, gypsies,as laid out in legend by the ppl who wrote WWll history for the textbooks. They never spoke of their experiences, they must have been young, because both of their children were born here. The neighborhood was loaded with immigrants from Lithunaia, Greece, all with their camp numbers. Just thought I would add that. Great post.M. Beaver

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