Friday, May 08, 2009
On The Road: Wilmington, NC
I decided to go to the beach this weekend with Sara, my girlfriend. We're in Wilmington, NC, about 200 miles from our home in the Charlotte area. We've already visited the beach (first time for me in over 15 years), eaten lunch, and visited the USS North Carolina (BB-55) memorial. Just checked into the hotel. Dinner in a couple of hours, then tomorrow more beach. Home Sunday.
Book Him, Spocko.
The original choice to play Star Trek's Captain Kirk was Jack Lord. He didn't get it because he wanted ownership of the show.
He'd have made a good one, too. Still, I can't imagine him shouting Khaaaaaaan! the way Shatner did.
He'd have made a good one, too. Still, I can't imagine him shouting Khaaaaaaan! the way Shatner did.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
I'd Definitely See That Movie
The Hero stands in front of a firing squad. By most accounts, the new dictator and his younger brother are present at the execution; by some accounts, so is a rather creepy, long-haired fellow who speaks in the sing-song accent of a faraway country.
The executioner orders the Hero to kneel; the Hero answers:
“I kneel before no man.”
They riddle one of the Hero’s knees with machine-gun fire. He staggers but props himself up on one leg. They riddle the other knee with machine-gun fire, and only now does the Hero fall to his knees.
They fire at his shoulders and knock him onto his back.
The executioner, carrying the pistol with which he will deliver the kill shot, approaches the dying Hero and taunts him, “See, we made you kneel.”
The Hero’s last words: “I didn’t kneel.”
The executioner, knowing he can deliver death but not dishonor to the Hero, angrily fires multiple shots into the Hero’s skull, destroying the Hero’s noble face.
William Morgan, the Hero. True Story. The dictator, his brother and the brutal longhair? Fidel & Raul Castro and Ché Guevara.
Such a movie would not be made in modern Hollywood, obviously, to our eternal shame.
h/t Big Hollywood.
Here's a pic of Morgan, by the way:
He even looks like a hero, doesn't he?
The executioner orders the Hero to kneel; the Hero answers:
“I kneel before no man.”
They riddle one of the Hero’s knees with machine-gun fire. He staggers but props himself up on one leg. They riddle the other knee with machine-gun fire, and only now does the Hero fall to his knees.
They fire at his shoulders and knock him onto his back.
The executioner, carrying the pistol with which he will deliver the kill shot, approaches the dying Hero and taunts him, “See, we made you kneel.”
The Hero’s last words: “I didn’t kneel.”
The executioner, knowing he can deliver death but not dishonor to the Hero, angrily fires multiple shots into the Hero’s skull, destroying the Hero’s noble face.
William Morgan, the Hero. True Story. The dictator, his brother and the brutal longhair? Fidel & Raul Castro and Ché Guevara.
Such a movie would not be made in modern Hollywood, obviously, to our eternal shame.
h/t Big Hollywood.
Here's a pic of Morgan, by the way:
He even looks like a hero, doesn't he?
Volcano Boarding
No, volcano boarding is not a method of extreme interrogation approved by Dick Cheney and utilized by the CIA on Islamofascist terrorists.
Volcano boarding is a new extreme sport, in which participants glide down the ash and scree of a volcano in much the same manner as in snowboarding.
Here's a pic:
I guess that in places lacking snow but not lacking in volcanoes, this is the way to go.
More info in a UK Telegraph article here.
Volcano boarding is a new extreme sport, in which participants glide down the ash and scree of a volcano in much the same manner as in snowboarding.
Here's a pic:
I guess that in places lacking snow but not lacking in volcanoes, this is the way to go.
More info in a UK Telegraph article here.
Over The River And Through The Woods...
...to Grandmother's house we go.
But the 3-year-old boy got lost along the way.
Lucky for him a major search managed to find him, minus a shoe and diaper, covered in ticks, but otherwise OK.
But the 3-year-old boy got lost along the way.
Lucky for him a major search managed to find him, minus a shoe and diaper, covered in ticks, but otherwise OK.
Today Is Odd Day!
Story.
Basically today's date, May 7th, 2009, consists of all odd numbers when lined up in the usual m/d/y format, 5/7/09. Apparently it doesn't happen often, and gives a thrill to the mathematically inclined, since it doesn't happen often.
Basically today's date, May 7th, 2009, consists of all odd numbers when lined up in the usual m/d/y format, 5/7/09. Apparently it doesn't happen often, and gives a thrill to the mathematically inclined, since it doesn't happen often.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Kirstie Alley Gained It All Back, And Then Some
Surprised?
I have to say that I'm disappointed, although I have to admit that when she disappeared off the radar for the last year I wasn't sharp enough to suspect that she'd fallen off the control wagon. Too bad.
I've always liked Kirstie when she was slim; the combination of aquamarine eyes, brunette hair and arched eyebrows I found immensely attractive. A hotter version of Meg Foster, who without a doubt has the coolest-looking pale eyes in Hollywood.
I'm not going to snark, either; I have a weight problem of my own, so I know how hard it is to yo-yo up and down as your willpower alternately strengthens and weakens, and it only grows worse with age.
Good luck, Kirstie. My best wishes to you in your struggle.
I have to say that I'm disappointed, although I have to admit that when she disappeared off the radar for the last year I wasn't sharp enough to suspect that she'd fallen off the control wagon. Too bad.
I've always liked Kirstie when she was slim; the combination of aquamarine eyes, brunette hair and arched eyebrows I found immensely attractive. A hotter version of Meg Foster, who without a doubt has the coolest-looking pale eyes in Hollywood.
I'm not going to snark, either; I have a weight problem of my own, so I know how hard it is to yo-yo up and down as your willpower alternately strengthens and weakens, and it only grows worse with age.
Good luck, Kirstie. My best wishes to you in your struggle.
Hmmm, That's Better Than The Current Book Value Of My Car...
Congress plans to pass "Cash For Clunkers" legislation that would give car owners up to $4500 to get rid of old cars as incentive for purchasing a new car.
Damn, $4500 is almost half of the sticker price of my 1993 Nissan Sentra when it was new. And current book value on the Sentra is less than $1000.
Do I really want to screw my fellow taxpayers like that? What have they done to deserve it?
Damn, $4500 is almost half of the sticker price of my 1993 Nissan Sentra when it was new. And current book value on the Sentra is less than $1000.
Do I really want to screw my fellow taxpayers like that? What have they done to deserve it?
Is That Your Aspergillum, Father, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?
In Miami, a popular Catholic priest is caught by paparazzi cavorting on a beach with a woman.
Father Alberto Cutié (yes, that's his name) has confessed all and been removed from his church.
Oh, well, it could have been worse. He could have been caught diddling an altar boy.
Bless Me, Father, I Wish To Sin...
Father Alberto Cutié (yes, that's his name) has confessed all and been removed from his church.
Oh, well, it could have been worse. He could have been caught diddling an altar boy.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
War Crime: U.S. Military Shot Muslims With Ammo Made By Jews!
Story.
Relevent passage of story:
By some estimates, U.S. forces expended nearly 250,000 bullets for every Iraqi insurgent that they killed. As Andrew Buncombe reported in The Independent, a London newspaper, on Sept. 25, 2005, the United States was even forced to import bullets from Israel to meet the increasing demand.
Notify the UN!
Relevent passage of story:
By some estimates, U.S. forces expended nearly 250,000 bullets for every Iraqi insurgent that they killed. As Andrew Buncombe reported in The Independent, a London newspaper, on Sept. 25, 2005, the United States was even forced to import bullets from Israel to meet the increasing demand.
Notify the UN!
Don't Drop A Peanut On a Squirrel In Montreal
You could be fined $50.
That's what happened to Bruce Kert, a blues musician. He commemorated the resulting legal hassle in a blues called Squirrelgate.
That's what happened to Bruce Kert, a blues musician. He commemorated the resulting legal hassle in a blues called Squirrelgate.
UK Home Defense: The Booby Trap And The Cricket Bat
The booby trap will, of course, result in the homeowner being arrested, and the cricket bat is cautioned against.
What do the police suggest you do?
Turn your house into a castle/prison, lots of locks, bars and other passive security measures.
*laughs, sings to self*
Rule, Britannia, Britannia rule the waves,
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!
What do the police suggest you do?
Turn your house into a castle/prison, lots of locks, bars and other passive security measures.
*laughs, sings to self*
Rule, Britannia, Britannia rule the waves,
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!
Sikhs Try To Re-Establish Forgotten Martial Art
Shastar Vidiya, a blade-oriented martial art from India.
Pic:
Which naturally made me think of this:
He Brought A Knife To A Gunfight
Pic:
Which naturally made me think of this:
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Trip To King's Mountain National Military Park
Saturday my girlfriend and I visited nearby King's Mountain National Military Park in South Carolina, the scene of a battle of the Revolutionary War in which Loyalist forces (Americans loyal to King George) under the command of Major Patrick Ferguson of the British Army were defeated by the Overmountain Men (American Patriots from what is now Tennessee, North Carolina and Virginia).
The mountain (it's more of a hill, actually, and not a particularly high one, at that) is completely forested, with a few rock outcrops but no cliffs or steep slopes. Its current appearance seems to match that of the mountain as described in accounts of the battle.
The weather Saturday was overcast and mild, no breeze, rather humid. When we got to the park, we decided to walk around the paved trail around the perimeter of the battlefield:
You could, in fact, push a baby stroller or a person in a wheelchair around this trail if you wanted to, but it would be quite strenuous to do so.
Since the last time I hiked King's Mountain ten years ago, the National Park service has added benches along the path. I theorized aloud to my girlfriend that they had picked their fattest ranger or trail worker and given him a bundle of sticks, and to place a stick in the ground whenever he got out of breath, and that was where they would place a bench:
My girlfriend and I are both woefully out of shape, so the benches came in handy. We sat in nearly every one we came across in order to catch our breath on the hike.
The battle was fought with the Loyalist troops and Major Ferguson surrounded on the hilltop by the Overmountain Men. The Loyalists charged down the mountain three times trying to break the Patriot lines, but were repulsed each time by rifle fire from the Patriots, who utilized Indian tactics of shooting from concealment to minimize their losses. Here's a photo looking uphill from the Patriot positions:
We saw no wildlife, probably because of some boisterous children who, with their mother, overtook and passed us on the trail, shouting and crying out as they ran up the trail.
The trail eventually began to climb toward the summit of the hill, and we became more and more grateful of the benches that were regularly placed along it. At the summit, both of us panting and staggering, we discovered that the bench we desperately needed was occupied by a couple who had passed us earlier. We staggered on until we came to the memorial obelisk, the older of two placed at the summit of the hill:
Here we finally found a bench and rested for quite a while, both of us wishing that the Park Service would have seen fit to install a water barrel at the top, such as you might find on a golf course. Of course, we would have been much better prepared if we had simply carried a bottle of water apiece.
From this point the path went downhill. Just a hundred yards from the old memorial is the newer one, also an obelisk:
Here is a close-up of the relief sculptures and the commemorative plaque on the obelisk:
Just downhill from the obelisk is Major Ferguson's grave. Ferguson died in the battle as he directed his men; wearing a bright checked shirt, he made a too-tempting target for the expert riflemen on the Patriot side, and ended up shot to doll rags, as Louis L'Amour might say. Ferguson had angered the Overmountain Men by publishing a speech against them, and describing them in the following terms:
Gentlemen: Unless you wish to be eat up by an inundation of barbarians, who have begun by murdering an unarmed son before the aged father, and afterwards lopped off his arms, and who by their shocking cruelties and irregularities, give the best proof of their cowardice and want of discipline; I say, if you wish to be pinioned, robbed, and murdered, and see your wives and daughters, in four days, abused by the dregs of mankind - in short, if you wish or deserve to live, and bear the name of men, grasp your arms in a moment and run to camp.
The Back Water men have crossed the mountains; McDowell, Hampton, Shelby and Cleveland are at their head, so that you know what you have to depend upon. If you choose to be pissed upon forever and ever by a set of mongrels, say so at once and let your women turn their backs upon you, and look out for real men to protect them.
The Overmountain Men, remembering Ferguson's words about pissing and mongrels, urinated en masse upon Ferguson's corpse before it was buried. Anyway, here's the grave:
What isn't as well known is that Ferguson isn't in that grave alone. Along with him is one of the two mistresses who accompanied him and died earlier in the battle; known as "Virginia Sal," she was described as buxom and red-headed. A lot like Christina Hendricks, I'd imagine (I didn't encounter Ms. Hendricks on the trail, this is a pic from the internet):
Ferguson's other mistress, Virginia Paul(ina), apparently survived the battle. Ferguson was apparently quite a cocksman, sleeping with both of the girls on the night before the battle. At least he died satisfied, right? I would guess that he had so many mistresses that he labled them by the states where he acquired them, and hadn't yet traded his Virginia girls in for some Carolina beauties.
Anyway, here's a closer look at Ferguson's gravestone:
Not far from Ferguson's grave we discovered a rare tree species, a Shitter Oak (quercus commodus):
This one looks like a particularly fine and comfortable specimen of the species.
The walk concluded not far past the Shitter Oak, as we saw the visitor's center just around a bend. That concludes the photo essay.
You can read a lot more about Ferguson here. A clever man, he designed an effective breech-loading rifle, although the rifle didn't take part in the battle of King's Mountain; here's what the Ferguson Rifle looked like:
The late Western author Louis L'Amour wrote a novel in which the Ferguson Rifle featured prominently; it was titled, inventively enough, The Ferguson Rifle.
You can read more about the battle of King's Mountain here.
The mountain (it's more of a hill, actually, and not a particularly high one, at that) is completely forested, with a few rock outcrops but no cliffs or steep slopes. Its current appearance seems to match that of the mountain as described in accounts of the battle.
The weather Saturday was overcast and mild, no breeze, rather humid. When we got to the park, we decided to walk around the paved trail around the perimeter of the battlefield:
You could, in fact, push a baby stroller or a person in a wheelchair around this trail if you wanted to, but it would be quite strenuous to do so.
Since the last time I hiked King's Mountain ten years ago, the National Park service has added benches along the path. I theorized aloud to my girlfriend that they had picked their fattest ranger or trail worker and given him a bundle of sticks, and to place a stick in the ground whenever he got out of breath, and that was where they would place a bench:
My girlfriend and I are both woefully out of shape, so the benches came in handy. We sat in nearly every one we came across in order to catch our breath on the hike.
The battle was fought with the Loyalist troops and Major Ferguson surrounded on the hilltop by the Overmountain Men. The Loyalists charged down the mountain three times trying to break the Patriot lines, but were repulsed each time by rifle fire from the Patriots, who utilized Indian tactics of shooting from concealment to minimize their losses. Here's a photo looking uphill from the Patriot positions:
We saw no wildlife, probably because of some boisterous children who, with their mother, overtook and passed us on the trail, shouting and crying out as they ran up the trail.
The trail eventually began to climb toward the summit of the hill, and we became more and more grateful of the benches that were regularly placed along it. At the summit, both of us panting and staggering, we discovered that the bench we desperately needed was occupied by a couple who had passed us earlier. We staggered on until we came to the memorial obelisk, the older of two placed at the summit of the hill:
Here we finally found a bench and rested for quite a while, both of us wishing that the Park Service would have seen fit to install a water barrel at the top, such as you might find on a golf course. Of course, we would have been much better prepared if we had simply carried a bottle of water apiece.
From this point the path went downhill. Just a hundred yards from the old memorial is the newer one, also an obelisk:
Here is a close-up of the relief sculptures and the commemorative plaque on the obelisk:
Just downhill from the obelisk is Major Ferguson's grave. Ferguson died in the battle as he directed his men; wearing a bright checked shirt, he made a too-tempting target for the expert riflemen on the Patriot side, and ended up shot to doll rags, as Louis L'Amour might say. Ferguson had angered the Overmountain Men by publishing a speech against them, and describing them in the following terms:
Gentlemen: Unless you wish to be eat up by an inundation of barbarians, who have begun by murdering an unarmed son before the aged father, and afterwards lopped off his arms, and who by their shocking cruelties and irregularities, give the best proof of their cowardice and want of discipline; I say, if you wish to be pinioned, robbed, and murdered, and see your wives and daughters, in four days, abused by the dregs of mankind - in short, if you wish or deserve to live, and bear the name of men, grasp your arms in a moment and run to camp.
The Back Water men have crossed the mountains; McDowell, Hampton, Shelby and Cleveland are at their head, so that you know what you have to depend upon. If you choose to be pissed upon forever and ever by a set of mongrels, say so at once and let your women turn their backs upon you, and look out for real men to protect them.
The Overmountain Men, remembering Ferguson's words about pissing and mongrels, urinated en masse upon Ferguson's corpse before it was buried. Anyway, here's the grave:
What isn't as well known is that Ferguson isn't in that grave alone. Along with him is one of the two mistresses who accompanied him and died earlier in the battle; known as "Virginia Sal," she was described as buxom and red-headed. A lot like Christina Hendricks, I'd imagine (I didn't encounter Ms. Hendricks on the trail, this is a pic from the internet):
Ferguson's other mistress, Virginia Paul(ina), apparently survived the battle. Ferguson was apparently quite a cocksman, sleeping with both of the girls on the night before the battle. At least he died satisfied, right? I would guess that he had so many mistresses that he labled them by the states where he acquired them, and hadn't yet traded his Virginia girls in for some Carolina beauties.
Anyway, here's a closer look at Ferguson's gravestone:
Not far from Ferguson's grave we discovered a rare tree species, a Shitter Oak (quercus commodus):
This one looks like a particularly fine and comfortable specimen of the species.
The walk concluded not far past the Shitter Oak, as we saw the visitor's center just around a bend. That concludes the photo essay.
You can read a lot more about Ferguson here. A clever man, he designed an effective breech-loading rifle, although the rifle didn't take part in the battle of King's Mountain; here's what the Ferguson Rifle looked like:
The late Western author Louis L'Amour wrote a novel in which the Ferguson Rifle featured prominently; it was titled, inventively enough, The Ferguson Rifle.
You can read more about the battle of King's Mountain here.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
OK, How About Bionic Penguins of DEATH?
In the future, bionic penguins will rule the world.
Say hello to your new penguin masters.
Imagine this scenario:
Two Taliban "insurgents" are spying on a column of Coalition trucks moving down a road. The two taliban plan to explode IED's placed beside the road.
Suddenly a strange, small, flying object comes into view. The two Taliban can't believe their eyes: is it...a penguin? Are they hallucinating? The small penguin turns toward them, seems to notice them, laser eyes flash, and...SsssshhhwwoooshBAM! a Hellfire missile slams into the ground beside the two Taliban, and the resulting explosion sends them to the arms of Allah, who is waiting with 72 raisins...
Say hello to your new penguin masters.
Imagine this scenario:
Two Taliban "insurgents" are spying on a column of Coalition trucks moving down a road. The two taliban plan to explode IED's placed beside the road.
Suddenly a strange, small, flying object comes into view. The two Taliban can't believe their eyes: is it...a penguin? Are they hallucinating? The small penguin turns toward them, seems to notice them, laser eyes flash, and...SsssshhhwwoooshBAM! a Hellfire missile slams into the ground beside the two Taliban, and the resulting explosion sends them to the arms of Allah, who is waiting with 72 raisins...
Peter Hitchens On Gun Ownership
Story.
Some highlights:
This brings me back to the USA. Americans are not so infantilised as we are. For many reasons, mainly the fact that it is still possible to live genuinely rural lives in large parts of the country, Americans are less likely to rely on others to protect them or their homes from danger.
This used to be true of us too (again I must urge those who are interested to read the relevant chapter in 'Brief History'). It's evident from a lot of English fiction, written not for propaganda but by people who simply recorded life as they understood it, that until quite recently we had a more American view of things. In fact until 1920 English Gun Law made Texas look effeminate. Read, as nobody now does, Captain Marryat's 'Children of the New Forest' set in the days of Cromwell, and observe the wholly different attitudes towards self-defence against crime that are casually described there.
Read, as fewer and fewer people now do, alas, the 'Sherlock Holmes' stories, and see how often Holmes and Dr Watson venture out carrying firearms. This was perfectly legal, and unsurprising, in the late Victorian and Edwardian era in which the stories are set. And pre-1914 attempts to control guns were resisted by MPs much as the US Congress resists them now.
My suspicion is that the guts were knocked out of us British by the First World War, in which the best people of all classes died by their thousands in the great volunteer armies which marched off to Loos, Passchendaele and the Somme. Those who survived lacked something of the spirit that a free country needs, and we never fully recovered, just as Russia has yet to recover from the fourfold blow of the First World War, Civil War, Great Purge and Second World War, each of which destroyed the best and brightest of their generations. The USA - a society, for the most part, of volunteers and pioneers, has never had a comparable experience. Let us hope it never does.
Some highlights:
This brings me back to the USA. Americans are not so infantilised as we are. For many reasons, mainly the fact that it is still possible to live genuinely rural lives in large parts of the country, Americans are less likely to rely on others to protect them or their homes from danger.
This used to be true of us too (again I must urge those who are interested to read the relevant chapter in 'Brief History'). It's evident from a lot of English fiction, written not for propaganda but by people who simply recorded life as they understood it, that until quite recently we had a more American view of things. In fact until 1920 English Gun Law made Texas look effeminate. Read, as nobody now does, Captain Marryat's 'Children of the New Forest' set in the days of Cromwell, and observe the wholly different attitudes towards self-defence against crime that are casually described there.
Read, as fewer and fewer people now do, alas, the 'Sherlock Holmes' stories, and see how often Holmes and Dr Watson venture out carrying firearms. This was perfectly legal, and unsurprising, in the late Victorian and Edwardian era in which the stories are set. And pre-1914 attempts to control guns were resisted by MPs much as the US Congress resists them now.
My suspicion is that the guts were knocked out of us British by the First World War, in which the best people of all classes died by their thousands in the great volunteer armies which marched off to Loos, Passchendaele and the Somme. Those who survived lacked something of the spirit that a free country needs, and we never fully recovered, just as Russia has yet to recover from the fourfold blow of the First World War, Civil War, Great Purge and Second World War, each of which destroyed the best and brightest of their generations. The USA - a society, for the most part, of volunteers and pioneers, has never had a comparable experience. Let us hope it never does.
An Appropriately-Named Police Dog
Katie Johnson, a police constable in UK, set her dog Chaos on a robber after being shot in the leg. Chaos instead bit Katie in the arm.
It probably went something like this:
I'm shot! Get him, Chaos! Take him down!
Raawwwr! Comin' ta git ya!
Stop! I am not the robber you are looking for!
Wha'? I'm confused. Who do I bite, then?
Bite? You bite her, of course. *points* Off you go.
Right, thanks! Rrraawwrr! Comin' ta git ya!
Chaos, what are you doing?! Aieeee!
Bwaaa haaa haa! Sucker!
It probably went something like this:
Doctor's Orders For Soldiers In War Zones
Take no aspirin and you'll live to see another morning.
Use of aspirin as an analgesic is being discouraged for combat soldiers because it leads to excessive blood loss, due to aspirin's blood-thinning qualities. Soldiers in combat zones are instead being encouraged to switch to non-aspirin analgesics such as Tylenol or Motrin.
Use of aspirin as an analgesic is being discouraged for combat soldiers because it leads to excessive blood loss, due to aspirin's blood-thinning qualities. Soldiers in combat zones are instead being encouraged to switch to non-aspirin analgesics such as Tylenol or Motrin.
Message In A Bottle: Auschwitz
When you are lost at sea or on a desert island and have no hope that you will be found, what do you do? You put a message into a bottle and cast it into the sea, hoping it will one day be found. It's a fool's hope, a yearning for a miracle to not be forgotten.
What do you do, then, when you are one of seven prisoners confined at the Auschwitz death camp by the Nazis during WWII? You put a message into a bottle and hide it carefully in a wall, hoping it will one day be found. It's a fool's hope, a yearning for a miracle to not be forgotten in a place where that intention is the primary purpose of your evil captors.
65 years later, the bottle is found, and the names and the words of the forgotten men are read by construction workers tearing down a wall:
Bronislaw Jankowiak, Stanislaw Dubla, Jan Jasik, Waclaw Sobczak, Karol Czekalski, Waldemar Bialobrzeski and Albert Veissid.
Of the seven, Mr Veissid is alive and well, the BBC has established, having spoken to him on the phone at his home in France. Veissid has stated that at least two of the prisoners survived Auschwitz, and efforts are being made to discover if any of the other prisoners are still alive.
So you failed once again, Nazi swine. Your evil intentions are once again shown to the entire world, to be an example of depravity and barbarity for all time. A piece of paper stuck into a bottle made a miraculous landfall 65 years later, announcing to the world that seven brave individuals refused to be forgotten as so many others were.
Here's a pic of the note found in the bottle:
h/t instapundit
What do you do, then, when you are one of seven prisoners confined at the Auschwitz death camp by the Nazis during WWII? You put a message into a bottle and hide it carefully in a wall, hoping it will one day be found. It's a fool's hope, a yearning for a miracle to not be forgotten in a place where that intention is the primary purpose of your evil captors.
65 years later, the bottle is found, and the names and the words of the forgotten men are read by construction workers tearing down a wall:
Bronislaw Jankowiak, Stanislaw Dubla, Jan Jasik, Waclaw Sobczak, Karol Czekalski, Waldemar Bialobrzeski and Albert Veissid.
Of the seven, Mr Veissid is alive and well, the BBC has established, having spoken to him on the phone at his home in France. Veissid has stated that at least two of the prisoners survived Auschwitz, and efforts are being made to discover if any of the other prisoners are still alive.
So you failed once again, Nazi swine. Your evil intentions are once again shown to the entire world, to be an example of depravity and barbarity for all time. A piece of paper stuck into a bottle made a miraculous landfall 65 years later, announcing to the world that seven brave individuals refused to be forgotten as so many others were.
Here's a pic of the note found in the bottle:
h/t instapundit
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