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Why White People Are Afraid
12-02-2011, 03:35 AM,
#16
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
I choose "Human". More people should.
I'm not saying people don't/can't benifit from being white. I personally don't believe I have been in any situations where being white gave me an advantage. The assumption or assertion that every white person does get a free ride or advantage is ignorant.
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12-02-2011, 01:39 PM,
#17
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
Let me rephrase: you could be right in your assertion that you didn't get any privileges, but there is no way of knowing that, obviously. You just choose to believe that, because that's what you feel like. That doesn't make it a fact, nor a debate worth having. It just makes no sense in the real world, it's like saying "dragons breathe fire" or "unicorns are lonely". Still I am sure most people have no idea what it's like being black living in a place where blacks are looked down upon. I don't.
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12-02-2011, 09:39 PM,
#18
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
(12-02-2011, 03:35 AM)ToddTraf Wrote: I choose "Human". More people should.
I'm not saying people don't/can't benifit from being white. I personally don't believe I have been in any situations where being white gave me an advantage. The assumption or assertion that every white person does get a free ride or advantage is ignorant.

What about America or whats called the United States? Whats your excuse..
Unite The Many, defeat the few.

Revolution is for the love of your people, culture, knowledge, wisdom, spirit, and peace. Not Greed!
Soul Rebel Native Son


http://video.google.ca/videoplay?docid=277...enous&hl=en
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12-23-2011, 03:18 PM,
#19
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
You cannot deny the obvious perks of being a White male in the United States, you simply cannot.

White males are about the only group(That comes to mind at the moment anyway) that has faced very little real struggle. White men never picketed for the right to vote. White men were never forced to sit at the back of the bus, use seperate restroom, or take their food to go out the back door rather than sit at the counter. White men have not had armed Mexican Militia members at the borders of their country keeping an eye on us. Their land was never stolen by the government. White men have not had politicians deciding what they can or cannot do with their own bodies. The police in Arizona will never stop a white man and ask him for his "paypas pleez".

I say these things, AS a white man, who is simply honest about the goings on in our culture. Im not trying to soapboxpreach, but when was the last time you saw someone lock their car doors when a white guy walked by?

Just an observation. Big Grin
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12-23-2011, 09:26 PM,
#20
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
There is a caveat to being a white male though. If you have long hair and visible piercings or tattoos, then cops love to give us a good portion of their attention and the public does get skittish.
I've had people lock their car doors when I walk by. I've had little kids ask their moms if I "was a bad guy" as I walked by them laughing. I've had little old ladies clutch their purses tighter as I walk by. I've had mothers hurry their children away from my path. Now, maybe it's because I'm 6'4" and solidly built or maybe it's because of the hair and all or maybe it's because I'm wearing mostly black and rock/metal attire....or maybe it's because I'm white...or maybe it's because the sheeple are afraid of anything outside their pens...Who can say?

If there are any benefits to being a white male in this country, I haven't seen them.
“Today’s scientists have substituted mathematics for experiments, and they wander off through equation after
equation, and eventually build a structure which has no relation to reality. ” -Nikola Tesla

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace." -Jimi Hendrix
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12-23-2011, 10:14 PM, (This post was last modified: 12-23-2011, 10:16 PM by PincheSquidly.)
#21
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
(12-23-2011, 09:26 PM)Easy Skanking Wrote: There is a caveat to being a white male though. If you have long hair and visible piercings or tattoos, then cops love to give us a good portion of their attention and the public does get skittish.
I've had people lock their car doors when I walk by. I've had little kids ask their moms if I "was a bad guy" as I walked by them laughing. I've had little old ladies clutch their purses tighter as I walk by. I've had mothers hurry their children away from my path. Now, maybe it's because I'm 6'4" and solidly built or maybe it's because of the hair and all or maybe it's because I'm wearing mostly black and rock/metal attire....or maybe it's because I'm white...or maybe it's because the sheeple are afraid of anything outside their pens...Who can say?

If there are any benefits to being a white male in this country, I haven't seen them.

Your sheer size and stature I can agree could certainly cause a second glimpse. Smile I too am visibly tattooed and solidly built, however I am only 5'8, yet I receive glances as well. I also agree with the fact that people fear what they don't understand and what is different. I wholeheartedly agree with you there Cap'n.

Perhaps people need to pay more attention, look a little closer perhaps(not you specifically). I can give a decent(I think) example.

I work for a multinational billion dollar business in Texas. They are EXTREMELY conservative for the vast majority of their employees and business actions. We have the types of executives that hire women, that are more fashion than function, if you get my drift, because it makes the other execs and other high ups with other companies jealous. Anyway, Icon_biggrin, what im getting at is, if you look at the blue collar guys we employ they are roughly 90-95% hispanic. As you go up the food chain you get less and less color and less and less diversity. Out of the command chain of 30 big wigs within the tip top of the company there are no women and no hispanic men. There is 1 african american man. I believe he is roughly 65. The median age for these guys is roughly 40. This man has only held his position for the last 3 years. He's been with the company 27 years. Nothing really conclusive, but a little ODD I believe. Just seems a little, strange....

/end book


Just realized my post reads like shit. I apologize. Im about half awake. Lots of thoughts in all different directions. Big Grin
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12-23-2011, 10:19 PM,
#22
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
the indigenous societies of the west have every reason to e thoroughly pissed at every person of caucasian decent on this side of the world, imo. in fact everyone on this side of the world should be allowed to be pissed at what caucasians have perpetrated here, black, white, first nations or otherwise... they set it up that way intentionally in a ploy to devide and conquer. they are responsible for all racism here, and to deny it is to prove one´s ignorance to the facts. They have every reason, yet to fall into that pit of self-pity and is exactly the kind of self-limitation, divisiveness, and culture war that was designed to be created. slavery, the reservation system, and the civil war were all created to ensure a caste system obfuscated by the illusion of representative democracy.

being white myself, I´m sure I´m ignorant of exactly how much differently I´m treated than the average black, latino, or native person, having grown up without the prejudices they endure everyday. I have seen it in action in many instances, and having grown up in a predominantly jewish upscale neighborhood for most of my childhood, I have seen how subtle prejudice and favoritism can be, and how easily it can be overlooked as the actual circumstance when one is not personally negatively effected by it.
[Image: conspiracy_theory.jpg]
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12-23-2011, 10:55 PM,
#23
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
Saw a great shirt the other day, then I ordered it.


"Speak Native American or GTFO!"
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12-24-2011, 11:44 PM,
#24
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
(12-23-2011, 03:18 PM)PincheSquidly Wrote: ... White men never picketed for the(ir own) right to vote. White men have not had armed Mexican Militia members at the borders of their country keeping an eye on us (unless they worked for the cartel that wasn´t in the CIA´s pocket, or are honest journalists). Their land was never stolen by the government (except in cases of eminent domain, or where they were classified under a horribly dysfunctional system of law as criminals). White men have not had politicians deciding what they can or cannot do with their own bodies (unless they want to, in any way other than those sanctioned by profiteering pharmaceutical companies, change their chemical makeup in order to more easily tolerate or physically function better within the depressing and physically taxing reality in which they exist). The police in Arizona will never stop a white man and ask him for his "paypas pleez" (unless they believe them to be capable of changing their own or others´ chemistry, or they don´t display proof of certain papers while operating a motor vehicle).

I say these things, AS a white man, who is simply honest about the goings on in our culture. Im not trying to soapboxpreach, but when was the last time you saw someone lock their car doors when a white guy walked by?

Just an observation. Big Grin

fixed that for ya.
[Image: conspiracy_theory.jpg]
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01-03-2012, 08:31 AM,
#25
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
Amerikkka the great experiment...... smoking mirror
Unite The Many, defeat the few.

Revolution is for the love of your people, culture, knowledge, wisdom, spirit, and peace. Not Greed!
Soul Rebel Native Son


http://video.google.ca/videoplay?docid=277...enous&hl=en
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01-08-2012, 05:52 AM,
#26
RE: Why White People Are Afraid
I trust the realisation has occurred among at least a couple of users here that the U.S. government and media have only helped to support the racial divide in order to provide a level of conflict to satisfy humanity's genetic craving for adversity, hence placating the public while promoting a disservice to the people. Continuing the "this race is better than that race" debate (and I use the word loosely) is futile unless you're hoping to perpetuate the ideal further.
Truth appears in many forms. Find those that resonate with you.

- "If we do not believe in freedom of speech for those we despise, we do not believe in it at all." - Noam Chomsky
- "Humans are not a rational animal, but a rationalizing one." - Leon Festinger

http://avaaz.org - The World In Action
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05-23-2012, 08:25 AM, (This post was last modified: 09-30-2012, 01:17 PM by Negentropic.)
#27
RE: Why White People Are Afraid



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXEupeEMwyw

[Image: muhammad+ali+under+water+pose.jpg]

A Conversation about Race - Craig Bodeker



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8PGjStBRF4

One of the best book reviews I've ever read on Amazon:

Quote: Destined to Witness: Growing Up Black in Nazi Germany
by Hans Massaquoi
[Image: 586428.jpg]
[Image: Massaquoi_Hans.jpg]

[Image: 71oZmeJy0hL.png]

[Image: thandofilm1.jpg]

The author Hans Massaquoi with the cast of the German language TV movie made from his book



Honing that Naziphobic ax, April 27, 2012

By J.B. - See all my reviews

This review is from: Destined to Witness: Growing Up Black in Nazi Germany (Paperback)



Memoirs are tricky and memories are trickier. Human memory is fallible. And every professional psychologist knows this. Our ideologies and expectations, accompanied by personal axes, become enmeshed with our private interpretations of events and the mental images that accompany those events. We embellish, invent, and sometimes even lie to produce stellar memories that will hone our axes and reveal our agendas. This is what Hans Massaquoi has done.


In his best-selling, world-renowned memoir, Destined to Witness: Growing Up Black in Nazi Germany, Hans-Juergen Massaquoi writes as though he wafted through the fire pits of hell his entire young life. The reality is that he lived relatively well and suffered much less than he lets on.


The first thing that struck me about Hans's memoir is his selectiveness. Incidentally this selectiveness reveals his racism and his obsession with race. Hans begins his memoir with colorful memories of his African relatives and their elite lifestyle in Germany. They are idealized in every imaginable way. They are all-loving, tolerant, beneficent, warm, and affectionate - in one word, perfect. This ideal family portrait of the Massaquois is only later shattered by Hans's family reunion in Liberia, which he carefully whitewashes and justifies with eloquent precision. But this idyllic life for the young Afro-German, whose mother is a German nurse, is upturned when his grandfather, Momolu, has to return to his native Liberia to sort out a political scandal. Hans presents his grandfather as innocent of any charges or wrongdoing, though his bias may well be a defensive measure he employs to maintain the idyllic consistency. The newly independent Liberian state was accused of selling slaves to the Spanish island colony of Fernando Po off the coast of British Nigeria. His grandfather is accused of involvement.


Presented in juxtaposition to this idyllic Africanism is, quite literally, "Nazi hell." Hans describes his new kid on the block experiences as an endless string of discrimination, torment, and hatred flung his way for no other reason than the color of his skin. Hans describes how fellow German children chided him with the old saying, Neger, Neger Schornsteinfeger ("Negro, Negro, chimney sweep"). How many times was this actually chanted at Hans? He doesn't say. But the fact that he had to endure a bit of child-aged chastisement, and took it so personally that he "remembered" it decades later during a visit to his homeland, specifically Hamburg, is both immature and revealing. It is immature since every child experiences torment and taunts, sometimes to such an extent that the child takes his or her own life at some point to escape it. It is revealing because it tells us that Hans's race is central to his personal schema: he is as "race-obsessed" as the Nazis he despises so much. This is the point in his memoir where he starts sharpening his ax against all things German and "Nazi." (Needless to say, neither Hans nor his half-Chinese buddy Yue were sterilized by the NSDAP, both survived the war unscathed, and both raised families. The US sterilized Americans, mostly black Americans, until the late 1960s.)


If Hans didn't really live in hell, and Nazi Germany was not as terrible a place as Hans makes it out to be, how come he does this? This question begs a thorough answer. First of all, Hans reluctantly wrote his memoir. He was reluctant to trudge up his "hated" past in the "Nazi hell." Secondly he wrote it in retrospect. Since he did not document his experiences in a diary, he was flying by mental imagery the whole time he wrote. Therefore we are reading about the experiences that stood out, not the usual run-of-the-mill experiences he had. This is important because we humans remember things that are hurtful and horrible more often than pleasant things. A June 23, 2008 TIME article by Laura Blue asked and answered the following:


Q: Why do we remember unpleasant events better than ordinary ones?


A: We think of memory as a record of our experience. But the idea is not just to store information; it's to store relevant information. [The idea is] to use our experience to guide future behavior...In terms of brain activity, anticipating the future and remembering the past seem to be related...The speculation is that we process memory in order to solve problems....And things we should learn from, things that are particularly important or that have strong emotions tied to them, may be things that are going to be important in the future....Things that are emotionally charged may simply be memories that are more likely to be accessed or used.



Hans's relevant information centers on his racial identity. Just about everything he experiences is defined by his race. He writes of his hero-worship switch, from the German Max Schmeling to African-American Joe Louis. This is also why Jesse Owens becomes Hans's personal hero and why he doesn't mind when his fellow school- and playmates call him Jesse, because he's black. In this way Hans reveals a flaw he has: he affirms and supports positive racial stereotyping of blacks, but hates and rejects negative racial stereotyping of blacks. Thus if Germans see blacks as "good at sports" and "dancing," Hans accepts these stereotypes and tries to live up to them. But when he hears things such as "blacks are not as civilized as Germans," he rejects these stereotypes and despises the ones who espouse them. Hans himself is a bigot and this flaw is repeatedly revealed in his memoir.


Hans downplays his positive experiences repeatedly. He attributes repeated acts of Nazi tolerance and softness towards him to "luck." This may fly past fools, but it doesn't fly past informed readers. When he's caught with little Erika Schmedemann "in the buff," he's presumed innocent by all but one of the German women and mothers in the adjacent room. He is given candy and other treats by Onkel Tamm and other Germans around his neighborhood, but doesn't seem to attribute much importance to their numerous and frequent acts of kindness. He is allowed to go on dates with young Gretchen, but thinks of her and her mother as rare exceptions, not typical Germans. He pays for a "quickie" with a German prostitute and doesn't get in trouble even though there are Nazi policemen all about. He must be lucky. He "beds down" a German clerk named Gerda on a park bench, meanwhile claiming to be "in constant fear of the SD." Then why does he take such a risk? Could he be exaggerating about his fear and the discrimination he "always" encounters?


Yes, Hans is bitter. His bitterness centers on his race. Even though Hans has numerous German friends and his mother has decent work most of her life, he repeatedly expresses his bitterness toward German society. His wonderful German family, friends, and acquaintances - Aunt Moeller, little Erika, Aunt Tilli, Uncle Tamm, Ms Beyle, Wolfgang, the Morells, Uncle Max, Mr Gosau, Aunt Grete, the Swingboys, etc. - can neither ease nor erase the relentless "agony" and "pain" he had to endure as a black boy in the "Nazi hell." Forget the fact that blacks were treated terribly in every Western country at that time, and even in the free state of Liberia, which was African-ruled. No, none of this nor Hitler having issued a circular to protect African workers means a damn thing to victimized Hans-Juergen. (He relishes in the Germans' defeat.) No, none of this happiness and friendship can make up for those few Sundays when Hans was ordered by his "evil Nazi boss" to clean boilers as punishment for his attitude and arrogance during the war, when he was sitting pretty as a worker and his former school- and playmates were dying by the hundreds at the front. How dare any of his readers feel a pang of hostility toward sainted Hans. He told his boss to `go to hell' in an emergency situation during the war, but we're supposed to root for him as goodness personified nevertheless. Because we Germans are guilty, you see. Hans himself affirms this when he writes of Germany in the late 1960s, "West Germany...had ceased to be a white nation...". He later writes, "I watched this new breed of [Americanized] Germans...[and] I was filled with renewed hope for the country of my birth." He even proceeds with a self-righteous lecture on the "Holiest of Holies": that if it happened once, it can happen again - anywhere! He fails to mention Israel's extirpation/ethnic cleansing of Arabs, the Israeli apartheid wall, and Israeli school segregation and everyday anti-black and anti-Arab racism. How revealing, don't you think? His repeated laments for the Jews are enough to make one disgorge.


Those G-d forsaken Nazis!


Most Nazis were good to Hans. The son of the local Nazi Blockleiter, Morell, befriended Hans and he spent time at their house often. Mr Morell even takes him to see Jesse Owens compete in the Olympic Games, a rare treat even for Aryan children. When Hans is told one day to leave an "Aryan park" by one of the parents at the park he always frequents, the local warden tells him and his mother that he is as welcome as the other children and to go back to the park as usual. Hans chooses not to go to the park ever again out of resentment, because of the rejection of a single woman at the park one day. While Hans was not allowed to join the HJ, he was personally invited to join the Aryans-only Bramfeld Boxing Club by a young German man. No one challenged or reported his presence. Hans is not drafted for Heer service either, and while he tells a sob story about this, he later thanks his lucky stars that he sat out the war in relative safety while his friends died in the droves. (He never tries to join the Waffen SS.) The only "threats" to him are the Allied air raids, which he describes in detail.


During the war Hans is a rebellious "Swingboy," who runs around dancing and cavorting with fellow Swingboys and girls after work. He writes about taking dance lessons during the war and how his instructor has no problem with his race and even defends him against some rowdy HJ members who bust in one day. When he is caught walking around the neighborhood one time in pitch dark (after a night with Gretchen) by an SD man, a policeman at the local station identifies him as a neighborhood boy and he's let go immediately. When he snoops around the Kohnstein, which turns out to be the Dora-Mittelbau KZ, he is called in by the local Nazi mayor and questioned about his snooping. He lies to the mayor, telling him he was out hiking, but is released with a simple warning regardless. And when he goes to see the SS officer in charge of assigning him to his first job as a machinist apprentice (a three-year stint at Lindner A. G.), he expects the worst. But to his "surprise," the SS man is professional and completely respectful towards him and even tells him that people like him will have careers in the future German colonial administration in Africa. The SS man insists on shaking his hand. (He is never sterilized either, incidentally.)


Hans's Naziphobic invective proceeds without relent. Hans begins his machinist apprenticeship after being told he does not qualify for university study. He is not Aryan, so he does not qualify. Instead of letting this go and considering studying elsewhere in Europe or America, Hans flies into a "Nazis hate me for my race" bout. He reluctantly takes up his new trade and hates his fellow blue-collar workers more than anything except the NSDAP and Hitler. He looks down on them and he hates "hard work." He hates machine noise. He hates his boss. Hell, he hates working. He feels he deserves better. He wants to take it easy and have the money come-a-rollin' in for next to no effort. The less effort he has to exert and the more he gets to dance, horizontal polka, and lounge around in pubs and clubs, the happier he is. I suppose we should feel sorry for him for receiving such a horrible education in "Nazi hell," an education that secured his employment not only in Germany, and with decent pay, but later in Liberia, Monrovia, and America.


Feminists beware!


I'm a man, but even I am affronted at Hans's ceaseless objectification of women. After the war he goes all out in his various attempts, legal, semi-legal and illegal, to live it up like this at the expense of his fellow countrymen. He trades them addictive Yanki cigarettes for goods that he wants which he illegally acquires from black American seamen. He also `pimps' German `hussies' for his "American brothers" to "enjoy." The black seamen discuss among themselves how the boys back home are going to envy them this indulgence in white women. Hans continually refers to women's looks, breasts, and butts throughout, revealing his other obsession: "bedding them down." One of the most striking things he reveals, and which elevates Nazi Germany to a new level of respect in my book, is that Hans had never seen marijuana until the Americans arrived.


In his feverish attempt to get even via memoir writing, Hans reveals what PCists consider sexism and anti-Germanism. He seems thrilled at the prospect of "bedding down" German women and setting up African-American seamen with German prostitutes after the war. Throughout his memoir he repeatedly refers to women by their looks and whether he or his new buddies can "bed them down." He does not write one line about what these women's hopes and dreams are, what they are interested in, or what they hope to accomplish in their lives or in future careers. Nope. Are they `doable'? That's what Hans has on his mind page after page after page after, ad nauseum. I felt disturbed at Hans's glee over seeing German women all over black seamen. What is he getting at?


Be careful with that ax, Hans


Hans is a clever propagandist for Liberalism. He attributes the racism of individual Germans, like his teachers Wriede and Dutke, on the NSDAP and Hitler. But he attributes the racism of individual Americans, Britishers, and Liberians on those individuals alone. He claims that "Nazi" ideology made Germans act racist, but he doesn't claim that "American" or "British" ideology made Englishmen and white Americans act racist. Here are a couple examples. His mother is harassed by her new boss, who happens to be an NSDAP member, so Hans attributes his behavior to "Nazism". Hans's American coworkers walk off the job to protest his hiring as a lathe operator in Illinois, but this has nothing to do with Americanism. These are just a bunch of white racists who hate the fact that a black man can do their job as well as they can. Hans is asked to work one Sunday on an emergency repair during the war "because he's black." He doesn't think to ask whether he's a better worker, more dependable, etc. than his fellow German machinists. Nope. It's his blackness. It's his racist Nazis boss. Hans expresses as much confusion as his readers feel about his hypocrisy and bias. He later laments about his beloved America: "...it was utterly ludicrous that a nation that prided itself on its democratic traditions and looked down on the Nazis for their racial attitudes would segregate soldiers who served in the same way and who were expected to fight the same enemy."


His elitist father


After decades of financial and emotional neglect, Hans's wonderful African father finally writes him a letter. He wants him to come live with him in the cosmopolitan paradise of Liberia. His father sends him a wad of cash to pay for his travel, which Hans describes as not enjoyable thanks to the "racist Dutch captain." (The only good whites throughout his many trips are the ones who sit by him, eat with him, and/or befriend him. The others are racist scum.) When Hans finally leaves hated Germany, a dead-end nation he calls it, he is ecstatic to be going to the land of "his people." He is not German, he's African he decides. And his real family is in Liberia. So he leaves his "love" Inge behind, and his mother, to pursue a short-term life in Liberia; however, he his real dream is to live in the Racist States of America. It is strange, isn't it? When he arrives he greets his elitist father Al-Haj, a stranger who thinks of Liberian natives as primitive savages who need to be worked like animals, and moves in with him. He hates his father, who he learns is a control freak. (They sort of make up later on before his father dies from car accident wounds.) And that's not his father's only hang-up. He hates American blacks passionately!


Soon after his arrival, and against his father's warnings, he hooks up with his long lost brother Morris. Morris is a womanizer like his father and brother. He had gotten himself fired from a lucrative union job for having an affair with the wrong woman at the wrong time. The two brothers Massaquoi travel about Liberia having a grand old time - yes, Hans is cheating on Inge with impunity - and cooking up gimmicks to make money with the least amount of effort. (If NSDAP members did this, it was because they were "evil Nazis". If Hans and his brother do it, it's smart business sense and their hard-earned reward.) His brother lives in a shack full of rats and wants out. Meanwhile, his elitist father lives in a mansion bustling with native servants. Father Massaquoi also has wives all over the countryside - pieces of property like cattle or hogs. And how did Father Massaquoi acquire his wealth? He received sales commissions from stolen German real estate, businesses, and other assets after German residents and officials were thrown out of Africa in 1944 by the Brits. So Massaquoi Sr.'s fortune is Germany's misfortune. Anyway, Hans has to live with Morris and his rats for a while, but eventually finds himself a decent place to live when he finds machinist work - with that worthless, horrible Nazi education he received - and even gets himself a native servant named Sammy. He learns quickly that in Nigeria and Liberia, only some blacks live the good life, namely the Americo-Liberians. The rest live like animals and toil away for pennies a day, either for the English and French colonialists or their elitist ethnic kindred.


Masonry is the ticket


His brother finally gets his due, but only after he joins the Masons. He tells Hans that you cannot get ahead in Liberia "unless you joined the Masons." Morris gets a lucrative government job after he gives the president, Tubman, the secret Masonic handshake that only members know. He shares nothing about his Masonic secrets to Hans since secrecy is fundamental to the "brotherhood."


Paradise lost


And how about Liberian rule? Well, Hans witnesses one charming example early on. He sees a native woman washing a young child's eyes, nose, and mouth with a pepper solution and then beat him viciously with a stick. He had "embezzled a nickel" which shot out of his mouth during the beating. Hans later witnesses a severe beating of a native who transgresses and his uncle Nat tells him not to question it, as this is how things are done here and there is no other way. The only thing these natives understand is brute force. Uncle Nat: "...[t]his is Liberia, not Germany. We have different standards here." Graft is also the norm. President Tubman, says Morris, is okay with us stealing from the government as long as we don't steal too much (the "wrist-to-elbow policy"). And just to set the record straight, whites "Uncle Tommed" in Liberia as readily as blacks "Uncle Tommed" in America and other white countries.


British racism


And just a little jab at British racism: the Brits would walk straight to the front of any line of blacks, no matter how long, and get served straight away. The blacks had to wait without complaint. Hans didn't like this and could have gotten himself into trouble for telling a Brit off for doing just this in Lagos while visiting his grandmother. She tells him to keep his mouth shut; that the Brits will do "anything...I mean anything" to uphold their racist rule as long as they can. Now's not the time to offend the jittery Brits, Hans, who sense the end of their rule in Africa is nigh.


In the Racist States of America


When he's finally in the States on his student visa that his impoverished aunt secured for him, he's elated. But he is drafted, he claims by accident, and ends up in the Jim Crow American military. Since he doesn't want to fight and possibly die for America in Korea, he delays deployment by enrolling in paratrooper training. He earns his wings and is "fortunately" never deployed.


I find it irritating and hypocritical that Hans berates Germans for going along with the status quo, and joining the war effort, when he did the same thing. He, like most Germans in the Reich, watched out for Number One. This two-faced quality of his resurfaces again and again. Even so, he does not spare his readers `lectures' about fighting evil and actively resisting it wherever it's seen. He does nothing to oppose Jim Crow. He joins the American military even though he knows he is not supposed to as an alien student, so that he would not be deported back to Liberia. He was obviously willing to murder and subjugate Koreans as a GI if ordered to. He watches fellow blacks in his unit beat each other nearly to death and did nothing to help on at least one occasion. He witnesses a murder by coconut, no joke, over a truck seat, and again Hans does not intervene. And even Hans is bullied by fellow blacks and called the N-word. A fellow paratrooper asks him, "How come yo's a n***er and yo mama's white?"


Hans's most significant revelations are reserved for the end. He says things like:


"...I wondered whether the idealistic image I had of the United States had any basis in reality."


"I was stunned...I followed my aunt into the shack...Suddenly I felt sorry for my aunt...who obviously lived in abject poverty and could barely take care of herself...on the outskirts of an affluent, all-white suburban community [in America]."


"Interestingly, all the lathe operators were white; the few blacks I saw were pulling hand trucks and operating forklifts."


"...I encountered racism again, only this time it was racism American style, in the reputedly racially liberal North."


"While I was convinced that [my] company's action did not change any hearts, it certainly went a long way to change behavior."


"Anti-Semitism, I reluctantly concluded, was alive and well in the good old U.S.A."


"For the moment, I felt terribly disappointed and betrayed regarding my view of `the land of the free and the home of the brave'."


"...all the white soldiers went to peaceful Europe, while all the blacks were shipped to places like Chonju and Kanggyong in war-torn Korea..."


"I had heard too many accounts...of how hapless black soldiers who had rubbed a white lawman the wrong way were `made an example of' or simply disappeared."


"The most prominent survivor of that old gang of mine is my fellow non-Aryan Ralph Giordano." Ralph was Jewish and a Communist Party member for 11 years after the war. Needless to say he "hated" the Nazis.


Last but not least, Hans reveals his true face with this statement towards the end:


"...I had no idea that racial discrimination was not only condoned but openly practiced by the United States government. As much as I hated the Nazis for it, somehow, their overt racism and refusal to accept me in their military ranks seemed more honest to me than the United States' lip service to democracy and eagerness to recruit blacks while keeping them at arm's length in segregated, low-status service units commanded primarily by whites. I found it difficult to admit to myself, but my newly created ideal of an America that had mounted and won a crusade to free the oppressed had received a severe, perhaps fatal blow." This is what he writes after his encounter with Smitty, his new pot-smoking black "American brother," on the segregated U.S. ship he's assigned to.


And then he reveals his "hope" for the "new" Germany. He writes:


"[T]he most interesting group of Germans to me was the country's burgeoning population of thousands of `brown babies,' mostly illegitimate offspring of black GIs and German women."


Interestingly, Al Hooseman, the black man who was in charge of the organization to help these mostly impoverished children said, "I would say without hesitation that black children of comparable [poor] backgrounds in the United States don't come near the degree of social acceptance which the [brown babies] enjoy here."


Hans, isn't it time to put down the ax?


http://www.amazon.com/Destined-Witness-Growing-Black-Germany/dp/0688171559/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0

http://www.amazon.com/Destined-Witness-Growing-Black-Germany/product-reviews/0688171559/ref=cm_cr_dp_synop?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=0&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescending#R1J7LWHB8MAS3N

http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/A8N3QC7XM3VS3/ref=cm_cr_pr_pdp




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsmGRZpDTA0

Quote:http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWscalping.htm#source


Scalping


v Primary Sources v

The removal of the skin covering the top of a person head during or after a battle dates back to the Scythians (c. 400 BC). The Visigoths also took scalps during the wars with the Anglo-Saxons in the 9th century. When the Europeans first visited America they observed that the Huron, Chichimec, Iroquoi and Muskhogean tribes scalped enemy warriors. The Spanish administrator of Mexico, Francisco de Garay, reported in 1520 of seeing the "cutting of the skin off the entire head and face, with hair and beard". However, there is no evidence that the majority of Native American tribes at this time were involved in scalping.

In 1688, the French-Canadians began paying for every enemy scalp. This encouraged the emergence of groups trying to make a business out of scalping settlers. The British responded in 1693 by announcing that they would pay money for the scalps of Frenchmen and their Indian allies. As much as £100 was obtained for an important scalp.

In 1777, Jane McCrea,

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWmcCrea.htm

the fiancée of a soldier serving with General Burgoyne's army, was captured by Indians allied to the British. Then during a dispute between two warriors, Jane was scalped. General Burgoyne did not punish the guilty men for fear of breaking the alliance with that tribe. This decision enraged local Americans and many men now joined in the struggle against the British. It was later claimed that the death of Jane McCrea greatly aided the rebel cause and contributed to the defeat of Burgoyne's army at Saratoga. The incident continued to be used as propaganda against the English and the story was immortalized by John Vanderlyn's painting, The Death of Jane McCrea, in 1804.


This policy of scalping spread to the Americans during the 19th century and they paid bounties for the scalps of troublesome tribes such as the Apache.

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWapache.htm

The idea of scalping as an act of revenge was adopted by the Plains tribes during the Indian Wars.

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWplains.htm


http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWindianwars.htm



[Image: WWscalping3.JPG]
The Death of Jane McCrea by John Vanderlyn (1804)


The scalp was usually taken from a dead enemy. Pierre Pouchot saw soldiers being scalped in about 1760: "As soon as the man is felled, they run up to him, thrust their knee in between his shoulder blades, seize a tuft of hair in one hand and, with their knife in the other, cut around the skin of the head and pull the whole piece away." Some warriors gained status by scalping a man during combat. This involved making a knife incision around the scalp lock and pulling the hair back very quickly. Although extremely painful, being scalped alive was not always fatal.

A full-scalping would often lead to serious medical complications. This included profuse bleeding, infection, and eventual death if the bone of the skull was left exposed. Death could also occur from septicemia, meningitis or necrosis of the skull.

The fashion of head shaving, except for a small lock of hair, on the crown of the head, developed amongst the Plains Indians.

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWplains.htm

This hair covered about two inches in diameter and therefore only a minor wound would result from being scalped. However, it was a great insult for a Native American to be scalped while still alive. For example, the Arikara tribe would treat a scalped warrior as an outcast.

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWarikara.htm

Native American tribes used scalping to persuade Americans from abandoning the idea of taking their land. Nelson Lee was unlucky enough to captured by the Comanche tribe.

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWleeNelson.htm

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWcomanche.htm

"During all the time they were thus exhibiting the result of their savage work, they resorted to every hideous device to inspire us with terror. They would rush toward us with uplifted tomahawks, stained with blood, as if determined to strike, or grasp us by the hair, flourishing their knives around our heads as though intending to take our scalps. So far as I could understand their infernal shouts and pantomime, they sought to tell us that the fate which had overtaken our unfortunate companions not only awaited us, but likewise the whole race of the hated white man. All the dead, without exception, were scalped and the scalps, still fresh, were dangling from their belts."

After the battle had finished the warrior would clean and dry the scalp. Thomas Gist witnessed this while he was being held prisoner. "The men began to scrape the flesh and blood from the scalps, and dry them by the fire, after which they dressed them with feathers and painted them, then tied them on white, red, and black poles".

[Image: WWscalping1.jpg]


v Primary Sources v

(1) Travels in New France by J. C. B (1760)

http://www.amazon.com/Travels-In-New-France-J-C-B/dp/B000H412OW

http://www.earlyamerica.com/review/1998/scalping.html

"this horrible custom was practiced by these savages alone, and sprang from their own barbarism, for it seems never to have existed in any other nation, not even among nations, who, like them, have never received any idea of civilized life."2

"When a war party has captured one or more prisoners that cannot be taken away, it is the usual custom to kill them by breaking their heads with the blows of a tomahawk. When he has struck two or three blows, the savage quickly seizes his knife, and makes an incision around the hair from the upper part of the forehead to the back of the neck. Then he puts his foot on the shoulder of the victim, whom he has turned over face down, and pulls the hair off with both hands, from back to front... This hasty operation is no sooner finished than the savage fastens the scalp to his belt and goes on his way. This method is only used when the prisoner cannot follow his captor; or when the Indian is pursued... He quickly takes the scalp, gives the death cry, and flees at top speed. Savages always announce their valor by a death cry, when they have taken a scalp... When a savage has taken a scalp, and is not afraid he is being pursued, he stops and scrapes the skin to remove the blood and fibres on it. He makes a hoop of green wood, stretches the skin over it like a tambourine, and puts it in the sun to dry a little. The skin is painted red, and the hair on the outside combed. When prepared, the scalp is fastened to the end of a long stick, and carried on his shoulder in triumph to the village or place where he wants to put it. But as he nears each place on his way, he gives as many cries as he has scalps to announce his arrival and show his bravery. Sometimes as many as 15 scalps are fastened on the same stick. When there are too many for one stick, they decorate several sticks with the scalps."

(2) Thomas Gist, journal entry (14th September 14, 1758)

http://dpubs.libraries.psu.edu/DPubS?service=Repository&version=1.0&verb=Disseminate&view=body&content-type=pdf_1&handle=psu.pmhb/1172181847#

"The men began to scrape the flesh and blood from the scalps, and dry them by the fire, after which they dressed them with feathers and painted them, then tied them on white, red, and black poles, which they made so by pealing the bark and then painting them as it suited them."

(3) Pierre Pouchot, Memoirs on the Late War in North America Between France and England (1765)

http://archive.org/details/memoiruponlatew00houggoog

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_Pouchot

"As soon as the man is felled, they run up to him, thrust their knee in between his shoulder blades, seize a tuft of hair in one hand and, with their knife in the other, cut around the skin of the head and pull the whole piece away. The whole thing is done very expeditiously. Then, brandishing the scalp, they utter a whoop which they call the 'death whoop'... If they are not under pressure and the victory has cost them lives, they behave in an extremely cruel manner towards those they kill or the dead bodies. They disembowel them and smear their blood all over themselves."

(4) Mary Jemison, A Narrative of the Life of Mary Jemison (1824)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWjemisonM.htm

"It is a custom of the Indians, when one of their number is slain or taken prisoner in battle, to give to the nearest relative to the dead or absent, a prisoner, if they have chanced to take one, and if not, to give him the scalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from conquest, which is always announced by peculiar shoutings, demonstrations of joy, and the exhibition of some trophy of victory, the mourners come forward and make their claims. If they receive a prisoner, it is at their option either to satiate their vengeance, by taking his life in the most cruel manner they can conceive of; or, to receive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that are taken in battle and carried to the encampment or town by the Indians, are given to the bereaved families, till their number is made good. And unless the mourners have but just received the news of their bereavement, and are under the operation of a paroxysm of grief, anger and revenge; or, unless the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they generally save him, and treat him kindly. But if their mental wound is fresh, their loss so great that they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner or prisoners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it be ever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them satisfaction. It is family, and not national, sacrifices amongst the Indians, that has given them an indelible stamp as barbarians, and identified their character with the idea which is generally formed of unfeeling ferocity, and the most abandoned cruelty."

(5) George Ruxton, Adventures in Mexico and the Rocky Mountains (1847)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWruxton.htm

"Seizing with his left hand the long and braided lock on the centre of the Indian's head, he passed the point edge of his keen butcher-knife round the parting, turning it at the same time under the skin to separate the scalp from the skull; then, with a quick and sudden jerk of his hand, he removed it entirely from the head, and giving the reeking trophy a wring upon the grass to free it from the blood, he coolly hitched it under his belt, and proceeded to the next; but seeing La Bonte operating upon this, he sought the third, who lay some little distance from the others. This one was still alive, a pistol-ball having passed through his body, without touching a vital spot. Thrusting his knife, for mercy's sake, into the bosom of the Indian, he likewise tore the scalp-lock from his head, and placed it with the other."

(6) Anna Jameson, Winter Studies and Summer Rambles (1838)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Jameson

http://www.amazon.com/Winter-Studies-Rambles-Canadian-Library/dp/0771099622

"Apropos to scalps, I have seen many of the warriors here, who had one or more of these suspended as decorations to their dress; and they seemed to me so much a part and parcel of the sauvagerie around me, that I looked on them generally without emotion or pain. But there was one thing I never could see without a start, and a thrill of horror - the scalp of long fair hair."

(7) Lewis Morgan, Kansas and Nebraska Journal (June, 1859)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWmorganL.htm

"The Minnetaree village is a large village of dirt houses. Soon after we arrived the people who crowded the bank commenced a scalp dance on the top of the bluff in front of the pickets. They used two drums, like tambourines, which were beat by the dancers themselves, and they danced in a ring from right to left about 30 in all, one-third of them women. They all danced. The women sang in a sort of chorus, with their voices an octave above those of the men. The step was the up and down on the heel step. They were celebrating the taking of the Sioux scalp we heard complained of at Fort Pierre. This morning I met the 3 who took the scalp, painted and dressed, coming through the village towards the boat, and walking side and slide, singing their exploit. The dance, the song, the music, and the step among all our Indians came out of one brain. "

(8) Nelson Lee, Three Years Among the Comanches (1859)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWleeNelson.htm

"I soon became aware that the only members of the party who escaped the massacre, which proved to have been bloody as it was sudden, were Thomas Martin, John Stewart, Atkins, and myself.

Their next step was to collect the plunder. In this, they were, indeed, thorough. Not only did they gather up all our buffalo skins, Mexican blankets, rifles and revolvers, culinary utensils, and the like, but the dead bodies were stripped to the last shred, and tied on the backs of their mules. Nothing was left behind. By this time the morning light began to break on the eastern mountains, and preparations were made to depart. Before starting, however, they unbound our feet, conducted us through the camp, pointing out the stark corpses of our butchered comrades, who had lain down to sleep with such light and happy hearts the night before. The scene was awful and heart-rending beyond the imagination of man to conceive. Not satisfied with merely putting them to death, they had cut and hacked the poor, cold bodies in the most brutal and wanton manner; some having their arms and hands chopped off, others emboweled, and still others with their tongues drawn out and sharp sticks thrust through them. They then led us out some three or four hundred yards from the camp and pointed out the dead bodies of the sentinels, thus assuring us that not one of the entire party had escaped.

During all the time they were thus exhibiting the result of their savage work, they resorted to every hideous device to inspire us with terror. They would rush toward us with uplifted tomahawks, stained with blood, as if determined to strike, or grasp us by the hair, flourishing their knives around our heads as though intending to take our scalps. So far as I could understand their infernal shouts and pantomime, they sought to tell us that the fate which had overtaken our unfortunate companions not only awaited us, but likewise the whole race of the hated white man. All the dead, without exception, were scalped and the scalps, still fresh, were dangling from their belts."

(9) Mary Smith, included in the History of La Salle County (1877)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWsmithM.htm

"The report of the unfortunate young women (Frances and Almira Hall) communicated to their friends and relatives, on their return from captivity, although treated with less severity, cannot fail to be read with much interest - they state, that after being compelled to witness not only the savage butchery of their beloved parents, but to hear the heart-piercing screeches and dying groans of their expiring friends and neighbors, and the hideous yells of the furious assaulting savages, they were seized and mounted upon horses, to which they were secured by ropes, when the savages with an exulting shout, took up their line of march in Indian file, bending their course west; the horses on which the females were mounted, being each led by one of their number, while two more walked on each side with their bloodstained scalping knives and tomahawks, to support and to guard them - they thus travelled for many hours, with as much speed as possible through a dark and almost impenetrable wood; when reaching a still more dark and gloomy swamp, they came to a halt. A division of the plunder which they had brought from the ill-fated settlement, and with which their stolen horses (nine in number) were loaded, here took place, each savage stowing away in his pack his proportional share as he received it; but on nothing did they seem to set so great a value, or view with so much satisfaction, as the bleeding scalps which they had, ere life had become extinct torn from the mangled heads of the expiring victims! the feelings of the unhappy prisoners at this moment, can be better judged than described when they could not be insensible that among these scalps, these shocking proofs of savage Cannibalism, were those of their beloved parents! but their moans and bitter lamentations had no effect in moving or diverting for a moment the savages from the business in which they had engaged, until it was completed; when, with as little delay as possible, and without giving themselves time to partake of any refreshment, (as the prisoners could perceive) they again set forward, and travelled with precipitancy until sunset when they again halted, and prepared a temporary lodging for the night-the poor unfortunate females, whose feelings as may be supposed, could be no other than such as bordered on distraction, and who had not ceased for a moment to weep most bitterly during the whole day, could not but believe that they were here destined to become the victims of savage outrage and abuse; and that their sufferings would soon terminate, as they would not (as they imagined) be permitted to live to see the light of another day!"

(10) Herman Lehmann, Indianology (1899)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWlehmann.htm

That night we came in contact with a company of men and had a little fight. We killed one white man and captured fifteen horses. I think this must have been near Ballinger. We came down to Pack Saddle in Llano County and there had a terrible fight with four white men. We were in the roughs and so were the whites, so neither had the advantage, but we routed them in about a half hour. I think I wounded one of the white men severely. I had a good shot at him, but they all got away.

We wended our way from there to House mountains, and there we captured a nice herd of horses, and this increased our drove to fifty. We went our same old route up the Llano river, but the rangers got on our trail and followed us up through Mason county, but we made for Kickapoo Springs, but the rangers had changed horses and were giving us close chase. We changed horses often and rode cautiously and made our escape, but we were followed to the edge of the plains. We reached home safely and with all our horses, but the Mexicans had again joined our squaws, and this time they had plenty of mescal and corn whiskey, and tobacco in abundance. We all got drunk and one hundred and forty Indian warriors and sixty Mexicans went on a cattle raid. West of Fort Griffin, on the old trail, we ran into a big herd being driven to Kansas. There were about twenty hands with the cattle. We rushed up and opened fire. The cattle stampeded and the cowboys rode in an opposite direction. There were enough of us to surround the cattle and chase the boys. We soon gave the boys up and started for Mexico with the herd, but the second day we were overtaken by about forty white men, who tried to retake the cattle, and in the attempt two Mexicans and one Indian were killed - the Indian was shot through the neck - and we had four horses killed. We repulsed them and got possession of two of their dead, who were promptly scalped. We put the scalps of those boys on high poles and had a big feast and war dance. We slew forty beeves and roasted them all at once. We kept up a chant and dance around those scalps day and night.

(11) John F. Finerty, Warpath and Bivouac (1890)

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWfinertyJ.htm

The skull of one poor squaw was blown, literally, to atoms, revealing the ridge of the palate and presenting a most ghastly and revolting spectacle. Another of the dead females, a middle-aged woman, was so riddled by bullets that there appeared to be no unwounded part of her person left. The third victim was young, plump, and, comparatively speaking, light of color. She had a magnificent physique, and, for an Indian, a most attractive set of features. She had been shot through the left breast just over the heart and was not in the least disfigured.

Ute John, the solitary friendly Indian who did not desert the column, scalped all the dead, unknown to the General or any of the officers, and I regret to be compelled to state a few - a very few - brutalized soldiers followed his savage example. Each took only a portion of the scalp, but the exhibition of human depravity was nauseating. The unfortunates should have been respected, even in the coldness and nothingness of death. In that affair, surely, the army were the assailants and the savages acted purely in self defense. I must add in justice to all concerned that neither General Crook nor any of his officers or men suspected that any women or children were in the gully until their cries were heard above the volume of fire poured upon the fatal spot.


[Image: SOCIAL-CHANGE-CHART.jpg]


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Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas ….
“Plato is my friend, but truth is a better friend"




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The Key - Collin Alexander

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A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon (Full Movie) -

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Deanna Spingola Interview with Bart Sibrel of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Moon"

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Astronauts Gone Wild -

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Last Days of the Big Lie

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September Clues

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Interview with Simon Shack of September Clues - Brian S Staveley, Justin Cooke - 04 / 08 / 2012

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Introductory Tour Guide to the September Clues research by Simon Shack - (updated on July 18 2011)

http://cluesforum.info/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=477

Fairly Comprehensive Audio on All Aspects of the Likely 'How' of the 9-11 Psy-Op - 03 / 18 / 2012 - Brian S Staveley, Justin Cooke

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