Douglas Mercer
January 28 2025
No figure is more important to Jewish predations that the “survivor”—the ones who (they say) were those famous eye witnesses to the death dealing Mengele striding the ramparts at Auschwitz-Birkeneau like a colossus or a golden god and saying you—to the ovens! And you—you work a little and then we’ll send you up the chimney. The survivors pout and preen on the world stages like VIPS of morality, they are cherished and feted, and are in their very person totems and talismans to be trotted out and wielded against the Aryans. But now the Jews are plotzing worldwide as they know these said to be survivors are croaking, kicking the bucket, and buying the farm left and right. And once they all eat the dust what do they have left really to prop up their lies? Some buildings and some words and a whole lot of hazy speculation, very little of it comporting with reality.
That’s why they’ve made paintings of these sacred figures, made busts of them, taken pictures, put their words to music, and turned them into holocaust holograms so some figment of the imagination can pester and annoy us with their stories which are figments of the imagination. The whole cheap and tawdry tale is all rather spurious, specious and scattershot and awry, why if Hitler was a fraction as evil as they alleged why on earth are these old coots and wizened geezers still sucking air and wasting space? No, the best argument for the idea that the Holocaust is one vast tissue of lies is this: had Hitler intended to kill them they would be dead. After all how hard is it to shoot someone in the face? In 1939 during the T4 Project the National Socialists sent some 10,000 souls to the locker room in the sky with simple injections. It is true that if you start gunning people down left and right you get panic and hysteria, but you just take some children hostage and promise some ghastly things—that leads to good behavior.
“Their numbers are dwindling but the voices of the Auschwitz survivors remain powerful. Leon Weintraub, 99, the oldest of four spoke on January 27 2025 beside the notorious Death Gate at the Birkenau extermination camp. World leaders and European royalty rubbed shoulders with 56 survivors of Hitler's genocide of European Jews on Monday as they marked 80 years since its liberation.”
You can be sure that this lachrymose confab was just the place to see and be seen for the jet setters and ruling class and glitterati who are the powers that be. The beautiful people (who are all ugly as hell) got their chance to schmooze and mix and mingle in a setting which was sure to make them feel righteous and show to the world that they are sensitive souls, as well as powerful tyrants oppressing the subject peoples they rule over. King Charles made an appearance and disgraced himself and his country as always making some trite remarks full of sentimental treacle, about how it was some kind of deeply personal Pilgimage for him and it was a vital task for the world to always remember past evil.
As a moral example for children there is not a lot to choose between that and his mad lust to suck his wife’s tampon, both being things which should be unutterable in decent society. But at least his curious passion for that old crow and cow, though unseemly to be sure, doesn’t hornswoggle the millions into feeling sorry for the International Criminal Tribe and keep the flame alive of the greatest just so story ever told, the one about the Six Million. For any gate leading to a work camp has always to be described as notorious, even as they still haul the bottle washers of Bergen Belsen into court and hold them accountable for fictional scenes of murder.
“We were victims in a moral vacuum, said Tova Friedman, who described witnessing the horrors of the Nazi genocide as a five and a half year-old girl clinging to her mother's hand. The warnings from history were clear: the survivors more than anyone understood the risks of intolerance, and antisemitism was the canary in the coal mine.”
Here the writer of this egregious paragraph shows himself ignorant of the meaning of the phrase canary in a coal mine and so produces what they often do when they write of the Jews suffering, dire sounding words which are really non sequiturs. But if antisemitism really was a canary in the coal mine this is one bird which was hauled back up with a clean bill of health. For antisemtisim, which can be neatly defined as the health of the state, is alive and well and growing stronger by the day, not the least of which because of malodorous photo ops such as this one which to the sound of mind more than borders on the ludicrous.
Why this Friedman vermin outlived Adolf Hitler by some 80 years so how bad really could our Uncle have been? Certainly any Sadean psychopath would have taken that little pisher and personally shoved her in the oven and then tossed the ashes around like confetti at particularly festive party with buzzers and horns going off. But so full of holes is their narrative, so much does it beggar belief and strain credulity, that these events are important rites and significant milestones to etch the memory of the non-existent drama in the minds of the masses, and at which to get so high and mighty and full of high dudgeon about the meaning of it all for posterity that most will just blink once or twice and swallow it hook, line, and sinking.
“Under an enormous, white tent that covered the death camp entrance, the director of the Auschwitz Museum, Piotr Cywinski, issued a plea to protect the memory of what had happened, as the survivors died out. Memory was the watchword of this day, marked around the world as International Holocaust Memorial Day. Having listened to the survivors inside the tent at Birkenau, he told the BBC that "we saw a transfer from memory into history", because it was now very unlikely that survivors would be delivering speeches for much longer. That's very daunting.”
At some point the very last survivor will have nearly completed his sordid sojourn on this planet and will be wasting away; perhaps it will be kidney failure, or some cancer so bad he weighs ten pounds again just like they say he did at Dora. And when the news goes out that the last living link (a lightly alliterative phrase which suits the Jew histrionic and melodramatic frame of mind) to the “destruction of European Jewy” is about to keel over, kick it, and breathe his last after farting dust for a decade or two, you know all over Jewdom the alarms will be set off; and they will cart his barely breathing carcass to the Royal Suite at Cedars Sinai, Steven Spielberg will send some gardenias with a little note of cautious well wishing; and a whole team in hospital togs consisting of guys with names ending in Berg or Witz will come in to give him the IV, the electroshock, all means fair and foul will be used to keep him alive for even one more second, they will use convulsive therapy, primal scream therapy, the works, they will have their best surgeons at the helm, whatever it takes, it will be heroic measures from a people not given to heroism. But even for all of this stop gap behavior at some point the fatal line will be crossed and Schmulie Weinberg will pass from the scene once and for all.
If they could they would stuff him like a parrot and pretend that he still kicks, or make a wax works out of him and rouge the cheeks to give a facsimile of life; but all will be no avail; and even though they will have the effigies and the ghostly images and the memoirs and the statues the fact will remain that not a single living Jew exists who can say: I was there. They will make the best of a bad situation of course but nonetheless there will be no joy in Jewville. For the man who just bought it will have been that most celebrated yet fear inducing of things: the last known survivor.
Now of course when they are in professorial mode Jew intellectuals will aver that historical memory is invariably shaky and spotty, and skepticism is well considered; but when it comes to their milk cow and sacred cash cow the Holocaust they will stand up straight, or as straight as they can, and swear up and down on scout’s honor that all is true, no fibbing. But a post survivor world is one in which an even more cunning skeptic might just begin to ask some all things considered rather pointed if impudent questions like: maybe you all are lying? You were not there after all. For when the last one said to have eyeballed Himmler strangling that cello player goes so too does memory. It’s an inevitable scenario which is just around the bend and it's what keeps the Jews up at night, what gives them the Hebrew Heebie Jeebies. It’s what puts the kikes in mortal fear as they begin to think that their racket, like the “survivors” themselves, is on its last legs. And they know that when the world pulls the plug on that fable, well, all bets are off. Of course, anyone contemplating this frantic Jewish state of mind would have to be cold blooded indeed not to simply burst out laughing.
