How quickly they turn to complete animals

How quickly they turn to complete animals.

They come out of the wagons already quite bestial, crying and lowing for water, yet there is still the facsimile of humanity about them: they wear clothes, spectacles, wedding rings, the women have their long hair and jewelry. We strip away all this deceit quite quickly.

At the front of the camp there is a phony train station with a phony name and a phony clock with hands that are painted on. All of it is just as phony as all their posing, their insinuating, their pretending to be normal folk. As soon as they come down the ramp, the blue prisoner units are screaming at them, beating them, lashing them, drawing blood, and they move through the front gates in huddled, weeping herds. There we separate the men and women and have the women's haircut to make socks and such.

And in a moment, it is complete.

Centuries of hiding among us, posing and passing, is all erased, exposed, and their nature is plain. Looking at their hideous gnarled faces, all the varieties of bloodline impurities, the women's sagging udders, the fatty hanging bellies, the men's mutilated penises in thatches of pubic hair -- you see it quite clearly, and you absolutely cannot deny that they are utter beasts. That we allowed them to infest our cities like vermin, to hold power over us, while we were tilling the soil and building the Fatherland -- it absolutely appalls. This will be our great shame in history's eyes.

We move them through the long tube to the gas chambers. The men can go first, as their hair does not need cutting. Then the women. The women panic. Screams everywhere. You watch the mottled haunches of the old women shudder and ripple as their legs shake like newborn calves. They realize that we will not be wasting any time, that it will all be immediate. Streams of fresh shit run down their legs, and now the helpers must club them every step of the way or they will turn back.

Marchenko carries a sword. He thinks it is an Imperial cavalry sword, but it is just an imitation. Still, it is an actual sword, and in his hands, it is more effective than the clubs. He hacks at the crowd like jungle explorer in an American film. He makes all sorts of sneering, dramatic faces as he works, and whenever he scores a particularly impressive blow, his whole face red with delight. Once he sliced an old woman's tit clean off. He picked it up and showed it to me. The inside was made of corn-colored pearls of fat. I let him take it to the work camp and have a good chuckle watching a prisoner devour it, and I had a good chuckle watching Marchenko's face.

There are only a couple dozen SS at the camp. Almost everything is run by Red Army watchmen and special prison units. And yet we can process 15,000 a day. Wonderful. It is because of the way the camp has been built. There is the fake train station, the tales of showers and uniforms and assignments, the narrow tube to funnel people into, the walls to hide the chambers and the pits. And there is the hierarchy: the captured Red Army men and the special unit prisoners, all set against each other with the proper incentives. Everything in the structure concentrates power on us.

Perhaps, if the right structure was built, an entire race could eliminated by a single man with an unloaded gun.

One day during the final summer, a team of doctors came in from Berlin.

They were in the midst of a grand experiment which they considered to be of the utmost importance and needed access to a large number of prisoners, something beyond what they could acquire in Berlin. We protested that we were not equipped for any sort of medical experiments, that our camp was designed for a single purpose, but they insisted, and we were forced to accommodate them.

I was immediately irritated by their senior doctor, a haughty man in his late forties named Engel, who always wore a crisp white coat and fine leather shoes. He arrived with his team of doctors and-- I could scarcely believe it -- a Jew.

This was perhaps the ugliest Jew to have ever personally offended my eyes. He was a very tall man, a full head taller than average, with a furry black beard, a gnarled, claw-like nose, and very prominent eyes. These eyes were something of a source of fascination to me, as they were not the rat-like black color of the normal Jew, but a much lighter shade of brown, almost like bronze. He wore a shabby suit and followed Engel around quite closely, almost as if they were associates, and always his strange, flashing eyes were roaming about in a suspicious way.

When I first met Engel, I asked who this Jew was, but my question was brushed aside. They immediately set about converting one of our buildings into a station for their experiments, the details of which were kept from me entirely. Engel and his team made no contact with the other staff except to demand various supplies.

After a few days of being subjected to Engel's imperious behavior, I could feel that my SS subordinates and even the Ukrainians were smirking at me behind my back, so I decided to give Engel a tour of the other part of the camp, which he had not yet seen, the part where we processed prisoners. Of course he refused, but I insisted. Fortunately, a trainload of prisoners was arriving at the moment, and we went out to the platform. The odious Jew with glittering eyes followed us, which pleased me all the more.

The train arrived with the cries of its passengers blending into the squealing of the metal wheels. The blue units worked themselves into their usual frenzy, pulling the passengers out, shouting and clubbing and herding them toward the main gate. Amidst the crush of passengers, the limp bodies of children occasionally came spilling out onto the platform, and the blue units tossed them into a pile. Engel watched all of this impassively.

A woman came out of the train clutching a child of perhaps three years. She looked about frantically, screaming for a doctor. I gave her a sympathetic look and held out my arms. She approached me, the handsome stolid-looking authority figure that I am. I took the child from her and tenderly examined it. It was still alive. I placed it gently on the ground and used my boot to reshape its skull. The woman I shot.

After a week at the camp, Dr. Engel put in a rather perverse request: he wanted to move his laboratory to the old gas chamber. I had no problem with this. We had installed new, more efficient gas chambers with the help of an expert on the matter, and although they had a capacity of over 20,000 a day, we were seldom ever able to process more than 15,000 in a single day, due to the unreliability of the trains, which were often slow enough to preemptively process many of their passengers for us.

At this point we had orders to cremate the bodies, and they burned in open pits day and night, and we warned the Dr. Engel that the old gas chamber would be a rather distracting environment to work in, as it was between the smoke of the burning pits and the noise of the new gas chambers. He disregarded this, and his team moved in that day. After that, I rarely saw him, as that part of the camp was somewhat hidden from the rest, and my headaches, which were growing more severe, had always made me reluctant to visit.

Soon my men began to me strange tales from the new laboratory. Nobody except Engel and his men was allowed inside, but we surmised that he had removed or reduced the chamber's interior walls and sealed up all doors except one. He requested his own SS detail, and two guards were posted at the door at all times. A steady flow of prisoners went into the laboratory, whom Engel selected with the help of his odious Jew assistant, often to the great irritation of my units, as their fussy selectivity often slowed down our processing activities. Nobody could make any sense of his selection process, as it mainly consisted of the Jew looking the person over and making various mutterings.

It was reported that every few days, a enormous "package" wrapped in tarpaulin would be removed from the laboratory and carried over to a special burning pit which they had made. These packages tended to bleed, leaving a trail of blood to the burning pit, where they were burned under the watch of Engel's personal guard. This behavior was only extraordinary in that there was no need for secrecy when it came to killing prisoners. Thousands were being killed every day just a few meters away in the new gas chambers.

Between this and the inexplicable presence of the Jew assistant, I slowly became curious about their project. My men, however, were unable to get any information about what was occurring inside the laboratory. So I decided focus a few questions on the member of the team who presumably had the least sense of loyalty: the Jew.

On one of our days off, I found the Jew in our little zoo, admiring the peacocks. He looked very much at peace as he watched the birds strut around, while I was suffering from vicious headache. I began to talk to him, affecting an offhand, friendly manner. His German was perfect. I asked him about his background. He told me he had been a religious student in Berlin until he was expelled to a ghetto in Krakow. I asked him how he had met Engel. Here he told me something quite surprising: this was actually his second time coming to Treblinka. On his first visit, he was on the very verge of being shot when somebody had noticed his perfect German. Apparently, there had been a request for prisoners who spoke excellent German, and this earned him a reprieve. He was sent back to Berlin, where Engel performed tests on him.

is this about jews

I asked about the nature of these tests. At this he became more reticent. He had been instructed to discuss nothing with me. I merely informed him that I would shoot him through the face if he didn't tell me everything. At this, he showed no fear, but looked at me with his odd, brazen eyes and gave me an almost pitying smile. He said that the doctors were testing a new Swiss invention, some kind of chemical which was administered orally and caused profound changes in thinking.

I asked him about these changes. He said that the chemical allowed him to see the mind of God. Naturally, I asked for elaboration. At this, he launched into a rather overworked simile involving a broken mirror, then switched to another simile using a spider's web, neither of which made any sense to me. I informed him that I was a practical man and had little use for philosophy. He told me that after taking the chemical many times, he had become possessed of two minds: his own and that of God. In all his doings, he was conscious of God's intentions, of God's plan for all human life. I asked him if he was following God's plan, and he said he was not following it entirely.

"I am wrestling with God," he said cryptically.

"How does one wrestle with God? Isn't he all powerful?"

"When God presses forward, you must yield or be destroyed. And when God yields, you must press forward."

"That sounds more like dancing than wrestling. Or making love," I said with a snort.

He smiled. "Yes, it is... Except that dancing is not so painful."

"Why wrestle at all? If God is God, and you know his plan, why not simply follow it? Surely this is the best course."

"Yes, but I cannot bring myself to," he said. For the first time, I saw the peaceful expression flee from his face to be replaced by a unsettling dread that trembled in his eyes.

"God's plan... is simply too awful."

I have the feeling this is going to try to teach us a lesson.

I will never forget the 420 quintillion

I dedicate the next bowl to their chronics.

I asked the Jew exactly what sort of procedures they were performing in their laboratory, but at this point we were interrupted by several members of Dr. Engel's team, and they hurriedly ushered him away. Although there were still many unanswered questions, my curiosity was largely satisfied. They were testing a new chemical and probably performing vivisections and such to ascertain its physical effects. Perhaps the bodies were burned separately because they required special handling due to the presence of the chemical. There was nothing especially sinister in that. It was actually rather considerate of them.

That night, shortly before I was about to retire for the day, one of the Ukrainians came to me with a small package wrapped in cloth, about the size of a loaf of bread with an irregular shape. He was very excited. He unwrapped the package, and inside was a fragment of pale white bone. An extremely unusual fragment. It was a sort of rounded carapace, like part of a giant skull, but with 5 round holes in it, much like eye sockets but obviously too numerous to be so. Studded throughout the fragment were extrusions that looked like molar teeth. Looking at it, I could not place it as a part of any animal I had ever seen.

I asked the man where he got it, and he said he had retrieved it from near the laboratory's cremation pit just an hour before. The piece itself did not appear to have been burned, as it had the meaty stink of death about it. I asked him a few more questions, but he knew little else. Still, he insisted that the bone fragment was from something monstrous and unnatural which they were creating in their laboratory and that I should shut down their experiments. One of my SS subordinates immediately set to thrashing the Ukrainian with a baton for presuming to advise me on my duties, and with that, the conversation came to its natural conclusion.

Juan man I'm too high and lazy to read this shit, what did you mean by this?

Alright fine, play the condescending host, I'll read it later after I gain brouzoufs.

aka thread dead

>Death camp director gets a visit from a Nazi doctor and his pet Jew
>they set up a lab in his old gas chamber
>they're very secretive about what they're doing, SS director gets curious
>asks the Jew, conversation is here
>find a creepy bone fragment some time later

Post more

I'll say it: Hitler did the right thing. Do you know what he did? He came busting up into people's houses, snatching them out their houses, killing them. But that's because the so-called Jews in Germany were selling weapons to America to go to war against him. So he did what he had to do. He had to check them. The people in Europe who call themselves Jews are not Jews. They're the Rothschilds, the Khazars or Khazarians or whatever they're called. They say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie.

And there wasn't no holocaust. They just said there was to get control of Israel. They sold arms to America so they could get the land of Israel. You want a real holocaust? What about 100 million people killed in slavery? What about 100 million Indians killed in the New World. That's a holocaust. What happened in Europe wasn't no holocaust.

You can disagree all you want. 5 years ago, I'd have disagreed too. I used to go to that church every Sunday and worship that white Jesus, just clapping and singing praises with the rest of them. Oh, hallelujah! Go down Moses! But that was before I knew my history.

My wife taught me my history. Before I met her, I didn't know nothing about this, but she was so full of knowledge and beautiful and everything she said made so much sense. She taught me that Jesus was black. That the Israelites was black. That God was black. What are you going to do when you get to heaven and God is black? When you see he has a face like mine. Hair like mine? You'd be surprised? I was surprised too! Oh, you'd be surprised that he even exists? Oh, you're going to be real surprised!

thanks lego but is this extracted from a biography or someone's blog? Because if there's one thing that latinos love more than lynching and tourture it's UFOs and Nazi magic.

It's true too, which is funny. To each their hobbies I guess.

Do you believe in evolution? No. No, the world is not no millions of years old. It's 6,000 years old. And you call follow the history of our people, from the beginning of time, through the deserts of Egypt, through the Roman empire, across the oceans on the slave ships. You can see how God has tested us. How we have survived. Because we're special. We're his chosen people.

I learned all this from my wife before we got married. In the Bible, it says that the man is the head of the household, and the wife should submit to the husband. So I was young when I got married, but I had to be a man, you know. A man's wife is sent to him by the Lord, so I had to be a man for her. I learned a trade, how to work with my hands, put food on the table. We had two kids. You didn't know I had kids? Yeah, a little girl and a little boy. My babies. I was daddy and the head of household, but... I... That's when it got me.

You ever seen New Jack City? Remember Pookie? He'd be like, "Shit just be calling me, man, be calling me!"

That's real. That's the way it is. You could be doing anything. At work. Reading the Bible. Playing with your kids. But if you hear it call you, you go to it. It don't matter.

I can't explain how it just snatches you up. It makes you move. You could walk out your door one day, just get some fresh air, and you don't come back for a whole week. Everything gets into motion. Into play. You'll sell anything. Phone. Laptop. Car. It's all gone. Just like that. Because you want it. You're on a mission.

I used to see the streets in my mind, like a maze, like a grid. And I'd just walk the streets, turning those corners, just moving, moving, looking for something. I'd see buildings behind buildings. Alleyways. Lights coming on in empty houses. I'd hear noises. The sounds of cars coming up behind me. Whispers. People talking about me. Shadows. I was looking for it, but it was looking for me. Searching for me. Like Pookie said. It was calling me...

I was supposed to be the head of the house. I was supposed to be a man. You know? One day I came back to the house -- I had been out for a few days -- and everything was gone. My wife. My babies. While I was out carrying on, they left. That was 4 years ago. I saw them on Skype once.

The scripture says, "God hath joined together, let not man put asunder."

I guess I did it. Put it all asunder. I thought she betrayed me, but I know now that it was my character defects and my addiction. That's why I'm in this program. I'm going to stay sober. I... I don't care if you see me crying. I know that I'm going to be a man again. I have to become a man again. Because God joined me to my wife and made me a man in his image. I'm not going to defile his temple anymore.

After they left... it took more. It took more of me than ever. I lost the house and was staying in my car. Then I was at the shelter. Then I was just out on the streets. I was always moving, watching...

Things happen out there that nobody knows about. They think nobody cares. Nobody cares. You might see a van pull up, and some guys get out. If you look like I looked, some base head, they don't even care if you see what they do. They're Nephilim. They come to our side of town to feast on the flesh of Israel. I watched them. The children of fallen angels. I saw what did. What they built.

I never want to see it again.

9M9H9E9

Yeah but you know, there's alread the man in the high castle out, plus the market in general has been flooded with wwII stuff lately like Fury.

I don't think it will sell very well.

But try your luck and buy a banner for this thread, might be worth the investment if somebody notice your writing skills.