From Julian Assange’s Blog (Ignore Ze Typos).

May 18, 2011 at 8:27 pm (Uncategorized)


I have italicized the parts I liked. And marked an asterisk next to a spot I found sexist- I excuse it because the rest of the article agreed with me.


Thu 22 Jun 2006 : Moshe and the glass eye

Sometimes my eyes are lovingly full of Eastern European tradegy.
The surest escape from the mundane is to teleport into the tragic
realm. To topple kings someone must die. One soon revels in the
carnage of change; whatever flowers grow at the end of Lear or
Hamlet we know they blossem into a different world, stronger for the
corpses under their roots.
This tradition is still alive in the Ukraine, the bread basket and basket
case of 20th century Europe. Within in the life span of a working
school master the Ukraine saw Stalin’s genocidal collectivisation of
the Kulaks and subsequent mass famine, the NKVD terror of 1937,
the 1943 Axis rout of soviet forces and subsequent Weirmacht
control, another round of crop distruction, SS extermination of the
Slavs, scorched earth Axis widthdrawl, gradual Warsaw Pact
repression and bureaucratization, and then, the 1986 Chernobyl catastrophe just outside of Kiev (see http://www.kiddofspeed.com).
Man must suffer constraint to write, for a man with a gun needs no
thought, but the prison state gives its citizens nothing but thoughts.
Before words on paper, there must be words in the head, that that
plaintive, demanding upwelling of reason that takes the place of
action because the environment has action constrained. Where words
have the power to change, the state tries hard to trap, burn, or blank
them, such is its fear of their power. But where words are
emasculated before birth, where words are powerless playings,
smothered, half drowned kittens, scrabbling for someone, anyone to
hold them, the state is fearless and words like birds, bees and other
creatures of no political consequence are free. Now I offer you the
following based on a tale of my grandfather’s, which I have taken to
using as a filter of men; *women do not seem to feel it, being too full
of future life to enjoy the austere bleakness of concentration camp
sarcasm.
Moshe shuffled in the prisoner selection line with his daughter. When
he came to the selection guard Moshe was told both father and
daughter would be sent either to the extermination camp or the work
camp. The guard found their numbers and said the daughter was go
to the extermination camp. Moshe wailed, fell to the ground and
threw his arms about the guard’s legs, begging for his daugther to be
spared. He kissed the guard’s boots and offered his own life and the
extraction of the last of his gold teeth. The guard smiled thinly and
said, “Very well, but first you must pass my test. My eyes are
completely indistinguishable from each other but are not the same.
One is glass and was modeled on the other. Reichsmarshal Goering
himself appointed the finest jewelers in Potsdam to craft it after I
returned from the front. If you can find a way to distinguish the glass eye from the real one, I will trade your life for your daughter’s”.
Moshe starred into the guard’s eyes and slowly raised his hand,
pointing to the left eye. The guard looked at Moshe and shouted,
“What! How did you know?!”.

“I am sorry.. ” trembled Moshe, “but
the left eye looks at me with a kindly gleam”.

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