The Angry Exile: The new Untermenschen

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Friday 1 October 2010

The new Untermenschen - UPDATED

They're everywhere, the new Untermenschen. You probably know several yourself. A smoker or two, obviously, that goes without saying. And drinkers too, of course, and people who put extra salt on their chips, and in fact people who like chips in the first place unless they're pretty stringent about hitting the gym and working them back off again. Yes, we all know that in the Ninth Circle of Hell Judas Iscariot will be smoking, drinking and tucking into over salted so-called junk food without taking any exercise, but the criteria for being among the new Untermenschen doesn't end with simple personal lifestyle choices that don't fit in with the Strength Through Joy-ism of the state and it's nannies. Oh no. If you don't commit to the new state religion as well, even if you do actually believe in it, then you too are an Untermensch.

And so you should be killed, preferably as graphically as possible pour encourager les autres.

+++UPDATE+++

At this point I had embedded the original movie from YouTube but thanks to microdave in the comments I see this morning that the backlash has grown during the night and the vid has now been taken down. However, they've just been reminded that once anything hits the interwebs it's probably there for good, and so it has proved. There are dozens on YouTube and they're probably going up faster than they can be taken down, and even if that dies down it still won't have gone since microdave snagged a copy to stick on EyeTube and which I'm using to replace the defunct YouTube one.

Great work, Dave. They'll have a hard time getting this genie back in the bottle.

Your choice. You don't have to join in. No pressure... BLAM

No pressure - because not joining in makes your continued existence unnecessary. You are, you see, entirely disposable. Even that bird who used to be in the X-Files can be disposed of, her contribution deemed insufficient to allow her life to continue. She believed enough to do the voiceover but didn't plan to join in the rituals, and that won't do because it's not just your belief the Gaists demand. It's your unswerving obedience. Failure deserves death, instant and very, very bloody death. They're not actually killing anyone yet, but it's getting pretty obvious how they feel about anyone not singing from their hymn book.

And of course it's not just them because the anti-smoke, anti-drink, anti-meat, anti-fat, anti-personal choice mobs think no more of you than do the Gaiasts. Very soon we will all be Untermenschen in the eyes of somebody, if we're not already. We can choose to stand up now and say, 'Enough.' Or we can wait for one of them to give us our final order:

"Stand by the wall, you fucking scum!"

H/T WUWT.