Holocaust Reinvented

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

Below I have provided pictures I recieved from a friend in e-mail today. They narrate a bloody tale that would otherwise take tomes to expound. It is powerful; it is soul reaving; it is painful. And it merits our prompt, profound attention. These images hint at the depths to which humankind can fall with no remorse and no regrets. They tell us how we fail to learn from our collective mistakes and repeat them over and over, mercilessly and; more tormentingly; shamelessly. They point to where we're headed: spiralling downwards into oblivion.


The B & W image to the left in each image pair is a glimpse of 'Nazi' terror of the yester years; the color image to the right captures 'Ashkenazi' terror of today.

What I find devastating is the indifference, immorality and cruelty with which we transfer our madness and disease to our young, guaranteeing a continued viscious cycle of injustice, atrocity, suffering, and hateful, agitated existence. We seem content with sowing and reaping evil. And love bragging about it.

What the Nazis are touted to have done to Jews decades ago is being dispensed to Gentiles today, at the hands of Ashkenazis. An event, many serious scholars call the biggest hoax of 20th century is lamented upon, cried for and remembered. Those who question its various aspects are silenced or crucified. At the same time, genocide of a people is being conducted today and the brave members of the free world are busy golfing, clubbing, picking stocks, playing catch and having fun. And then there are others who want to curb violence with violence.

What we need to understand is that our lives as we know them are meaningless individually. That we need to focus on collective survival. That we need to tolerate each other and facilitate peaceful co-existence. It must be understood that this is not possible without bringing about change in the way we see things and the way we think.

Live and let live. Only possible when we give more and take less.

Create and favor change. Sacrifice. Your favorite side of the bed, your seat in the bus, your favborite T-shirt, food, money, time, emotion and cravings. Give more. Take less. Offer more. Ask for less. Our survival and salvation depends on it.

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All images property of their respective copyright holders. Images provided by Malik Muhammad Irfan (Rise The Mag Mailing List).

Me'raaj e Insaan

Human kind is moving ahead at lightning speed. Faster computers, smarter AI, pricier drugs and weapons more lethal than ever. Still briefer clothes and less of morals.

Playboy has been an icon of a plethora of such parameters by which we tend to measure our canter into the future: fashion for men, style for men, gadgets for men; what and what not for men. In between the lines, it has been setting standards for human kind's morals as well or at least reflecting on them boldly. Take a look at some sisterly images captured by Playboy photographers that were immortalized by the magazine:

Frame 1. Clockwise from top left: Shane and Sia Barbi (January 1993), Nicole, Jaclyn and Erica Dahm (December 1998), Mirjam and Karin Van Beeschooten (September 1989) and Natalie and Jennifer Campbell (December 2008)

Frame 2. Clockwise from top left: Madeleine and Mary Collinson (October 1970), Mandy and Sandy Bentley (May 2000), Rosie and Renee Tenison (August 2002)

How sisterly.

And now Hef's 2 newest gal pals, sisters Kristina and Karissa Shannon:

Frame 3.

Frame 4.

Frame 5.

Frame 6. Bunny Factsheet

Notice how bunnies Kristina and Karissa Shannon 'pose' with their happy-go-lucky 'dad' Patrick (Frame 6, bottom middle), who is enjoying every moment of the attention his daughters attract. Of course, Mr Hefner pays Patrick's daughters well for doing human kind the favor of revealing their assets and there's a lot of young booty to devour at the Mansion parties Patrick attends with his girls. It's a win-win situation for everyone.

Proud, lucky dad.

The Bunny Factsheet tells us, Kristina and Karissa are turned on by tall, dark and handsome men who have good hygiene. They also love every day they spend at the Playboy Mansion with Hef; they're Hef's girlfriends. While their mutual boyfriend seems to turn them both on quite well, the sisters are taller than Mr Hefner (Mr Hefner is 5'9"). Hef also needs some tanning and at 89 only as handsome as any other American male his age, which generally isn't that handsome for 20 something blondes world wide (But then Scarlett Johansson has a crush on Sir Connery. It's a complicated world). And Hef's hygiene is a class of its own (read this). Even though their lover falls a little short of their turn-on standards, the Shannon twins are glued to the Mansion 24/7.

Who are Kristina and Karissa in love with then? You guessed it right. The old gentleman's tall, dark and handsome chequebook.

Today, people don't have time for what they need, don't have enough of what they want and don't know what they love. It's a screwed up world where we live in the grey zone between black and white; black scares us shitless and white is too much for us to handle. We believe we evolve, while all we do is consume more and more bottled water and MREs and become more efficient polluters of the planet. We measure our growth in terms of GDP and other similar acronyms and intimidate our foes with facts and figures while impressing our pals with graphs and pie-charts. Our bodies feed on decaffeinated, sugary junk and our egos on dot-com bubbles, economic masterpieces and status symbols. We'd rather go naked than wear fur and would rather invest in stocks than in education. We intend to conserve fossil fuel and go green but tend to make and sell and buy more and more Hummers and Escalades. We need social, religious and ethnic tolerance which sure needs high morals when we jerk off to naked siblings groping at each other's curves. And then we have dads that love to showcase their kids titties for money. Of course the kids sleep with successful, rich old men for money. You don't need a Webster's Collegiate to know its pimping and prostitution; two of history's oldest professions.

Evolution? Development? Leap into the future?

Where the hell are we headed?

As we glamorize personal freedom and march to the tune of self-centered existentialism, we must remember that we need traffic lights to regulate our roads and highways, that we need brake pedals to keep the speed in check, that we need law to fight crime.

That we need morals for us to be the champions of all life form.

Jaago. Jagaao.

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All images extracted from Playboy USA (July/August 2009, except the last one, which comes from a Playboy T-shirt ad).

Connect the Dots, Color the Picture. And Live.

Chak 123/GB
Punjab.

Someone broke into Shareef Miskeen's house and stole the last bag of grain his wife had stowed away for the winters. It was a poor neighborhood and grain was their lifeline through the haze and chilly winds. Shareef was not home and his son was away tending the flock to what was left of grass in the nearby meadow. Afeefa, Shareef's wife called for help and soon the townsfolk converged on the crime scene.

Used to as they were, the men and the women, even the kids, began sharing her sorrow in their own way. They all expressed their sympathy, told her how bad an act it was and condemned the scoundrel. Chacha Allah Rakha informed all of a string of such unfortunate incidents taking place all over the tehsil. People speculated. Chachi Allah Rakhi yearned for the good ol' times when you didn't have to worry about such mischief and corruption. Ashraf Bhai, weary of the indifference all displayed, declared he was going to call the Chak's khoji. All appreciated his concern, few even offered to accompany him to the Khoji's. And they set off on their newfound quest.

Diyaanetdaar Khoji's household was the last to keep this centuries old tradition alive in the tehsil. He was in his nineties and too old to work. His two sons, Samajhdaar Khoji and Zaahirdaar Khoji helped people follow and nab thieves. When Ashraf Bhai and his companions arrived at Diyaanetdaar's house, they were disappointed to learn that Samajhdaar had fallen ill and Zaahirdaar was with the cattle. They rushed to the meadow, found Zaahirdar, told him they had come for his help and asked him to come along. Zaahirdaar obliged.

Arriving at Shareef's house, Zaahirdaar quickly got down to business. His method was meticulous, his movements precise, his gaze observant. Like a predator he touched, smelled and looked for clues left by the thief. It wasn't long before he was able to isolate a set of alien foot prints tranversing the boundry wall. He straightened his back, cleared his throat and asked for everyone's attention: 'Our man here, let's call him Uchakka, is a well built fellow. He's tall, has long, strong legs and can run really fast. He limps with his right leg and this can give him away. He's wearing a Peshawari and his right heel bleeds. He is injured.'
'You have identified the man well my son, now tell us where did he go. Where do we head from here?' asked Chacha Allah Rakha. 'This shoe he wears is not worn in our Chak anymore. It is too expensive. He came from a place where people who can afford such shoes live. He's a rich man.' came the reply. 'But where do we go now?' 'Be specific, what you tell us is nothing but vague.' All present were more than eager to run after the culprit and nab him and beat him blue. They knew every passing minute was a minute wasted.

But Zaahirdaar would just lead them to the next print and start all over again: the thief was tall, strong, a fast runner, injured in one leg and limping. And he was rich. And someone would tell a story of a similar incident where they had been unable to find the thief and Afeefa would sigh with grief.

It was well past noon now and the congregation had started to thin out. It seemed they would never be able to catch the thief. Ashraf Bhai decided to go and ask Samajhdaar Khoji for his help. Samajhdaar, too ill to go out, told Ashraf to convey a message to Zaahirdaar. Ashraf hurried to the scene, did as he was told and they were able to locate where the prints were headed. The thief was caught and the bag of grains returned to Shareef's wife.

Samajhdaar Khoji asked Ashraf Bhai to tell Zaahirdaar to connect the foot prints. Plain and simple.

Today, a bomb blast makes a foot print in our history, same as the one Uchakka left in the dirt. We analyze it. We look at it from different angles. We try to figure out who did it. Some times we succeed, some times we don't. What we fail to do almost every time is to connect the dots. And if someone does connect the dots, he's busy with his life. And those who care to help, are seldom heard.

Robert Fulgham wrote a book titled 'All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten'.

Why don't we just connect the dots and make a picture as we did when we were young. Why don't we color the picture and take a step back to look at it in its enitirety. Why don't we pay heed to those who've already done that. Is a single dot so beautiful. Is a single foot print so worthy of our attention. Are we afraid of the complete picture?

I guess we're too weak to have the will to survive. And yes we're busy. Busy squandering our resources. And we're too middle class to leave the comfort of our shells and take risks. And we're too consumer to be creative enough to do all the connecting and coloring. It all takes time and effort, and time is what we never have had enough. So many movies to watch, so many songs to listen to, so many softwares to download. So many parties to attend, so many luxuries to live for. And such short life. Who needs to connect the dots.

Kiss our ass good-bye. That's where we're headed. You know it. I know it too. You're okay with it. I guess I am too.