The following is an excerpt from an actual conversation between Conrad Noir and Marco Sparks last night. Yes, this is what they’re really like…

Marco Sparks: So, you’ll never believe this dream I had the other night…

Conrad Noir: I don’t know if I’m really up for a conversation about your hopes and dreams, man.

Marco: Well, when I say “dream,” what I really mean is sweaty, dread-dripping nightmare.

Conrad: Oh yeah? Shit. Nevermind. You know I’m all ears for that. Shoot.

Marco: Well, I’ll tell you about the nightmare in a second, but first let me tell you about my Saturday night…

Conrad: Always a catch, isn’t there? Shit. Okay, tell me about your Saturday ni-

Marco: It was awesome. But then, later on, I was just trying to go sleep, right? And it’s late, I don’t remember the time, but late. So I turn on the TV and put it on mute, just wanting some flickering light and alpha wave manipulation in the room. Or something.

Conrad: Sure, sure. Perfectly normal.

Marco: So then I lay down on the bed. The room I’m in though, there’s no remote. Or, if there is, fuck if I know where it is.

Conrad: Oh, yeah, man’s constant struggle.

Marco: Right, so I’m stuck with whatever the channel is because, well, I’m lazy.

Conrad: I feel that.

Marco: In this particular case, it was A&E. The former Arts & Entertainment channel.

Conrad: “Former” being the operative word.

Marco: Seriously. Airing that late evening/early morning was a seeming non stop marathon of CSI: Miami episodes.

Conrad: Wow. Ouch.

Marco: Ouch is right. And let me tell you, I could not sleep with that on.

Conrad: How do you mean?

Marco: Every five seconds they cut back to a shot of David Caruso! Constantly! And let me tell you, Caruso has two emotional speeds on that show. The first: Putting on his sunglasses. The second: Taking them off again. People could be on fire, running around screaming, bits of their skin melting off or whatever as creatures of the apocalypse commit homicides or devour souls or just what have you, and Caruso’s cool as Fonzie the whole fucking time.

Conrad: That seems accurate with the little bits of it I’ve caught occasionally.

Marco: Also, it’s freakishly bright. Like, too bright and dayglo for even Miami.

Conrad: Okay.

Marco: It would not let me sleep! I turned over, looked at the flickering light patterns on the wall, like some kind of twisted variation on Plato’s Cave and I felt like Caruso was picking me up from the airport and driving me straight to madness!

Conrad: Caruso’s like that.

Marco: This is the guy from NYPD Blue to subjected America to his ass. Why would you want to see this man’s ass?!

Conrad: Or Dennis Franz for that matter.

Marco: Well… obviously. But, so I lay there, squeezing my eyes shut. But it was no good, man. I knew that Caruso was in the room with me. Putting his fucking sunglasses on. Or worse.

Conrad: Worse?

Marco: He could’ve been taking them off again…

Conrad: Okay, so this was the nightmare?

Marco: Oh, no, this was real. Deadly real. Eventually I must’ve passed out from all the stress of his ontological torture and when I woke up, of course, A&E was still on, right?

Conrad: Yeah, of course.

Marco: So, the sun is shining through the window, birds are chirping little songs and I’m a little tired, but I’m breathing a sigh of relief. I’m all like, “Thank God, it’s morning, I made it. I survived!”

Conrad: This is going somewhere bad, isn’t it?

Marco: You bet your goofy ass it is, my friend. Because there on the TV…

Conrad: Yeah?

Marco: Motherfucking Chris Daughtry was on the TV. Somebody was actually interviewing him!

Conrad: Ugh. Gross.

Marco: Exactly! Why would anyone want to interview that fucker? Why is he on the TV? Why did my day have to start with these violent images? It was like… last night I couldn’t enter the domain of sleep and now… Now I can’t be awake with this in the world!

Conrad: I feel like I need a drink now.

Marco: Me too. From just, you know, reliving that traumatic experience. From being the plaything of the sandman.

Conrad: So what was the nightmare?

Marco: Oh, the nightmare. Yeah, sorry. That was last night. I was like in a room, but I wasn’t. I was like “the camera” or whatever. Anyway, there was a little boy and he was trapped in the room. No windows, yet there was moonlight slipping around. And he was sleeping like a little shit does and then goblins crawled out of the cracks in the walls and out from under the bed and cut off his eyelids or something.

Conrad: Damn. I like that. I mean, that’s seriously creepy.

Marco: Yeah, it was something. When I woke up, I knew you’d love it.

Conrad: You were right. And goblins, you say? Wow. Goblins. That part is especially wild. People don’t throw around the word “goblins” all that much anymore.

Marco: Let me tell you something about goblins, my friend. Something you may not know. Something very few people may actually know.

Conrad: Do it.

Marco: Goblins, man. They’re no joke. They’re fucking scary, and they’re fucked up. And they will fuck you up. You understand me?

Conrad: Yes, I believe I do. But let’s talk about something important now. Let’s talk about me and my dreams. And my nightmares.

Marco: Take aim and fire away, baby.

Conrad: So, you know, I’ve been taking melatonin a lot lately, right?

Marco: Cause you can’t get your hands on ambien, right?

Conrad: Yeah, sorta. I got tricked into trying to go all natural, which is a sham. Whenever in doubt, just go with hard drugs.

Marco: Put that on a t-shirt.

Conrad: Don’t tempt me.

Marco: But I feel you. I have several friends who don’t realize they’re becoming recreational vicodin addicts, which is cool, cause this is America and shit. But I can’t do that stuff anymore. It gives me freaky nightmares. I mean, genuinely freaky nightmares. Like, where the goblins show up and tell me I’ll have erectile dysfunction for the rest of my life and or will be forever locked in a mortgage I can’t afford.

Conrad: As long as you’re not longer dreaming about Avril Lavigne, you’ll be fine.

Marco: I’ll have you know: That was a very special time in my life.

Conrad: Anyway… me. And my nightmare.

Marco: Do it.

Conrad: So, I guess you’re supposed to take melatonin only so much, right? Until it stirs up your… well, I don’t know. Something. Some kind of chemical. I’m not a trained doctor or anything. But you take it short term, you get some rest, you move on.

Marco: Gotcha.

Conrad: But I keep taking it because it gives me juicy nightmares. And I’m a horror movie fan.

Marco: I remember that you were a Freddy guy more than a Jason guy.

Conrad: Exactly! Anyway, so the one I had last night… Wowza.

Marco: Oh?

Conrad: Oh yeah. So I’m like wandering around in this fucked up, dark version of Chuck E. Cheese’s, right?

Marco: This already sounds terrifying.

Conrad: Oh, it was. Believe you me. It so was. And there’s all these fat, sweaty white people around me.

Marco: Your ultimate nightmare.

Conrad: My ultimate daymare, you mean. But there they are. And there’s famous gross white people there too. Like Jeffrey Dahmer.

Marco: I remember that Peanut used to date a guy who looked like Jeffrey Dahmer. Man, I hated that guy.

Conrad: Me too. Well, Dahmer, anyway. But he was the guy who, later on I discovered, didn’t belong in the dream. But there was other famous people too. Like Mary Kay Letourneau. And Roman Polanski. And Joey Buttafuoco. And Debra Lafave. And Pete Townshend. And Bobby Fisher. And Gary Glitter!

Marco: Oh shit. You were at a child molester convention!

Conrad: Exactly. By accident, of course. Once I realized what was going on, I was like, “Oh shit, I gotta get the fuck outta here!”

Marco: Shit. I hope so.

Conrad: So I take off for the door, right? But right as I get to it, I notice the little bulletin board listing who all the speakers are going to be at this thing.

Marco: So, it was like a proper convention then? With speakers and talks and things?

Conrad: Yes! Terrifying, right?

Marco: Very.

Conrad: So I’m running my finger down the board, just looking at all the famous names. I remember that R. Kelly was on there, of course.

Marco: Right. Yeah. “Age ain’t nothing but a number,” after all.

Conrad: And then I get to the end. The keynote speaker.

Marco: Ooh, this is going to be good, isn’t it? Who was it?

Conrad: I’m not bullshitting you here. It was Jon Gosselin.

Marco: Oh… wow.

Conrad: I know, right?

Marco: Yeah. Wow. Eeesh.

Conrad: But, whereas everyone else had their name and like a title of what their speech was going to be about or whatever, after his name… there was just one word. One single word.

Marco: What was it?

Conrad: It was simply… “Gangsta.”

Marco: Oh. My.

Conrad: Uh huh. It shocked me away. And I sat there, in my bed, just catching my breath from the sheer intensity of the thing. And I just whispered it back to myself. “Gangsta.”

Marco: Wow…

Conrad: Yeah, I know.

Marco: Yeah.

Conrad: Yeah.

Marco: Yeah, uh… let’s talk about something else, okay?

Sulla mimica facciale di Garry Kasparov vi è amplia documentazione, tale che varrebbe la pena di scriverci un libro.

In questo curioso video, il più forte giocatore di scacchi di tutti i tempi si trova in posizione vincente contro l’attuale Campione del Mondo Vishy Anand!

Siamo nel 1996 è l’ultima partita del match blitz e Garry che si trova in vantaggio vincente cattura con la propria regina un alfiere in e3, ma lascia sguarnito il pedone in g4 ed Anand ne approfitta per conquistare un vantaggio decisivo che gli varrà anche la vittoria del torneo!

Garry è sbalordito, i suoi occhi parlano più di mille parole; questo video è passato alla storia ed è uno sponsor di eccelenza per la “Credit Suisse”, ora che i riflettori sono spenti si può riflettere su quanto abbia fruttato al Campione del Mondo una tale rappresentazione teatrale. 

Kasparov insegna che se si perde lo si può fare con stile, il suo non mi sembra tra i più eleganti, d’altronde non è mai eccelso in compostezza, Garry è sempre stato l’antagonista per eccellenza, per sua fortuna ha trovato in Karpov il rivale che rappresentava il Sistema. Il suo talento e la sua megalomania hanno trovato sulla scacchiera, terreno fertile sul quale prosperare, a chi lo avrebbe voluto vedere opposto a Bobby, suggerisco l’idea che il GM di Baku sia il naturale erede del geniale americano ed il suo più grande errore è stato quello di rifiutare il confronto entro le 64 caselle.

“I despise the media. … They’re destroying reality, turning everything into media.” (Bobby Fisher)

Assuming the NWO hasn’t enslaved all of humanity by 2027, I predict that the Holocaust Myth (6,000,000, Gas Chambers, Lampshades, every Kraut pure evil, etc) will be looked back on with amusement, the same way we now laugh at tales of phrenology, leeches, doctors prescribing cocaine, the tulip bulb bubble and burst and other bizarre historical developments.

I believe that the Bomba of Treblinka will become a stock figure of absurdist comedy by then (assuming some changes regarding the ownership of the infotainment industry take place first).

“Who is this Bomba of Treblinka?” you ask? Read on. Read on. [Video here.] And have a good laugh, or cry, depending on your temperament.

From Chapter 11 of Bradley R. Smith’s Confessions of a Holocaust Revisionist (1986), about “the most documented atrocity in human history”:

I HAVE NOW SEEN the complete nine and one half hour documentary Shoah, which purports to be “An Oral History of the Holocaust.” It was produced, directed, narrated and is now being promoted by Claude Lanzmann. From the newspapers I gather that Lanzmann is an assimilated French Jew who speaks neither Hebrew nor Yiddish. He is presently 60 years old. He worked as a journalist for many years in association with Jean Paul Sartre and Les Temps Modernes until 1970, when he turned his attention to making movies.

That is, Claude Lanzmann worked for twenty-five years in the eye of the intellectual storms that swept across France following the end of World War II. As a journalist he certainly learned during those twenty-five years how to conduct professional interviews. He certainly learned, through his associations with Sartre, de Beauvior, Camus and those who criticized the great triad, how to pursue a train of thought, considering the high-powered company he kept. It’s a real eye-opener then to watch Lanzmann reveal his intellectual corruption in scene after scene of this shoddy movie, which he claims took ten years to complete.

My favorite interview in Shoah is the one with Abraham Bomba, the Barber of Treblinka. I’m not alone in my fondness for Bomba either. Many critics have commented on his performance. They gave him rave reviews. George Will of ABC Television, for example, wrote in the Washington Post that Bomb’s narrative was “the most stunning episode in this shattering film.”

Some eyewitnesses to alleged gas chamber horrors recount stories that are so lacking in credibility that they can be dismissed out of hand. Others repeat stories that cannot easily be shown to be false but reveal the characters of the tale-bearers to be so sniveling and shameless that one feels compromised by even listening to them. Bomba is becoming an important character in the Holocaust-survivor-eyewitness scenario in that he embodies much of both of these characteristics.

The way Bomba tells the story, he had been interned in Treblinka about four weeks when the Germans announced that they wanted some barbers for a special detail. Bomba volunteered, of course, then helped the SS identify 16 other Jewish barber among the internees. They were all taken to the second part of the camp where the alleged gas chamber was. They were led inside the gas chambers where a Kapo (almost certainly a Jew) explained that the 17 barbers were to shear the hair from the woman who would arrive to be gassed. Lanzmann asked Bomba about the greatest murder weapon of all time, the German homicidal poison gas chamber.

Lanzmann: “How did it look, the gas chamber?”

Bomba: “It was not a big room, around twelve feet by twelve feet.”

[Yes, this Pole uses imperial measures when speaking to the French director.]

And there you have it. Claude Lanzmann is finished with his in-depth investigation of how the Treblinka gas chamber looked. It takes all kinds. If I had been in Lanzamann’s shoes I could have thought of a few more questions to ask about “how it looked.” Particularly if I had some feelings about the stories that maybe a million of my kinsmen had been exterminated in it. Maybe I would have wanted to know what Bomba could tell me about what material the walls of the gas chamber were made of – what the roof was made of. How would Bomba describe the ventilation system? Where and how, exactly, did the “gas” enter the room? Maybe Bomba would have remembered if the room had been illuminated or not. If it had been, how? What were the doors made of? How did they seal so that the “gas” could not escape? As historians have not bothered to ask these simple questions, Lanzmann could have done their work for them and helped uncover one of the great mysteries of the 20th century — how the fabled Nazi gas chambers really looked.

As to whether Bomba is being honest about having seen a gas chamber at Treblinka consider Rachel Auerbach’s description of that gas chamber in her The Death Camp Treblinka. Auerbach is given a place of honor in this, the most comprehensive book published on the camp. As she was (she died in 1976) a permanent research staff member of the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial museum in Jerusalem, her description of the gas chamber should not be dismissed out of hand.

“The floor of the gas chamber was sloping and slippery. The first ones in would slip and fall, never to rise again. Those who followed would topple over them . . . . About 25 to 45 minutes later — [after the "gassing" began, that is] — the chutes on the other side could be opened and the corpses tumbled out.”

It would seem that while he was being interviewed for Shoah Mr. Bomba forgot about how slippery the floor is supposed to have been in his little gas chamber. It seems he forgot how it slanted steeply in the direction of the chutes. As a matter of fact, Mr. Bomba forgot to mention the chutes. If Lanzmann had read the literature even superficially he would have been aware that Bomba was leaving a few things out of his story. As Lanzmann claims he worked for ten years on Shoah, I’m going to guess that Lanzmann is aware of Auerbach’s description of the Treblinka gas chamber and chooses to ignore it.

Lanzmann: “Can you describe precisely?

Bomba: “Describe precisely . . . . We were waiting there . . . inside the gas chamber . . . until the transport came in. Women with children pushed into that place . . . . They were undressed, naked, without clothes, without anything else — completely naked — because they come from the undressing barrack . . . where they had undressed themselves.”

Lanzmann: “What did you feel the first time you saw all those naked women?”

Bomba: “I felt that accordingly I got to do what they . . . [Germans] . . . told me, to cut their hair . . . .

There you have in a nut shell how eye witnesses to the gas chamber atrocities typically describe their behavior. They did whatever the Germans or anyone else requested of them. When they received a request to help prepare their kinsmen — and even their own families as well as shall soon see — to be exterminated, or genocided or whatever, these fellows say they hopped right to it. I don’t believe them, but that’s the persona that they have chosen to project to the world at large. In the neighborhood where I grew up men who behaved like Bomba claims he behaved would have been spit on. In the upside-down world of Holocaust survivordom, however , the Abraham Bombas are seen as martyrs and even heroes. It’s a peculiar psychological slant on manly behavior.

[And of course the Jewish women and children are supposed to have just politely filed through, making sure not to mess up the famous Teutonic efficiency with any silly scenes. We're supposed to believe that Jews are just docile animals. See how this film product was used to traumatize Idahoan youngsters.]

Lanzmann expresses a little more curiosity about how Bomba cut his (for hasn’t Bomba according to his own story become a working partner in the alleged genocide of his people?) victims’ hair than he did about how the gas chamber looked. He asked if Bomba had shaved them, if he had used scissors, and if there had not been mirrors available inside the gas chamber. Bomba said that he did not shave the women, and that the Germans had not provided the barbers with mirrors.

Lanzmann: “There were no mirrors?”

Bomba: “No, there were no mirrors. There were just benches – not chairs, just benches . . . .

There’s an interesting note. According to Bomba the Germans had provided benches inside the little gas chamber for the ladies and their children to sit on. We’re not told how many benches. There could have been 17 individual ones, but more likely Bomba would have said — if Lanzmann had thought to ask him — that there were maybe four or five, half a dozen perhaps. Two or more ladies with their kids could have sat on each bench. No matter how you slice it, traffic is picking up. Seventeen barbers, the benches for 17, and now the 17 women and their kids are all there together inside the gas chamber, which is about the size of a small bedroom in the rear of an ordinary tract house — and the hair is flying. But we’re not finished yet:

Lanzmann: “You said there were about sixteen . . . [Lanzmann has forgotten that Bomba makes the seventeenth] . . . barbers? You cut the hair of how many women in a one batch?”

Bomba: “In one day there was about, I would say, going into that place between sixty and seventy women in the same room at one time.”

You might think that Claude Lanzmann is about to express some doubt about how Bomba is blocking out this scene for him. Sixty to seventy naked women in the 12-square-foot room. Lanzmann isn’t going to express doubt, however, about anything told to him by a survivor. Lanzmann is a Holocaust fundamentalist. The role of the fundamentalist in any cult is to accept absolutely the testimony of those who claim to have been eyewitnesses to the original sacred event. Once the original story is made to fly, the most elegant minds can elaborate on it endlessly in good faith.

Two thousand years ago there were Jews who believed utterly that the son of their God had been nailed to a pole and executed and that he rose from his tomb to sail off the planet into the heavens. That tale was a runaway hit. Now we have Jews everywhere committed to the proposition that millions of them were exterminated in itty-bitty gas chambers, were cremated, and rose up toward the heavens in smoke. This one has all the signs of becoming a real blockbuster too. We Gentiles used to be made of sterner stuff. It took the Jesus story more than three hundred years to be accepted as Truth by the State. In our own time the State bought the Holocaust story at the first screening.

What was the rush, one wonders?

Lanzmann urged Bomba to say something more about how he felt as he went about preparing the women and their children to be exterminated. Something more perhaps than the homely: “I felt that accordingly I got to do what they told me, to cut their hair . . . .”

Bomba: “I tell you something. To have a feeling about that . . . It was very hard to feel anything . . . your feelings disappeared, you were dead. You had no feeling at all.”

This is a universal response by eyewitnesses to the alleged gas chamber murders. The claim Bomba makes that his feelings were “dead,” that he had “no feeling at all,” resembles the “temporary insanity” claim murderers use to diminish their responsibility for their behavior in the eye of the State. The ordinary murderer claims that his mental process was so diminished at the time he murdered that he was not responsible for his act. The eyewitness to the alleged gas chamber murders claims that his sensibilities were so diminished while he worked as a link in the murder process that he was not responsible for his behavior. The murderer was out of his “mind,” while gas-chamber eyewitnesses ran out of “feeling.” When Bomba describes himself as being inwardly “dead’ he is saying that he cannot be judged guilty of being an accomplice to mass murder. He can accuse Germans of whatever he likes — participate in the crimes he accuses them of — yet remain forever innocent while Germans remain forever guilty. It’s a nice set-up.

In the film Bomba goes on to illustrate how dead he was inwardly while working for the SS at Treblinka. He describes how he shared the hair from women he knew personally from his home town, from his own street:

“. . . and some of them were my close friends.” They would ask Abe: “What’s going to happen to us?” But Abe would hold his tongue. With Abe it was just snip, snip, snip. “What could you tell them?,” he asks Lanzmann. “What could you tell?”

Snip, snip, snip.

Now Bomba relate to Lanzmann the story that reviewers have remarked on more than any other in Shoah.

“Bomba A friend of mine worked as a barber — he was good barber in my hometown — when his wife and his sister came into the gas chamber . . . . I can’t. It’s too horrible. Please.

Lanzmann: “We have to do it. You know it.”

Bomba: (holding back tears) “I won’t be able to do it.”

Lanzmann: (very quietly) “You have to do it. I know it’s very hard. I know and I apologize.”

Bomba : (struggling) “Don’t make me go on, please.”

Lanzmann: “Please. We must go on.”

Bomba: (unable to control tears, leaving the frame for a moment, returning) “I told you it’s going to be very hard. They were taking that . . . [hair] . . . in bags and transporting it to Germany.”

Lanzmann: “Okay, go ahead. What was his answer when his wife and sister came?”

Bomba: “They tried to talk to him and the husband of his sister. They could not tell him this was the last time they stay alive, because behind them was the German Nazis, SS, and they knew that if they said a word, not only the wife and the woman, who were dead already, but also they would share the same thing with them. In a way, they tried to do the best for them, with a second longer, a minute longer, just to hug them and kiss them, because they knew they would never see them again.”

To tell the truth, this is my kind of story, simple and lurid. There is also some new information in it. In addition to the 60 to 70 women and their kids, and the barbers and the benches, there were also “SS men” inside the 12-foot by 12-foot gas chamber. We don’t know how many, but as Bomba speaks in the plural he must mean that there were at least two. If Lanzmann had thought to ask him about it, Bomba might have said that there were 10 or 15 SS men in there. And then there is the welcome news that the SS would allow the Barbers to hug and kiss certain of the naked women inside the gas chamber. Bomba speaks only of married couples. Lanzmann might have asked perhaps how the SS were able to identify which of the naked women were married to which of the barbers. It must be doubtful that the naked women entered the gas chamber carrying their marriage certificates. Maybe the barbers had previously petitioned the SS to keep their own copies of their marriage certificates on the chance that just such a reunion as Bomba claims he witnessed would take place. On the other hand, maybe the SS men took the barber’s word for who was married and who wasn’t. If they did, it would betray a generosity of spirit that is not usually ascribed to the SS by Jewish survivors.

Imagine trying to visualize this scene from the wife’s point of view. Try imagining what might have gone through her mind at the moment she spied her husband. The hope that must have jumped in her heart. Then what her thoughts were as her husband sheared off her hair without speaking to her. Imagine what she must have felt as he held her silently for a minute or so, his cheek pressed lovingly against her scalp, then turned with scissors and comb to the next patient lady waiting her turn. Did his wife run her fingers over her skull and think:

“Ah, I’ve always known what kind of man you are. A schmuck when I married you and a schmuck today.”

There are a number of observations that can be made about my presentation of Lanzmann’s presentation of Bomba’s testimony. It could be observed that while Rachel Auerbach’s research suggests that Bomba is inventing his gas chamber story out of whole cloth, it can still be claimed that we are left with Auerbach’s scholarly outline of the alleged Treblinka gas chambers. Therefore, while Bomba’s investigations may destroy his own credibility as a witness, the Treblinka gas chamber story itself remains as it was, an extensively documented story of a weapon used to annihilate about a million Jews. To give you a quick fix on Ms. Auerbach’s scholarly instincts and her even-handed objectivity, I will quote from her famous essay “In the Fields of Treblinka.”

As I read such passages in Rachel Auerbach’s essay I take the trouble to remind myself that after the war was she was “one of the first active members of the Jewish Historical Committee in Poland;” that after emigrating to Israel she became a “permanent research staff member of the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial Museum,” and that this In-the-Fields-of-Treblinka essay was thought worthy of reprinting as recently as 1979 by The Holocaust Library, which was found and is managed by survivors themselves and is distributed by a major Jewish publishing house, Shocken Books.

“Polish people still talk about the way soap was manufactured from the bodies of Jews. ‘Sent away for soap!’ was the expression the Poles would use when they spoke of transports to Treblinka, Belzec and Sobibor. The discovery of Professor Spanner’s soap factory in Langfuhr near Danzig proved that their suspicious had been well founded. Witnesses tell us that when the corpses were burned on pyres, pans would be placed beneath the racks to catch the fat as it ran off, but this has not been confirmed. But even if the Germans in Treblinka or at any of the other death factories failed to do this, and allowed so many tons of precious fat to go to waste, it could only have been an oversight on their part. They were fully capable of doing things like that. It was entirely in keeping with their proclivities. Only the newness of this branch of manufacturing was to blame for this omission. If the Germans ever would make another drive across Europe, they would not make this mistake again.”

Professors Spanner’s “soap factory” in Langfuhr near Danzing was apparently an invention of active members of self-proclaimed Jewish historical committees, based upon the entrepreneurial reports of professional slanderers, and has since been kept alive by research staffs at Jewish Holocaust memorials around the world. A photograph of this “factory,” with no documentation, appears in the scholarly Encyclopedia Judacia, published in Israel and shelved in many of the larger libraries across the United states.

[Of course, this was written in 1986. Now, in 2009, every "official" Holocaust "scholar" admits that this soapy tale is a disgusting and stupid lie ... "but the rest of the story is true!"]

…

Washington Post columnist and ABC Television commentator, George Will…has written a column about Shoah where he makes a remarkable observation.

“The most stunning episode in this shattering film lasts about five minutes and involves ‘only’ the talk of a barber now in Israel. While he clips the hair of a customer he talks, never needing to raise his voice to be heard over the small sounds of a familiar ambiance. He describes his duties in Treblinka, cutting hair from naked women on the threshold of the gas chamber, and the day a fellow barber saw his wife and sister enter the room.”

Remarkable, eh? Cutting hair from naked women on the “threshold” of the gas chamber. Do you see it? The threshold is the place directly below the door to a room. A door sill perhaps. An entrance or a doorway. According to Mr. Webster it is a “place or point of beginning.” Taking Mr. Will’s own obvious assessment of himself, he is the proud possessor of a formidably organized intellect. A man who always distinguishes carefully between similar but different points of fact. While doing so enrages those lesser men who cannot do it themselves, it gives Mr. Will a lot of pleasure, which is why he does it so regularly. That being so, what am I to make of the fact that Mr. Will has changed the wording of Mr. Bomba’s testimony?

Lanzmann: “Excuse me. How did it happen when the women came into the gas chamber? Were you yourself already in the gas chamber?”

Bomba: “I said we were already in the gas chamber, waiting over there for the transport to come in. Inside the gas chamber — we were already in.”

If Mr. Bomba swears that he was inside the gas chamber at that particular time, why does Mr. Will write that he barbed those naked women on the “threshold” of the gas chamber? Mr. Bomba can be seen on film saying that he was inside the gas chamber when he did it. In the text of the film published by Mr. Lanzmann, Mr. Bomba again insists he was inside the thing. What happened in Mr. Will’s brain as he wrote “threshold” rather than “inside” or “in?” Is it possible that Mr. Will found Mr. Bomba’s story ludicrous? He wouldn’t want to say so publicly of course as Mr. Will is one of our brightest and best Holocaust fundamentalists. Nevertheless, having the kind of relentlessly rational mind that he does, something at the bottom of it might not have bought Mr. Bomba’s story the way Mr. Will would have preferred to buy it. Maybe a single wire got crossed in the depths of Mr. Will’s brain, out of the millions that are twisted around in there. Maybe Mr. Will wanted to express some doubt about Mr. Bomba’s story but could not bring himself to do it. He may have been in that peculiar place where writers sometimes find themselves — smart enough to know that something needs to be said but without enough character to go ahead and say it. When this happens it causes a psychological malfunction known as writer’s block. Mr. Will isn’t the sort to be bothered with writer’s block, he has the habit of full production, but if he wasn’t going to spill the beans he had to turn somewhere. It looks like he turned to invention. I suppose in the moment it was easy enough for a man wired the way Mr. Will is wired to invent a threshold image and use it to replace the one Mr. Bomba invented. You can judge how much more intelligent Mr. Will is than Mr. Bomba when you compare the rationality of their two opposing visualizations.

Now that Mr. Will had Mr. Bomba on the threshold of the gas chamber rather than inside it, Mr. Will could go on indulging his fantasy about Mr. Lanzmann’s Shoah. As the threshold to an exterior door not only leads inside, but turning about leads to the great outdoors and indeed to the survivors who claim to have actually seen a homicidal poison gas chamber. In this scenario, as the eyewitness testimony is not allowed to be challenged, the genocide theory can not be challenged either, and if that is so then European Jews had every right to conquer Palestine and the U.S. Government is morally obligated to protect forever the Israeli State. That is the line that has been spoon-fed to American so successfully for 40 years now.

…

Jews are being betrayed by their own spokesmen, and they are being betrayed by gentiles who profess to be friends and allies of the Jewish community but who in reality are merely supporters of a Zionist leadership, entrapped by the rhetoric of the Holocaust Lobby, too ashamed to reveal the immense fraud and falsehood on which so much of its influence has been built.

So Jews like hearing that they are cowards  who will do anything to stay alive, and sheeple who just shuffle off to oblilion? What they get out of that I can’t figure out. Why do they want to jail people who argue that Jews couldn’t be so depraved and pathetic?

No wonder Bobby Fisher couldn’t take it any more:

The Jews. … Those filthy, filthy bastards. You know they’re trying to take over the world? …  You know they invented the Holocaust story? There’s no such … There was no holocaust of the Jews in World War II. … They’ve been pulling this shit from time immemorial about persecution. They’re a filthy, lying, bastard people. That’s all they ever do. That’s all they’ll ever be. There was no Holocaust. The Jews are liars. It’s time we took off the kid gloves with these parasites. … I intend to…expose the Jews for the criminals they are, the parasites they are, the liars they are, the thieves they are, the niggers they are. … What’s the difference between a good Jew and a bad Jew?  The good Jew fucks you slower. No lie is too big for a Jew, no lie is too small… Jews live by lying, and die with coming in contact with the truth. They’re lying bastards. Jews were always lying bastards throughout their history. They’re a filthy, dirty, disgusting, vile, criminal people. My main interest right now is to expose the Jews. This is alot bigger than me. They’re not just persecuting me. This is not just my struggle, I’m not just doing this for myself… This is life and death for the world. These God-damn Jews have to be stopped. They’re a menace to the whole world. The Jews have been hardened against Christ, against decency for thousands of years… They’re gonna have to be annihilated. America is totally under control of the Jews, you know. I mean, look what they’re doing in Yugoslavia… The Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defense are dirty Jews. They are subhuman. They are the scum of the Earth. When you talk about Jews, you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel of humanity. … Hopefully the Jews will get it in the neck soon. They have alot of enemies all over the world. These biological weapons are getting very cheap and easy to deliver. I’m optimistic, I’m hoping that Washington DC will be wiped out. … I’m very concerned because I think the Jews want to drive the elephants to extinction because the trunk of an elephant reminds them of an uncircumcised penis. I’m absolutely serious about that… Jews are sick, they’re mental cases. … Circumcision is a crime. The Jews say they know better than millions of years of evolution… The only road to sanity for the Jews is to admit that circumcision is a crime. … I was in Japan a couple of months ago, I saw a preview for the movie Pearl Harbor. And they showed the Japanese airplanes coming in to bomb Pearl Harbor, and I applauded. Nobody else in the theater applauded. … Look at the history of the United States. The history of the country is basically what? Get something for nothing, right? Take, kill. They invaded the country, they robbed the land of the American Indians, they killed almost all of them off… That’s the history of the United States. A despicable country. [September 11 2001] Jews are anti-social, destructive, intolerant, mean-spirited, deceitful, et cetera. They wish to destroy, rule and kill, rob whoever gets in their way. To facilitate them getting what they want, they have developed a perverted, unnatural, destructive, evil lifestyle. Even though they live off the non-Jews as parasites, they still hate them and wish to destroy them. Jews hate nature and the natural order, because it’s pure and beautiful, and also because it’s bigger and stronger than they are, and they feel that they can not fully control it. Nature’s beauty and harmony stands in stark contrast to their squalidness and ugliness, and that makes them hate it all the more. Jews are destroyers. They are anti-humans. The anti-human Jew hates and wants to destroy all non-Jews. He will also destroy even other Jews who are less destructive and evil than he is, if they get in his way. Apparently, the wickedness of the Jew is genetically based. Jews are destroyers. They are anti-humans. By the act of circumcision, the Jew shows his hatred towards nature and the natural order. By this bloody, cruel, senseless act, he shows his cruelty and sadism, and that he will stop at nothing to obtain his ends. Surely the Jews are also behind the Islamic circumcision, which serves as an ideal cover and distraction from their own wickedness in this regard. Jews are truly anti-human and anti-nature. Jews are intensely selfish, intolerant and anti-social, et cetera. They are full of hate, greed, malice, et cetera. Naturally, other people, i.e. the non-Jews, don’t like being bulldozed aside, robbed and murdered by the Jews, and will sooner or later resist. That is where the lies and deceit of the Jews come into place. … I don’t think there’ll be any peace until these Jews are dealt with … These people are animals, they’re just bastards, y’know. Absolute animals. … The United States is an illegitimate country, just like Israel. It has no right to exist. That country belongs to the Red man, the American Indian… It’s actually a shame to be a so-called American, because everybody living there is a usurper, an invader taking part in this crime, which is to rob the land, rob the country and kill all the American Indians. … The United States is evil. There’s this axis of evil. What about the allies of evil – the United States, England, Japan, Australia? These are the evildoers.

Wow!

I guess he was such a genius (more than that fraud Einstein), and so honest, that the whole Holocaust Business drove him mad. To be traumatized as a child with such inhuman horror stories, and to be raised thinking the whole world’s out to get you, and told that your people are depraved cowards; and then to realize how much lies and nonsense it is! Then he started handing out IHR (Institute for Historical Review) pamphlets, trying to tell everyone about the big scam. Of course no B’nai Brith hack would have dared debate him, so they just labeled him crazy. It must have been hard for him to manage. All he wanted to do was go back to his childhood and listen to sweet soul music.

Some pretentious wanker at Words Without Borders commented on the Bomba interview:

To undertake the task of translating this name: Shoah. Which, in Catalan—Xoà —retains indelible signs of its origin. Indeed, the paradox is that Catalanizing the word (the French is closer to transliteration), instead of making it familiar, only highlights its utter strangeness. A linguistic sign of the opacity that we wished to preserve by naming the film: the name Shoah is, by itself, an entire pedagogy of memory.

This inscription of otherness in a language is a sign of the inner struggle a translator faces—a struggle for anyone who, watching Shoah, accepts the task of viewer-translator assigned to him or her in turn. There, deep in their heart of hearts, the opacity of Abraham Bomba’s silence asks questions, points to the unspeakable, and forces each of us to fill the gap in our own language with an act of authorship. An act that in no way abolishes the lack of fundamental measure between the narration of this collective memory each viewer undertakes from his or her own crossroads of memory and the event named Shoah. On the contrary, it radically introduces the heterogeneity of these memories’ stories, the uniqueness of the account of any victim whose memory has been erased. The intimate experience of a radical lack of measure. An insurmountable discrepancy forever arising in the dialogue among the tenses of fidelity—memory, vision, plan.

That idiot wasn’t jailed but Bobby Fisher was!?

Murray Rothbard: “So why the unfair and out-of-line hysteria about Bobby? Well, it turns out that Bobby, an independent thinker in other fields than chess is definitely not Politically Correct. Apparently, even chess players are not allowed to stray beyond the narrow bounds of PC without being severely punished.”

Boris Spassky: “Bobby is a tragic personality… He is an honest and good natured man. Absolutely not social. He is not adaptable to everybody’s standards of life. He has a very high sense of justice and is unwilling to compromise as well as with his own conscience as with surrounding people. He is a person who is doing almost everything against himself. I would not like to defend or justify Bobby Fischer. He is what he is. I am asking only for one thing. For mercy, charity. If for some reason it is impossible, I would like to ask you the following: Please correct the mistake of President François Mitterand in 1992. Bobby and myself committed the same crime. Put sanctions against me also. Arrest me. And put me in the same cell with Bobby Fischer. And give us a chess set.”

Bobby Fisher: I don’t want [Spasky] in my cell. I want a chick in my cell.

Dick Cavett: “Among this year’s worst news, for me, was the death of Bobby Fischer. Telling a friend this, I got, “Are you out of your bloody mind? He was a Nazi-praising raving lunatic and anti-Semite. Death is too good for him.” He did, indeed, become all that. But none of it describes the man I knew.”

Ho già espresso il mio desiderio!

“All’età di undici anni sono improvvisamente diventato bravo.” BOBBY FISHER

Ieri sera, Gianantonio Me mi ha chiesto cosa stia aspettando a diventare FM (Fide Master – per i neofiti). 

C’è ne vuole Gianantonio… soprattutto di tempo per andare a giocare i tornei! Ho sempre troppe cose per la testa, tra le più disparate, sicché tra una briciola di politica, una briciola di sport, una briciola di cultura, avrei anche imparato l’arte e non avrei neanche voglia di metterla da parte, ma qua la pagnotta non lievita e tutte queste briciole non mi sfamano, mi rimane giusto l’acquolina in bocca.

Sicché spero che al 5° Festival Internazionale Città di Cattolica che quest’anno avrà un montepremi di circa € 6000, vengano a giocare tanti GM e magari troverò anche il tempo per fare qualche partita di torneo, che una lezione di scacchi non la si butta mai via!

Leggevo proprio questa mattina nel libro del più forte GM di tutti i tempi, il paragrafo dedicato al TALENTO:

Il titolo di Grande Maestro degli scacchi è generalmente usato per designare solo i migliori giocatori del mondo. Fu creato dallo zar Nicola II per i cinque finalisti del grande torneo del 1914, da lui patrocinato a San Pietroburgo. Più tardi il titolo fu adottato dalla Federazione internazionale degli scacchi (FIDE), che stabilì i requisiti necessari per ottenerlo. Inevitabilmente subì un’inflazione fino ad arrivare all’attuale situazione di mille Grandi Maestri sparsi in tutto il mondo. Ormai i GM sono talmente tanti che per distinguere i migliori giocatori vengono usati titoli non ufficiali come “super Grande Maestro”.

Mi sono sempre chiesto che cosa separi un giocatore d’elite, uno dei primi dieci del mondo, da molti altri eccellenti giocatori che non riescono a piazzarsi tra i primi venti o i primi cento. Purtroppo le ragioni di un fallimento sono numerose quanto quelle di un trionfo: è impossibile generalizzare. Ogni giocatore ha le proprie ragioni per riuscire o fallire: di queste, la più discussa è anche la preda più sfuggente, il talento.

Il concetto di talento ha così tante definizioni e sfumature che non c’è da stupirsi di quanti dubbi sorgano al momento di applicarlo. Per i bambini prodigio è facile, ma noi possiamo solo provare meraviglia di fronte alle doti di Mozart, che compone sinfonie all’età di cinque anni, e di Pascal, che a dodici anni creava originali teoremi geometrici scrivendoli sulle pareti della camera da letto.

Gli scacchi sono, con la musica e la matematica, uno dei pochi passatempi in cui si possono manifestare già molto presto eccezzionali doti di capacità e originalità. Nel 1918 un bimbo di sette anni, il polacco Samuel Reshevsky (Rzeszewski), fu portato in tournée per tutta Europa, vestito alla marinara, e sconfisse intere sale affollate di giocatori adulti. Si sa che José Raul Capablanca imparò il gioco a quattro anni osservando il padre giocare, e presto fu in grado di sostenere incontri con professionisti affermati. Sammy Reshesky fu rivoltato come un guanto da psicologi di ogni tipo alla ricerca della fonte delle sue miracolose capacità. Come è possibile che un semplice bambino riesca a gestire un gioco che è sinonimo di complessità e difficoltà?

Tutti abbiamo sentito raccontare storie di bambini precoci e in genere pensiamo che si tratti di individui nati con doni speciali. Eppure, anche i loro straordinari talenti hanno bisogno dell’opportunità di rivelarsi. Il dibattito su ciò che è naturale e ciò che è viceversa appreso non può essere risolto così facilmente. Oggi conosceremmo Mozart se suo padre fosse stato un pittore invece che un insegnante di musica?

Il mio sviluppo precoce sicuramente fu dovuto in gran parte a fattori esterni. La mia famiglia scoprì presto la mia naturale attitudine per gli scacchi. Mi padre Kim, che a quei tempi stava lottando contro la leucemia, decise di mandarmi a una scuola di scacchi quando avevo sette anni e mia madre appoggiò quell’idea con entusiasmo. Oggi mi ricorda spesso che la sua speranza di allora era di riuscire a controllare la mia testardaggine, più che non incoraggiarla, e racconta l’episodio di una telefonata della mia insegnante di seconda elementare che mi aveva castigato per averla contestata in classe. Quando mi aveva detto che non dovevo farlo più perché poi tutti avrebbero pensato che ero il più furbo, io avevo risposto: “Perché, non è vero?”. Non invidio i miei ex insegnanti. 

Quasi ogni bambino prodigio, qualunque sia la sua attività, può ringraziare qualche parente che ha dato una spinta al suo talento. Per quanto riguarda i fattori interni, so che non avrei potuto raggiungere in nessun altro campo il successo che ho raggiunto negli scacchi: il gioco si è unito a me in modo naturale perché il mio talento aderiva ai suoi requisiti come un guanto.

Non tutti sono così fortunati, ma è un vero affare se afferriamo la fortuna nel momento in cui ci permette di unire capacità e carriera. Il problema è che, invecchiando, sempre più raramente mettiamo alla prova le nostre risorse e così è impossibile scoprire i nostri talenti. Se l’opportunità non si presenta precocemente, può sempre essere creata nell’età adulta. Possiamo trovare strade per sperimentare e ampliare i limiti delle nostre capacità in molteplici campi.

Garry Kasparov – Gli scacchi la vita – edito da Mondadori nel Novembre 2007

Ajedrez estilo "Aqua"

Debe ser el juego más popular del mundo occidental. Antiguo, militar, complejo en estrategias, y creador de mitos como Bobby Fisher o Gari Kaspárov. Se dice que llegó a Europa a través de España, introducido por los árabes. Tal vez es un desprendimiento de otro juego similar de estrategia militar que nació en la India hace, según algunas versiones, más de 2500 años, conocido como Chaturanga.
La primer referencia al Ajedrez en Occidente aparece en “El libro de los juegos” mandado a hacer por Alfonso X el sabio en el Siglo XIII.

En la actualidad es un punto de partida para torneos y encuentros para jugadores de todas las edades que hacen de este juego un arte y que lo practican en plazas, clubes, casas y de manera on-line.

La versión que ofrecemos esta hecha en parsec y madera, de colores celeste y azul oscuro sobre tablero de madera. Las dimensiones son pequeñas, de 15 x 15 cms. Las piezas tienen un estilo “Aqua”. Parecen ser pequeñas gotas de agua que tomaron las formas de alfiles, peones, reinas, para poder jugar.

Feeling somewhat depressed about the current and developing political landscape, I did what I normally do in these situations and sought refuge in my music collection.  My sombre mindset meant that the song of choice was ‘A Rook House For Bobby’ by the wonderful iLiKETRAiNS (I do not know why they have chosen to use a lower case ‘i’ in their name).   This is a band I became aware of through Uncut Magazine. As ever I am not too sure of the ‘ins-and-outs’ of the band, preferring to let their music do the talking for them.

That said, what would a post from me be without a bit of pointless preamble? Based or formed in Leeds, iLiKETRAiNS are labelled as post-rock. I’m not even sure what that means other than ‘after rock’ which doesn’t make sense. They remind me of my perennial favourites Van Der Graaf Generator which I suppose means that they are progressive rock. In brief, expect complex and thoughtful lyrics against complex and thoughtful musicianship. They could possibly be described as coming from the same musical stable as the likes of Mogwai and Explosions In The Sky.

This track is about Bobby Fisher the chess grandmaster who became the first US-born official world chess champion in the 1970s. This was portrayed by some as a victory for Capitalist ideology over Communism as the previous champion(s) were Russian. As the song says: “they make mountains out of molehills”. It’s not often that a song comes out about a chess grandmaster, particularly one with such a haunting musical backdrop (the song not Mr Fischer). The subject matter is typical of iLiKETRAiNS, other tracks cover Richard Beeching (famed for the destruction of the British rail network), Spencer Perceval (the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated – the song is actually from the viewpoint of the murderer, John Bellingham), the Salem Witch Trials and Captain Scott.

It has been raining every day since we left on this tour. Except in Albany. It was sunny there. Today is a day off (grey, but not really rainy), which we decided to spend in Philadelphia, PA because Washington, DC was sold out of hotels. Philadelphia is a great city: it is really big, I am learning, and has lots of little parts that each feel like their own little town. Murray, Laura and I walked through the Italian Market and we got all kinds of great food to make dinner. Murray says he’s gonna make little homemade pizzas tonight on the bus but I will believe that when I see it. We walked back to the hotel, went swimming for a really long time and now I’m chilling out on the bus.

The jokes that float around on a tour are usually really lame and insular. Currently the funniest are:

“Bobby Fisher. Where is he? I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Murray selected as 30th sexiest rock frontman in history on Nerve.com.

Summer Heights High.

And the endless musical comedy of Jason and Chris, that usually involves changing keys, modulating chords and vocal melodies, on-purpose rhythmic mistakes and easy-listening instrumental classical-jazz versions of songs (including 22) that make me feel like I’m on hold with the bank.

Now looking for someplace to eat.

One of my favorite shows on television is CBS Sunday Morning.  It usually airs 7:30-9:00 AM.   This week there was a section devoted to some of the great minds, talent, entertainers, and people who made a difference in the world.  I always think about those we lost who were not necessarily famous, but who had a huge impact on other lives, and the segment even addressed the fact that there wasn’t time to do justice to and mention the many lives that ended in 2008.  Paul Newman (One of the true greats ever and a noble human), George Carlin, Michael Crichton, Betty Page, Steve Fosset, Issac Hayes, Tim Russert, Bo Diddly, Jim McKay (whose Munich Olympiad tragic news of the lives lost, still gives me goose bumps and makes me emotional every time I hear it-Rent the documentary “One Day in September” if you haven’t seen it), J.R. Simplot (self-made Idaho potato billionaire), Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (Beatles guru), Bobby Fisher, Sir Edmund Hillary.  Just to name a few!

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/12/23/world/year2008review/main4684505.shtml

Watch the show some Sunday, you will be impressed!

http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/sunday/main3445.shtml

2008 Year in Review Photos; http://www.cbsnews.com/elements/2008/11/21/indepth/interactivephotomenu4624106.shtml

2008 Timeline of Events; http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/12/19/world/year2008review/main4678451.shtml

E’ stata pubblicata sul Derry Journal una lettera aperta dell’ex Pow Bobby Fisher, indirizzata ai rappresentati repubblicani al potere.
Ha tenuto a sottolineare come sia necessario portare avanti la causa repubblicana prendendo in cosiderazione magari non solo l’arma offensiva, ma anche quella difensiva perchè esiste una realtà giovanile che di guerre non ne vuole sentir parlare.
I prigionieri politici necessitano di essere supportati, proprio in questo momento in cui si sentono messi all’angolo. Dovrebbe essere negaziata la loro liberazione, così come ci si dovrebbe opporre al RUC/PSNI ed al potere britannico in Irlanda.
Ma Bobby Fisher rivolge una fondamentale richiesta ai leader repubblicani, mantenere intatti i propri principi.

Move the cause forward

Sir,
Is it time to take a defensive stand and move the Republican cause forward?
I have taken a step backwards for some time now and have been trying to get to grips with how people really feel. The vast majority of our people don’t want an offensive; our youth, all but a few overall, don’t even want to know about any war.
Prisoners need the support of the people and right now they must feel slightly isolated. Republicans who believe that an offensive should go on must ask themselves, ‘can we achieve more by taking a defensive stand?’ Negotiate the release of our prisoners and oppose the RUC/PSNI and British Rule in Ireland and also give those Republicans who don’t believe the time is right for war somewhere to turn to.
I write this letter in the hope that some Republican leaders will think ahead and take a more positive stand and move forward with their principles intact.

Disfruta jugando al ajedrez con Easy Chess y consigue llegar a ser un maestro como los mismísimos Bobby Fisher o Gari Kaspárov.

                                    Robert William Fisher

FBI Wanted Poster
FBI Press Release
America’s Most Wanted
Murder, arson in Scottsdale
Wikipedia
Robert William Fisher is Wanted by the FBI
Mounties got their man, but he isn’t Fisher Mounties got their man, but he isn’t Fisher
Papers may shed light on Fisher slayings
Most Wanted Blog

Le champion d’échecs, considéré comme le plus grand joueur d’échecs de tous les temps est mort à l’âge de 64 ans.

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Cuando muere un ídolo, se siente y cuando ese ídolo pertenece a un deporte amado produce nostalgia, por que queda un lugar vacío, si, si, de esos imposible de llenar, tal tu caso querido y admirado Bobby, como nos hiciste sufrir cuando allá por 1972 en el match por el título mundial contra el gran Boris Spassky, perdiste la primera partida y no te presentaste a jugar la segunda y cuando volviste ya perdías 2 a 0 frente al genial ruso pero luego vino la exhibición y la memorable partida 21 en la que te fuiste al hotel, mientras Boris meditaba su jugada y decidía abandonar y así te coronaste campeón del mundo.

Pero te encontraste con la gran paradoja de tu vida, fuiste el héroe de la “guerra fría” al ser el primer y único norteamericano campeón del mundo en la historia y aparte a costa de los rusos, lo máximo del ajedrez, antes que vos , perdón gran maestro Capablanca,Karpov y Kasparov.

Y la paradoja fue que por haber sido un “héroe nacional” deviniste en traidor a la Patria, buscado por la CIA y el FBI, cuando por ganarte unos mangos jugaste en la bloqueada Yugoslavia allá por 1992 de nuevo frente al para ese entonces “nacionalizado francés” Spassky (otro traidor para los rusos, hasta los enfrentó en campeonatos) rememorando “la partida del siglo” , no pudiste volver más a EEUU y primera casualidad el presidente que convalidó tu cargo de traición fue, George Bush padre y 12 años después te detuvieron en Japón, durante 8 meses, allá por el 2004 y sabés una cosa, el que pidió tu extradición, parece joda, fue el actual presidente de EEUU, George Bush hijo…..los Bush, no te quisieron Bobby.

En Islandia ganaste el campeonato, los islandeses te amaron, te asilaron en tu final y te cobijaron en tu muerte, valorando a quién dijo…”no entender” a  los jugadores que con piezas blancas no mueven al inicio de su partida, como única y posible jugada, e4 (peón cuatro rey) y “no entender” tampoco a los que con las piezas negras no contestan, moviendo e5 (peón cuatro rey negro)….por que peón cuatro rey es la movida de los grandes, por su valor frente a la lucha despiadada de los trebejos.

Querido Gran Maestro Fisher (desde los 15 años) quiso el destino que partieses a los 64 años de edad y como todo en tu vida es paradojal, todos los tableros de ajedrez, tienen 64 casillas….Gracias por haber existido.

Bobby Fisher, the world’s greatest chess player passed away at the age of 64. Time Magazine published a beautiful set of mainly Black and White photographs of him in a biography on the web. It’s a must see!

…was found dead in Iceland.

Iceland? How did Bobby Fischer end up in Iceland. There’s got to be a story in there somewhere. If only I wasn’t too lazy to find it.

Anyway, for reference, here’s an article.

Bobby Fischer, the child-prodigy chess master who, at 29, became world champion and a Cold War icon after he dethroned the Soviet Union’s grand master, Boris Spassky in 1972 — a feat never before, or since, achieved by an American player– has died. He was 64. (This picture is from 1971.)

Chess has long-been a metaphor for business, and there is plenty of strategy to borrow from Fischer — that’s from the chess board, not his life. Beginning in mid-1970’s, Fischer clashed with the U.S. government over politics (Israel; Yugoslavia), ultimately relinquished his U.S. citizenship, and lived out the rest of his years as a near-recluse in Reykjavík, Iceland, the same city where the chess match that had made him famous in the first place was played.

Controversial and erratic as he was personally, on the topics of competition, strategy and tactics he was concrete and productive. For starters, he wrote a book: Bobby Fisher Teaches Chess, which we recommend you read. The New York Times obituary also writes of Fischer’s hallmarks for winning…

In a description that might easily fit the classicly impassioned entrepreneur, the Times writes:

[Fischer] was fiercely competitive — some said he was driven by an abject fear of losing. At the chessboard he possessed the pitilessness of a tyrant — “I love to see them squirm,” he once said of his opponents.

A few of Fischer’s Success Hacks include:

1) Study:
“From early on, he buttressed his penchant for original thinking with monumental study, and he became known for his mastery of the game’s literature. “Practice! Study! Talent!” was his formula for success. In a short time he would become incomparable at all phases of chess, from openings to endgames.”

Others we call by their chess names:

2) The King’s Gambit — an opening strategy in which White sacrifices a kingside pawn to get a quick attack — had long been dismissed as too risky and romantic… The business equivalent would be the free giveaway we wrote about earlier today.

3) The Sicilian Defense: “The epitome of a sharp counterattack by Black.” In business things (other than corporate raiding or greenmail) this would be “the upsell.”

4) The Ruy Lopez :”a slowly building game of maneuver.” We call this execution.

But the best thing said of Fischer’s philosophy today reveals, in fact, a devotion to much more than any game or even winning. Bobby Fisher cared about innovation:

“But Fischer’s argument was that the old ideas were not necessarily bad ideas,” Mr. Pandolfini said [of him]. “They had merely fallen out of favor, and by injecting new thinking into an old idea, you created state-of-the-art logic.”

He also excelled at it, in his own way. Read Fischer’s book for more explanation of good offensive and defensive strategies that have application off the chess board.
And for an early biography of Fischer, we also recommend Bobby Fischer: Profile of a Prodigy, by Frank Brady.

Um dos maiores enxadristas da História, o americano Bobby Fischer, morreu nesta sexta-feira aos 64 anos de idade. Fischer vivia na Islândia, país que, em 2005, concedeu-lhe cidadania após 8 meses de prisão no Japão. Fischer corria o risco de ser extraditado para os Estados Unidos e ser condenado a dez anos de prisão por ter disputado uma partida com o russo Boris Spassky na antiga Iugoslávia, em 1992, apesar das sanções de seu país contra Belgrado.

Robert James Fischer, nasceu em Chicago a 9 de março de 1943. Filho de pai judeu-alemão e mãe americana, Fischer aprendeu xadrez com a irmã mais velha quando tinha 6 anos. Quando se mudou para Nova York, ele começou a desenvolver o potencial que o consagraria definitivamente em todo o mundo em 1972, após derrotar a lenda russa Spassky.

Em eleição feita em 2000 pelo principal periódico internacional de xadrez, o “Sahovski Informator”, Fischer foi considerado pelos grandes mestres como o melhor jogador do século XX, à frente de Garry Kasparov.

Fonte: http://oglobo.globo.com