Confessions of a dusty, bit player - foot soldier

The speaker discusses their involvement in a Holocaust revisionist group on Gab, expressing their belief that World War II history is a scam and an insult to the German people. They share their excitement about collaborating with Pyramar Rudolph, a well-known writer, on a revisionist Holocaust Encyclopedia. They defend Rudolph's credentials and criticize the opposition's mockery of the encyclopedia. The speaker encourages people to do their own research and predicts that they will come to respect the work of Rudolph and other revisionists. They claim no credit for their involvement and express their dedication to the cause. CONFESSIONS OF A DUSTY BITPLAYER FOOT SOLDIER Life is but a walking shadow, A tale told by an idiot, Full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Shakespeare Macbeth Our holocaust group here on Gab was created on May 17, 2019. There are a half-dozen groups of a similar nature active on Gab, but our merry little revisionist band forged an early bond and took off noisily, with more enthusiasm perhaps than any deep academic understanding. Yet we all knew then and now that World War II history, as she is taught today, or rather rammed down our throats and those of our children, was and is utter barking baloney, a billion-dollar extortion scam, surprisingly crude, and an epic political leverage ploy. A worldly power mania, a shallow obsession with money, cost was cost, made into a truly peculiar religion, nonsensical when examined, and with the most cobbled-together spirituality the court jester could ever imagine. And worse even than that, a terrible insult and massive libel against the fine industrial, artistic-feeling, proud German people. In our own way, we resolved to expose this, understand this, and try and make the world of Trifle Don't Laugh better. Ah yes, the naivety of the dusty-foot soldier, endlessly hacking away with his cracked sword, seeing only a few paces ahead, in heat of battle blissfully unaware, of the grandly dressed-up kings and emperors, hovering far, far above the battlefield, looking down, with a raised supercilious eyebrow, at the din and roar of clashing minions. But we persisted, we learnt from one another, we messaged, we tried, the group grew, we We left the group open. Anybody, on or off cam, was welcome to read our posts. We encouraged people to join, but it was not a prerequisite. We did this knowing that many Europeans, now also Canadians, could face many years in jail, persecution, career termination, vilification by friends and family, for what we minions incessantly wrote. Was silence a better option? And no, we all cried, we fought on. Even when my own safety was threatened, I could not, would not, shut up. Despite an Irish, we never learn. Then, unexpectedly, in late January of 2023, my phone rang. The caller, sounding nervous, even sad, identified himself as... ...Pyramar Rudolph. Over the years, I had read and quoted from many of his articles, the information and details thwarting my older mind in my attempt to remember all that stuff. Hell, even a quarter of it would be awesome. I had his books sitting on my shelf. I was thrilled. Gomer, I'm delighted to speak with you, how are you? In his answer, the vibes came across clearly. This man was not in a good place. He sounded weary, worn out, washed up. In his own words later, he was at the end of his tether. Hell, it happens to all of us, eh? I immediately offered him to come visit me. My first concern was if he could drive, he was like five years states away. No, he said he would drive. Veni, vidi, vici? Well, he rolled up and stayed. Seventeen months, what a blast. Did we ever talk and talk and talk? Don't laugh, you know the Irish, right? I'm not sure if we ever shut up. A lot came out of all this, and some of it is really important for the reader of the Holocaust Encyclopedia, the new book, to understand. Our GAM group had already discussed the acute need for a revisionist Holocaust Encyclopedia. It would be the first of its kind to compete against the bogus orthodoxy so-called encyclopedias, which do not deserve that label at all. I really mean that. They are little more than self-congratulating, purring, unseemly wallowing in self-pity on the one hand, and soaring narcissism and self-glorification on the other hand. No race on this planet has ever been as maudlin, self-absorbed as the Ashkenazi 7th century interloper Genjus today. I had actually already started one. The early attempts were online, yes, on my website, newwritersharbour.com, and they today make me cringe at the crude efforts, from flying helicopters to grappling with the chemistry of alleged homicidal gas chambers, oh yes, disguised as shower rooms, if you believe that tosh, along the road. But I had started one, people were encouraging me, and I, standing at sea level pondering the climate of Mount Everest, wondering should I bring sandwiches, didn't really have much of any clue. Good, sincere intentions, sure. The necessary skills, duh. I laid all this before Germer, who smiled gently, who was very nice and diplomatic, like a concert pianist might be at a bouncy seven-year-old proudly demonstrating his first chord, B minor, over and over and over again, B minor, B fucking minor. The key takeaway here though, I know, that was a bad joke, bad joke, bad joke, was me babbling on about how useful it would be to have a solid base reference foundation that anybody could go to to look up for themselves. The wild claims and absurd witness statements on which the six million use myth is founded. With me waving my arms, getting all excited, proudly showing the maestro my very first fucking chord, over and over again, B fucking minor. He said I could do that, with a thoughtful look on his face, he headed for his room. The next morning, pages and pages and more pages of the first chapters of the encyclopedia, for me to proofread, I was delighted. Now I didn't have to pack bloody sandwiches for Mount Everest. He was going instead, eh? I kept all those early copies and I'm real proud of them. That was to be the routine for many, many months. Bulldozer at work. Holy Nora. Him working till ten or eleven at night and then blow me down, the light on under his door at four and five in the morning, seven days a week. Unbelievable work ethic. Amazing stamina. I, little more than an old onlooker and proofreader, was put to shame by the example before me. Three. Tutorial support. The other side is divided between ignoring the notebook and chastising it. One of the criticisms I have read is a mockery of the lack of listed academics involved. A suggestion that it's just the work of a one-off, lonely crank, wholly without standing or expertise. That's a cheap shot. Gromo Rudolf is a modest, unassuming man, not prone to beat his own drum. But make no mistake, he is one of the undisputed world-leading experts on the alleged Holocaust. With a German equivalent of a PhD in chemistry, does anybody seriously propose to mock his credentials to write authoritatively about the chemistry of the alleged homicidal gas chambers? I don't think so. As for being a lone crank, alone? Hell no. I can vouch for the truly extraordinary phalanx of callers from all over this poor planet who together represent a stunning who-is-who of the world of revisionism. I have a stack of books with their names sitting here on the shelf. I only wish I could retain a fraction of all the information contained therein. Which is another reason why the Holocaust encyclopedia is so very nifty. It's rather disingenuous for the other side to mock the lack of a listing of names in the front of the encyclopedia when they know damn well that because of their tribe's infernal machinations many European countries, and now even Canada, impose formidable prison sentences on free speech. In the infamous words of a German judge, where the Holocaust is concerned, the truth is no defense. Behind the extraordinary labours of German Rudolf that this dusty foot-soldier personally witnessed sail a flotilla of very distinguished and accomplished Holocaust historians that the fact that they are trying to live in peace free from harassment, vile persecution and lengthy imprisonment and thus cannot afford their names to appear in print is not a sign of nuke-buck weakness or proof that it is written by a lone crank. It is a combination of the cowardice and duplicity of the other side who know full well, and fearfully, that they are nothing without their precious multi-billion dollar Holocaust extortion scam. Just quote a grubby little bunch of international bandits and assassins and squatters who have perpetrated the most massive cynical fraud in human history. America, my home that I love passionately and that I would die for in a heartbeat and the free world where I have travelled and worked widely, stand at a crossroads. You either swallow the vile goop that they try and drown you in you thus lie down and live a comfortable serf's life, for a little while maybe and you accept the Orwellian castration of world history or you download the nuke-buck and do your own research. I predict you will come to believe and massively respect the phenomenal labours of German Rudolf and his amazing backup, the star-studded team of famous Holocaust revisionists. I personally claim zero credit in all of this. I am merely the perennial foot-soldier the grunt, wholly expendable, dusty, scarred and by now indifferent to my fate. I quote a man who shouted, fight, fight, fight! We ride on, travel wide, I salute you all. A passing blur, that's me. God, he's good.