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More incredible Holo-Tales
"He saw his pulsating kidney in the hands of Mengele"
Next day he was back to work. Lucky, they forgot to gas him, he was number201, they stopped at 200. Obviously never resumed the gassings. But the six million figure stands anyway.
To: To: [email protected]
Subject: Yitzhak Ganon
From: [email protected]
Date: Sun, Dec 13, 2009 9:16 am
To The Editor,
Let me see if I understand the article that appeared in today's Times about Holocaust survivor Yitzhak Ganon's aversion to doctors. ("Heart Treated, Old Wound Opened" : NY Times , Dec. 13, 2009).
According to the article Yitzhak was so traumatized by having his kidney removed by the infamous Dr. Mengele without anesthesia some 65 years ago while an inmate at Auschwitz that he refused to ever visit a doctor again.
"Mr. Ganon was tied down on a table, and without anesthesia was cut open by Dr. Mengele, who then removed a kidney. 'I saw the kidney pulsating in his hand and cried like a crazy man', Mr. Ganon said."
Although expected when dealing with claims of Holocaust survivors, it is still astonishing, that the America's so-called "newspaper of record" would put aside accepted practices and procedures of journalism and not challenge such an outrageous assertion. For one thing , a "removed kidney would not pulsate"' but more importantly a kidney removal without anesthesia would have most certainly killed him.
To it's credit the Times story omitted another claim reported by some of the wire service versions of the story that he was sent back to work within days of the operation. Neither did the Times include the claim that the reason he survived was that he was no. 201 on the line for the gas chamber whose capacity was 200. (Shouldn't he then have been the first to go with the next batch of 200?)
I did double check this information.
100 % correct.
Link to NY Times info:
Heart Treated, Old Wound Opened
Yitzhak Ganon avoided doctors for 65 years. But when he became sick recently, his wife insisted that he visit one. ...December 13, 2009 - By THE NEW YORK TIMES - Week in Review :
Heart Treated, Old Wound Opened
By THE NEW YORK TIMES
Published: December 12, 2009
Yitzhak Ganon avoided doctors for 65 years. But when he became sick recently, his wife insisted that he visit one. Stents were implanted to help his heart in a procedure made more risky because he was missing a kidney. What happened to his other kidney explained his aversion to doctors, according to an account he gave Spiegel Online. While held at the Auschwitz concentration camp, the 85-year-old Mr. Gannon told his doctors, he was the subject of an experiment by Joseph Mengele, the Nazi physician known as “the Angel of Death.” Mr. Ganon was tied down on a table, and, without anesthesia, cut open by Mengele, who then removed his kidney. “I saw the kidney pulsing in his hand and cried like a crazy man,” Mr. Ganon said.
A version of this article appeared in print on December 13, 2009, on page WK3 of the New York edition.
http://www.polskawalczaca.com/viewtopic ... 327#p19327
Jerzy Ulicki-Rek wrote:
American caver Chris Nicola looks up at the name "Stermer" in candle-smoke graffiti on a cave wall.
Yes, one does have to wonder why Ukrainian Jews in 1943 would have written their names in the roman alphabet. They would have written either in Yiddish, using the Hebrew alphabet, or they would have used the cyrillic alphabet.
In other words, this is what we should see:
ק.קורץ . . .
or maybe . . .
or something similar. The fact that, instead, we see
is just one more example of the shoddiness with which the hoax is perpertrated. Mind-boggling . . .
but what the heck, it's funny too.
Editing in later:
Incidentally, this from a related article:
With only a few hours remaining until our planned rendezvous with our surface support team, Sergey appears in the entry room. During a two-hour soul, he’s rediscovered a chamber a half mile from Khatki that has graffiti written on the walls. Chris, Sasha, and I reach the room a few minutes later and find Sergey kneeling under a large crack between two sheets of bedrock. He rolls his face skyward, sending a curtain of soft orange light across the ceiling, where there are at least ten different inscriptions scrawled into the stone.
The first words Chris and I see are written in Ukrainian, some as recently as 2000. The others are the names of various local cavers who first explored this region of the cave some 40 years ago. When Chris first saw this chamber on one of his early trips, led by legendary Ukrainian caver Valery Rogozhnikov, these names were just graffiti. Now he sees something different. “My God,” I hear him whisper.
Directly above him, written in charcoal on the ceiling, are the words: “Stermer,” “Dodyk,” “K. Kurz,” “Salomon,” and “Wekselblad” – a name we knew was later anglicized to “Wexler.” Two feet farther down on the ceiling is the date “1943.”
The unique thing about caves, as compared with other environments, is the way history survives underground, almost as if in a vacuum. Above ground, buildings decay, memories fade, the past is gradually lost. But over our heads the five names look as bold as the day they’d been written : only a faint encrustation of tiny gypsum crystals – which grow continually on the cave walls – betrays the intervening six decades.
He's got me with those gypsum crystals. And yeah, on reflection, I suppose that they might have been Polish-speaking Ukrainian Jews. (Or Romanian?) That part of the Ukraine has a complicated history, with complicated demographics and border changes. So I suppose the choice of alphabet is not a sure thing. (Though Yiddish really would have been most natural, one would think.)
Either way, though, I still can't help feeling that there might be a more plausible and prosaic reason why "the five names look as bold as the day they’d been written" . . . gypsum crystals notwithstanding.
-- D. Eckart Der Bolschewismus von Moses bis Lenin, "Er"
"there might be a more plausible and prosaic reason why "the five names look as bold as the day they’d been written" .
Of course there is:)
It considers the day they were written
And by whom
Kladderadatsch wrote:Kingfisher and Balsamo put forth a "misinformation" theory to explain the anomaly: she didn't know she was lining up for a gas chamber, but was merely told as much later and believed it. But really, I think one can be too ready to make excuses for these people. When she tells the story to a group of students, she may indeed be simply passing on a rumor she once heard, but she has to know that that's not how it will be received by her audience. It's not technically a "lie," if you like, but it's fundamentally dishonest all the same."
She may know the gas chamber assertion is untrue but if she believed it at the time at an impressionable age (like the kids she talks to) she probably continued to believe it. No one will have been in a hurry to correct her, least of all her minders, and by now the story is reinforced by a lifetime of believing it and having others believe her, and being elderly her critical faculties will not be at their best. It's in perfect accord with current psychological theory. (I recommend The Invisible Gorilla).
by Jerzy Ulicki-Rek » 28 Apr 2009 12:08 am
*TO BE CONTINUED
Posted: 28 Apr 2009 12:03 am Post subject: Children inherit Nazi torture's toll !!!!!
Another holy -tale from the holo-land.
It is hard not to puke when you read this crap but in order to be informed I decided to suffer:)
Once again we have a clear proof that holo-flu is reaching the epidemic proportion.
Read this:" Feeding the ducks made me think of starving prisoners. ".
What the d...uck is she talking about?
How can we help this victim of holo-virus to be cured?
Children inherit Nazi torture's toll
By MARSHA HALPERT
First published in print: Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Holocaust imposed lasting psychological effects on its Jewish survivors. It also profoundly affected their children.
The Nazis herded men, women, boys and girls into cattle cars and railroaded them to concentration camps. Thousands of Jews and other victims of the Nazis were murdered every day. The very old and very young, the disabled and mothers holding babies were sent to the gas chambers and cremated in huge ovens. Those not immediately condemned to die were doomed to torture by hard labor, starvation, medical experimentation, operations with no anesthesia and being forced to watch atrocities perpetrated before their eyes. They never knew what would happen next? Would they get food? Be selected to die? Beaten to death? Few survived.
"Why did you come here? Do you see the smoke from the chimney?" a guard yelled when my mother in-law arrived at Auschwitz in May 1944. "Your mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers and your children are all burning into ashes."
Lily Greenspan weighed 80 pounds when the death camp was liberated in June 1945. She was 23 years old.
Survivors' anxiety surfaced in nightmares, insomnia, depression, panic attacks, fear of strangers and of not having enough food. Many felt guilty for surviving . Many numbed their feelings to cope. Many lacked compassion for the tragedies of those outside their families.
Everyday occurrences triggered memories of the Holocaust for my father, Sam Fried ? and for me. Feeding the ducks made me think of starving prisoners. I, too, had bad dreams about the Holocaust. I've met adult children of survivors who were pressured to be successful to compensate for their parents' lost dreams. I know a man who went to Vietnam to prove he, too, could survive a war.
All of us Holocaust survivors' children were keenly aware we did not have grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. My husband, Leon Halpert, vowed to keep Jewish traditions alive, which is what his relatives murdered in the camps would have done. He and I both have sought to improve understanding among people of different faiths. For many years, I brought holiday foods like challah, kugel, hamantashen and dishes for Passover to Bishop Hubbard and his staff. I sent them Christmas and Easter cards and received wonderful thank-you letters from the bishop, a man I admire for bringing the Christian and Jewish communities together.
Books have been written, movies have been made and great speakers have enlightened us about the Holocaust. There are several Holocaust museums. When I was 32, my father gave me the star he wore in the Czech ghetto and Auschvitz with "JUDE" on it. Jude means Jew. The word was supposed to brand my father as an outcast. I accepted that star and with it the legacy of the Holocaust.
Events this week have commemorated Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. I write about the Holocaust so people will not forget it. Most of all, I do so to keep alive the memory of my father, a kind, gentle man with a deep soul and a strong will to live. I loved him dearly. I will never understand why he had to suffer so much."
Marsha Halpert of Albany is a companion for the elderly and former kindergarten teacher.
"What kind of gas chambers were these? They certainly don't match the descriptions of gas chambers of any other survivors."
To: To: [email protected]
Subject: Out of Auschwitz
From: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Jan 29, 2010 3:14 pm
To The Editor,
Samuel Pisar says in his op-ed piece, " Out of Auschwitz" , which appeared in today's Times, that as the Red Army approached, " the gas chambers spewed fire and smoke as never before".
This description seems to suggest that some sort of combustion was taking place inside the principal homicidal instruments of history greatest crime. And just what kind of gas chambers were these? They certainly don't match the descriptions of gas chambers of any of the other survivors. Apologists for Mr. Pisar would probably insist that what he was really talking about were the crematoria used to dispose of the bodies of the victims. But even these, when functioning properly, are not likely to give off smoke, let alone have flames leaping from their chimneys. And we all know these ovens must have been functioning properly and efficiently given the fact that according to the official Holocaust narrative, they were capable of consuming bodies at rate far in excess of the manufacturer's specifications. Now keep in mind that Mr. Pisar is not some octogenarian survivor living in an old age home suffering from Alzheimer's disease; he is both a practicing attorney and author.
Mr. Pisar also seems to have memory issues when it comes to the so-called death march which he claims he was forced to participate in, as the Germans evacuated the camp in early 1945 with the approach of the Red Army. Like his more famous fellow inmate, Elie Wiesel, he was given a choice of remaining behind to await his Soviet liberators or he could accompany the Nazi perpetrators of Hitler's " Final Solution " back to Germany. Along with Wiesel and most of the other prisoners, he inexplicably chose the latter.
Bellow the full text of Pisar's
Out of Auschwitz
By SAMUEL PISAR
Published: January 28, 2010
SIXTY-FIVE years ago this week, the Soviets liberated Auschwitz, while the Americans were approaching Dachau. For a survivor of these two infernos to still be alive and well, with a new family that has resurrected for me the one I had lost, seems almost unreal. When I entered Adolf Eichmann and Josef Mengele’s gruesome universe at the age of 13, I measured my life expectancy in days, weeks at the most.
In the early winter of 1944, World War II was coming to an end. But we in the camps knew nothing. We wondered: What is happening in the world outside? Where is God? Where is the pope? Does anyone out there know what is happening here to us? Does anyone even care?
Russia was devastated. Britain had its back against the wall. And America? It was so far away, so divided. How could it be expected to save civilization from the seemingly invincible forces of darkness?
It took a long time for the news of the American-led invasion of Normandy to slip into Auschwitz. There were also rumors that the Red Army was advancing quickly on the eastern front. With the ground shrinking under their feet, the Nazis were becoming palpably nervous. The gas chambers spewed fire and smoke as never before.
One gray, frosty morning, our guards ordered those of us still capable of slave labor to line up and marched us out of the camp. We were to be shunted westward, from Poland into Germany. I was beside myself with excitement — and dread. Salvation somehow seemed closer — yet we also knew that we could be killed at any moment. The goal was to hang on a little longer. I was almost 16 now, and I wanted to live.
We marched from camp to camp, day and night, until we and our torturers began to hear distant explosions that sounded like artillery fire. One afternoon we were strafed by a squadron of Allied fighter planes that mistook our column for Wehrmacht troops. As the Germans hit the dirt, their machine guns blazing in all directions, someone near me yelled, “Run for it!” I kicked off my wooden clogs and sprinted into the forest. There I hid, hungry and cold, for weeks, until I was discovered by a group of American soldiers. The boys who brought me life were not much older than I. They fed me, clothed me, made me a mascot of their regiment and gave me my first real taste of freedom.
Today, the last living survivors of the Holocaust are disappearing one by one. Soon, history will speak about Auschwitz with the impersonal voice of researchers and novelists at best, and at worst in the malevolent register of revisionists and falsifiers who call the Nazi Final Solution a myth. This process has already begun.
And it is why those of us who survived have a duty to transmit to humankind the memory of what we endured in body and soul, to tell our children that the fanaticism and violence that nearly destroyed our universe have the power to enflame theirs, too. The fury of the Haitian earthquake, which has taken more than 200,000 lives, teaches us how cruel nature can be to man. The Holocaust, which destroyed a people, teaches us that nature, even in its cruelest moments, is benign in comparison with man when he loses his moral compass and his reason.
After so much death, a groundswell of compassion and solidarity for victims — all victims, whether from natural disasters, racial hatred, religious intolerance or terrorism — occasionally manifests itself, as it has in recent days.
These actions stand in contrast to those moments when we have failed to act; they remind us, on this dark anniversary, of how often we remain divided and confused, how in the face of horror we hesitate, vacillate, like sleepwalkers at the edge of the abyss. Of course, they remind us, too, that we have managed to stave off the irrevocable; that our chances for living in harmony are, thankfully, still intact.
Samuel Pisar, a lawyer, is the author of “Of Blood and Hope.”
The author of this giga-crap should change his name by adding a "U" .
Pis(u)ar feets hand in glove to his revelations.
I love those:"... gas chambers spewing fire and smoke as never before."
Did he go to the same school as E.Weisel?
Same history teacher?
Wolna Polska zaczyna sie tutaj
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2009
Rivka Yosselevska's absurd Holy Hoax fable - Escaped biting jew corpses, witnessed geysers of blood
One of the all time greats right here.
The tale goes like this: Rivka and her family were rounded up by the Germans, shot, and thrown into a pit. Despite being shot in the head, Rivka miraculously was still alive, but bodies were falling on top of her suffocating her in the pit. She started crawling her way out, but dying victims started, and I quote: "biting at my legs, pulling me down"! But she got away from the evil undead!
The Nazis were so inept, they also failed to kill several others whom were shot and thrown in the pit. Rivka even helped try to pull out one woman, but the dead jews were "biting" at the leg of the woman. Many children and women crawled out of the pit, but only to be tracked down shortly thereafter by the Nazis and finished off. But not Rivka. Mysteriously, the Nazis just let her live for whatever reason. Rivka just layed there by the pit for 3 days, and saw blood spurting out of the ground.
Not only did Rivka survive the Holocaust, she survived a zombie jew outbreak!
Every word of this is true. Believe or be an evil anti-semite.
source: Holocaust Education & Archive Research Team
Rivka Yosselevska testifying at the trial of Adolf Eichmann in Jerusalem
Testimony of Rivka Yosselevska
On the evening of 14 August 1942, the first day of the Hebrew month of Ellul, a Friday, the SS surrounded the ghetto in the village of Zagrodski, near Pinsk in Belarus (Belorussia), home to five hundred Jewish families. “The commotion and noise on that night”, recalled Rivka Yosselevska, “was not customary, and we felt something in the air.”
On Saturday morning 15 August 1942, the Germans entered the ghetto, ordering the Jews to leave their houses for a roll call. All day, the Jews were kept standing, waiting. Towards sunrise, the children screamed, demanding food and water. But the Germans would allow no one back into their homes.
That evening a truck arrived at the ghetto gates. The Jews were ordered on to it, and drove out of the ghetto. Those for whom there had been no room on the truck were ordered to run after it. “I had my daughter in my arms”, Rivka Yosselevska recalled, “and ran after the truck. There were mothers who had two or three children and held them in their arms – running after the truck. We ran all the way. There were those who fell – we were not allowed to help them rise. They were shot – right there – wherever they fell.”
On reaching the destination, Rivka Yosselevska saw that the people from the truck had already been taken off, and were undressed, “all lined up.” It was some three kilometres from the village, by “a kind of hillock”. At the foot of the hillock was a ditch. The Jews were ordered to stand on the hillock, where four SS men stood “armed to the teeth.”
“We saw naked people lined up”, Rivka Yosselevska recalled, “and we hoped this was only torture. Maybe there is hope – hope of living.”
Her account continued:
“One could not leave the line, but I wished to see – what are they doing on the hillock? I turned my head and saw that some three or four rows were already killed – on the ground.
There were some twelve people amongst the dead. I also want to mention that my child said while we were lined up in the ghetto, she said `Mother, why did you make me wear the Shabbat dress, we are being taken to be shot’ [you would expect a child to be hysterical and scared of death...but no, she's worried about her dress?-Jerzy]-; and when we stood near the dug-out, near the grave, she said, `Mother, why are we waiting, let us run!’
Some of the young people tried to run, but they were caught immediately, and they were shot right there. It was difficult to hold onto the children. We took all children, not ours, and we carried – we were anxious to get it all over- the suffering of the children was difficult- we all trudged along to come nearer to the place and to come nearer to the end of the torture of the children. The children were taking leave of their parents and parents of their elder people.
We were driven; we were already undressed; the clothes were removed and taken away; our father did not want to undress; he wanted to keep his underclothes on. He did not want to stand naked. Then they tore the clothing off the old man and he was shot. I saw it with my own eyes. And then they took my mother, and she said, let us go before her, but they caught my mother and shot her too; and then there was my grandmother, my father’s mother, standing there; she was eighty years old and she had two children in her arms. And then there was my father’s sister. She also had children in her arms and she was shot on the spot with the babies in her arms.
And finally my turn came. There was my younger sister, and she wanted to leave, she pleaded with the German; she asked to run, naked- she went up to the Germans with one of her friends; they were embracing each other; and she asked to be spared, standing there naked. He looked into her eyes and shot the two of them. They fell together in their embrace, the two young girls, my sister and her young friend. Then my second sister was shot and then my turn came.
We turned towards the grave and then he turned around and asked, `Whom shall I shoot first?’ We were already facing the grave. The German asked, `Whom do you want me to shoot first?’ I did not answer. I felt him take the child from my arms. The child cried out and was shot immediately. And then he aimed at me. First he held onto my hair and turned my head around; I stayed standing; I heard a shot, but I continued to stand and then he turned my head again and he aimed the revolver at me, ordered me to watch, and then turned my head around and shot at me. Then I fell to the ground into the pit amongst the bodies – but I felt nothing.
The moment I did feel I felt a sort of heaviness and then I thought may be I am not alive anymore, but I feel something after I died. I thought I was dead, that this was the feeling which comes after death. Then I felt that I was choking; people falling over me. I tried to move and felt that I was alive and that I could rise. I was strangling. I heard the shots and I was praying for another bullet to put an end to my suffering, but I continued to move about.
I felt that I was choking, strangling, but I tried to save myself, to find some air to breathe, and then I felt that I was climbing towards the top of the grave above the bodies. I rose, and I felt bodies pulling at with me with their hands, biting at my legs, pulling me down, down. And yet with my last strength I came up on top of the grave, and when I did I did not know the place, so many bodies were lying all over, dead people; I wanted to see the end of this stretch of dead bodies, but I could not. It was impossible. They were lying, all dying; suffering; not all of them dead, but in their last sufferings; naked; shot, but not dead. Children crying, `Mother, Father’; I could not stand on my feet.
The Germans had gone. There was nobody there, no one standing up. “I was naked, covered with blood, dirty from other bodies, with the excrement from other bodies which was poured on me.” Riivka Yosselevska had been wounded in the head, but she managed to crawl out of the grave, then she recalled;
“I was searching among the dead for my little girl and I cried for her – Merkele was her name – Merkele! There were children crying `Mother! Father!’ – but they were all smeared with blood and one could not recognise the children. I cried for my daughter. From afar I saw two women standing. I went up to them. They did not know me, I did not know them, and then I said who I was, and then they said, `So you survived’. And then there was another woman crying, `Pull me out from amongst the corpses, I am still alive, help!’ We were thinking how could we escape from the place. The cries of the woman, `Help, pull me out from the corpses!’ We pulled her out – her name was Mikla Rosenberg. We removed the corpses and the dying people who held onto her and continued to bite. [those damn biting jew zombies again-Jerzy] She asked us to take her out, to free her, but we did not have the strength.
And thus we were there all night, fighting for our lives, listening to the cries and the screams and all of a sudden we saw Germans, mounted Germans. We did not notice them coming in because of the screaming and the shouting from the bodies around us.
The Germans ordered that all the corpses be heaped together into one big heap and with shovels they were heaped together, all the corpses, amongst them many still alive, children running about the place. I saw them. I saw the children. They were running after me, hanging on to me. Then I sat down in the field and remained sitting with the children around me. The children who got up from the heap of corpses.
The Germans came and were going around the place. We were ordered to collect all the children, but they did not approach me, and I sat there watching how they collected the children. They gave a few shots and the children were dead. They did not need many shots. The children were almost dead, and this Rosenberg woman pleaded with the Germans to be spared, but they shot her.
They all left – the Germans and the non-Jews from around the place. They removed the machine guns and they took the trucks. I saw that they all left and the four of us, we went on to the grave, praying to fall into the grave, even alive, envying those who were dead already and thinking what to do now. I was praying for death to come. I was praying for the grave to be opened and to swallow me alive. Blood was spurting from the grave in many places, like a well of water, and whenever I pass a spring now, I remember the blood which spurted from the ground, from that grave.
I was digging with my fingernails, trying to join the dead in that grave. I dug with my fingernails, but the grave would not open. I did not have enough strength. I cried out to my mother, to my father – `Why did they not kill me? What was my sin? I have no one to go to. I saw them all being killed. Why was I spared? Why was I not killed?’
And I remained there - stretched out on the grave, three days and three nights.
I saw no one, I heard no one. Not a farmer passed by. After three days, shepherds drove their herd on to the field, and they began throwing stones at me, but I did not move. At night, the herds were taken back and during the day they threw stones believing that either it was a dead woman or a mad woman. They wanted me to rise, to answer. But I did not move. The shepherds were throwing stones at me until I had to leave the place.
A farmer took pity on Rivka Yosselevska, hid her and fed her. Later, he helped her join a group of Jews hiding in the forest. There she survived until the Soviet army came in the summer of 1944.
Nineteen years after her escape from the execution pit she told her story at the Eichmann trial in Jerusalem.
Lest We Forget. Never Again™.
And good luck
Hannover wrote:Then there's this laughable story where British Tory leader Michael Howard's aunt claimed "she had been in a gas chamber three times and for various reasons - once they actually ran out of gas".
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uklatest/stor ... 86,00.html
Thanks for that Hannover.
Here's the recording:
- Prof. Noah Charney
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