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Why do you need to keep reading the commentary section of WorldNetDaily – or at least scan it faithfully? I’ll tell you why, my friend …
The story starts in 1947, when I was 9 and believed everything I was told. (Well, I did harbor secret doubts about Santa Claus, but I wasn’t about to endanger the annual haul of goodies that the elusive fat guy bestowed on me each Christmas.)
My morning ritual started with cooking my cereal. (Yes, Mom made me do it myself. Life was harsh in those early days.) To break the monotony of staring blankly at my gray Instant Ralston as I ate it, I began spreading the morning’s copy of the Portland Journal beneath the bowl and orienting my mood and worldview to the daily Big Picture of Reality (BPR) presented so concretely and objectively in those revered pages. If it was right there in black and white – it had to be true, right?
As the years flowed on, the BPR became part of my diet. A day without a serene, paper-enhanced breakfast was sure to be a chaotic blur and total waste of daylight. My desire for surety and a proper orientation to the BPR slowly devolved into a neurotic addiction to information – specifically, the swirling array of factoids so faithfully interpreted, shuffled and coaxed into neat rows by those behind-the-scene giants of journalismo who created my world. Without them, I didn’t even know how to feel on any given day.
This frame of mind continued far too long. I was afflicted/blessed with what’s called “the global learning pattern,” which means I eventually learn things exceedingly well, but verrry slowly. My comprehension of any new field sticks at 0 percent for a long while, then may burst forward to nearly 100 percent in a matter of days. In 1964, my fourth year of groping blindly toward my M.A., I began to understand that politics was more complex than I thought, and I wrote in Dizzy Gillespie for president. So you can see I was in a transitional state.
By the late 1980s, I was seeing clearly that the whole of Western Civilization and American culture not only had fatal cracks, but was an edifice built on the wrong hill with grade B materials. And that’s where I am today, still throwing rocks at establishment windows – though now I can usually suggest some remedies for their ills.
Through the years, my favorite breakfast game has been reading the Los Angeles Times (or whatever) and then trying to extrapolate what was really going on in the world. That’s not easy. In fact, it’s downright impossible to do with any precision. The real facts often come out years later.
That fact was underlined four days ago – for the umpteenth time. After 73 years, the Ukrainian government has finally opened its files on the “Holodomor,” the phony famine imposed on Ukraine by Stalin in the winter of 1932-33. Soviet soldiers sealed the borders and then cleaned out the farmers’ food, seeds, cattle – everything. And if a farmer managed to hide his food before troops showed up, he was shot. So possible starvation was his least-risky option.
The estimates of death have ranged from 4 million to 10 million, with the most common median figure I’ve seen being 6 million. That number will likely be refined by reporters and historians in the months ahead.
If “6 million” sounds familiar, it ought to. The Nazi Holocaust usually rates the same number. The Jewish people – persecuted as they are – do get some recognition in Western circles. But you ask the next American you meet, and he’s not even going to be sure where Ukraine is, much less anything about a Ukrainian Holocaust.
My current estimate of warfare deaths in Sub-Sahara Africa since 1960 is 9 million. Looking further back, Hitler gave us 21 million deaths. I have dim childhood memories of hiding under a table during a German attack in 1942, else it could have been 21,000,001.
Mao’s Communists killed 38 million, the USSR slew 66 million, and the moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on. You can’t glean such facts from the daily news; the news is a series of photos, and to get the whole panorama, you usually have to wait months or years – and tap into panoramic commentary like you’ll find on these pages.
Come back soon … and again and again.
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