Join ICE! Save Amerika! Kill Americans! Make Money!

Do you get kicks out of kicking and dragging people out of their houses or cars without a warrant? Do you get thrills from separating children from their parents and sending them to concentration camps? Do you like to shoot people whose  "crime" is helping others? Do you get off watching films of the Nazi death camps? Do you want to make good money doing all these things? 

A job with ICE can make your dreams come true! Your country needs you -- bigly-- to defend American Culture from people who are not like us. PEDOTUS Trump says that criminals, thugs, and rapists have infiltrated the pure body of our great nation. It is time to take the gloves off and show them how Americans deal with this poison in our bloodstream - - by behaving like criminals, thieves, and rapists. 

The objects you seek are easy to find. Most have Hispanic or Haitian  names, brown or black skins, and dark eyes and hair. They are especially numerous in Californication, Minneasocialist, Chicagoillanoise, and Portlandoregasm. 

I know you are eager to serve your country without reward. But if you join ICE you will receive a signing bonus of up to $50,000, a salary between $50,000 and $90,000, and performances bonuses of $10,000 a year. And you wanted to be a teacher, a nurse, a policemen or a fireman! Don't be a loser like those in the Army!

In addition to the big bucks, you get a package of federal benefits, including all health care, that will free you from the anxieties that keep loser Americans working at shitty jobs they hate. We know you despise higher education, but ICE will pay off your student loans if you the misfortune to have any. 

If this isn't enough to tantalize you, you get a black balaclava to hide your identity, a bullet proof vest with the letters ICE emblazoned across the chest, and a shiny badge in gold plate, modelled after Trump's potty. 

And did we tell you? ICE is waiving the age requirements. We will take you from 18 to Joe Biden. In fact, there are no requirements to join other than a criminal record or proof of being in the mob attacking the Capitol Building on January 6, 2021.

And here's the biggest bonus of all: an autographed photo of PEDOTUS with his good friends Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. 

Thank you for your attention to this matter!

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The GOD-KING of Dumbfuckistan

I present His Majesty and Savior, The God-King, divine instrument of the Lord, chosen to lead America to the Promised Land of Dumbfuckistan via Proposition 2025.  

Dumbfuckistan has NEW RULES. 1. Worship the God-King. 2. Obey the God-King. 3. All other rules are hereby repealed. 

The God-King's road to total power as FOTUS was greatly smoothed by the six SUPREME SAINTS of SCOTUS. Directed by God, they ruled that he can do anything he wants, from stealing classified documents and inciting insurrection, to rape, bribery, theft, and pedophilia. His powers include shooting someone on Fifth Ave  -- as long as he is president.   

In his quest to unify the USA, the God-King chose as his vice-president a man dedicated to the values of the Lord's People. Magas love that he hates immigrants. They are less thrilled that he is married to one. 

Like his Superior FOTUS, the Senator from OWHYO defended the peaceful tourists who visited the capitol on January 6, 2021 to get some souvenirs. He dutifully calls the UK a "Muslim country" but magnanimously decides to vacation there. He showed the same compassion to the deprived people of Vermont and LA.

In 2016, Senator ADVANCE denounced the God-King as "America's Hitler" and "an idiot." But that was before GOD sent the senator an epiphany on the Road to Washington. A huge donation from a billionaire, and polls showing Trump was likely to win changed his perspective. Like St. Paul, ADVANCE shifted to the side of the Angels of Trump.  

Some Americans who voted for Trump in 2024 have been confused by recent events, especially Trump's refusal to release the Epstein Files, which he told them were filled with the names of Democrat pedophiles. But most of them will forgive the God-King for that minor lapse. They have drunk the Kool Aid and internalized the Gospel of Trump. Their evolution to that godly state was helped by endless hours of watching and listening to FOX News.

Image: Trump astride his Golden Throne. 

The End of Communism and the Decline of Democracy

Remember back in 1989 and early 1990s when the Soviet Union fell apart? The USSR lost control over its "satellite" countries in Eastern Europe, then itself dissolved into the Russian Federation. Ukraine and Georgia, among others, soon became independent nations. The truncated Russian state was still the largest country in the world in terms of land mass. 

Western pundits cheered what they called the end of the Cold War and of the triumph of liberal democracy and capitalism over authoritarianism communism (many of them threw in democratic socialism for good measure). Of course, there was much good in the end of the Soviet Union. My history students were generally ecstatic about it, and like many in America, viewed it as the triumph of the USA, now the only Superpower and "Number One "

Liberal democracies would now sprout throughout the world, ushering in freedom, universal peace, and "the end of history" -- or so Francis Fukuyama told us. Free market capitalism promised a golden age of prosperity for all, the neoliberal economists insisted.

Things didn't turn out quite that well, did they? Right wing, fascist regimes are spreading around the globe. Democracies are on the defensive everywhere. World peace is a joke as authoritarian leaders like Putin and Netanyahu invade, slaughter, and interfere in other countries' affairs with all the arrogant brutishness of the old imperialists. Thanks to the Supreme Court, the president of the US -- is it Musk or Trump? -- is immune from prosecution for "official acts." Don't expect the law to protect you. 

The rules of international behavior and diplomacy are flouted regularly. Indeed, it is not a huge exaggeration to say there are no rules anymore. Countries pledge to fight global warming but do nothing of substance. Like an alcoholic or Pete Hesgeth -- but I repeat myself -- their promises to reform are meaningless. The profits of the fossil fuel giants are sacrosanct. Ordinary consumers are complicit, demanding cheap gas for their guzzlers.

And what about prosperity for all? A lot of people have seen some benefits, but most of the world remains mired in a world of poverty, disease, and strife. The mega-millions of migrants knocking on the doors of the more prosperous and peaceful countries are testament to the fundamental chaos of the world. 

In a major way, the end of communism contributed to the mess we are in. It freed capitalists from the need to treat workers with a modicum of decency. The western economic response to communism was to try to provide a decent life for ordinary workers, to prove that capitalism was best. Once the communist threat was removed, capitalists could treat their employees with greater disdain, breaking up unions, reducing wages, offshoring jobs. 

The ultimate symbol of vulture capitalism is the US minimum wage, which long ago ceased to be even close to a living wage. At $7.25/hr it has not increased in decades, while Musk, Jeff Bezos, and their ilk rack up millions of dollars a day in profits. Money stolen from the producers. 

At the same time, these oligarchs, thanks to the venal Supreme Court (SCOTUS) have developed the means and techniques of buying governments who will do their bidding. Elon Musk's recent purchase of the American government is just the most glaring example of the trend. The fact that Musk, Trump, and others display strong fascistic tendencies bodes ill for the future of democracy in the USA. If it has a future.

An 18th century Trump: Jonathan Wild, Thief and Thieftaker.

Jonathan Wild was a notorious Jekyll and Hyde character of early 18th century London. Wild played both sides of the law brazenly. He fenced stolen goods, working with a gang of thieves and highwaymen. 

At the same time, he acted as a law-abiding citizen vigilante who informed on criminals, earning the unofficial title of "Thieftaker General." Many of the criminals he denounced to the law were rivals and even members of his gang. (Image: Wild, by Charles Knight, 1791-1873)

Wild was born in Wolverhampton @1682 the son of a carpenter. He moved to London in the early 1700s. After being arrested for debt, he became involved in the criminal underworld, learning from and working with Mary Milliner or Mollineaux, a prostitute. Around 1712 they began to live together. He set himself up as a fence of stolen goods, and Mary operated as a madam. Somehow, he managed to hide this unsavory side and present himself publicly as a respectable citizen with a veneer of gentility. he attracted the attention of the then chief thief taker in London, Charles Hitchens, who recruited him as an assistant.

Wild was aided on both sides of the law by a surge in property crimes in the 1720s. Alarm was increased by crime reporting in London's first daily newspapers. The public was demanding vigorous action, but the authorities were hamstrung. A professional police force was more than a century away, and was opposed as a possible tool of authoritarian government. Crime prevention was in the hands of superannuated night watchmen and part-time, unpaid constables who relied on public posses (the "hue and cry") to pursue thieves. Criminals had an easy time outwitting this ramshackle crew. In a grossly unequal society growing in wealth, opportunities and incentives for theft were legion. 

Wild manipulated the legal system masterly, and collected rewards for returning goods he and his colleagues stole. When one of his gang crossed him, or demanded a larger share of the proceeds, he would "impeach" them (inform on them), sending them to jail and perhaps the gallows. Wild then collected the reward for "taking a thief." The amount, £40, would be worth about £8000 today. In 1720, Wild manged to convince the government to raise the fee to £140. 

If Wild wanted to bring a thief back into his gang, he would bribe the jailers to let them out. He also used his gang members to "take" members of rival gangs, including that of Hitchens, his former mentor and partner. The two crooks engaged in a public pamphlet war, each protesting their devotion to the law and accusing the other of criminality. Wild also accused Hitchens of being a sodomite (homosexual), which stuck and eliminated him as a threat. There is no honour among thieves. 

Wild managed to balance his contradictory persona for more than a decade. But he amassed a large number of enemies. Evidence of mass corruption in the government in the early 1720s increased public skepticism of his civic spiritedness. One of his gang members he had impeached attacked him in the courtroom and cut his throat. 

Wild survived the attack, but it left him greatly weakened, and he began to lose control over his gang. Several of them came forward and testified against him. He was convicted of theft and sentenced to hang. On the morning of his execution he tried to commit but failed to commit suicide. On May 24, 1725 Wild was taken from Newgate prison and hanged at Tyburn (now Marble Arch). A huge crowd turned out to watch the execution, the largest ever to attend such a spectacle, according to Daniel Defoe. Tickets were sold for the best viewing spots. William Hogarth produced a famous engraving of an execution at Tyburn in "The Idle 'Prentice Executed at Tyburn." (1747)

In one of history's ironies, the hangman had been a guest at Wild's wedding. An 18 year old Henry Fielding was among the throng. Wild's body was dissected at the College of Surgeons. His skeleton is on display at the Hunterian Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, London. (Image: Ticket to Wild's Execution)

Many writers, including John Gay and Henry Fielding, were inspired by Wild's career. They used the story of Wild to attack corrupt politicians, notably Sir Robert Walpole, Britain's first prime minister. Today, it is not difficult to see a parallel between Wild and Donald Trump. The former president presents himself as a great patriot and public servant, while engaging in a series of criminal and legally questionable activities. Trump, like Wild, has often thrown his associates to the wolves to save his skin. Will the course of justice catch up with Trump as it did with Wild, or will The Donald end up more like Walpole, who survived as prime minister for 21 years? American voters will decide. 

Further Reading:

John Gay, The Beggar's Opera (1728).

Henry Fielding, The Life and Death of Jonathan Wild, the Great (1743).

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Truth: The First Casualty of War -- and Politics

That war and truth have never coexisted happily is something a cliché nowadays. The phrase "Truth is the first casualty of war"  has been knocking about for centuries. The idea, if not the exact words, has been attributed to various figures from the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus to Hiram Johnson, a 20th century US senator. 

People continue to debate who said it first, but the oldest traceable expression of the idea came from the pen of another Johnson, the 18th century lexicographer and essayist Samuel Johnson: "Among the calamities of war may be jointly numbered the diminution of the love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates and credulity encourages." [The Idler 11 November 1758]

[Image: Samuel Johnson by Joshua Reynolds. Johnson as nearsighted]

Johnson's sentence not only contains the basic accusation -- war annihilates truth -- but an explanation: interest dictates lies and credulity encourages belief in them. "Interest" could be the interest of the country, but more likely, the interests of political leaders. "Credulity" refers to a public willingness to believe the leaders' claims without verifiable proof. 

Johnson's main target was journalists. With the emergence and expansion of newspapers and journals in the 18th century, the tribe of "scribblers" had multiplied. Their chief employment was "inventing new amusements for the rich and idle." 

The most necessary qualities of these new journalists was "contempt of shame and indifference to truth." War provided the scribblers with new opportunities to showcase their skills and make a living. Johnson's claims about journalists may seem unduly harsh, but his basic contention about war and truth has been proven correct again and again. 

But as he knew, war is not unique in abusing the truth. He also coined the phrase "politics is the last refuge of the scoundrel." Even in peacetime, politics is a kind of war: a fight for power. In the heat of political battle falsehood is a routine tactic. "Interest dictates" and "credulity encourages" lying. 

Credulity is essential to the success of political lies. To paraphrase the English poet Arthur Hugh Clough, credulity gives the lie wings to fly. Without credulity the lie would go nowhere and die. With it the lie can go "viral," especially in the world of social media.

History abounds with political liars, some successful, some not. The most glaring examples, like Hitler or Stalin, can be misleading. Their whoppers were so big we can easily overlook the more modest liars of today, in politics and other realms, like advertising.

Recent figures such as Donald Trump and Boris Johnson have had a long history of playing fast and loose with the truth before emerging as leaders of their countries. In spite of that, they attracted huge support from the credulous, thanks in large part to a media that either spread their lies or allowed them to fly without serious scrutiny. 

Ask yourself, how could these mega-fibbing clowns be elected leaders of two great democracies? How could a deluded lightweight with crackpot ideas manage to succeed Boris Johnson as Tory leader and Prime Minister? I mean, Liz Truss?

We can't blame the meteoric rise of Truss on British voters. They had no say in the matter. A majority of Tory Party members, less than 100,000 people "elected" her as the leader of a nation of nearly 70 million. That almost makes the US Electoral College look like a democratic way of electing a president. 

It is true that her own Tory MP's pushed Truss out of the job in a few weeks, making her the shortest serving prime minister in British history. But she had enough time to do huge damage the British economy and help her old employers, Shell Oil, make record windfall profits. [Image: Liz Truss announcing her resignation]

Truss, like Boris, is a shameless opportunist who says whatever she thinks will achieve power. If her intelligence matched her lust for power, she would be a formidable force. If.

Why did so much of the media treat these amoral and incompetent characters as if they were credible leaders? What interests were directing their rise to power? Why were so many people credulous in the face of their lies, bogus promises, and fantasies? 

More importantly, perhaps, is there any prospect of change? Or are we condemned to an endless parade of charlatans and fools ascending what Benjamin Disraeli called the "greasy pole" of power?

A brief glance at what claims to be accurate media does not arouse a sense of optimism. Many media figures today are little different from the sort of scribblers Samuel Johnson denounced. Actually, they may be far worse and far more dangerous, as are the "interests" behind them. 

Consider Tucker Carlson, Sean Hannity, and the general run of FOX "news" reporters. Multiply them by hundreds of others like them on TV, radio, and social media. Consider the scribblers write for tabloid newspapers such as The Sun, The Daily Mail, and The Daily Express. Have a nice day. 

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"The Glorious Fourth": A Poem on Independence Day by Hannah Griffits, 1785

The 250th anniversary of American independence is in 2026. Given how Trump is undermining the principles the US was founded upon, it is worth looking at the views of an intelligent women who was ambivalent about the whole thing. 

Hannah Griffits was a Quaker poet who lived in the late colonial and early national period of American history. She witnessed a lot of changes: her life spanned 90 years (1727-1817).

Hannah decided to be a poet when she was just a child. At age 10, she promised God that she would not write poetry about "trifling themes." She kept her promise. 

Griffits came from a prominent Pennsylvania family. She supported colonial resistance to British rule. In addition, she was also a proto-feminist who wrote poems celebrating the efforts of the Daughters of Liberty to boycott British goods in response to the attempts of Parliament to tax colonial imports.  

But she was also a devout Quaker. She abhorred violence and advocated a peaceful settlement of the conflict. Once hostilities commenced she denounced the behavior of both sides and the suffering and divisions they created. The war divided Griffits' relatives into Patriots and Loyalists, a common outcome in many families.

She was appalled by the carnage of the first major battle after the Patriots had declared independence, the Battle of Long Island.  [Image: "The Battle of Long Island" by Alonzo Chappell, 19th century recreation.]

She was particularly harsh in condemning Thomas Paine (one of my heroes), calling him "a Snake beneath the grass" whose extreme rhetoric drowned out that of moderates. The British came in for a drubbing as well. They exhibited evidence of a "deep degeneracy of nature." 

In the wake of the war, she wrote a poem expressing disillusion with the costs and results of independence. It is short and simple, but immensely powerful. It sums up, I think, the feelings many people have today about the current situation of the United States. It deserves wide dissemination at this perilous time. 

"The glorious fourth --  again appears,

A day of days -- and year of years,

The sum of sad disasters,

Where all the mighty gains we see,

With all their boasted liberty,

Is only change of masters." (1785)

Griffits' poetry received little attention in her time. The literary establishments of the day were hostile to women authors. Griffits never tried to publish her poems. A few did get published but not through her own efforts. Many others survived in commonplace books kept by relatives and friends. 

Further Reading: 

Hannah Griffitts - Wikipedia

Hannah Griffitts | History of American Women (womenhistoryblog.com) by Maggie Maclean

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Trumpelstiltskin: A Grim, Mysterious Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a poor stockbroker named Jack Hammer. He was poor because he was a terrible predictor of stock futures. Verging on bankruptcy, he decided to employ his most valuable asset: his beautiful and intelligent daughter. 

One day at a brokers' meeting, he bragged to everyone that his daughter’s investment predictions were amazingly accurate.
Most of the brokers laughed and ignored him, given his record of stock predictions. But one man there did not: the Chairman of the Brokers’ Association. He came over and grabbed Hammer by the lapels of his jacket. 

“I would like to put your daughter's ability to the test. Bring her to my mansion tomorrow." He winked. "I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to such a nice girl. Don't worry, I'll protect her whether she likes it or not.”

Hammer hurried home, cursing himself. His daughter was smart and had marvellous boobs, but knew nothing about predicting stock futures. 

She was horrified at his news. “This is insane! What am I going to do?" she asked, polishing her nails. "I don't know anything about this stuff.” 

Her father tried to calm her. “Just do your best. The worst thing the Chairman will do is fire you. He loves firing people.” Hammer feared something worse but decided to keep that to himself.

When the girl arrived at the Chairman’s gilded mansion, a servant led her to a room. It contained a bed and a desk. Behind the desk sat the leering Chairman, a porky man with a weird orange cast to his face, as if he had washed in Cheetos. He sported a red tie that hung well below his waist.

He pointed to a pile of papers on the desk. “Rank these 10 stock prospectuses from first to worst. You have until tomorrow morning. If you get it right, I'll keep you on. If you get it wrong, you'll be fired.” 

Relieved, the girl replied, “I know. My Dad told me that.” The Chairman laughed. “I guess he didn’t tell you that here fired means fried, barbecued, ha, ha.”

He went out and locked her in the room. She looked around the room. Another door led to a bathroom with a golden toilet. Returning to the desk, she picked up the first prospectus. It was written in a language only brokers and investment lawyers would understand, the better to fleece the sheeple. 

She threw it down and began to cry. Just then, the door opened, and a little man entered. He looked like a Keebler Elf, but much less cute and far more chubby. In fact, he looked like a Mini-Me of the Chairman, from his strange orange glow to his tiny hands. The small man doffed his red cap, and bowed. “Good evening, my pretty young lady. Why do you weep so?”

She stifled a sob, pointing to the pile of reports. “I’ve got to rank these prospectuses from worst to first, or the Chairman will roast me. And I don’t know anything about stocks.” 

“No worries, my dear. I can help you. I know more than anybody about everything. But what will you give me if I succeed in saving you from the Chairman’s barbecue?”

“I will let you kiss me,” the girl said with modest reluctance. The little man looked downcast. “Only first base? OK, it’s a start.” He went over to the pile of prospectuses and began looking through them. Within minutes he had arranged them in what he said was the correct order. He bowed and grinned. “I’ll be back for my reward tomorrow,” he said, and left.

The next morning at the crack of dawn, as the girl slept, the Chairman entered the room. He grabbed up the prospectuses wordlessly and left. About half an hour later, he returned, and woke the girl. He was rubbing his tiny hands together and his eyes had a weird glint. “My dear, you’re a genius, almost as smart as me.”

“Can I go home now?” the girl asked. 

“Home? Not yet, my pretty. I have another test for you.” He led her into another room, filled with piles of prospectuses.  “Rank these in the correct order by morning. Only 100. Piece of cake for you, I bet.”

The Chairman left. The girl began to cry, and cry, and cry. Her tears had almost soaked the prospectuses when she felt a tug on her sleeve. The little man in the red cap dried her tears and kissed her. 

“Now, my precious, would you like some help with this task?”  She nodded. “What will be my reward?” “Second base,” she said, drying her tears. The little man finished the task in no time at all and left.

The next morning the result was the same. The Chairman praised her brilliance, but said he had another test for her. “A mere 1000 this time, my precious.” That night the little man came again, and collected his reward. The girl begged for his help and promised him third base.

All went well again, but as you can guess, the greedy Chairman insisted on another test: 10,000 prospectuses. If she succeeded, he said, he would make her his wife. 

“But you’re already married to Melanoma,” she said. He laughed. “No problem. I get rid of wives regularly. A few million for a divorce settlement will do the job. And I'll deduct the money from my income taxes.”

Before the girl could reply, the Chairman left. She began to cry again, a veritable flood. The little man soon appeared and collected his third base reward. "I'll help you one last time," he said, "but only in return for a home run." The girl began to cry again. 

The little man stamped his foot impatiently. "OK," he said, "I’ll do this task for you. After that you’ll have three chances to guess my name. If you fail, you must reward me.” The girl hesitated, thought about roasting on the Chairman’s grill, and agreed.

When the Chairman checked the girl’s results the next morning, he repeated his usual praise. “I’m off to file the divorce papers now," he said, and pecked her on the cheek. 

That night the little man returned as promised. He put his tiny hands on his rather broad hips. “Well, what is my name?” The girl went through every name she could think of, from Aaron to Zachariah. “Not my name,” the little man said each time, and left.

The next day the girl begged the Chairman’s permission to go out shopping, for lingerie. “Of course, my sweet, but you must come back, or I’ll roast your father." She headed straight for a local bookshop to get a book of names. The kind prospective parents get.

While she was perusing one of these books, a handsome young clerk sauntered up and asked if he could help her. She could tell immediately that he was the empathetic type, because the next thing he said was, “I have a degree in the humanities.” 

She explained her difficulty. His face clouded in outrage. “Don’t worry. I have a cunning plan,” he said. He explained it to the girl, who smiled and nodded. When the little man returned that night, she read out every name in the book. “Not my name” he said to each and left.

The third night, the little man appeared again, wearing a triumphant, lusty grin. “This is your last chance. What’s my name?” The girl replied, “Barrington?” The little man laughed. “Not my name.” The girl smiled. “Well, how about Trumpelstiltskin?” 

The little man's orange face turned red with anger. He stomped up and down. “You cheated, you harlot. How did you find out? The devil must have told you, or Nancy Pelosi.” At this point, a closet door opened with a loud creak.

The handsome young man stepped into the room, holding a gun. “I’ve been on to you for some time, you disgusting piece of slime. I may work at the bookstore, but that’s a clever disguise. I’m actually Dick Spacy, a private dick. I was hired by some of your previous victims. When this young lady told me her story, I knew I had you. One of my assistants followed you yesterday. He heard you singing that silly song about baking and brewing, and rejoicing that no one knew your name. But you made a fatal mistake. You foolishly revealed your name at the end of the song. By the way, that song won’t make the Top 40.”

While the young man expounded on his brilliance, he failed to notice that Trumpelstiltskin had moved closer to the young girl. With a lightning movement, Mr. T grabbed her left arm and pulled her in front of him, so that her posterior faced the young man. An astute move. It left Dick staring helplessly at that dazzling part of her anatomy. 

But the little fellow forgot about her other arm. The girl raised it above his head. It was holding a hammer. With amazing force, she brought it down on his skull. It cracked open like a knockoff Faberge egg. He dropped into a pool of blood.

As Dick and the girl checked to see that Trumpelstiltskin was down for good, the room door opened, revealing the portly orange frame of the Chairman. He looked at the body on the floor. “Villains! You have killed the second greatest genius in human history! Second to me, of course.”

“But he was using you to get his way with this girl,” Dick said.  

“Balderdash! We were working together on this caper. We arranged this whole thing. I didn’t give a junk bond about her predictive skill, which was non-existent. I was after something else." He pointed to the corpse. "So was he. Poor fellow. He should’ve stuck to call girls."

“And you dare call us villains!” Dick said. He stepped forward to grab the Chairman by the throat. But he slipped on the bloody floor and stumbled to his knees. The Chairman grabbed a poker from the fireplace and raised it to hit Dick. As he did so, a hammer whistled through the air, followed by a loud crack. The Chairman fell forward, noiselessly, landing on the dead Trumpelstiltskin with a loud splat.

 
Dick got up, fixed his hair, and hugged the girl. “Mission accomplished. I saved you from these villains, as I promised.” He pointed toward the bed. “Now it’s time for my reward.” As he moved toward the bed, the hammer came up and down again. Dick crumpled and fell to the floor.

The girl surveyed the bloody scene with more satisfaction than the circumstances called for. She turned towards the audience.* “I know you’ve been dying to know my name. I'm not called Armanda Hammer for nothing."    

*NB. I forgot to mention that this was a play. 

  







 

Finding a Scapegoat for Pandemics: Black Death to Trump Virus

Ever since Donald Trump stopped calling Covid-19/coronavirus a hoax, he has been engaged in an age-old response to disease epidemics and pandemics: finding a scapegoat. Rather than accept his own incompetent response to the pandemic (impossible), he has engaged in blaming a host of nefarious villains. 

Trump's scapegoats have included everyone who "failed to warn him" or "created the virus." The list is long and grows longer by the day: Democrats, immigrants, the "Lamestream" Media, the Chinese, Obama, Hilary, and the World Health Organization (WHO), and Dr. Fauci. Trump, of course, is not alone in scapegoating. Some of his supporters blame all of the above, plus Bill Gates, libruls, commies, gays, single sex marriage, and Jews.

The word "scapegoat" derives from a practice described in the Bible (Leviticus 16). The original scapegoats were actual goats. A rabbi would symbolically load up a goat with all the sins of the community and send it into the wilderness. Goodbye sins.

In more modern times, a scapegoat is usually a person or group of persons blamed for a disaster. The disaster might be a famine, an earthquake, floods, or as in the current case, a deadly disease. Throughout history, people have tended to blame "others" for mysterious deaths, especially on a large scale. The scapegoats have included people of different religions and cultures, minorities, "witches," heretics, women, and the poor.

European Christians often blamed Jews for epidemics, notably during the Black Death of the 14th century. Then and in later outbreaks, Christians claimed the Jews had poisoned the wells. Mobs killed thousands of Jews. Yet the plague was never called the Jewish Disease. 

Nor was it called the Chinese Disease. The plague probably originated in China, but few Europeans were aware of that in the 14th century. In more recent times, Westerners have accused the Chinese (and Asians more generally) for epidemics and pandemics. The 1890s cartoon below, from a San Francisco newspaper, condemns the city's Chinatown and Chinese immigrants as the source of malaria, smallpox, and leprosy. 

  
In 1900, whites in Honolulu and San Francisco blamed the Chinese community for an outbreak of plague in their cities, the first ever in the United States. The entire Chinese population of the two cities was quarantined and demonized. In Honolulu, an attempt to use fires to purify the air and burn out the plague resulted in wildfires and the destruction of 7000 homes in Chinatown. (Below: Quarantine line around Chinatown, Honolulu and fire there, Jan. 1, 1900)

In the USA, many people blamed Jews for the 1892 cholera epidemic, which coincided with the arrival of a large Jewish migration from Russia. Americans also blamed Irish immigrants arriving in the 1830s and 1840s for cholera and other diseases.

In the 1980s, many people blamed gays for the AIDS epidemic. The original name for the disease, GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency) did not help. Later, many Americans accused Haitians as the source.

The disease for which blame has been most shared is syphilis, which first broke out in Europe around 1500. The Spanish, who appear to have been the first to experience it, blamed Native Americans, and that remains a common view. Tahitians called it the British disease after Captain Cook's visit in 1769.

The English called it the French Disease, the French called it the Italian Disease, and the Italians reciprocated. The Dutch called it the Spanish Disease, For the Russians, syphilis was the Polish Disease.Turks called it the Christian Disease, the Japanese the Portuguese Disease. 

After the Civil War and emancipation of the enslaved, many Americans viewed syphilis as a black disease. Nearly everybody blamed "loose women" but rarely did anyone blame loose men. Everybody knew that most human troubles originated with Eve and Pandora.

Scientists (especially the mad kind) are another favorite scapegoat for diseases. They have often been accused of producing killer microbes in their labs, then releasing them on the world either intentionally or from absent-minded carelessness. Americans accused Chinese scientists of cooking up the Covid-19 virus. The Chinese government accused American scientists of the same thing. 

A popular explanation among conspiracy theorists, mainly in the US, is that the Chinese 5G network is the culprit. Another is that Bill Gates created it.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf; Or, A Pandemic of Lies

The people of the village of Great Cockup were afraid of wolves. In order to protect the village against wolves, they hired a new Chief Wolf-watcher. The last one, they decided, was not tough enough for the job, which was to keep an eye out for wolves and warn the village if any were nearby. This despite the fact the last one had gotten rid of one of largest wolves they had ever seen. The villagers called the new Chief Wolf-watcher "The Boy." Truth be told, he did act like a twelve year old. An unusual choice for such a job, one might think. But when he applied for the position, he convinced the villagers with his supreme confidence in himself. "I'm not afraid of wolves," he said. "I just look at them hard and poof, they're gone, tails between their legs. You can't hire a better Chief Wolf-watcher than me. I'm the best you'll ever have." Days went by and no wolves appeared. The Boy grew bored. One day he jumped up and cried "Eureka! I have an idea," he said. "The best idea." He ran into the village green, shouting "Wolf! Mexican Wolf!" The villagers came out, holding pitchforks, clubs, and other weapons. "Where's the wolf?" they asked. The Boy laughed. "There is no wolf. I was just checking to see if you were ready. Go home." The Boy was highly pleased with himself. "What fun. I must do that again." And he did. His false warnings became routine. Sometimes he said the wolf was from Haiti or Venezuela, other times that they were migrants from far away countries like China. The villagers always came out to chase off the wolves, and the Boy laughed and told them to go home. One day, when he cried "Wolf" for fun, the villagers did not respond. They had grown tired of his false warnings. The Boy turned to go back to his post. As he walked away from the green, he was confronted by a huge, powerful wolf. The Boy looked at the wolf and said, "You are not real. You're a hoax." The wolf moved closer and growled. "OK, maybe you're real, but I can handle you. There's only one of you." The Boy made his most menacing face. Truly a marvel to behold. The wolf showed no fear. He moved closer, growling and snarling.

Meanwhile, other wolves were gathering around the edge of the village. When the Boy spied them, he cursed. "Why didn't someone warn me about this plague of wolves? The boy ran onto the village green and cried "Wolf!" But on this occasion, no one came out of their houses. The Boy ran away to his country mansion, Little Penistone. From news reports he learned that many of the villagers and sheep had been eaten by the wolves. In response, he bragged about his brilliant handling of the wolf plague. How he had never underestimated it. How his warnings had saved many lives. One day he wandered back to Great Cockup. It was eerily quiet. One by one the villagers who had survived came out. They were holding pitchforks, clubs, and axes. The Boy ran, but he was too slow....

Trump Virus or Kung Flu? Naming Pandemics in History

Last year, Chinese officials and many others accused Donald Trump of racism because he referred to Covid-19, or coronavirus, the "Chinese virus." At his Tulsa rally, he called it "Kung Flu."  "Trump Virus" may be the most accurate name, because he has done more than anyone on the planet to spread it. His rhetoric has also contributed to an upsurge on attacks on Asian Americans. 

Racist or not, and it often is, naming pandemic diseases after their alleged place of origin is an old practice. In 1957 and 1968, two deadly flu pandemics were named the "Asian Flu" and the "Hong Kong Flu." A pandemic flu first reported in St. Petersburg in 1889 was denoted the "Russian Flu." It was later called "Asiatic Flu," although St. Petersburg is a long way from Asia.

When pandemic cholera first made its way from India to the UK in the early 19th century, people called it the "Indian Cholera," as in the broadsheet below from 1831. One reason for adding the adjective "Indian" was to distinguish this new, mysterious disease from an old, familiar one: "cholera infantum," a type of childhood diarrhea. but the name led to Indians being blamed for the disease.

In the cartoon below, also from 1832, the cholera is dressed in Indian garb, trying to enter England, but caught by stout John Bull. The reality was far different for England and the world. A series of cholera pandemics during the 19th and early 20th century killed millions in Asia, Africa, Europe and North America, more than 30 million in India alone.

Later in the 19th century, cholera was often referred to as "Asiatic Cholera."

In 1918-1919, a virulent form of influenza became pandemic, and ultimately killed 50-100 million people worldwide. It quickly became known as the "Spanish Flu," although it probably originated in the USA. But the USA was engaged in World War I and sending thousands of troops to Europe. The press was instructed not to report about the epidemic, lest it lead to demands to stop troop shipments -- the overcrowded ships were excellent incubators for such a disease. 

Most European countries involved in the war similarly kept quiet at first, to avoid hurting morale. Spain, however, was neutral, and its press reported on the outbreak. Spain's reward was to have one of the worst pandemics in history named after it. 

It was also called "Flanders Grippe" in Britain, "Bolshevik Disease" in Poland, "Too much inside sickness" in Hong Kong.

Today, it is usually called the "Great Influenza." Perhaps it should be called the "American Flu."

Interestingly, the greatest and most famous pandemic in world history was not named for a place or nation. That was the pandemic of plague that ravaged Eurasia during the 1340s, killing between 75 and 200 million, It wiped out perhaps as much as 60 percent of the European population. It probably originated in Central or East Asia and traveled west along the Silk Road to the Middle East, Europe, and North Africa. 

The 14th century pandemic is best known today as the Black Death, but that name was not applied to it at the time. Other names for it include, Plague, Great Plague, Black Plague, and Pestilence (La Peste). Before the pandemic, plague and pestilence simply meant a deadly epidemic disease. (Below: The Dance of Death, or Danse Macabre, late medieval, Nuremberg Chronicles).

Syphilis, which struck Europe in pandemic form after 1500, was generally named after other, often disliked, countries. The English called it the French Disease. The French called it the Italian Disease. The Italians returned the compliment. The Dutch called it the Spanish Disease. Russians called it the Polish Disease. Turks called it the Christian Disease. The Japanese called it the Portuguese Disease because Portuguese traders brought it from Europe.