Showing posts with label neo-Nazis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label neo-Nazis. Show all posts

19 August 2018

Nazi Ladybug meets die Valkyrie

by Leigh Lundin

ladybird nazi
Not sure what’s in the air, but friends and I have had to deal with a variety of insurance adjusters. Must be those uninsured caribou, but that’s not today’s topic. One estimator stood out from the rest, this one in Holyshiteitshot, Arizona.

Like some big men, he walked with a back-leaning Sidney Greenstreet tilt. He firmly planted one foot in front of the other, rather how I imagine Nero Wolfe walked. Round, he was very round, rotund. He’d dressed head to toe in blinding red– crimson cap, carmine knit shirt, vermillion belt, scarlet shorts, sanguine socks, cerise shoes. As for underwear, I would have bet on blood-red briefs, exactly the same shade as the rest of his costume.

The Arizona sun went into eclipse as he bore down upon me. He looked like an oversized ladybug.

No, not quite. Because he sported curly dark hair and beard, it’s fairer to say he looked like a slightly-crazed Santa’s workshop helper dressed as a ladybug.

Melayna plays the horns
“Melayna Walküre seizes the helm in Wagner’s
Das Rheingold.”
— Jean Poole, Opera Revue
“But Leigh!” you say. “That’s not like you to comment on other people’s looks. That’s… that’s… unkind. And besides, his costume didn’t feature ladybug polka-dots.”

Hold on, this is justified, I promise.

Enter Melayna. See, the adjuster hadn’t come to visit me; I simply happened to spot him plodding through heat thermals rising from the parking lot. Melayna was his client.

And she outshone the sun. He was… thunderstruck. Melayna’s pretty, very pretty. She’s also… how the Germans say… kräftig, robuste, widerstandsfähig. Loaded with tattoos, she gobsmacked him like an operatic Valkyrie.

Hormones sizzled in the heat. Birds began twittering highlights from The Sound of Music.

Trying to introduce himself, his voice squeaked like a hyper-ventilating soprano. Kind Melayna helped him reel in his tongue. I strolled off to let young love blossom like Boraginaceae along the Rhine. That’s when ladybug-dude made a fatal mistake.

Lady Bug Superheroes
Botanical and zoological gardens buy cartons of ladybugs by the thousands. Why? Ladybugs, aka ladybirds, devour aphids. Destructive little aphids devour plants, literally sucking the life out of flora.
    We’ve upset the balance of nature, which can no longer naturally produce sufficient ladybugs to munch down on aphid evildoers. Thus botanists and farmers depend on ladybug growers.
Desperate to impress his dazzling darling, he boasted about the only thing in his life he thought worth bragging about, his penchant for white supremacy, his passion for the Aryan nation, his regard for the red, white, and black. Ladybug-boy, he wanted her to know, was a secret Nazi.

Alarmed in the middle of cheeping ‘Edelweiss’, songbirds choked. They scratched to a halt like a needle dragged across a record. Boraginaceae withered on the vine. Ladybug-boy’s overtures sank into the molten tar of an Arizona parking lot.

It gradually dawned on our horrified heroine that the ladybug costume exactly matched the red in Nazi bunting. Melayna, see, one of approximately four Democrats left in Arizona, happened to be the least likely fan of neo-Nazis. This girl hadn’t forgotten America and its Allies fought a war to rid the world of Nazis.

Walkürenritt
“Fräulein Layna shows
Der Ring des Nibelungen
fans how the Valkyries ride.”
— Percy Flage, The Village Vocal
Besotted ladybug-dude not only failed to grasp he’d lost the attention of his süßen Liebling, but he botched the simple insurance estimate. Melayna wondered how die Schwarzen and Hispanics fared at the whims of this Aryan Red Avenger.

Departing into the red-rimmed sunset, she left the smitten Storm Front wannabe pining. Not that day or the next, but sometime she vowed she’d share a quiet word with his insurance overlords.

Don’t ƒ with the fräulein, don’t mess around the Melayna.

Shortly, a cleansing shower refreshed her. As rushing water sluiced away the slime, she even hummed a little Wagner tune. Nothing’s like Ride of the Valkyries to lift a girl’s spirits.

♪♬ Dum de-de-de dee dah… ♩♫

16 February 2014

Heart to Heart

Victorian Valentine
by Leigh Lundin

Valentine’s Day just passed, but let’s face it: Whether fact or fiction, crime writers seldom write about people at their best. Of all the SS colleagues, I tend to write about the dark side more than most, studying true crime to bolster my understanding of fictional deeds.

But this season is about love. People don’t complain Valentine’s Day has become too secular, indeed, we freely spread the love. Other cultures embrace the custom, which can do nothing but promote human relations.

In personal relationships, some say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. That need for love and the anger when it’s thwarted can cause people to react in pain, even violence.

What if they gave a war and nobody came?

Lorena
Love is also our most potent positive emotion. According to a recent NPR report, American Civil War generals so feared the power of love, they banned the popular song Lorena, afraid soldiers might abandon the war to return to loved ones they longed for. Indeed, Wikipedia makes an uncited claim that at least one Confederate officer blamed the song for the South's defeat due to low morale and homesickness.

When it comes to the broader fields of race, religion, and politics, love and hate are polar opposites. However one might criticize young generations, they are relegating racism to the trash heap of history.

David Duke and Julius Malema are two brilliant, charismatic politicians. They have the intelligence and leadership skills to effect positive change to their parts of the world, but each has chosen the darkness of hatred.

A month ago, I came upon “14 Unexpected Responses To Hatred” and I knew I wanted to write about love and hate for my post-Valentine’s article. That article and others feature a number of heroes, men and women and children who've taken a stand for goodness and light. It leads with the story of German and English World War I soldiers who laid down their arms and celebrated the Christmas of 1914 together. Naturally, generals on both sides called up replacements, but who can argue the ordinary soldiers in the trenches weren’t greater than their politicians?

Once a Teenage Heroine

I particularly draw your attention to my favorite heroine, an 18-year-old girl. The incident took place a long time ago, but if you can read about her without tearing up, you’re a better man (or certainly a better woman) than I.

Meet Keshia Thomas. At a Klan rally, she put herself at risk to save the life of a presumed Klansman or neo-Nazi.
Valentine's heart

The Ku Klux Klan is experiencing a resurgence here in Florida and likely other places as well. The new Klan takes credit for saving America from carpetbaggers, Catholics, and commies. More than ever, we need people like Keshia, like Pardeep Kaleka and his friend, former white supremacist Arno Michaelis.

Today’s article is less about crime and more about love, but failing to recognize the inverse relationship between the two would be a crime.