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Tuesday
September 19, 2017

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My parents and grandparents on both sides suffered under the Nazi Occupation of Czechoslovakia.
Appeasement and tolerance didn't work then, and it won't work now. Fuck Nazi shitheads, now and forever.
Anyone who sports a swastika armband does so deliberately to channel some very powerful, insidious magick.
This is where I draw the line. It's a clear line, a bold line, a bright line, and one which shouldn't be crossed.
To sport a swastika is to leverage history to inspire terror in your intended victims. It's an incitement to genocide.
It's not free speech. It's a call to murder. Fuck that and fuck you if you think you're going to get away with it.
When it comes to fascist assholes, guess what--violence actually is the answer. WW2 was proof of that.
Sadly, the infection was not completely eliminated on May 8, 1945. The germ still spreads. Be the antibiotic.

This is how I was feeling this morning. Oddly enough, when we visited Sarah's alma mater to see her art mentor

Marty Kalb's retrospective, we saw work in the same vein. He's a gifted painter unafraid to make a statement.
It'd be easy for him to retreat into his talent, and I applaud his tackling what should be a passé subject but isn't.

p.s. I don't like violence, but spare me your peace talk if you're an American taxpayer. You fund violence. Daily.
But I suspect that what all the hateful jerks in the world really need is a hug. They are sad, lonely, and damaged.
If they're ready for a hug, hug them. But if they're spewing hate, best to first slap some sense into them. OK?