Sunday, December 29, 2013

Half Distance



I feel alone in the world, with no real friend
I hate people, or is it myself I cannot stand?
Music and whiskey are welcome distractions
But dear Mister Daniel: I need a stronger blend

Lived through 3 dozen years of misery and pain
Half distance reached, but do I want to do it again?
Another 3 decades worth of failure and regret
No matter when I go, the ending's always the same

Wouldn't have made it this far without rock n' roll
If I had one I'm sure it would've saved my soul
Sabbath, Maiden and Priest make me live in the now
When the past mercilessly threatens to take its toll

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Tetsuya: an update and a preview

Well, for some time now (about 3 years, actually), I've been working on my first novel. It's a vampire story set in Japan, and it stars a samurai, Tetsuya, who is turned into a vampire during a fateful battle. Faced with the prospect of eternal life, he travels the world in search of answers, as he also tries to deal with his own need to kill people in order to live.
I am now in the last stages of rewriting and proofreading all the material I have, and I believe that I will finally (!) be able to complete this thing by January. So, here's a little preview for you. If you like it, be sure to share this post with your friends, because I could always more fans. :)


TETSUYA


Hiroshima, 1994
It was a cool October night in Hiroshima. The leaves had begun to turn, the days had become shorter. It was cold outside. Inside the massive Hondori mall, a young woman named Keiko has just finished her shift in a small but upscale shoe store. Hondori was Hiroshima’s signature shopping mall; a unique construct in what was in many ways a typical Japanese city. Hondori did not consist of a single, large building; it was an entire city street that had been covered with a richly illuminated and beautifully decorated roof. It was always filled with shoppers on foot or on bicycles, and many tourists browsed through the varied shops. The small shop in which Keiko sold fashionable footwear to the wives of office workers who wasted away the hours in the nearby office towers was located toward the east of the long shopping street. She herself was now headed west, to the Hondori station of the Astram train line. The train would bring her to Ozuka, to the west of Hiroshima. Downtown Hiroshima itself was located on an island in the Ota River, but Ozuka was on the mainland. Ozuka station was only 8 kilometers from downtown, but the Astram line’s commuter trains circled the city: first the line went north, and then in one giant half-circle it came down again on the western mainland. Keiko walked briskly toward the train station, she longed for a warm meal, a warm shower and an even warmer bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she could sleep in. She smiled. In her hurry, she did not notice the tall, thin figure that was silently following her. This was not the first night on which she’d had a stalker; the creature had been watching her for some time. It had noticed her slender frame, her small yet perfectly shaped breasts, her elegant face, her graceful demeanor. It had noticed all these things from the safe anonymity that the crowds in Hondori afforded it, and it had grown hungrier each day.
It followed her to a small noodle shop. It waited patiently near a bike rack until a small bespectacled man handed her a bag containing soup. She continued on her way, hoping to catch the 9:21 PM train. The station had only opened a few months before, and she was glad that she no longer had to take a bus to get back to her apartment. The train saved her a lot of time, and it was usually on time. The creature followed her onto the platform, blending in perfectly with the myriad other travelers. Once a long time ago, it had preferred to approach its victims directly, fearlessly. These days, the police made it ever harder for it to satisfy its hunger, and it was forced to stalk its prey carefully. It had to be careful not to leave fingerprints. It had to be smart. But it also had long lost the nerve to look into its victim's eyes when the moment came; it needed drugs to calm its nerves. If Keiko had turned her head toward the creature, she would have seen the two enormous teeth it bared as it smiled at her. But she was looking in the other direction, hoping for the impeccably clean gold and black train to appear soon. The ride to Ozuka would take about half an hour, and she'd walk a few minutes from the station to her apartment. She saw the light of the train approaching and readied herself to fight for a seat with the other passengers as it slowed down in front of the platform. She waited for the hiss that signified the imminent opening of the doors, and pushed her small body inside. She found a seat, and after scanning the other travelers she closed her eyes, tired from a long, boring day at work. The creature, meanwhile, stepped into the very same wagon as her, but she still didn’t notice it. It was dressed in the smart businessman uniform that so many Japanese office workers wore: a black suit, a white shirt, and an unremarkable blue tie. It had a clean-shaven face, a shiny bald head, and was quite tall. It gave no indication that it was anything other than a typical Japanese office worker, at least not to the casual observer. Had Keiko given the creature more than a passing glance, she would have noticed that it never blinked. She also hadn't paid any attention to the ice chest the creature was carrying. It was filled up with ice cubes and was quite heavy, but the creature seemed to handle it as easily as if it were made of paper.
The train began to move, and the creature managed to find a seat. It bore no ill will toward Keiko, but knew that it would have to kill her. It was going to drink her blood and eat her heart. That's just the way things were. The way things had to be. Why Keiko? Why not someone else? Well, that was complicated. Back in the old days the creature could have simply taken a victim in the night, and no one would have suspected it. Life -and death- were easier back then. These days its need to be careful had driven it to seek out people who lived alone because it was easier to kill loners, and because no one would miss them for a while. It had to subdue its instincts, and perform clean kills. It had to be methodical, precise. This didn't prevent it from enjoying its victims in other ways, which was exactly why it almost always chose young women to be its plaything, but there was something else about Keiko, something that it couldn't quite understand, and that unsettled it. As the train pulled out of the station, the creature thrust its index finger into its inner jacket pocket. When it removed the finger it was coated with a fine white powder, which the creature quickly rubbed onto its gums. Soon the drug would be flowing through its veins, soon it would feel lighter... it wondered what Keiko's blood would taste like and, knowing that it still had some time before the train reached its destination it let its head fall back against the window. Its thoughts drifted back to a time before cocaine, before trains, before ice chests, before shopping malls, before, before, before...

Hiroshima, 1672
Tetsuya hated early mornings with a passion.
"Procrastinating is of no use," his wife said without an ounce of compassion. He smiled at her as she handed him his armor. They'd been married eight years now, and he was as much in love with her as he'd been back then.
"I know, Emiko, I know. Asano wants us all to be there early, so I've got no choice. I'd much rather stay here with you... " Emiko glanced at her husband. He was handsome, his thick black hair framing a  face that at the age of 26 had lost none of its boyish charm. She hated for him to leave her so early as well, but he was right: he didn't have a choice. His daimyo, or Lord, had declared war on a rival, and as his master’s soldier he had to go into battle. ‘Why do we always have to do these things early in the morning?’ he wondered as he drank some water. He splashed the remaining water on his face and then he opened the thin bamboo door that separated his humble dwelling from the world outside. His look fell upon the courtyard right in front of his hut; usually it was bristling with activity, farmers selling or trading their wares, warriors bragging about their exploits, women gossiping… but not today, and certainly not this early. The sun had yet to rise. Presently the courtyard was overfilled with soldiers; samurai, who illuminated their gathering place with torches and waited silently and patiently for the arrival of their master. Tetsuya left his home and mingled with the other samurai, each of whom was accompanied by his most prized possession: a magnificent sword. A few quiet greetings here, a few nods of the head here, time to find a good place to stand, and then daimyo Asano was there: a short, stocky man, maybe about 45 years of age. He wore a scar on his face, in witness from a past battle. His armor was far more exquisitely detailed than Tetsuya's. His sword was the biggest here, truly befitting his station, for a daimyo was a rich man who owned a lot of land and employed the samurai who lived on his property, and he never let them forget that he was their master and benefactor. The samurai, in return, protected his lands and his people from rival daimyos. Daimyos often fought each other for more land or political advantages. In theory they were all citizens of the greater Japan, under the control of His Majesty, the Emperor; but he was just a figurehead, a boy of barely 7 years, and the real power lay with the Shogun, the Imperial War Lord.
Asano stepped onto a small platform in the center of the courtyard, and addressed his warriors: “Men! Samurai! Our honor has been insulted! A daughter of our clan has been violated” – Tetsuya knew that she had not in fact been violated, she had merely decided to see someone from another clan, but the truth didn’t matter when a lie could be exploited for political or financial gain- “and it is our duty to avenge this infamy! We will begin at once! We will march toward Akinakano, encircle the main houses, and assault the town from all sides at once!” The perhaps two thousand men assembled in the courtyard of Hiroshima Castle erupted into cheers and began the trek toward the forest, from which they would stage their assault.
About an hour and a half later Tetsuya glanced over at his friend, Shigeru. They were in position on the far side of the village they were about to attack. Their force numbered about 800 men, and Asano had remained with the main force of about 1200 on the near side. The daimyo would signal them when it was time to commence their assault.
“Nervous, Tetsuya?” Shigeru inquired.
“No,” Tetsuya lied.
Shigeru smiled knowingly. Soon their lives would be on the line, and no matter how well prepared they were, no one could ever foretell the outcome of a battle. They had an advantage now, in the darkness, but once that was gone the enemy would fight back.
The signal came, a burning arrow splitting the night with its fiery glow. Tetsuya, Shigeru, and the rest of their force lunged forward, swords drawn. They were a fearsome sight, with their facemasks sculpted to resemble wild beasts and demons. Their tough leather armor protected them from the simple weapons of the villagers, but Tetsuya felt uneasy as he ran toward the first row of houses. Too often he had lost friends in battle; too many times the blood of boys who were barely old enough to kiss a girl had been spilt. ‘Why do we keep doing this’, he asked himself under his helmet as he ran. ‘Why can’t we all just live in peace, there’s enough land here for everyone.’ He knew the answer: because the daimyo had ordered it. Of course his power was merely based on people’s beliefs that he did in fact have power; if people stopped believing then he would stop being their leader… but alas, the masses always swam with, and not against the stream, and if they perceived the majority to follow the daimyo then they would, too. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a villager who had appeared out of nowhere; he had undoubtedly been awakened by the commotion of hundreds of armored men running through the narrow streets. The man was dressed in the simple garb of a farmer, and was wielding a pitchfork. He screamed at Tetsuya and his comrades, and Tetsuya skillfully danced around him, turning his back towards him, and plunging his sword into the man’s neck in the same movement, neatly severing his head.
The battle had begun.

 ********
 I'd appreciate any comments and suggestions! 


Saturday, November 30, 2013

Random musings about cars

So, I'm finally getting around to getting my driver's license. A bit late, I know... but better late than never. Or so I keep telling myself as I cry myself to sleep each night, thinking about that empty space in the garage.
Completing the driver's training program here in Quebec takes a whole damn year, so that gives me time to contemplate what kind of car I want. Not being rich (you bastards need to buy more of my books), I will have to get either an econobox or something used. Since I'm not a fan of things that scream "poverty" at the top of their lungs, a Hyundai Accent or Chevy Spark are out of the question. So a used, bigger car it shall be then.
But what?
I only have a short commute to work, but I'd like to travel a bit. I need reliability and legroom (being 6'3"). I want something good-looking, and preferably something that not everybody else has. No Accord or Camry, please. Gas mileage is also of concern; what good is a car when you can't afford to go anywhere in it?
So I began looking at Prii. A decent late-model Prius can be had for less than 12 grand; they look different, the interior has a nice sci-fi feel to it, and mileage is impressive. But they have no soul. They are appliances, like a microwave. Very impressive pieces of engineering, but there is no joy in them. Why would I want something that makes it decidedly difficult to enjoy driving?
Many people of course do buy a Prius, and then can't shut up about how they are so much better than the rest of us because you know, they are single-handedly saving the environment. That, however is a lie. Even if a Prius consumed no gas at all and were powered by the hot air escaping from its driver's mouth, it would never make up for the tremendous amount of energy and resources that are spent building any new vehicle. If you were to buy a used Hummer, a vehicle that already exists out there in the world, you'd be doing much more to save the environment than a guy who just bought himself a new Prius. A Hummer driver might indeed have issues with the size of his penis, but a Prius driver has issues with the size of his brain as well.

Of course, used Prii already exist and the gas savings would be nice, but I wouldn't want to be mistaken for an enviro-moron. Luckily for me, my casual browsing through various car auction sites revealed that one can now buy a Corvette C5 (1997-2004) for well under 20 grand... And Mustangs (2005- and up) go for below 10 grand... Why would I buy anything else? Why would anyone? I mean, if you've been afflicted by the terrible illness known as "kids", then you need something bigger. That is the price you pay for having cheaped out on rubbers.

Another option I looked at is hearses. Not newer ones, but older, body on frame, early 90's Cadillac monsters with rear wheel drive and big engines. They are only lightly used (the trip from church to the cemetery is usually a short, slow one), offer lots of space, and they're bloody cool. A black Caddy hearse, lowered, with a sound system and a mattress in the back (for uh, napping on those long trips) would be niiiice. But they're terrible on gas and difficult to insure. And spare parts for the bodywork are very hard to get, since they're low-production volume cars.

Ah, decisions, decisions. I got another year before I pick something.
Got any suggestions for me?

Sunday, September 1, 2013

A poem



The River
Still hurts when I see your face somewhere
Thoughts of your grace still linger in the air
No other woman has quite the same flair
Your cruel absence drives me into despair

Sitting alone in this cold, empty place
Wondering who could fill this space
You left in what seemed like a race
And you disappeared without a trace

You found another and you moved on
My sorrows I drown in Walker's John
Oh where, oh where has my love gone?
I used to have joy, but now I have none

My life must go on, as hard as it seems
Though I still see you in nightly dreams
But no longer I cry and painfully scream
For new love I look in life's raging stream

- This poem is an excerpt from my forthcoming book, "Reflections", which will be available on Amazon, Apple's iBookstore, and other online bookstores in the next few weeks. Follow me on https://www.facebook.com/officialsvb for release info!

Sunday, July 14, 2013

The verdict is in

The verdict in George Zimmerman's murder trial is in: not guilty.
Celebrities (always quick to grab the spotlight), civil rights leaders (just as quick) and ordinary folk are outraged.
How could Zimmerman get away with murder?
Well, he didn't. He's free because he's legally innocent.
A lot of people will stop reading now and write angry rebuttals and personal insults in the comments section; but to those of you who can control their emotions long enough to finish reading this article: I congratulate you.
Emotions make people upset, and they forget facts. They exaggerate rumors and hearsay, and then believe in the lies and myths that they helped to create and spread.
A common myth is for example that George Zimmerman is a racist. People believe that he called the police on that night to report a "black man" walking through the neighborhood. This is actually how NBC first aired a recording of the police call, but they edited it so that it would show Mister Zimmerman as having a racist motive. The actual, unedited police transcript shows that Zimmerman reported a suspicious person, was then asked if that person was white, black or hispanic by the police dispatcher, and only then answered that the person in question was black.
Zimmerman himself has black family members, identifies as hispanic. His neighbors and coworkers have nothing bad to say about him; and a black acquaintance - Joe Oliver, TV news reporter- said "I'm a black male and all that I know is that George has never given me any reason whatsoever to believe he has anything against people of color."
It is also known that Zimmerman was unhappy with how the Sanford Police were treating the case of Sherman Ware, a black homeless man, who was beaten by the son of a Sanford police officer in 2010. On a recording of a January 2011 community forum (well before the Martin shooting), Zimmerman can be heard condemning the Sanford Police Department and its former chief Brian Tooley. Zimmerman said that Tooley had engaged in a cover-up and should lose his pension. Later in 2011, Zimmerman distributed fliers with details of the case in the local community to get more people involved.
These are not the words or actions of a racist.

Another fact, verified by one of Martin's friends at trial, under oath, is that Martin referred to Zimmerman as a "creepy-ass cracker." If anyone was racist here, it wasn't George Zimmerman.

Yet another fact is that only Zimmerman suffered wounds during the struggle with Martin; only he had cuts and bruises. these were on his face and on the back of his head. Martin meanwhile suffered no wounds, except for the fatal gunshot. Does that not make it obvious that Zimmerman was being beaten up by Martin, and not the other way around?

So does this mean that Zimmerman's actions were reasonable? No, not in my opinion. He should have stayed in the car. He should have waited for police. And if he hadn't had a gun, he might just have done that. But in a country where people take 9mm pistols with them when they go to buy milk, "reasonable" isn't something that you expect. Zimmerman had apparently only bought a gun (in 2009) to fend off a pitbull that sometimes ran through the neighborhood. Seriously, the man bought a gun because there was a dog running around in his neighborhood! Now, dogs have never been friends of mine, but I think pepperspray or a taser might have done the trick, don't you? Imagine what would have happened if Zimmerman had tasered Martin? He'd still be here, and Zimmerman's life wouldn't have been ruined by a very public trial.

And if you can imagine that, imagine a situation that you could reasonably face in America where a taser would not be enough. Dark parking lot. Bank robbery. Break-in. Do you really want to kill somebody?

Think carefully, because if you answer "yes" you might find yourself in the same position as George Zimmerman one day. A position that you'd deserve.



Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Star Trek Into Darkness Review

I've been a Trekkie since I was a kid in Germany, and I can proudly say that I've seen every single episode of TNG, DS9, and the original series; plus most of Voyager. I thought of "Enterprise" as an unfortunate misstep for the franchise, although those Andorians grew on me; and hey, bad Trek is better than no Trek, right?
Then along came J.J. Abrams to helm the franchise. I was shocked. This is the same genius who created "Felicity", a show so deep and intelligent that when the star cut her hair, people stopped watching. He made "Lost", a series so convoluted and pointless that I'd rather watch paint dry. He was nominated for a Razzie in the "Worst Screenplay" category for "Armageddon",  created the silly "Alias", and was responsible for the last two "Tom Cruise in lots of random stunt sequence" movies, erm, i mean, "Mission Impossible." And this person was put in control of Star Trek? Who made that decision?
Well, 2009's "Star Trek", the first Trek film by Abrams, was a disappointment. The charm and the stories of old Trek were replaced by lens flare and a plot that made so little sense that it had to be explained away by saying that this new Trek now takes place in an alternate timeline. It was embarrassing. Sure, Trek movies have never been as good as the show (sorry, Wrath of Khan); after all, the studio needs to try and get mainstream audiences into theaters to recoup their money. But no Trek film was ever quite as bad as Abram's first outing.
Thus, I didn't have high hopes last night when i went to see Into Darkness; Abram's second (and hopefully last) Trek movie.

If you don't want spoilers, you should stop reading now.

The film opens with the crew of the Enterprise trying to save a species of aliens without announcing their presence to them, as that would violate the prime directive ("do not interfere with other civilizations"). But Kirk is soon forced to reveal his ship. It rises out of the ocean, a magnificent behemoth, stunning the natives with its sheer size. So how did they get it into the ocean without anyone noticing it? The movie is full of plot holes and logical errors like this one.
That is not its most egregious fault however. The real problem is, once again, that the film has no heart. Star Trek is about people and the way they deal with problems, and the spaceships are only there for decoration. Star Trek is about difficult questions and difficult decisions; it challenges us to ask ourselves what we would do if we had been placed in a similar situation. "Into Darkness" is merely about lens flare, explosions, and a nonsensical re-telling of the reawakening of Khan (from the original series). It is a story about revenge, plain and simple. This guy did something bad to me, so I am justified in doing something bad to him. The logic and motivations of an 8 year old who got into too many schoolyard fights. We see Kirk punching a man in the face, over and over again, we see Spock doing the same. Why? Revenge. Oh, and it allows the actors to portray how deep their emotions are, because apparently real men display loss and anger by punching someone in the face. And yes, Spock has emotions here, because you know, this is totally an alternate timeline where Vulcans aren't really Vulcans anymore.
There is no sense of right and wrong here, no morality. the bad guy -Khan- wasn't really all that bad; he was turned into a baddie by one of Kirk's superiors, who dies rather horribly, but is never really criticized for his actions. His warmongering was all in the name of the Federation, aka "us", and so it's all good.The secret "Section 31" organization is never questioned for its role, and after the bad guy dies, all is well. The crimes committed in our name are alright, while the bad guys are horrible people for doing the exact same things.
Henry Kissinger once said "The problem with Castro is not that he's an asshole, but that he's not our asshole." The movie seems to follow the same mantra.
Well, and in addition to all that, it's also pretty boring and derivative. You can see plot twists coming from a mile away, and some scenes are simple re-imaginings of scenes from much earlier Trek films. This time Kirk saves the Enterprise by going into the reactor core, poisoning himself fatally in the process. And Spock is left outside a transparent door to exclaim "Khaaaaaan!" Seen it before. So many scenes in this film borrow ideas from earlier, better movies that we are way past "homage" territory, and deep inside "we've run our of ideas" land.
So are there any good things I can say about this film? Well, Zachary Quinto's Spock is well-acted, even if he is much too emotional (the script's fault, not Quinto's). And Benedict Cumberbatch as Kahn was intriguing, although he lacked the charisma of Ricardo Montalban.
The most positive thing I can say is this: maybe this film will get a new generation interested in Star Trek. And maybe this generation will want to check out the show, and learn why Trek has been so popular all across the world for over 40 years now. They'll find out that there aren't millions of Trekkies on this Earth because of lens flare and CGI explosions. They'll discover the real Star Trek.

Here's a list of some episodes you might want to watch instead of Abrams's mindless explosions:
The Original Series
The City on the Edge of Forever (season 1, episode 28)
The Menagerie (two-parter; season 1, episodes 11&12)

The Next Generation 
- The Measure of a Man (season 2, episode 9)
- The Defector (season 3, episode 10)
- The Drumhead (season 4, episode 21)
- Chain of Command (two-parter; season 6, episodes 10&11)

Deep Space 9
Duet (season 1, episode 19)
Improbable Cause (season 3, episode 20)
The Dies Is Cast (season 3, episode 21)

In the Pale Moonlight (season 6, episode 19)
Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges (season 7, episode 16)

This list is by no means exhaustive, but it ought to get you started. :)
For those of you in the United States, you can watch teh entire original show on CBS for free:
http://www.cbs.com/shows/star_trek/

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Jeff Hanneman and the Westboro Baptists

Jeff Hanneman, founding member of metal band Slayer, died on May 2, 2013; probably of liver failure related to alcohol abuse. It was a sad day for me,  just like it was a sad day for millions of other metalheads around the world.
But the fanatical idiots that constitute the Westboro Baptist Church were happy.
Nothing new, after all they are also happy when innocent people die, they regularly picket funerals of soldiers killed overseas, and they make their young children walk around with large signs that read "God hates Fags" and "Jews killed Jesus" and other such nice messages. Of course this racist, homophobic, misogynist, openly anti-American group of morons would rejoice at the death of a popular musician, if only for the publicity their picketing of his funeral would get them.
I was pissed at them. They have no respect.
I visited their website to see if their lunacy could somehow cheer me up. I know, laughing at the deranged isn't a nice thing to do; but maybe I'm not a nice guy. I watched a video narrated by a guy called Steve Drain. Drain explained that Hanneman was somehow related to the devil -not a metaphorical one, but the actual person, the devil- and that his death was deserved, because he had apparently led millions of children down a path deemed "wrong" by Mister Drain.
Did this piss me off more? No.
It is very difficult to stay mad at Mister Drain and his fellow cultists because it becomes obvious very quickly that they are very poor and desperate human beings. Nothing on their entire website is positive; everything is about hate, hate, hate. There is nothing else in their lives, only hatred for those who do not share their very specific and peculiar beliefs. That means that they hate about 7 billion human beings, and that explains why they have nothing positive to say about anything, and must fill the emptiness in their lives with even more hate. Perhaps it makes them feel important somehow, perhaps they believe that spreading hatred and intolerance somehow gives their existence meaning. Or perhaps they have realized that they are incapable of contributing something to society and are thus setting out to destroy it; a tiny man angrily brandishing a toothpick at the well-armored giant that is the rest of humanity. How can one be mad something so pathetic, so insignificant? How can one take them seriously?
I can't answer those questions, but there is one more thing I would like to say. On the off chance that one of you WBC nutters reads this, please take this genuinely well-meant advice to heart: to fill the void in your life, chase away the dark cloud, and free yourself from the unbearable hell that must be your life, you do not need Jesus. You need a psychiatrist.

Sincerely,
Sascha von Bornheim,
Metalhead


Jeff Hanneman - Wikipedia
Westboro Baptist Church - Encyclopedia Dramatica
The WBC homepage, for your amusement

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Is Kim Jong-Un a pacifist?

Kim Jong-Un (aka Kim), dictator of North Korea, has been threatening the South Korea, the US, and Japan with nuclear war.
The world is upset and frightened, anti-missile batteries are being installed in Tokyo, pundits are analyzing Kim's every word...
But what if he is actually trying to surrender?
It sounds absurd, but read on. Kim was educated in Switzerland, where as a teenager he witnessed what the west is really like. There is no famine in Switzerland, people well-fed and happy, and their freedoms have not led them to execute their democratically elected government. The country 'just works.'
North Korea, on the other hand, is a mess.
So now we have Kim threatening nuclear war. But what are his chances?
If North Korea were to attack South Korea with conventional weapons then most of the South's casualties would come from their soldiers laughing themselves to death at the sight of thousands of skinny North Koreans storming into their homeland, using museum-grade weapons to strike fear into local schoolchildren and the odd chicken. The North wouldn't stand a chance; not against the South's well-trained and well-equipped army. Plus, there's support from the US which maintains a permanent presence in South Korea. Oh, and then there's the fact that entire battalions would defect to the South if given the chance. Nobody wants to stay in North Korea; even Kim himself lived in Switzerland for a decade or so...
And what if he attacked using a nuke or two? Well, there'd be heavy casualties in Seoul, but in response the US would wipe North Korea off the face of the Earth. That much is certain.

So why does Kim pursue this strategy of provocation? He knows full well that he cannot win a war alone against the rest of the world -even China is calling for him to be more reasonable at this point-, and negotiations have become all but impossible in the current climate.
So once again, what could his reasoning be? And then it hit me: maybe he's trying to provoke a war he knows he will lose.

If he actually cares a bit about his country or his people, then reuniting them with the South should be at the top of his list of things to do. But he can't just tell his generals to throw in the towel. These are men who were trained to hate and distrust the South and the Western world, sworn to loyalty to North Korea. The entire population has been taught to hate the South for 60 years now -several generations of schoolchildren who have never heard anything else but their government's propaganda- and they're not going to give up just because Kim tells them to. He recently executed several high-ranking military and party members, probably in an effort to show strength and unite the military and the party behind himself. If he is so scared of then that  he has to execute them, what does he think they would do to him if he were to ask them to lay down their weapons? How would the farmers in the countryside react, would they just accept that everything they have learned in their lives was false? Or would they rise up and create militias and defend their beliefs?

Thus, starting a war that he knows to be lost from the get-go might be the only way to unite the two Koreas. Following the defeat of the North, the SOuth and the US will occupy the North, deliver food aid, and slowly show people what the world is really like. And they, the defeated, will have little choice to accept it, once they see that their ideology has proven to be the inferior one.
What will happen to Kim in this case? A trial for the crimes his short reign caused and condoned? Life in prison, or in exile?

Of course, that is all just my imagination and fantasy talking.
Maybe Kim is just plain old-fashioned nuts, and wants to mount lasers on the heads of sharks.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Please share

"Greetings Citizens of the world, we are #Anonymous, we are #KnightSec. 
On December 23, 2012, we released a video detailing the story of a young
 rape victim in Steubenville Ohio who was attacked by the Big Red High 
School football team and raped and kidnapped carried party to party 
unconcious and intoxicated. Only 2 members were charged with the actual 
crimes, when everyone present was guilty."

Please share the link on your websites, blogs, facebooks... the more people know about this, the better. Thank goodness for anonymous. 

http://stopbigred.com/ 
https://www.facebook.com/OpRollRedRoll