Land of Gilbert the Mad
September 22, 2014 by Thomas Wictor
Yesterday I wrote a post about Dr. Mads Gilbert, the lunatic who claims that Israel is using “banned experimental weapons” on the Palestinians. From 1978 to 1981 I lived in Norway, land of Gilbert the Mad.
This post is not about all Norwegians. It’s about the type of Norwegian exemplified by Gilbert the Mad. Therefore Norwegians who don’t fall into this category shouldn’t be offended.
First, my family background. Here are all of us except for two, in our house in Stavanger.
On the sofa are—from the left—my older brother Paul, me, and my younger brother Pat. On the floor are my mother CeeCee, my oldest brother Tim, and my sister Carrie, holding our cat Nuisance.
Here’s my father Edward, in a photo taken at the same time.
My brother Eric wasn’t born yet. He has a different mother, but my mother insisted that he know his father and his siblings, so when he was seven, Eric began spending each summer with us in southern California. He’s now a grown man and very nice.
Kidding! He doesn’t actually look like that. He looks like this.
He enjoyed his trips to California. Here he is with our twenty-seven-year-old Siamese cat Duchess.
The two people most responsible for the relationship we have now are Eric and my mother. He came to see Mom before she died, and they had a wonderful, low-key, matter-of-fact final time together. I’m very proud of him in uncountable ways.
Back to the land of Gilbert the Mad.
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That’s kind of like Mads Gilbert saying he knows nothing about weapons and has no proof that Israel uses experimental bombs on Palestinians, but his suspicion is justified. “Help us improve this article even though we can’t tell you if anything’s wrong with it.”
What happened is that people complained. The truth hurts. I say, “Be proud! Own your Jew-hate!”
In 1814 Norway barred Jews from even setting foot on their precious soil. It’s in the SECOND PARAGRAPH of the constitution.
2. The evangelical-Lutheran religion remains the State’s public religion. Those inhabitants who profess to it, are obliged to raise their children in the same. Jesuits and monastic orders may not be tolerated. Jews remain excluded from admission to the kingdom.
These are people with Jews on the mind all day and night. In 1930 Norway outlawed ritual kosher slaughter of animals on the grounds that it was inhumane. Animals were required to be stunned before slaughter.
When I lived in Norway, I walked everywhere. A hike to the Second Ghost’s house took an hour.
But the walking kept me fit. Even though I was a head taller than the Second Ghost, look how our legs are the same length. I’m deformed.
On one of my walks, I passed a farm, and I heard what I thought was giant, electrically powered metal files being scraped along an edge of steel plate. Then I realized it was pigs screaming as they were being slaughtered. It’s one of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. Nobody stunned those pigs.
The Land of Gilbert the Mad has a long history of double standards. Norwegians criticize Israel for not abiding by UN resolutions, but Norway ignores the international moratorium on whaling. Or take the Kyoto Protocol of 1992. Norway pledged to cut its carbon emissions by 16 percent from 1990 levels, and the country continually wags its finger at other nations. Surprise! Look at this.
Emissions are still going up. Why? Because Norway’s economy is based on petroleum. Do you know why Norway hasn’t joined the European Union? The land of Gilbert the Mad is a near-total welfare state and a circus of endless regulations. Stores close early and people aren’t allowed to work more than a prescribed number of hours per week. Taxation to pay for the free stuff makes prices of goods and services astronomical. If Norway joins the EU and faces competition, all of its producers will immediately go out of business.
Norway is like an android, something that seems real but isn’t. Its approach works only in Norway, due to the small size and homogeneity of the population, the oil wealth, and the passivity of the electorate. I’ve never lived under a more oppressive government. The laws dictated the volume at which you could speak to your children. You had to get the approval of your neighbors before you could paint your house or make any additions. Aspirin was available by prescription only. Liquor stores were government run; in 1981, a bottle of Bacardi rum cost $70 due to taxes designed to limit consumption.
My father had a nasal hemorrhage in his office, requiring that he be rushed to the hospital. They put a balloon up his nose and inflated it to stop the bleeding, and then they tried to cauterize the vein, which gave him an infection. They put the balloon back in and then drained his sinus by taking a hammer and pounding a hollow needle through the frontal bone of his skull.
They used no anesthesia.
He was in the hospital for two weeks. I never saw any medical personnel, the overcrowding meant that patients’ beds were put in the hallway, and the place was filthy, like a street market in Ghana. They gave him only one gown and never changed his bedding, so we brought him fresh sheets, underwear, T-shirts, and robes.
My experience was that Norwegians had three people inside them. The surface personality was the sanctimonious world citizen who approached me to complain about American foreign policy. I was just a kid, but from 1978 to 1981 well over a thousand Norwegians bitched about the US to me. Adults furiously lectured me as though I were in cahoots with this fellow.
But that hectoring, meddling seeker of social justice was a nearly transparent mask worn by the second Norwegian persona, the one that did everything on the black market. When I worked on a shore-support base, loading and unloading supply ships from the oil platforms in the North Sea, 50 percent of my paycheck was taken in taxes. However, since I wasn’t a citizen, I had no access to government freebies. Still, I got whatever I needed by paying cash. Everyone was on the make: doctors, driving instructors, bus drivers, bureaucrats—the entire country could be bought.
The third personality was far beneath the second. It was was released by massive amounts of booze. This was the rabidly xenophobic, nationalistic, Jew-hating brawler. I made no Norwegian friends; they were simply too hostile and unpredictable. Remember, Viking berserkers were utter savages. What kind of human being would come up with the blood eagle?
First the intended victim would be restrained, face down; next, the shape of an eagle with outstretched wings would be cut into his back. After that, his ribs would be hacked from his spine with an ax, one by one, and the bones and skin on both sides pulled outward to create a pair of “wings” from the man’s back. The victim, it is said, would still be alive at this point to experience the agony of what Turner terms “saline stimulant”—having salt rubbed, quite literally, into his vast wound. After that, his exposed lungs would be pulled out of his body and spread over his “wings,” offering witnesses the sight of a final bird-like “fluttering” as he died.
On July 22, 2011, a vain, plagiarizing, psychopathic white supremacist set off a bomb in Oslo and then spent several hours murdering teenagers on Utøya Island, a retreat for the children of the Labour Party.
The teenagers were involved in role-playing games in which they ran the Israeli naval blockade of Gaza and interfered with Israeli soldiers at checkpoints. It’s unclear if these games were a form of training.
In a ghastly irony, the young people initially thought that the man with the gun was part of the role-playing games. Several kids walked boldly up to the murderer and were shot dead. Norwegian political posturing and Jew-hate got them killed. The murderer is the one responsible, of course, but here’s what I can’t stand about the land of Gilbert the Mad: Those kids were taught that they were in no danger from Israeli soldiers.
That’s why they approached the man with the gun. They knew that the IDF doesn’t shoot European busybodies. In other words, all the accusations Norwegians make about Israeli “brutality” and “fascism” are lies.
Norwegians love to blather about “Zionazis.” Well, more Norwegians fought for the Nazis than for the Allies in World War II. In fact the most fanatical Nazi soldiers were Norwegians in the 11th SS Volunteer Panzergrenadier Division Nordland. Here’s one of them.
He’s a heavily decorated lieutenant, displaying the Iron Cross First Class and three “tank-cracker” awards, meaning he destroyed three tanks single-handedly. In the Battle of Berlin, the Russians had to kill every one of these Norwegians. The Germans surrendered, but the Norwegians fought to the death.
My message to Gilbert the Mad: Physician, heal thyself. You’re in no position to criticize anybody, especially not Israel.
One of my first bass heroes was Andrej Nebb, a Polish immigrant who fronted the Norwegian new wave band De Press. He inspired me because he’s missing the thumb, second, and third fingers on his left hand, his fretting hand.
It didn’t slow him down in the slightest, and though he sang protest songs, he wasn’t filled with hate.
He wasn’t a faker, disguising bigotry with lofty words and pretensions.
That’s why he’s still my hero. His music and perseverance improved me. He set an example that I’ve tried to emulate for over thirty years.
I was just sent this screen shot of a Fatah Youth statement issued after the mass murder on Utøya Island. The inset photo shows Fatah Youth Secretary General Hassan Faraj visiting the island and meeting with Norwegian Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg.
The T-shirt says “Tear Down The Wall,” meaning the security wall that the Israelis erected to protect themselves from Palestinian terrorists.
Although I knew that Utøya Island was used to indoctrinate Norwegian youth in Israel-hate, I had no idea that the Norwegians invited members of Fatah to take part.
This is absolutely surreal. The Norwegians know that they’re lying about Israel, yet at the same time they embrace actual terrorists. Where’s the moral superiority in that?
Norwegian hatred of Jews trumps everything. And it got their kids killed.
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