The hubris of Jew-hater Peter Stahl
February 3, 2015 by Thomas Wictor
Hubris is defined as excessive pride that leads to one’s own downfall. The Jew-hating criminal Peter Stahl self-published an e-book titled The Bunche Report and sent me the forward that he said he would attribute to me.
However, if Peter Stahl sends me a written acknowledgement that he fabricated the foreword that he attributed to me, and if he apologizes, I’ll let the matter drop. He must sign it with all his aliases.
In the meantime, I’m going to perform a public service. Peter Stahl has defrauded many people. As a professional con man, he’s managed to keep from being photographed, even under his many aliases. However, he bragged to me that his books sell well in Russia. Unlike Stahl, I write factual books, relying on primary documents written in languages I don’t speak. Therefore I taught myself the ins and outs of online machine translation.
I don’t speak or read Russian. But I translated this Russian-language report on the largest flamethrower attack in history, in which the Germans deployed 216 portable and twenty-four static devices. Using three machine-translation Websites, I laboriously rendered Russian into literate English. You can read it for yourself.
Since Stahl had said his books are popular in Russia, I translated his alias “Gregory Douglas” into Cyrillic: Грегори Дуглас.
Then I did a Google Images search and found him.
The red banner beneath Stahl says “Gregory Douglas” (Geregeori Deugeelas). I got the screen grab from this Russian-language video.
It’s an interview about Stahl’s fraudulent Gestapo Chief books, in which he claims that Gestapo Chief Heinrich Müller was brought to the US to work for the CIA, and Adolf Hitler escaped from Berlin and flew to Spain instead of killing himself in his bunker. Stahl’s ego led him to allow a Russian film crew into his house. They even showed the street address!
The last con artists with whom I was involved were Mike Albee and Lura Dold, fake book publicists. They bankrupted me. If my parents hadn’t died when they did, I’d be working as a greeter at Wal-Mart now. Albee was supposed to be a legendary expert in search-engine optimization (SEO). He wasn’t. Before I gave up on trying to be a successful author, I taught myself the art of SEO. It’s not that hard.
Here, out of 1,140,000 search results for “Gaza beach bombing,” look who’s number seven.
I know how to give my posts extremely high rankings in search-engine results. That’s how I drove Mike Albee out of business twice. Now I want to make sure that when people search for images of Peter Stahl in his various guises, they find him.
Arthur D. Royster.
Peter Norton Birch.
Peter Norwood Burch.
Samuel Prescott Bush.
Freiher von Mollendorf.
Arthur D. Royster again.
A. D. Royster again.
Peter Norton Birch again.
Peter Norwood Burch again.
Note the large framed portrait of Gestapo Chief Heinrich Müller on the wall behind Stahl’s head. What do you suppose he did while he gazed at it in rapture?
In one of the messages Peter Stahl sent me, he claimed to not have multiple personalities, but he added another imaginary former job to his endless list.
And just to makes sure that all searches for Jew-hating criminal Peter Stahl land on this page, here are his other known aliases.
Michael Hunt (Get it? Say “Mike Hunt” really fast.)
George S. MacAlister
Gregory Douglas Alford
I won’t publish Peter Stahl’s address and phone number, even though I now have them. The reason I know they’re his is because I called the police department in his home town and read the officer a death threat Stahl had made. He worded it carefully enough that it’s in a gray area, but the officer confirmed that I have the correct contact information for Stahl. And now his hometown police department knows all about him. I gave the cop Stahl’s entire criminal history.
Although I collect photos of World War I flamethrower and assault troops, I don’t hang photos of such men on my walls. Here’s what I have on one wall.
And here’s what hangs above my desk.
Peter Stahl wears a Nazi death’s-head ring.
I wear no jewelry, and I would never adopt the insignia of any military unit. Yes, I study World War I flamethrowers, but I’m under no illusions about what the Germans did in that conflict. They burned down French and Belgian houses with this particular weapon, the kleine Flammenwerfer M.1914, seen here carried by an Austro-Hungarian Home Guardsman.
Deliberately burning down civilians’ houses is evil. Even though most flamethrower troops weren’t evil, it would be quite obscene for me to wear their insignia. It would trivialize the horrendous suffering of World War I.
What does it say about a man if he wears Nazi rings?
When I was filmed for the upcoming Pierre Rehov documentary about Operation Protective Edge, I refused to do it in my house. That didn’t go over well with the production company, but I’m a private person. I didn’t want strangers here, scaring Brother Cat. The very night I discovered that Peter Stahl had published a Jew-hating book attributed to me (yes, on Amazon it said both that I was the author of the entire book and that I wrote only the foreword), Brother Cat jumped into my lap for the first time.
He did so by leaping from the floor onto my shoulder and then climbing down into my lap. Three weeks ago I couldn’t even touch him. Now we watch cat-videos on YouTube together. I mean videos for cats, not of cats.
As much as I respect Pierre Rehov, I can’t jeopardize this fragile cat’s slowly emerging peace of mind. Mr. Rehov understood and made a management decision that things would be done the way I wanted. The original plan was for my interview to be like Peter Stahl’s in the Russian documentary: me jabbering in my house, me in my back yard, and me walking toward the camera.
I HATE THOSE CONVENTIONS.
So I was filmed in a law firm’s conference room.
Don’t worry, production crew. I paid for my prima donna-ism by having a big, fat, juicy rotational vertigo attack on the way there and again on the way home.
You didn’t notice my distress at all, did you? It’s because I left the realm of depraved Peter Stahls and became someone different, someone no longer bothered by his own shortcomings and wretchedness. I became grateful for everything not-wretched. Like my translation of the Russian report on Skrobowa, changing myself was an act of sheer willpower. But it was worth the effort.
Behold, from the land of the farther suns
And I was in a reptile-swarming place,
Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces,
Shrouded above in black impenetrableness.
I shrank, loathing,
Sick with it.
And I said to him,
“What is this?”
He made answer slowly,
“Spirit, this is a world;
This was your home.”
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