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Wednesday, December 25, 2024

"A List Of 24 Things That You Will Desperately Need In A Post-Apocalyptic World"

"A List Of 24 Things That You Will 
Desperately Need In A Post-Apocalyptic World"
by Michael Snyder

"What would you do if a great cataclysm brought a sudden end to our society and you were forced to survive on what you currently have on hand? When I was growing up, very few people thought of such things. In fact, I never heard the words “prepper” or “prepping” until I became an adult. But now everything has changed. Millions of Americans are spending enormous amounts of money to prepare for apocalyptic scenarios that they believe are quite likely to play out in our near future. According to Investopedia, approximately 20 million Americans now consider themselves to be preppers…

"Doomsday prepping has become a bona fide area of investing, with experts putting the average annual growth of the survivalist sector at over 7% until 2030 and some 20 million Americans now identifying as “preppers” - about the size of entire states like New York.

That is a significant portion of our population. And they are spending a ton of money. One recent survey discovered that spending on prepping supplies reached about 11 billion dollars during one recent 12 month period…"The survey found that, collectively, preppers spent around $11 billion within a 12-month period. According to the survey, preppers tend to live in the Western part of the U.S. and spent the most money on basics like food, water and toilet paper."

As our society comes apart at the seams all around us, more Americans than ever are determined to achieve at least some level of self-sufficiency while they still can. People from all across the political spectrum and that come from all walks of life are feverishly preparing for a very bleak future. Of course there is not a general consensus about what that very bleak future will look like.

In this article, I am going to specifically address how to prepare for life in a post-apocalyptic world. Many preppers are preparing for scenarios that are far less extreme. The type of scenario that I am talking about in this piece is a situation where all of our major institutions are no longer functioning and society as we have known it has totally broken down. What this means is that the items in the list that I am about to share with you will not be needed right now. But if an apocalyptic event or a series of apocalyptic events suddenly brings our society to an end, you will definitely need them.

I am imagining a time when there will be no functioning supply chains, and so there will be nothing to buy in the stores. And since there will be no functioning supply chains, you will not have access to gasoline or propane. So I have not included any items that are dependent on gasoline or propane in my list. Also, please keep in mind that this list is not comprehensive and is only intended to represent the bare minimum that you will need. There are countless other items that you could add to this list, but for this article I wanted to focus on the basics. With all of that being said, the following is a list of 24 things that you will desperately need in a post-apocalyptic world…

#1 Emergency food to feed your family.
#2 A water filtration system to clean your water.
#3 A ferro rod for starting a fire.
#4 An extensive first aid kit for health emergencies.
#5 An emergency supply of antibiotics.
#6 A multitool that has pliers, a knife, a saw and a screwdriver.
#7 A solar-powered generator.
#8 A solar flashlight.
#9 An emergency shortwave radio so that you can stay informed.
#10 Fishing gear.
#11 Seeds for planting a garden.
#12 A wood stove.
#13 An axe for cutting wood.
#14 A quality shovel.
#15 Paracord.
#16 Duct tape.
#17 A hand-crank can opener.
#18 A very warm winter jacket for every member of your family.
#19 A durable backpack for every member of your family.
#20 A compass.
#21 A good pair of binoculars.
#22 Wool blankets.
#23 A Bible.
#24 A way to protect everything that you have stockpiled from the marauding hordes that will be desperate to take all of it away from you.

In a post-apocalyptic scenario, how long do you think that you would last? In any survival situation, there are four big areas that always must be addressed: food, water, power and shelter. Of course many would add security to that list. In a world that has gone completely mad, there will be many that will be willing to do whatever it takes to stay alive. If you live in an area that has a high population density, it may become nearly impossible to survive no matter how much preparation work you have done in advance. When things hit the fan, you will want to flee to a less densely populated area if at all possible.

Many people ask me for prepping advice, and so I have tried to cover some of the most essential basics in this article. But of course what I have shared here is just the tip of the iceberg. Properly preparing for what is coming takes a tremendous amount of time, effort and energy, and the clock is ticking…"

"A Wilder Story, or, The BB Gun, The Black Bear, The Soviets, and Me"

"A Wilder Story, or, The BB Gun, 
The Black Bear, The Soviets, and Me"
by John Wilder

"I’m a believer in Christmas – it’s a time of redemption and rebirth that proves that miracles can happen. People can escape their past, and become something more than they were before – they can become reborn. We can become better. The birth of Christ is an example that we can all be reborn and change our lives in a miraculous and meaningful way.

But, I’m not sure I can recall any particular Christmas miracles. Oh, wait, here’s one. It’s mostly true, as well as I can recall, and field-tested to read aloud to your family:

On Christmas Day when I was in second grade, the one thing I wanted more than anything else was . . . a BB-Gun. No, this is not a remake of A Christmas Story, this is A Wilder Story. And I was there for this one.

As I recall, this was the last Christmas when we opened Christmas presents on Christmas morning. In all following years, my older brother John Wilder and I wheedled our parents into a Christmas Eve opening of everything but “Santa” gifts. We were insufferable. My brother (really) is also named John Wilder – my parents didn’t want to waste those extra birth announcements they had bought when they could just change the day and year, but that’s another story.

But that particular Christmas morning when I was in second grade I looked down on a real-life lever-action Daisy® BB gun. It looked like a real rifle even though the wood parts were plastic. I’d never shot a real rifle before, but I knew that all I wanted for Christmas was that BB gun. And there it was, all mine, pristine in its oiled metal and plastic perfection.
It looked very real. Mine was the one on the bottom. It was actually mistaken for a real rifle several times. Mainly by me, because everyone who was an adult could see it was just a BB gun.

“Take care of that, and it’ll last you a long time, Son,” Pop said as he handed me my first gun. This was the first time he’d said that to me, and I nodded gravely, feeling the responsibility and pride deep inside me. Pop would later repeat that phrase about boots I got in high school, a Buck© pocket knife I got in fifth grade, and my first car.

I still have the BB gun and the boots. I lost the knife, probably at school. It was expected when I was a kid that you had a knife with you if you were in fifth grade, because what if you had to gut a fish during English class? But I was in second grade, and I had a BB gun. My BB gun.

And I was ready to use it. I was given a quick tutorial on how to load it, a list of all the things (mainly windows), people (mainly windows), places (our windows), and forbidden objects (neighbor’s windows) that I shouldn’t even think of aiming my BB gun at, let alone shoot. I was trusted to take my new BB gun out on a Christmas morning expedition, because it was made clear to me in no uncertain terms that the worst punishment in the world would fall upon me if I shot something I shouldn’t. I would lose (probably until I was 40) my BB gun, be grounded from TV until I had my own children and probably be branded as a BB abuser for the rest of my life in my Permanent Record. (For kids: Permanent Record is now called Snapchat©.)

With the earnestness only a second grader can muster, I put on my deep blue Sears™ parka (the ad said it was designed for pilots stationed in...the ARCTIC, you know, where we fought the Soviets to save Santa from becoming, I guess, more Red) with polyester fur trim, and a pocket for pens and pencils on the arm, because where else would you keep pens and pencils except your left arm? I pulled on my black felt-lined snow boots and stiff green plastic gloves, and went outside. It was cold, certainly below freezing, and probably hovering around zero in non-communist units.

It had already snowed enough that the snow pile in our front yard was 10 feet (43 meters) deep, but we had a packed trail where our snowmobiles had gone onto the snow-packed country road and up into miles of forest roads that dated back to the old prospectors looking for gold.

My feet crunched in the snow as I walked due north onto the road, my breath puffing out as if from a small blue fake-fur-trimmed steam engine headed uphill. I kept going. What was I looking for? I’m not sure – I don’t remember, exactly. I guess, looking at stuff with a BB gun in my hand and shooting anything that wouldn’t get me in trouble with Ma Wilder at the rate of 6 BBs per step. But I felt like a man, and what would a man with a rifle do? Hunt. Win World War II again. Look for communists. It’s hazy, but I know I had a purpose.

Snakes weren’t a possibility, since I knew snakes wintered in Florida with baseball players, Santa and Cubans. Regardless, I wanted to shoot my BB gun, even if the opportunities to send Soviets back to Russia with a backside full of BBs was limited, at best. I still don’t recall ever seeing a Soviet in the forest until I saw Red Dawn, and then my BB gun was at home.

I trundled up the road. I think that’s probably the only time I’ve used the word “trundled” precisely since it implies I moved along slowly, noisily, and in a less than graceful manner. All of those applied. But I was ten feet tall with my BB gun, shooting aimed fire into snowbanks and sage brush alike. About a half a mile from my house, more than three-quarters of the way to the Old Cemetery, I saw it.

The Bear.

Sitting motionless, huddled against the barbed wire fence, not 20’ away, was the bear. It was a black bear. I knew that grizzly bears had been killed nearby, but this was definitely a black bear, being black and all. Ma Wilder had told me about them before going hiking and told me to never, ever get between a black bear cub and its mother – she said that was more dangerous than being between Beto O’Rourke and a microphone.

I didn’t know if this bear was cub-sized or mother-sized, but I already knew that this was something way out of my experience level – I mean I still wasn’t even coloring within the lines very well. Communists? Sure, I could take down a dozen of them since they were weak because they were Godless and fatherless and mainly starving when they weren’t swilling massive quantities of cheap Afghan vodka.

But bears? Better call the reinforcements (spelled D-A-D) in.

I backed away from the bear, keeping my eyes on it the whole time. My BB gun was loaded, a precious brass sphere ready to explode outward on a column of pressurized air at the bear should it charge me. I knew I was too slow to out-trundle the bear. Even my candy-cane addled brain knew that the BB was scant protection against a bear, but if I was going to go down, I was going to go down fighting like a man, and not running away like a weak Soviet child would. Even though it was nearly zero, I built up a sweat in my green turtle neck under my Air Force Pilot Parka®.

That green turtle-neck was really tight and made me look a lot like an actual turtle, so I only wore it three times. Why? A chubby kid covered in the smell of fear sweat and Nacho Cheese Doritos™ isn’t really a winner with the ladies despite whatever Bill Clinton might say.


An aside: In the safe realm of 2018, I know that it seems insane to allow a second grader to hike up into the forested wilderness alone at temperatures near zero on Christmas morning armed with a weapon that’s patently illegal to arm a second grader with in New York City, and twenty other states that are, no doubt, now deeply under the influence of the Soviets. Or, does it? When I last had a second grader (Pugsley) he had a BB gun and trundled off into the backyard with a zillion BBs. I can attest our backyard is now safely Soviet-free. But back in the day? We weren’t building weak Soviet children. No! We had backbones of steel and cheap Taiwanese Rambo® knives with compasses built into the handle. So, yeah, not unusual. I guess it was a crazy thing called freedom. Anyway...

I got back to the house and threw open the door. I stamped my snow-covered feet inside. Yeah, I know, bad form. But I was in a hurry, I had real news and information for the family. My parents were lounging on the couch, enjoying a quiet coffee.

“A BEAR!” I yelled. “I swear, I saw it, a bear! It was just right up the road, right where the hill starts. A bear! A black one!” Ma looked at Pop, concerned. Pop Wilder shook his head. “Bears are hibernating. None are up this time of year, not when it’s this cold.” “No, it was there, right by the fence.” Ma Wilder nudged him, seeing the absolute certainty on my face. “We should take a look.”

There is a look a man gives a woman when he knows that he has lost the argument even before it started. I know that look because I saw it then. Pop sighed, got up, and got dressed. Half an hour later, he and Ma and my brother were all dressed, and ready to go up the road. I had my BB gun. I hoped that the bear would still be there.

We walked. I pointed, when the Bear came into sight, not 300 yards away. “See, I told you.” Ma Wilder looked concerned when she saw visual proof of my story. I think she had put my bear story into the category of “addled ravings of an overly imaginative eight-year old that may or may not process reality like a normal human after he told me that he was worried that Grandma would turn into a zombie (Sleep Deprivation, Health, Zombies, and B-Movies).”

As for me, I was concerned that Pop hadn’t brought bazookas, howitzers, grenades, or maybe a battleship. Nah, Pop Wilder could probably wrestle a dozen or so bears, if they came up to him one at a time, like in the Kung Fu movies. We finally got up to the road where we were perpendicular to the black bear, still huddled up against the fence, not 30 feet (432 meters) away. It hadn’t moved since I’d first seen it. I felt...vindicated, even though I’d never heard the word.

“Hand me the BB gun,” said Pop Wilder. I did. Pop shot one BB into the bear, smoothly worked the lever like a cowboy in the Old West, and then shot another BB into the bear. The bear was motionless. It must be dead! Pop Wilder killed it! Pop handed the BB gun back to me. He then walked back into the deep snow directly to the bear, reached out, and pulled up the black plastic sheeting that had blown into a ball up against the fence. He handed me back the BB gun and handed my brother the black plastic sheet. We walked home in silence.

So, there was that: the Miracle of the Transubstantiation of the Bear – where a Christmas miracle transmuted a black bear into a sheet of black plastic. Not sure of any other explanation. But the real Christmas miracle, it’s below. Merry Christmas to all."

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

"Moscow Christmas Streets and Markets 2024, A Magical Evening Walk"

Full screen recommended.
Different Russia, 12/24/24
"Moscow Christmas Streets and Markets 2024,
 A Magical Evening Walk"
"In this episode I invite you to a magical Christmas walk with me along the central streets of Moscow, Russia . We will walk along Rozhdestvenka St. and Kuznetsky Most St. You will see the famous TSUM and Central Children's Stores. Immerse yourself in the magical atmosphere that reigns in Moscow during the Christmas holidays."
Comments here:

Merry Christmas!

 
Merry Christmas folks!
May your days be full of love, peace and happiness...
And, as always, thanks for stopping by!

"Best Christmas Songs of All Time"

Full screen recommended.
"Best Christmas Songs of All Time"

"White Christmas"

Full screen recommended.
"White Christmas"

"O Holy Night"

Full screen recommended.
David Lanz and Kristin Amarie, 
"O Holy Night"

"It's A Wonderful Life - The Ending"

Full screen recommended.
"It's A Wonderful Life - The Ending"

Il Divo, "O Holy Night"

Full screen recommended.
Il Divo, "O Holy Night"

"Traditional Christmas Classics🎄 Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby"

Full screen recommended.
"Traditional Christmas Classics🎄 
Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby"

Peder B. Helland, "O Holy Night"

Full screen recommended.
Peder B. Helland, "O Holy Night"

Josh Groban, "Noel"

Full screen recommended.
Josh Groban, "Noel"


1 Silent Night 
2 Little Drummer Boy (Ft. Andy McKee) 
3 I'll Be Home For Christmas 
4 Ave Maria
5 Angels We Have Heard on High (Ft. Brian McKnight) 
6 Thankful 
7 The Christmas Song 
8 What Child Is This? 
9 The First Noël (Ft. Faith Hill) 
10 Petit Papa Noël 
11 It Came Upon a Midnight Clear 
12 Panis Angelicus 
13 O Come All Ye Faithful (Ft. The Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square)

"A Charlie Brown Christmas - True Meaning"

Full screen recommended.
"A Charlie Brown Christmas - True Meaning"
o
Full screen recommended.
"Charlie Brown Christmas Dance"

"Christmas With Placido Domingo"

 

Placido Domingo, "La Virgen Lava Pañales"
Plácido Domingo, Wiener Sängerknaben, 
"Ave Maria" (Franz Schubert)

“The Christmas Truce of 1914 - 'Joyeux Noel'”

Full screen recommended.
“The Christmas Truce of 1914 - 'Joyeux Noel'
by Simon Rees
The tragedy of modern war is that the young men die fighting each other - 
instead of their real enemies back home in the capitals.”
- Edward Abbey

“You are standing up to your knees in the slime of a waterlogged trench. It is the evening of 24 December 1914 and you are on the dreaded Western Front. Stooped over, you wade across to the firing step and take over the watch. Having exchanged pleasantries, your bleary-eyed and mud-spattered colleague shuffles off towards his dug out. Despite the horrors and the hardships, your morale is high and you believe that in the New Year the nation’s army march towards a glorious victory.
But for now you stamp your feet in a vain attempt to keep warm. All is quiet when jovial voices call out from both friendly and enemy trenches. Then the men from both sides start singing carols and songs. Next come requests not to fire, and soon the unthinkable happens: you start to see the shadowy shapes of soldiers gathering together in no-man’s land laughing, joking and sharing gifts. Many have exchanged cigarettes, the lit ends of which burn brightly in the inky darkness. Plucking up your courage, you haul yourself up and out of the trench and walk towards the foe…
The meeting of enemies as friends in no-man’s land was experienced by hundreds, if not thousands, of men on the Western Front during Christmas 1914. Today, 109 years after it occurred, the event is seen as a shining episode of sanity from among the bloody chapters of World War One – a spontaneous effort by the lower ranks to create a peace that could have blossomed were it not for the interference of generals and politicians.
The reality of the Christmas Truce, however, is a slightly less romantic and a more down to earth story. It was an organic affair that in some spots hardly registered a mention and in others left a profound impact upon those who took part. Many accounts were rushed, confused or contradictory. Others, written long after the event, are weighed down by hindsight. These difficulties aside, the true story is still striking precisely because of its rag-tagged nature: it is more ‘human’ and therefore all the more potent.

Months beforehand, millions of servicemen, reservists and volunteers from all over the continent had rushed enthusiastically to the banners of war: the atmosphere was one of holiday rather than conflict. But it was not long before the jovial façade was torn away. Armies equipped with repeating rifles, machine guns and a vast array of artillery tore chunks out of each other, and thousands upon thousands of men perished. To protect against the threat of this vast firepower, the soldiers were ordered to dig in and prepare for next year’s offensives, which most men believed would break the deadlock and deliver victory. The early trenches were often hasty creations and poorly constructed; if the trench was badly sighted it could become a sniping hot spot. In bad weather (the winter of 1914 was a dire one) the positions could flood and fall in. The soldiers – unequipped to face the rigors of the cold and rain – found themselves wallowing in a freezing mire of mud and the decaying bodies of the fallen.

The man at the Front could not help but have a degree of sympathy for his opponents who were having just as miserable a time as they were. Another factor that broke down the animosity between the opposing armies were the surroundings. In 1914 the men at the front could still see the vestiges of civilization. Villages, although badly smashed up, were still standing. Fields, although pitted with shell-holes, had not been turned into muddy lunarscapes. Thus the other world – the civilian world – and the social mores and manners that went with it was still present at the front. Also lacking was the pain, misery and hatred that years of bloody war build up. Then there was the desire, on all sides, to see the enemy up close – was he really as bad as the politicians, papers and priests were saying? It was a combination of these factors, and many more minor ones, that made the Christmas Truce of 1914 possible.

On the eve of the Truce, the British Army (still a relatively small presence on the Western Front) was manning a stretch of the line running south from the infamous Ypres salient for 27 miles to the La Bassee Canal. Along the front the enemy was sometimes no more than 70, 50 or even 30 yards away. Both Tommy and Fritz could quite easily hurl greetings and insults to one another, and, importantly, come to tacit agreements not to fire. Incidents of temporary truces and outright fraternization were more common at this stage in the war than many people today realize – even units that had just taken part in a series of futile and costly assaults, were still willing to talk and come to arrangements with their opponents.

As Christmas approached the festive mood and the desire for a lull in the fighting increased as parcels packed with goodies from home started to arrive. On top of this came gifts care of the state. Tommy received plum puddings and ‘Princess Mary boxes’; a metal case engraved with an outline of George V’s daughter and filled with chocolates and butterscotch, cigarettes and tobacco, a picture card of Princess Mary and a facsimile of George V’s greeting to the troops. ‘May God protect you and bring you safe home,’ it said. Not to be outdone, Fritz received a present from the Kaiser, the Kaiserliche, a large meerschaum pipe for the troops and a box of cigars for NCOs and officers. Towns, villages and cities, and numerous support associations on both sides also flooded the front with gifts of food, warm clothes and letters of thanks.

The Belgians and French also received goods, although not in such an organized fashion as the British or Germans. For these nations the Christmas of 1914 was tinged with sadness – their countries were occupied. It is no wonder that the Truce, although it sprung up in some spots on French and Belgian lines, never really caught hold as it did in the British sector.
With their morale boosted by messages of thanks and their bellies fuller than normal, and with still so much Christmas booty to hand, the season of goodwill entered the trenches. A British Daily Telegraph correspondent wrote that on one part of the line the Germans had managed to slip a chocolate cake into British trenches. Even more amazingly, it was accompanied with a message asking for a ceasefire later that evening so they could celebrate the festive season and their Captain’s birthday. They proposed a concert at 7.30pm when candles, the British were told, would be placed on the parapets of their trenches. The British accepted the invitation and offered some tobacco as a return present. That evening, at the stated time, German heads suddenly popped up and started to sing. Each number ended with a round of applause from both sides. The Germans then asked the British to join in. At this point, one very mean-spirited Tommy shouted: ‘We’d rather die than sing German.’ To which a German joked aloud: ‘It would kill us if you did’.

December 24 was a good day weather-wise: the rain had given way to clear skies. On many stretches of the Front the crack of rifles and the dull thud of shells ploughing into the ground continued, but at a far lighter level than normal. In other sectors there was an unnerving silence that was broken by the singing and shouting drifting over, in the main, from the German trenches. Along many parts of the line the Truce was spurred on with the arrival in the German trenches of miniature Christmas trees – Tannenbaum. The sight these small pines, decorated with candles and strung along the German parapets, captured the Tommies’ imagination, as well as the men of the Indian corps who were reminded of the sacred Hindu festival of light. It was the perfect excuse for the opponents to start shouting to one another, to start singing and, in some areas, to pluck up the courage to meet one another in no-man’s land.

By now, the British high command – comfortably ‘entrenched’ in a luxurious châteaux 27 miles behind the front – was beginning to hear of the fraternization. Stern orders were issued by the commander of the BEF, Sir John French against such behavior. Other ‘brass-hats’ (as the Tommies nick-named their high-ranking officers and generals), also made grave pronouncements on the dangers and consequences of parleying with the Germans. However, there were many high-ranking officers who took a surprisingly relaxed view of the situation. If anything, they believed it would at least offer their men an opportunity to strengthen their trenches. This mixed stance meant that very few officers and men involved in the Christmas Truce were disciplined. Interestingly, the German High Command’s ambivalent attitude towards the Truce mirrored that of the British.
Christmas day began quietly but once the sun was up the fraternization began. Again songs were sung and rations thrown to one another. It was not long before troops and officers started to take matters into their own hands and ventured forth. No-man’s land became something of a playground. Men exchanged gifts and buttons. In one or two places soldiers who had been barbers in civilian times gave free haircuts. One German, a juggler and a showman, gave an impromptu, and given the circumstances, somewhat surreal performance of his routine in the centre of no-man’s land.

Captain Sir Edward Hulse of the Scots Guards, in his famous account, remembered the approach of four unarmed Germans at 08.30. He went out to meet them with one of his ensigns. ‘Their spokesmen,’ Hulse wrote, ‘started off by saying that he thought it only right to come over and wish us a happy Christmas, and trusted us implicitly to keep the truce. He came from Suffolk where he had left his best girl and a 3 h.p. motor-bike!’ Having raced off to file a report at headquarters, Hulse returned at 10.00 to find crowds of British soldiers and Germans out together chatting and larking about in no-man’s land, in direct contradiction to his orders. Not that Hulse seemed to care about the fraternization in itself – the need to be seen to follow orders was his concern. Thus he sought out a German officer and arranged for both sides to return to their lines.

While this was going on he still managed to keep his ears and eyes open to the fantastic events that were unfolding. ‘Scots and Huns were fraternizing in the most genuine possible manner. Every sort of souvenir was exchanged addresses given and received, photos of families shown, etc. One of our fellows offered a German a cigarette; the German said, “Virginian?” Our fellow said, “Aye, straight-cut”, the German said “No thanks, I only smoke Turkish!” It gave us all a good laugh.’ Hulse’s account was in part a letter to his mother, who in turn sent it on to the newspapers for publication, as was the custom at the time. Tragically, Hulse was killed in March 1915.

On many parts of the line the Christmas Day truce was initiated through sadder means. Both sides saw the lull as a chance to get into no-man’s land and seek out the bodies of their compatriots and give them a decent burial. Once this was done the opponents would inevitably begin talking to one another. The 6th Gordon Highlanders, for example, organized a burial truce with the enemy. After the gruesome task of laying friends and comrades to rest was complete, the fraternization began.

With the Truce in full swing up and down the line there were a number of recorded games of soccer, although these were really just ‘kick-abouts’ rather than a structured match. On January 1, 1915, the London Times published a letter from a major in the Medical Corps reporting that in his sector the British played a game against the Germans opposite and were beaten 3-2. Kurt Zehmisch of the 134th Saxons recorded in his diary: ‘The English brought a soccer ball from the trenches, and pretty soon a lively game ensued. How marvelously wonderful, yet how strange it was. The English officers felt the same way about it. Thus Christmas, the celebration of Love, managed to bring mortal enemies together as friends for a time.’
The Truce lasted all day; in places it ended that night, but on other sections of the line it held over Boxing Day and in some areas, a few days more. In fact, there were parts on the front where the absence of aggressive behavior was conspicuous well into 1915.

Captain J C Dunn, the Medical Officer in the Royal Welch Fusiliers, whose unit had fraternized and received two barrels of beer from the Saxon troops opposite, recorded how hostilities re-started on his section of the front. Dunn wrote: ‘At 8.30 I fired three shots in the air and put up a flag with “Merry Christmas” on it, and I climbed on the parapet. He [the Germans] put up a sheet with “Thank you” on it, and the German Captain appeared on the parapet. We both bowed and saluted and got down into our respective trenches, and he fired two shots in the air, and the War was on again.’ The war was indeed on again, for the Truce had no hope of being maintained. Despite being wildly reported in Britain and to a lesser extent in Germany, the troops and the populations of both countries were still keen to prosecute the conflict.

Today, pragmatists read the Truce as nothing more than a ‘blip’ – a temporary lull induced by the season of goodwill, but willingly exploited by both sides to better their defenses and eye out one another’s positions. Romantics assert that the Truce was an effort by normal men to bring about an end to the slaughter. In the public’s mind the facts have become irrevocably mythologized, and perhaps this is the most important legacy of the Christmas Truce today. In our age of uncertainty, it comforting to believe, regardless of the real reasoning and motives, that soldiers and officers told to hate, loathe and kill, could still lower their guns and extend the hand of goodwill, peace, love and Christmas cheer. The Irish poet, Thomas Kettle, who was killed in the War in September 1916, captured that spirit in a poem he wrote to his little daughter, Betty, shortly before he died:
“So, here while the mad guns curse overhead,
And tired men sigh with mud for couch and floor,
Know that we fools, now with the foolish dead,
Died not for flag, nor King, nor Emperor –
But for a dream, born in a herdsman’s shed,
And for the secret scripture of the poor.”

"Russia's Largest Shopping Mall 3 Days Before Christmas"

Full screen recommended.
Travelling with Russell, 12/24/24
"Russia's Largest Shopping Mall 3 Days Before Christmas"
"What is it like to shop at Russia's largest shopping mall during Christmas? Avia Park Shopping Mall is the largest shopping center in Russia. Are people in Russia shopping at Christmas? Join me 3 days before Christmas to find out."
Comments here:

Absolutely incredible...

Monday, December 23, 2024

"Alert! U.S. Nuclear Bomb Scare, Major Event Imminent? What Are They Hiding?"

Canadian Prepper, 12/23/24
"Alert! U.S. Nuclear Bomb Scare, Major Event Imminent? 
What Are They Hiding?"
Comments here:

"Get Your Cash Out Of The Bank, If The Internet Goes Down You're Done"

Jeremiah Babe, 12/23/24
"Get Your Cash Out Of The Bank, 
If The Internet Goes Down You're Done"
Comments here:

"A Christmas Musical Interlude: Il Divo, "O Holy Night"

Full screen recommended.
Il Divo, "O Holy Night"

A Christmas Musical Interlude: Peder B. Helland, "O Holy Night"

Full screen recommended.
Peder B. Helland, "O Holy Night"

"A Look to the Heavens, With Chet Raymo"

“Reaching For The Stars”
by Chet Raymo
“Here is a spectacular detail of the Eagle Nebula, a gassy star-forming region of the Milky Way Galaxy, about 7,000 light-years away. This particular spire of gas and dust was recently featured on APOD (Astronomy Picture of the Day). The Eagle lies in the equatorial constellation Serpens. If you went out tonight and looked at this part of the sky - more or less midway between Arcturus and Antares - you might see nothing at all. The brightest star in Serpens is of the third magnitude, perhaps invisible in an urban environment. No part of the Eagle Nebula is available to unaided human vision. How big is the nebula in the sky? Hold a pinhead at arm's length and it would just about cover the spire. I like to think about things not mentioned in the APOD descriptions.

If the Sun were at the bottom of the spire, Alpha centauri, our nearest stellar neighbor, would be about halfway up the column. Sirius, the brightest star in Earth's sky, would be near the top. Let's say you sent out a spacecraft from the bottom of the spire that travelled at the speed of the two Voyager craft that are now traversing the outer reaches of the Solar System. It would take more than 200,000 years to reach the top of the spire.

The Hubble Space Telescope cost a lot of money to build, deploy, and operate. It has done a lot of good science. But perhaps the biggest return on the investment is to turn on ordinary folks like you and me to the scale and complexity of the universe. The human brain evolved, biologically and culturally, in a universe conceived on the human scale. We resided at its center. The stars were just up there on the dome of night. The Sun and Moon attended our desires. "All the world's a stage," wrote Shakespeare, and he meant it literally; the cosmos was designed by a benevolent creator as a stage for the human drama. All of that has gone by the board. Now we can travel in our imagination for 200,000 years along a spire of glowing, star-birthing gas that is only the tiniest fragment of a nebula that is only the tiniest fragment of a galaxy that is but one of hundreds of billions of galaxies we can potentially see with our telescopes.

Most of us still live psychologically in the universe of Dante and Shakespeare. The biggest intellectual challenge of our times is how to bring our brains up to speed. How to shake our imaginations out of the slumber of centuries. How to learn to live purposefully in a universe that is apparently indifferent to the human drama. How to stretch the human story to match the light-years.”

The Poet: Arthur O’Shaughnessy, "Music and Moonlight"

"Music and Moonlight"

"We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone seabreakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world forever, it seems…
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Ninevah with our sighing,
And Babel itself in our mirth;
And o’erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world’s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth."

- Arthur O’Shaughnessy
Full screen recommended.
Harry Bidgood and His Broadcasters, 
"Music and Moonlight" (1928)
o
"The Dreamers Of Dreams..."
"The division of one day from the next must be one of the most profound peculiarities of life on this planet. We are not condemned to sustained flights of being, but are constantly refreshed by little holidays from ourselves. We are intermittent creatures, always falling to little ends and rising to new beginnings. Our soon-tired consciousness is meted out in chapters, and that the world will look quite different tomorrow is, both for our comfort and our discomfort, usually true. How marvelously too night matches sleep, sweet image of it, so nearly apportioned to our need. Angels must wonder at these beings who fall so regularly out of awareness into a fantasm-infested dark. How our frail identities survive these chasms no philosopher has ever been able to explain."
- Iris Murdoch

"Maybe..."

"Maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes to simply be a human. Maybe, we're thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe, we're thankful for the things we'll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate."
- "Grey's Anatomy"

"10 Gross Facts That Confirm the Middle Ages Were Beyond Filthy"

"10 Gross Facts That Confirm
the Middle Ages Were Beyond Filthy"
by Selme Angulo

"The Middle Ages weren’t the cleanest and most hygienic time to be alive. People didn’t live nearly as long as they do today, and a big part of that was because the medical care, basic hygiene practices, and quality of food were all horrific compared to what we are used to now. It’s difficult to state just how bad those things really were, though. After all, we’re talking about an era of time that is now multiple centuries in the past. It’s difficult to conceive of just how gross daily life must have been like back then!

Well, that’s why we’re here today. In this list, we’re going to take a look at the actual situation on the ground for medieval peasants. Their lives were brutal, their work was difficult, and their happiness was limited to very fleeting moments of joy. And they were filthy all around! This is the real story of how disgusting life was back in the Middle Ages…

Bathing? Nah! Upper-class people during the Middle Ages most often had access to tubs in which they could bathe with water. However, even many of the middle-class folk - or what was roughly considered to be middle class by our modern-day designations - didn’t. And if you were poor? Well, forget about it.

Peasants had to make do with very infrequent access to public baths if they were lucky, but most of them were plain unlucky. So they were forced to haul huge buckets of dirty and grimy river water or illegally gained well water to their homes by hand. Then, with the unheated and dirty water, they had to bathe by hand. Better not waste any water, though! The buckets weren’t huge and there was no faucet or pipe to easily pump in more if they were liberal in applying it to their bodies. For those who were lucky enough to live near rivers or lakes, they simply jumped in every day when it was time for a bath. That was easy, but it also brought its own dangers. Obviously, the river water was completely untreated. In many cases, it carried its own germs and parasites.

Peasants mostly didn’t have access to soaps (and certainly not to shampoos!) at that time. So all they were really doing was washing off the dirt and grime that had accumulated on their bodies after a long, hard day of manual labor. They’d go to sleep, get up, do it all over again, and repeat the cycle endlessly. Peasants who were less fortunate or not situated near bodies of water bathed a lot less often. And some didn’t bathe at all. We know it must have smelled crazy in there.

When Ya Gotta Go…Well-to-do people living in castles and on estates had benches with holes in them to use as primitive toilets during the medieval era. But normal people mostly didn’t have access to even simple and rudimentary things like that. Instead, they were forced to use outhouses at best - and share them with large community groups all at once.

At worst, they were given chamberpots or waste buckets. When the urge came to use the bathroom, they had to go in the little pot and then somehow manage not to ruin their tiny hovels with the stench. When the chamberpots started to become filled up, they had to drag them out, careful not to spill any waste on their stuff, and get rid of the mess.

Disgusting, right? Well, it gets worse. There were no pipes to run sewage and human waste along like we have nowadays. So, there were only two places for peasants to toss their excrement when their chamberpots filled up. The first was at the local river. Yes, that would be the very same river from which peasants were pulling out water to bathe or jumping in to get cleaned off. Gross!

The second spot was the street. Peasants would simply take their chamberpots out to the street, turn them over, and dump their wet contents all over the cobblestones. And that was that. See, back then, people believed that the smell of waste was what caused disease, and not the germs in it. So, they were keen on getting rid of the smell as quickly as possible. If only they knew…

Clothing Conundrums: Many people who had means in medieval times dressed in several layers of clothing. Among other reasons, that was so they could avoid having to wash their outer garments too often. But peasants didn’t own several layers of clothing. They pretty much just wore one thing day after day after day.

Now, impressively, etiquette books from the time actually counseled people to wash their clothing regularly. They even advised that one should change their underwear every day! Peasants mostly couldn’t read and didn’t have access to those books, but culturally, the practices nevertheless made it down to them. Seems less disgusting than you would have expected, right? Well, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses like that.

As we’ve already learned, the average peasant really only had access to regular water if it was in a nearby river or lake. So they would go down to the river once a week or so and try to scrub their dirty clothes in the water. If they were lucky, they had access to some lye soap to clean their clothes as best they could. If they were unlucky - and most were unlucky - they could only use the dirty river water alone. And as we’ve seen so far in this list, that water was filled with all kinds of nasty bacteria.

In addition to nature’s regular onslaught, rivers were horribly polluted, with people upstream thoughtlessly dumping their waste into it. Downstream, then, peasants were forced to wash their clothes in that same water. How’d you like to put those garments back on your body afterward?

Look Out for Lice: When it came to living in medieval times, head lice and fleas were simple facts of life. Parasites like that were ubiquitous because nobody had any idea what shampoo was. And soap, as we’ve learned, was really a hit-or-miss affair. Plus, horribly dirty water from rivers and lakes was the best people could do to “bathe,” if you can even call it that.

So comb makers had to get creative with how they produced their products to make up for all that. And create, they did: During the Middle Ages, comb makers started putting more and more fine-toothed fingers on their combs. The hair of the average medieval peasant was so thick with lice that the combs with tight, tiny fingers could actually yank them out. Of course, sleeping in squalor meant the lice just went right back in the next day. But at least they were trying, right?

That’s not all, either. Peasants eventually got around to figuring out ways to delouse themselves and each other. And the delousing groups were so important to overall health and so fun to take part in that they actually became a social activity! Sure, we might think of a social outing as a trip to a bar, going to see a baseball game, visiting the zoo, or something like that.

However, in the Middle Ages, people routinely took their social time by helping to delouse one another and get as clean as they could. Women who were skilled at delousing even made a bit of a side hustle out of it, successfully charging militaries and other groups to come along and do the delousing of a large group of people for a fee. Anything for a buck, right?

Hangin’ at the Cesspit: In the modern era, we flush our toilets, rinse our hands in the sinks, and go on about our day. Way back when, peasants would all, uh, hang out at the cesspit. Sadly, we’re not totally kidding about that. See, whenever a chamberpot became too full with excrement, peasants had to haul it off to the local cesspit. In many cities, towns, and villages back then, this was a communal cesspit in which everybody would dump their waste together.

Many people also dumped old food, rotten fruits and vegetables, and other forms of garbage into the pit. Can you even imagine how bad it must have smelled? And it’s even worse to think about how those cesspits would inevitably leak into the ground, contaminate the groundwater, and make the surrounding soil for quite a considerable area absolutely disgusting.

However, that wasn’t even the worst part! The worst part is that much of the contamination likely traveled very quickly to areas where water had descended, including rivers and lakes. Water always finds the lowest point, of course. And so, too, does the waste that tracks along with it. Just imagine a big area right on the outskirts of a city in which everybody is tossing out their human waste with nary a care in the world. They’d lug and dump horse and livestock waste, too, with nowhere else to leave it. Gross, right?

In bigger cities, the cesspits were even worse. That’s because, in those cities, many people would dump their chamberpots from second and third-story balconies where they lived right onto the street below! Inevitably, the mess would attract mice, rats, and other vermin. And that’s not to mention the smell - and the splatter zone that would inevitably be created around the mess…

Horrible Sleeping Habits: The average medieval peasant slept on a bed made of straw - and some slept on hay and other bedding. But while that might seem better than, say, sleeping on the floor, it came with its own major problems. Sure, peasants were comfortable and relatively insulated from the cold by sleeping on straw. But they were also sleeping with rats, mice, and tons of things they couldn’t see, including bedbugs, fleas, and lice!

People in the Middle Ages didn’t exactly understand how germs worked, and they didn’t have a pressing drive to get rid of them. They did do one thing, though: They used scented flowers and herbs to try to make things seem cleaner. You know how you tend to spray Febreze to liven up a place? It was sort of like that. But it didn’t kill any of the bugs!

There were other issues when it came to medieval bed and sleeping rituals, too. Namely, peasants often slept in tandem or group bedding situations. Entire families would sleep together in bed either to keep warm together or because they lacked the money for multiple beds. Some even lacked the place to put down multiple beds in their tiny hovels.

This meant that if one person was even slightly sick, they would immediately and undoubtedly spread those germs to everyone else around them. Can you imagine the issues with flu season when it came to people sharing beds like that? We need to take some Vitamin C just thinking about it!

Women’s Woes: If you think all peasants had it equally bad in the Middle Ages when it came to hygiene, we have news for you: Women had it much, much worse. (Certainly, any woman reading this list right now is probably nodding along, knowing the whole time that this was coming, right?) Women have so often had it worse throughout history, and the medieval era was no exception. And specifically for the purposes of this list, it’s their menstruation that is drawing attention.

Unfortunately, tampons and other period products were very much not a thing way back then. In their places, many women resorted to absolutely insane methods to collect and soak up blood during their monthly cycles. Most notably, some women used dirty and soiled pieces of rags to do the job. Others wrapped strips of cloth around tiny twigs to use as a de facto tampon. Still, others resorted to using absorbent moss as an impromptu pad. Yes, really -sticks, twigs, and moss as period products.

Even worse than that, religious authorities at the time regarded menstruation as being shameful and disgusting. So, many women of the Middle Ages felt significant pressure to hide their monthly movements from the men in their lives. Lots of women carried around scented herbs and flowers in a bid to mask the smell so men wouldn’t be able to tell.

Also, you have to remember that women’s lives were so brutally hard and their overall health so poor during the Middle Ages that it is likely that they may have routinely missed periods. That would at least get them off the hook when it came to soaking up the blood and masking the smells, but it certainly wasn’t easy on their bodies. Truly, women suffered worse than men during that period in so many ways - monthly menstrual cycles chief among them.

Primitive Dental Care: There were no such things as toothbrushes around during the Middle Ages. So, without them on hand to clean teeth, peasants resorted to using twigs to brush out any excess food particles. Well, the ones they could find and root out, at least. Plaque and gingivitis and all that were completely unknown, of course. Some peasants would even go so far as to place a piece of wool over their teeth and then rinse their mouths out with water.

Those who were slightly better off and had access to salt would create a mixture of that and sage to form a very primitive paste that could freshen their breath. It would even whiten their teeth - you know, ‘whiten’ being a relative term considering how terrible dental care was way back then.

Now, as disgusting as all this sounds, things weren’t so bad for peasants. That’s in large part because sugar was virtually entirely absent from their diets. They had no money to pay for sugar being imported from faraway lands (in the rare cases that it even was imported at all). So, without it, their teeth held up better than you’d expect.

Still, if they had to remove a problem tooth, the work was absolutely barbaric. There was no such thing as anesthesia. And dentists at the time weren’t doctors as much as they were butchers. Peasants would often get extremely drunk before having their teeth pulled just to try to dull the pain as much as possible. It rarely worked.

Wine for Wounds: Alcohol wasn’t only used to dull peasants’ senses when it came time for primitive dental work. Wine was also used as a medical option to help cure ailments - and help anesthetize patients in early ways. As you might expect, most peasants believed that prayer was the answer to all their health issues.

They had minimal schooling if any at all, and with the church functioning as such an important part of their lives, that’s where they turned for help. Slowly, however, knowledge of science and medicine began to spread across Europe. And when it did, it manifested itself in some strange (but actually understandable) ways.

Take the use of wine to clean wounds as an example. At the most primitive hospitals and surgery centers of the medieval era, doctors had figured out that alcohol could be used to successfully clean wounds. They also learned that any lacerations they made could be cauterized to get closed back up nice and tight. So, if you went in for an operation of any kind in the Middle Ages, you were going to be doused with wine and then burned back until your skin closed at the end of it. As you might expect, a great many people died from infections in this context since nobody knew the first thing about hygiene. But at least you could maybe get drunk and bathe in wine while perishing. Yay?

But They DID Wash Their Hands! Here is possibly the most crazy fact of them all: many medieval peasants washed their hands. Like, very often! Keeping one’s hands clean was seen as an important custom of the Middle Ages. It went back to showing that one took pride in one’s appearance. It was also considered common etiquette to keep one’s hands clean and free from dirt and grime. People in the Middle Ages knew nothing of unseen germs and bacteria, but they nevertheless wanted to keep their hands routinely washed just to showcase their civility to others. And so they did!

There were a few things people did when it came to hand-washing etiquette. First, they always washed their hands and face in whatever water they had available after they woke up. Then, they continued to wash their hands at various points throughout the day. After work and before dinner, they very often washed their hands to ensure that they were clean enough for the meal.

That was particularly important, too, since silverware wasn’t really a thing. Virtually all people in the Middle Ages - and certainly all peasants - ate with their hands and typically grabbed food with their grubby fingers from out of a communal bowl or dish. Better hope everybody else washed their hands, too, in that scenario!"

The Daily "Near You?"

Elizabeth City, North Carolina, USA. Thanks for stopping by!

"Don't Wonder..."

"Don't wonder why people go crazy. Wonder why they don't.
In the face of what we can lose in a day, in an instant,
wonder what the hell it is that makes us hold it together."
- "Grey's Anatomy"

"John Deere Fires 2,000 Workers as 3 Factories Shut Down"

Full screen recommended,
Market Gains, 12/23/24
"John Deere Fires 2,000 Workers
 as 3 Factories Shut Down"
Comments here:
o
Full screen recommended.
Orlando Miner, 12/23/24
"Party City Shuts Down: 
16,500 Laid Off and 850 Stores Closed!"
Comments here: