by Jimmie Moglia As a European commentator noted recently, it is symbolic that the president of the most advanced democracy in the world makes his first foreign trip to the most feudal among Arab monarchies. On the other hand, US citizens at large see happening what they vaguely expected, and probably wanted when they voted for Trump. Namely, that the curtain of elitist euphemisms and contrived metaphors masking the lying
by Jimmie Moglia “Douce France, cher pays de mon enfance” – so goes the song [Sweet France, dear country of my infancy]. I did not grow up in France, but at times I feel as If I did, for I know her well. I can daydream about any town or village in the “France profonde”, and think of the lines, “On marche sur un mur de pierres, un petit pont
by Jimmie Moglia The Western media has launched a volley of sycophantic praise of Trump’s victory in the great American raid on a Syrian airport, which produced new dead, though fewer than what is now routinely accepted as a lugubrious normal. Nevertheless, it seems that the US has dropped the pretense and decided to intervene directly in the Syrian conflict. A conflict it wanted and prepared, while hiding behind the
by Jimmie Moglia The Italians said “no” in the recent referendum. Its main objective was to reform the Italian Constitution, strengthen the authority of the government and reduce the power of the electorate at large to influence political outcomes. Unskilled in political autopsies, I will not discuss details amply elucidated elsewhere, in the mainstream and alternative media. But ever prone to scour the useless in search for the irrelevant, I
by Jimmie Moglia “He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.” Hamlet, act 1, sc. 2 For many across the world, the death of Fidel Castro strikes us with an obscure sensation, like that which would be felt from the sound of darkness. And though expected, there was an indistinct unuttered hope that this news could be postponed to a
by Jimmie Moglia (source: http://yourdailyshakespeare.com/7522-2/equalities) “I do condemn mine ears that have so long attended thee” (Cymbeline, act 1, sc. 6) This is an unpleasant blog to write and I apologize in advance for the language, to my twenty-five readers. As a mitigating factor, the unpleasant language is extracted verbatim from Roger Stone’s book titled “The Clinton’s War on Women.” Nevertheless, sometimes a rough truth is better than circumvoluted euphemisms.
When introducing Jimmie Moglia’s video series about Stalin I promised to share with you my own take on this most controversial personality. Let me immediately say that what I will write below is most definitely not some seminal analysis of the life and personality of Stalin, but rather few more or less disjointed thoughts on a topic which I still feel that I do not understand. The figure of Stalin
Has the Saker blog been hijacked by the CIA? You think that it is a crazy question? So do I. But not everybody agrees. Nevermind that I have created an entire community of blogs whose sole aim is to denounce, oppose and resist against Empire in all its forms, some apparently believe that the CIA has somehow hijacked my blog or maybe co-opted/brainwashed/broken/submitted/etc. me. Why? Because I post articles which
by Jimmie Moglia source: http://yourdailyshakespeare.com/the-trouble-with-trump/equalities “If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.” (Twelfth Night, act 3, sc. 4) By general consent, in American elections there is no kingdom for a stage, there are no princes to act, nor monarchs to behold the swelling scene (1). By tacit agreement, elections hover midway between a farce and a theater of marionettes. These preludial
Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used. Othello, act 2, sc. 1 by Jimmie Moglia We take it for granted that deception is to the art of government, what the brush is to the art of painting. But there are instances where deception oversteps even the more tolerant bounds of disgust and nausea. I refer to the heart-rending picture of the little Kurdish dead boy (Aylan Kurdi), strewn on
