Nacht und Nebel
Die Wichtelmänner
“What think you if we were to stay up to-night to see who it is that lends us this helping hand?” —Die Wichtelmänner
Think of Slipcraft as exactly like slipping a punch. Slip into your time machine and go back to Nazi Germany.
YOU: So let me get this straight: you put people on cattle cars. I’m not even going to get into whether it’s right or wrong to put cattle on cattle cars. That’s a question for another time. You put people on cattle cars and ship them to places where you can kill as many of them as quickly and efficiently as possible, right? Then other prisoners stuff them into ovens, correct?
NAZI: That is the final solution to the Jew Question.
YOU: What? Then do you eat them?
NAZI: Of course not. We are not barbarians.
Did you think the Cold War was over? Me too. Thought most people could see through the 100-year anti-communist propaganda storm by now? Me too. We are not barbarians. Um. Governor talks like a sausage. Back home, we still have to explain physics.
Slip, as a noun: “We gave them the slip.” As a verb: “Slip this in your pocket.” Pink slip? We all know what that means. Put your head where the punch is not going to go. Apply rudder on the high side of the bank.
The elves were the visitors who came to Gburg in July 1863. we are still wearing those shoes. Just wight people… elves who make system take on a life of its own like some bizarre animated puppet. Costumes… special effects… scripts and choreography… All there at Gburg in 1863.
Why didn’t the shoemaker and his wife stay up the second night? Why did they wait until they were wealthy and prosperous to even bother to see who was assembling the shoes? Is this about “capitalism?”
After they got their little suits, the shoemaker and his wife never saw the elves again.
Happy little elves, dancing into history become detached once they have fulfilled their obligation. Queen Mab has much with that obligation and her dim view of what humans can do alone. She comes by it honestly.
She curses (and blesses) the elves with a meme, a program or algorithm, viral whatever. In the old days, we called it a magic spell. Potato pole tar troll. Stuck fast in the war baby until flung into the briar patch.
What will release us from the spell? When the boys put their uniforms away… when it is all a memory without the blowflies and stink. Gburg is where Rosa met two elfin children as playmates. Rosa learned their real names.
Spell them in English: Night and Fog. Phonephobia, maybe here is the April Fool post:
We are approaching our own night and fog,,, and those of us who became elves for decades are going to want our little suits “Sind wir nicht Knaben glatt und fein? was sollen wir länger Schuster sein!” Ain’t we boys smooth and fine? Why should we keep being cobblers? Is this the Cobbler’s Petition?
Hell no- we want to be poets sulking in our tents. “The little men have made us rich” is said in Grimm tales. Meanwhile don’t mess up a good thing. Black Union soldiers put on their suits too, but they didn’t make to Gburg in time for the party. The smooth fine wight boys put on a hell of a show.
Nobody thanked them for it until they started thanking themselves. For what? Who knows anymore. Saving the Union? Pursuing the Lost Cause? Abe mojo wearing thin… of by and for what people? Like all things for profit usually drive prophets away. You are not a loan. Everybody must get stoned. “We fight wars and talk gibberish it defend them,” said the cobbler, “The hour is getting late.” So let us not talk falsely now. It’s time to offer many fine Volk here in Dominionist Krakkerland a nice hot cup of STFU. See The Facts Unfolding… or something. Otherwise the Volk will start breaking heads.
They are already breaking our shoes with gibberish about lime in the coconut is somewhere in the Bible so we don’t have to cater gay weddings. Meanwhile the oceans are dying and the monetary system has collapsed. So what did Jesus have to say about catering gay weddings? Nothing? Then STFU
Night and Fog come innuendo and make magic shoes. Ach, macht dir tanzen!
waldopaper 
Jeb– Just read this piece. You really have a way of making connections and of writing. Certainly you are a poet. I’m glad you keep on it. …. as this cobbler will petition you to always do. I didn’t know much about the term night and fog… so looked that up and learned what Hitler did. Lot like what is happening here with the governor. Diane Groenert just posted that Indiana locked up a 33 year old woman who went to the emergency room then admitted to a miscarriage at 22-24 weeks. 6 months could be viable perhaps, but wow…. sentenced to TWENTY years in PRISON?? What’s the point of that? It’s a crazy story. Remember, though, we have mostly forgotten how to use our language except in a more literal sense, and the wordsmiths cobble together lines with deceit and control. Perhaps the poets must also write for us, for those without much understanding of all the references and connections. I think some do. Don’t change your style, but keep going!! Keep on keepin’ on, brother mine! This post just speaks of your focus and your incredible heart and concern for us hoomins. I’m so weary now…. just feeling things more negatively. Pancho just purchased another car, gave it to Lucy for a song for starting her out. She moved yesterday — with her stuff and cans of paint… Moved in with Sam and Philippe, the Young Urban Homesteaders. Don’t know what will become of our ground here. But we must do what each of us must and it will be ok, ya? Today coloring eggs… at 4… with soup and bread. Please come. Kim and Tom are coming. Would love to see you too. R