Requests to escape the repressive regime of Erdogan

Many people have contacted me since the publication of KURT LANGER : NEMESIS OF TERROR asking for help and advice. Several young Turks, who shall be nameless, knowing of my kayaking background, asked me for assistance in fleeing from the repressive regime of Erdogan.

Here is the advice that I gave them;-

Some thoughts. Some ideas...

The best plans are the most simple. You said that there are patrols – yes, there will be patrols, those patrol boats will rely upon their ship-to-ship radar to detect boats. A kayak cannot be detected by radar, it's signature is too small. Check this out on Google.

Here is a map of a possible crossing from Turkey to the Greek island of Inousses, off Chios. 

The distance is under 10km.

Here is a short trip that I have paddled many times

The distance is 4km x 2 = 8km.

In a sea kayak it takes 1.5 hours to make the 8km trip.  At that speed of just over 5km per hour, 10Km would take 2 hours. 

2 hours paddling is easy. There is nothing difficult to it. I have paddled that distance with old men and women many times.

A sea kayak is the fastest boat to paddle but there are other boats that would make the crossing more slowly. You will have seen 'sit-on-tops' on the beaches near Izmir that are used by holidaymakers.

These are all capable of making the crossing. A sit-on-top is a safer option if the sea was to get rougher because it is easy to climb back on. But it will be important to choose a dark, calm night.

Here is a fishing kayak...

A dark kayak is better than a light kayak.

Once you are in the area near to Inousses you are in the danger zone. They will know why you are there. You will need to buy this boat and use it near to Izmir. Try to use it where other people use such boats. Maybe hire the boat that you intend to use. A fishing kayak would allow you to practice under the pretence of being a fisherman. If you take a short fishing rod with you, on any boat, you are a fisherman.

You will not need much practice. These boats are so easy to paddle. You will need to go to the the spot where you will launch the boat from Turkey and check it is suitable. You can also spend all night there looking out towards Inousses, watching to see how many boats travel in that area during the night. All boats are lit, in the night the sound of their engines is very loud. That is why a motor boat is useless. A kayak is silent. 

Patrol boats will also be lit. If not you will hear their engine. Take binoculars.

I do not know if you have a car. If you do not have a car this will be more difficult. 

When the day comes you will strap the boat to the roof of the car – you don't need a roof rack – you can just put the straps through the windows, put some carpet on the roof. You will know exactly where you are going to launch from. Use a torch with a very faint light – light can be picked up by the human eye very, very easily. 

Your torch will light your compass. You have to travel on a dark night. An overcast night is the darkest, even starlight (in Turkey) is bright enough to see fairly well. Time the trip so that dawn will just be starting to break as you reach the island.

You will paddle at the most for four hours. That is not difficult. You can hire a boat for that time and practice. 

Here are some other thoughts... is it best to have a trusted friend take you to the launch site? That friend can drop off you and the boat and then return. Nobody has a clue where you have gone. If you take a car and leave the car it shows that you were in that area. If you take the boat there using your own car you can drop off the boat and hide it. You can return next day using the bus/bicycle. A bicycle can be thrown into the sea, a car will be found.

[Remember : Silence is your strength!!]

Don't tell anybody anything unless essential to the success of the mission.

These are all thoughts for you to think on. The plan will come from them.

The main town and harbour is marked in pink. You will need to paddle between the two islands then follow the coast round. The islands seem to be quite low-lying, no huge cliffs. 

Here are Google Images showing how close Turkey is to Inousses. Yes, it is easy to patrol but in the dark a kayak is a needle in a haystack. 

Begin work on this today. Don't delay. 

From the island of Inousses you can paddle along its coast and cross to the main island of Chios. Paddle during the early morning. The sea is usually calmest first thing in the morning, the sun creates wind, the wind creates waves. It is flat calm in the early morning.

Once you reach Chios you can get a ferry. https://www.ferryconnection.com/ports/ferry-ports/inousses-ferries/ 

Good luck

Geoff

The lead up to my meeting Kurt Langer revisited

I travelled across Europe for several months, slowly making my way east. It is a Europe that has changed enormously over those intervening forty four years. 

It might be a bit tedious for some but for others, so I'm told, the lead up to my meeting Kurt sets the scene and allows for some understanding of how the West has got to where it has now got to in terms of achieving something that was denied it for the previous two thousand years; the incredible achievement of home-grown or willingly imported terrorism. 

The ruling elites did not wade through the swamps and jungles of Vietnam, only one senator's son served in Vietnam. The hypocrisy continued long after the war ended with some senators even claiming to have served in Vietnam, they were found to be lying, but let's elect them to the Senate anyway. Against such hypocrisy and the voices of millions crying out for self-destruction even the shining light of the beacon of the USA dimmed. The world was in self-immolation mode and the ruling elites were going to ensure that it transitioned from strong, healthy democracies to anarchic outposts of third-world ghettoes as smoothly and quickly as possible. Led by such notaries as the German Chancellor, Frau Angela Merkle, who in 2015 single-handedly opened the gates of Germany to anyone and everyone from war torn regions such as Iraq and Syria then, after allowing in one million made it clear that her contribution was for “war and terror” when she said, “In many regions war and terror prevail. States disintegrate. For many years we have read about this. We have heard about it. We have seen it on TV. But we had not yet sufficiently understood that what happens in Aleppo and Mosul can affect Essen or Stuttgart. We have to face that now.” 

“We have to face that now” her voice rings with the same tones as the man she most despises, Adolf Hitler. On the eve of war Hitler was at his mountain fastness of the Berghof, waiting for the Pact of Steel to be signed with Stalin. In the afternoon he stood with his guests on the terrace and stared at the sky, it was in turmoil, an eyewitness described it as, “...blood-red, green, sulphur grey, black as the night, a jagged yellow.” The spectacle horrified and intimidated the entourage, a Hungarian woman perhaps blessed (or cursed) with the ability to peer into the future felt she must speak.

“Mein Fuhrer, this augurs nothing good. It means blood, blood, blood and again blood. Destruction and suffering. Blood and again blood.”

Hitler was totally shocked, the vision and the warning had sent him wild, with a crazed expression, eyes staring remotely into the distance he uttered the fateful words, “If it has to be then let it be now.” He and Frau Merkle both knew that there would be no putting back the clock, that their actions would unleash forces of destruction. 

“We have to face that now,” as in 'now that I have allowed in one million this year, one million next year, one million the year after that...' Millions of undocumented aliens with cultures and creeds diametrically opposed to everything that the West stands for. Never in history has any state damaged itself so irreparably under the banner of altruism. Within days of Frau Merkle uttering her dirge women were being raped across Germany in the New Year celebrations, Stuttgart (that she had bizarrely predicted would experience “war and terror”) was just one of the cities where the invaders took women “those (captives) whom your right hands possess” as the edict from their prophet prescribes. The crimes committed that night were deliberately buried from public view and only surfaced after many months. Frau Merkel did not think to herself, “Perhaps this experiment might not work,” she continued to allow in floods of young, fighting age men, every route that led to Germany, roads and railway lines were filled with fit, well-dressed, strong men. Women and children were an absolute minority as the race to the Mecca of Germany where they would be paid to live, was on. Once settled the young male was able to send for each and every member of his extended family. Germany already had a Turkish population of “at least 4 million” making up around 5% of the population. The interraction between the Islamic Turks with strong links to Turkey, they continue to provide a powerful Islamist vote in Turkish elections, and the German working classes had been more than problematic, deaths had occurred, neo-Nazis had killed, the Turks made up 10% of the criminal gangs operating throughout the country. Against that background Merkle's actions... saw her being awarded for her humanitarian efforts, Time Magazine named her, “Person of the Year.” Perhaps the fireworks hitting Cologne Cathedral as a thousand women and girls were being raped and assaulted beneath its twin spires were in celebration of the award. 

It is incredible but, like the Hungarian woman that warned Hitler, forty-three years ago I met and fell in love with Ayse. She told me what was to come and I knew she must be right although I could not believe that it could happen in my lifetime. She told me it would and that I must give voice to her warning but I fear it is too late. 

Already our voices have been stifled. In the UK laws have been enacted to keep our mouths shut. Political Correctness is the vehicle driven by the Thought Police. Here’s how the the Metropolitan Police of London define 'Hate Crime' and 'Hate Incidents,'

“A hate crime is defined as, 'Any criminal offence which is perceived by the victim or any other person, to be motivated by hostility or prejudice based on a person's race or perceived race; religion or perceived religion; sexual orientation or perceived sexual orientation; disability or perceived disability and any crime motivated by hostility or prejudice against a person who is transgender or perceived to be transgender.' 

“A hate incident is any incident which the victim, or anyone else, thinks is based on someone’s prejudice towards them because of their race, religion, sexual orientation, disability or because they are transgender.

“Not all hate incidents will amount to criminal offences, but it is equally important that these are reported and recorded by the police.”

Big Brother is alive and well and watching you. It may not even be a criminal offence but the police will become involved. What this “crime” achieves is the silencing of dissent. For instance, if someone was to write about the Armenian Genocide and the statements which are still being made today by President Erdogan regarding the future of the remaining 170,000 Armenians within his country [not mentioning the genocide of 1.5m Christian Armenians from 1914-17, undercover of World War I] it might be that a newly arrived person from that country could perceive that what is being said is offensive to them. It is for the police to decide if that is a “crime” or an “incident.” 

What is the meaning of these two quotes?

“Who are you then?"

"I am part of that power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust, First Part

[Samson killed the lion]... he turned off the path to look at the carcass of the lion. And he found that a swarm of bees had made some honey in the carcass. He scooped some of the honey into his hands and ate it along the way. He also gave some to his father and mother, and they ate it. But he didn’t tell them he had taken the honey from the carcass of the lion.

So he said: “Out of the one who eats came something to eat; out of the strong came something sweet.” Three days later they were still trying to figure it out.”

‭‭Judges‬ ‭14:8-9, 14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I hope that the reader will have thought about the meaning of the two quotations. We normally just give them a quick glance, we take what they are saying at face value, but is there something more to them? A deeper meaning that eludes a quick inspection? I think that there may be (I'm not saying I'm right, but please, let me explain)...

In my own humble opinion, I think that what the quotes are saying is that evil produces good. That is purely a concept. It cannot be proved. Can the existence of God be proved? - only up to the point of the listener granting credibility to the proofs laid before them. At the point were they say NO the attempt ends. The same with 'evil produces good.' Only if the listener has perhaps had an experience that can steer them towards the acceptance of the argument, can the concept be acceptable to them.

We are rooted in our belief that evil IS evil. Of course it is, but what happens then? Do we remain trapped within the snares that the evil has laid for us? No, we suffer the evil and then a remarkable thing occurs, it is called 'Time.' Time enters into the equation, it has the capacity to wear down mountains. The evil is transformed by time. It mutates. 

What gives rise to this process is the energy contained within the evil. That energy has a latency within it that after it has been unleashed and has caused damage, destruction, disaster it has nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. It can only linger at the site, supreme in its victory, then, as time sets in, the victory is seen as hollow and empty. It is nothing, it is void.

Just as air rushes in to a vacuum, the space created by the evil must be filled. The tide has turned, good floods in. The last vestiges of evil are swamped, salt water washes the wounds. Cleansing them of even the tiniest taint of the putrid mass that was composed of evil. 

Yes, truly, Good comes out of Evil.

Love is patient, love is kind... isn't it?

Is it possible for us to subvert the truth? 

Why is the 'star-cross'd lover' able to bring hurt and injury to their soul mate for the sake of the satisfaction of their own neuroses? The answer is all too obvious, throughout history men and women have injured each other, knowing exactly what would be the consequence of their actions, and yet driven by the inner beast they set out, deliberately, to destroy their mate. In so doing they heap destruction upon themselves. Their lives must end at the moment they gain the victory, the ascendancy they so desperately sought. 

What is wrong with peace and harmony? For some people it is an unreality, an unachievable myth. Those that have it shine like the sun at midday, their faces glow with that inner light that entrances all who can bear to view it. Evil people must avert their glances, they hate to see the happiness exuded by the good. For them life is the passage from one hatred to the next. The hunted look of some tells the tale of the torment that the soul is undergoing. Sleep, perchance to dream is not part of their existence (for they do not live they merely exist) rather they are like Lady Macbeth, wandering somnambulists, pulled from their rest by the pain of their conscience. "Out, damned spot! out, I say!" is their credo.

We injure our loved ones at our own peril. Take care that in the days of your youth you do not commit hurt, you shall surely suffer all the vain days of your life. Bear no malice, keep no record of wrongs. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Above all do not give like for like. Let the love of your life inject their deadly poison into your veins. Take it and watch it course through your body, icing your heart, freezing your soul. You will recover, in time, your lover will never recover. Oh Lord, what forces drive us to such self-destruction. Is there no escape from the inevitable?

The harnessing of processing power by the modern-day writer, the linking of the brain with the computer, has created conditions in which literary works can be created that the greats could only dream of.

The skill of the writer is to create imagery, vivid sharp solid imagery, people that walk across space, moving from one clear background to another. The people need not be so sharply defined, the writer has to allow the reader to render the characters according to their own imaginations. There needs to simply be guidance to encourage that fertile process.

Flowery effervescence and intricacies that describe people and backgrounds to the nth degree are from a bygone age, before the modern mediums of TV and film existed. The reader cried out for detail, they wanted their imaginations to be used to delineate the tortoiseshell button from the teak, the hydrangea from the frangipani, the greyness of the slate roof was a concern to them. Those readers lived in the Golden Age of novels, when imaginations were the only means of exciting the brain with imagery that could not be viewed through the eye. Their time devoted to the books was great, there was nothing else to distract them from the world that is created by the writer, that comes to realisation and is embellished by each individual according to their own uniqueness.

The great writers were possessed with brilliance that enabled them to fabricate their worlds relying purely upon powerful memories that held the whole novel in their grasp. Theirs was truly the all-seeing eye. The words were placed onto paper by the writer by quills dipped into inks made from solutions of iron salts and tannic acid. There was little room for error, freedom of expression had to take place within the closely defined boundaries of the plot. Any process of editing was fraught with physical difficulty, scissors and glue, the cut and paste of the computer, were the means by which the novel would be rejigged and characters literally cut from the womb that spawned them.

Without fearsome memories and incredible intellect there could be no Dickens, Dostoevsky or Dumas. Lesser beings fell by the wayside leaving the greats to power on, creating worlds and exploring the furthest reaches of space, fighting with extinct creatures and nurturing the tenderest feelings of love and affection. The readers sat enthralled, reading by gas-light then the electric lamp. What would those writers have achieved linking the power of their omnipotent minds to that of the computer? The restrictions created by the physicality of the writing process are eliminated. Story becomes all, plot is a necessary but not an all-important requirement. The modern-day writer can leave behind the safety and security of plot and venture into their own imaginations, producing works that the geniuses of old could barely match. Errors can be eliminated with a few quick key strokes. The story becomes all, as imagination is given free rein, characters are able to develop with a lack of detail that would have been unthinkable to the Victorian or Edwardian, the backgrounds are as finite or infinite as the writer deems necessary. The computer, linked to the brain, is capable of producing works that the greats could only dream of.

Morass of Morbidity

I wonder if there are others like me out there? People who are unable to stomach the dross that is being churned out nowadays. To my way of thinking it does not even remotely resemble literature - unless that is the definition of literature is a joining together of words that fail to convey anything apart from inducing feelings of melancholy and despair.

Perhaps that is why I stick to good old classic literature. 

My dad was bought a book for Christmas. He is well versed in pulp fiction but could not finish it. I endured one sentence. How in the name of fiction can it receive accolades?! 

I have to ask the question, 'Have modern readers lost their minds?'

I have just placed KURT LANGER : NEMESIS OF TERROR onto Amazon. I think and am told that it has the quality of being "literature" as well as being a thumping good tale. It will probably go the same way as an earlier novel and settle beneath the morass of morbidity.

If my blog, tucked away here in some obscure reaches of the web, is ever found I imagine that daring to question what is presented as literature will result in a plethora of shocked comments, as in, 'You must be mad if you cannot appreciate what is so clear to us!' But there is little to worry about, the collapse of literature is reflected by the collapse of thought. Nobody will care a jot what I think.