The Power of Words: Reflecting on the Overuse of "Nazi"

 G’day, fellow Adventurers,

Today, I want to dive into a topic that's been on my mind lately: the ubiquitous use of the word "Nazi." As a writer who delves into historical fiction and contemporary commentary, I can't help but notice how this once weighty term has found its way into everyday conversations, sometimes where it perhaps doesn't belong.

Let's rewind a bit. "Nazi" originally referred to members of the National Socialist German Workers' Party under Adolf Hitler's regime. It's a term that evokes images of tyranny, genocide, and unspeakable horrors that scarred our world in the 20th century. It's a word that should make us pause, remember, and reflect on the darkest chapters of human history.

Yet, in today's discourse, "Nazi" often gets tossed around casually, applied to anyone with strict beliefs or perceived authoritarian tendencies. For example, the well-written and hilarious Seinfeld episode, "The Soup Nazi".  We hear it in political debates, social media squabbles, and even in entertainment critiques. It's as if the word has become a catch-all phrase for any form of extremism or intolerance.

This casual use worries me. When we dilute the power of "Nazi" by using it loosely, we risk diminishing its historical weight and significance. It's like watering down a potent truth serum until it loses its efficacy. By calling someone a "Nazi" without understanding the historical context or the gravity of what it truly means, we risk trivialising the atrocities committed under the Nazi regime.

Of course, language evolves, and words can change meaning over time. But when it comes to terms as charged as "Nazi," we must tread carefully. There's a danger in blurring the lines between legitimate criticism, hyperbole, and historical fact. It's not about political correctness or censorship; it's about preserving the integrity of our history and ensuring that future generations understand the true lessons of the past.

Although meant for entertainment purposes, my latest work "The Titanic Connection" touches upon that note. When we call someone a "Grammar Nazi", a "Driving Nazi", or any other kind, we run the risk of weakening the word's true, horrific meaning. I've seen firsthand how powerful words can be in shaping narratives and perceptions. That's why I urge us all to use words like "Nazi" with respect and caution, remembering their weight and the lessons they carry.

As we navigate through a world where words are wielded like weapons, let's remember the responsibility we have as writers, historians, and citizens. Let's honour the memory of those who suffered under, and fought, Nazi oppression by using language that educates, enlightens, and respects the truth.

Until next time, keep reading, keep learning, and keep reflecting.

Confronting History: The Importance of Preserving Controversial Literature

Have you ever watched a film or read a book that left you questioning the depths of human nature and the lessons of history?

I was eleven when I first saw Logan's Run. Believe it or not, the teachers at my high school thought it was a good movie to show students towards the end of the year. Little did I know, it would spark a lifelong reflection on the importance of preserving history through literature.

 

In case you haven't seen it, the film (and novel) is set in the 24th century, where people live in underground cities and enjoy pleasurable lives—until they turn thirty. At that point, they are killed, believing they will be reincarnated into an even better life. It's a way to control the population and maybe even stem overpopulation. Some people, knowing the truth, escaped death and were known as Runners. The computer controlling the cities would send agents called Sandmen to capture these Runners. The most horrific part was learning that some Runners were killed and used as food for the unsuspecting population.

There are films we watch, horrified by the setting. For me, Logan's Run was one of those films. The Chrysalids by John Wyndham was another. It's set in a dystopian, post-apocalyptic future where radiation from a nuclear war caused mutations and birth defects. Anyone not born "normal" was cast out or killed. That included cattle, dogs, and even babies with six toes. They were considered abominations because they weren't born in the image "God decided."

These dystopian tales, while fictional, serve as powerful allegories for real historical events. They remind us of the horrors of totalitarian regimes, eugenics, and the dangers of losing our humanity.

Today, there are different sorts of horrors in literature. Imagine a novel set in the past where black people are enslaved, treated as subhumans, stripped of their rights. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, for example. Even Little House On The Prairie reflects those times. People then were different from how they are now, using terms like "Negro" or worse.

Some people today advocate changing these works, claiming they incite hatred. I believe that reason is misguided.

I loved Tom Sawyer as a kid, as well as Huckleberry Finn and Little House On The Prairie. I don't hate black people, nor do I hate any other races. I dare say the same for others who read those books. I believe people are horrified by the historical treatment and try to deny it by censoring under the guise of "removing offense."

By censoring these works, we risk erasing the very lessons they teach us. These books provide a window into the past, showing us how far we've come and how much further we need to go. They spark important conversations about racism, equality, and human rights—conversations that are crucial for progress.

Censorship, in this context, does more harm than good. It shields us from the uncomfortable truths of our history, preventing us from learning and growing. Instead of hiding from the past, we should confront it, understand it, and ensure that its mistakes are not repeated.

Consider Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler. It's a deeply disturbing book filled with hate and propaganda. Yet, it remains an important historical document. By studying it, we learn about the dangerous ideology that led to one of the darkest periods in history—the Holocaust. Censoring such works might seem like a way to prevent the spread of harmful ideas, but it also risks forgetting the lessons learned from the consequences of those ideas. History must be remembered, no matter how uncomfortable, so that we can recognize the signs and prevent such horrors from happening again.

The world has changed so much, but there's still much to learn. Let's not hide from history; let's learn from it.

What are your thoughts on this? Should we censor historical literature to avoid offending modern sensibilities, or should we preserve these works to learn from our past? Let’s discuss in the comments below.

The Devil Behind Social Media

 Today, I decided. If I don't leave Facebook (and other social media) then I'll be cutting it out a lot. I have to do it.

Step one: Check through all the friends and followers on my personal profile.

There have been some 5000+ there since I first started in 2007. And the discovery itself was horrifying.

Facebook has this thing where it won't let you see your friends' posts, unless you talk to them all the time. Then they will distract and grab your attention, flooding your senses with all sorts of utter bullshit and crap. Useless plastic crap.

Well, I got caught. Too long. And the fallout of that caught my attention when I went into my friends and followers lists.

It was great, looking through it, checking on faces I'd never seen in ages. Then I came across one I'd not spoken to in a long time.

Excitedly, I clicked on the profile to check the feed. Hmmm not too many posts there. Just messages from friends on the wall to wish a happy birthday. Then I saw it.

A birthday message.

"Happy birthday to you, wherever you are and whatever you're doing."

"Happy birthday. I'll have a beer for you and hope you're enjoying one up there too."

"Happy Heavenly Birthday. It's been two years, and we still miss you."

Shit!

A friend had died, and I didn't know about it. It wasn't the first either since I discovered a few months ago my best schoolfriend's mother had passed away too. That cut deep. Today's cut deeper, not because that friend had been any closer, but because I realised -- one day that could be me.

All of these people I *love* entertaining with my Dad Joke posts. I'd just disappear, and they wouldn't even notice. A forgotten blip on the radar.

Can you imagine the same happening to you?

I continued through the list. There was another old face. Damn! She had died too. And another, and the list continued. There have been two dozen people who died, and I hadn't noticed. Partly my fault, but also influenced by a pathetic algorithm fostered by a weedy "entrepreneurial" creature who owns the social media company. How do others feel when they go checking up on friends they have missed over the months?

Obviously, it's not Facebook's fault that my friends had died. Not entirely their fault I hadn't heard... but I do blame them for their insatiable greed behind their algorithm that treats its users the way a sociopathic kid tortures small animals. It is despicable.

I'm not naive to the fact that it's only free to users to "be the product" for businesses who pay Facebook (and other social media) for advertising. It's how they remain "free to use". But we all know, there's no such thing as free in the world. It's all an illusion.

So that's another reason added to the growing list of reasons for my deepening dislike and distrust for social media.

At least the newspaper, radio, or televison tells us when people pass.

But not the heartless money-grubbing bastards like Zuckerberg. One day, he will pass too. You can bet we'll all hear about that!

 

Ask Me Anything - 13th December 2023

Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming to chat with me!

I'm Chris Johnson, and I'm super excited to be here answering your questions today! I write novels and novellas in speculative fiction -- especially adventure laced with light science fiction and/or supernatural themes! My books range from weird fiction (like what you might find in Twilight Zone, Amazing Stories, etc), tales of psychic detectives and time travellers who end up in a big heap of trouble.  In fact, the latest release is The Paradox of Buck Nowlan, the second in the ChronoSpace series -- it was great fun to write. The third is on its way.

I love adventure and action movies, especially the kind by Stephen Spielberg in the 1980s, and a host of other weird and wonderful things. And I'm often prone to telling some terrible Dad jokes to prove my quirkiness.

I'm Australian, born and bred, and live in Brisbane, Queensland near a brilliant lake around which I often walk. Besides writing, I'm also a mentalist and magician; that explains the Dad jokes.

You can find my books at larrikinbooks.com, and pretty soon there'll be more of me on YouTube when I find the time for it. Every month, I send out a newsletter or two (or three) to my subscribers by email, keeping them up with special deals on my writing... even competitions.

You can find me on social media at Facebook and BookBub.

 

Grantley's Last Laugh -- a little light Halloween reading for you

[Scene: A dimly lit room adorned with antique furniture. Bela Lugosi, the legendary actor known for his portrayal of Count Dracula, sits in an elegant armchair, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. Across from him is Chris Johnson, the author of "Grantley's Last Laugh," a gothic horror short story.]

Bela Lugosi: Good eeevening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonigh', I 'ave ze pleasure of speaking with the talented author behind "Grantley's Last Laugh," Mr. Chris Johnson. Greetings, Mr. Johnson!

Chris Johnson: G'day, Drac. It's an honor to be here with you.

Bela Lugosi: Let's delve into the vorld you've created in your gothic 'orror tale. Ze enigmatic Benjamin Grantley and ze dark secrets of Grantley Manor seem to be at ze centre of ze story. Can you tell us vat inspired you to write about zis eerie settin'?

Chris Johnson: Well, mate, Grantley Manor is a right eerie place, and I've always been drawn to gothic tales and mysterious old houses. The idea of hidden secrets and a touch of supernatural always gets my imagination runnin'. So, I wanted to bring that atmospheric terror and blurring of reality into "Grantley's Last Laugh."

Bela Lugosi: Ze supernatural elements you've introduced, like ze flickerin' candles, eruptin' flames, and ze malevolent unseen force, create an atmosphere of dread. 'Ow did you go about craftin' zese eerie occurrences?

Chris Johnson: Oh, you see, I wanted to give readers a real sense of unease and make them question what's real and what's not. So, with vivid descriptions and subtle hints, I aimed to create an atmosphere where everyday things take on a spine-chilling twist. It's all about the power of suggestion, mate, to make you feel unsettled and on the edge of your seat.

Bela Lugosi: Your description of the blurred lines between ze tangible and ze supernatural certainly adds to ze intrigue. Vat message or emotions do you 'ope readers will take avay from "Grantley's Last Laugh"?

Chris Johnson: Well, mate, above all, I hope readers get completely captivated by the story's dark allure. I want them to feel that eerie shiver down their spines and let their imagination run wild. And through the story, I also wanted to explore the ideas of hidden secrets, the fragility of reality, and the power of the unknown. So, I reckon readers might find themselves reflecting on their own perceptions and the depths of the human psyche.

Bela Lugosi: "Grantley's Last Laugh" sounds like a mesmerising gothic horror that will leave readers on the edge of their zeats. Before we conclude, what final message would you like to share vith your readers?

Chris Johnson: Well, mate, I just want to say a big thank you to all the readers who take the plunge into the unknown with me. "Grantley's Last Laugh" is a journey into atmospheric terror, a place where imagination and fear collide. So, embrace the darkness, surrender to the narrative, and let the story keep you up at night long after you turn the final page.

Bela Lugosi: Thank you, Mr. Johnson, for giving us a glimpse into the captivating vorld of "Grantley's Last Laugh." It has been a pleasure speakink vith you.

Chris Johnson: The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Lugosi. Thanks for havin' me here.

[As the interview concludes, the room is enveloped once again in an eerie silence. The haunting tale awaits those who dare to turn its pages. Bela Lugosi's chilling laughter crackles through the darkness.]

 

Enchanting Encounters: My Magical Halloween in Western Australia

Halloween.

The word itself conjures up images full of witches cackling over bubbling cauldrons as they incant their spells, throwing odd ingredients into the mix. Pumpkins carved into jagged glowing mouths and eyes spring to mind, as do troops of children dressed in sheets, robes, and an assortment of other apparel to be their favourite scary creature or hero.

Having grown up in Australia in the 1970s and 1980s, I never experienced any of this. Halloween was regarded as “something those Yanks do in America, not here”, which is a misnomer, of course.

Halloween, originally known as 'Samhain,' marked the end of the harvest season in Celtic lands like Ireland and parts of Britain. The Celts believed that on October 31st, the boundary between the living and the dead blurred, giving rise to bonfires, feasts, and costumes made from animal heads and skins. Over time, it evolved into the Halloween we know today, with influences from various cultures.

As Christianity spread across Europe, the Catholic Church sought to Christianise existing pagan celebrations. In the 7th century, Pope Boniface IV established All Saints' Day (also known as All Hallows' Day) on November 1st to honour saints and martyrs. The evening before, known as All Hallows' Eve, eventually became Halloween.

Eventually, it was introduced through migration to America where it flourished to such a level, it’s any wonder people think it’s “something the Americans cooked up”.

Back to Australia now, I remember mention of it in 1978 when my second grade teacher, Mrs Childs, who came from the USA, showed us all how to make a Jack O Lantern. We might have dressed up in fancy-dress costumes for a school dance for the occasion too, but that was the only time at school. It never caught on because it was “an American thing”.

Fast-forward to 1999, when I was living in Perth. On the 31st October, I was caught off-guard by the knock-knock on the door by Trick-or-Treaters. Although I had no lollies for the kids, I was working as a magician – so I “treated” them with my “tricks”. We soon had the same kids coming back with their friends, and I found myself doing an impromptu show for many others throughout the night.

A year later, I did the same thing just a little differently. You see, I had a lot of work as a walk-around wizard in corporate and private functions throughout the year. Perth was great for that. So on Halloween of 2000, I decided to join the other trick-or-treaters in character. Dressed in my black cloak, armed with my knowledge of sleight-of-hand and a bunch of business cards, I joined the costumed zombies, ghouls, ghosts, and a Pokémon on the streets, moving house to house.

Chris Johnson as "The Seer"

At each house, silver balls blossomed into existence between my fingers before amazed eyes. People gasped when I produced coins from their noses and lit cigarettes from their pockets. It was an amazing night, bringing magic to people, sharing the wonder and a smile or two with each of them. Then something bigger happened.

Just as I was plucking a ribbon from someone’s fingertips, someone cried, “Hey! Look at the cats!”

I turned in time to see that my Siamese and Burmese cats sitting at my feet, watching in rapt attention. Apparently, they had been following me to each house, watching from the bushes or nearby. It proved the spectacle for the residents of three blocks to see the goth wizard and his familiars spreading magic and smiles on the night of magical happenings.

In the end, what began as a foreign tradition to me became a night of magic and connection. The streets of Seville Grove in Perth, Western Australia, adorned with ghosts and goblins, witnessed a wizard and his faithful feline companions spreading wonder and smiles. A night of shared enchantment, it proved to me that magic isn’t just found in spells and sleight-of-hand, but in the simple act of bringing joy to others wherever you are in the world.

 

Speaking of Tricks and Treats, check out one of my stories -- The Trick -- below.

 

How Chris Johnson met the Brides of Dracula "While He Was Sleeping"

As a brilliant flash of lightning split the night sky, its luminous finger reaching into the darkest corners of my consciousness, a deafening crash of thunder shattered the silence. I was abruptly torn from the embrace of slumber, but what greeted my awakened senses was far from familiar. An eerie sensation tingled through the air, whispering that something was amiss.

In the pitch-black abyss, devoid of any recognisable feature, I felt disoriented, as if I had been transported to a realm beyond my own. It was then that the sound of rain assaulting an unknown surface invaded my ears, a fierce percussion against what surely couldn't be my home's garden.

A thunderous crack cleaved the air, searing its brilliant light into the depths of my mind, revealing three ethereal figures. They materialised before me with an uncanny grace, their forms exuding both danger and ethereal beauty. Their alluring curves possessed an otherworldly allure, akin to the graceful movements of a mesmerising dancer. And as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, the realisation dawned upon me, dispelling any lingering thoughts of this being a mere dream. The enigmatic presence before me was undeniably real.

As the thunderous echoes faded, the silhouette of the three feminine figures became more defined. Their features, now bathed in the afterglow of lightning, revealed an otherworldly allure that sent a shiver down my spine. It was then that they spoke, their voices carrying a hypnotic quality tinted with a thick Hungarian accent.

The first of the trio stepped forward, her presence exuding a regal air. Her voice, like velvet laced with the whispers of the night, introduced her as Helga. Her eyes, gleaming like polished obsidian, held a hunger that hinted at forbidden desires. She spoke with a sultry tone, her words weaving a seductive spell.

Next, another figure emerged from the darkness, her ethereal form moving with an elegant fluidity. Introducing herself as Ingrid, her voice possessed a haunting quality, like a ghostly wind through ancient ruins. Her eyes, a mesmerising shade of amethyst, seemed to peer into the depths of my soul, beckoning me to surrender to the mysteries she held.

And finally, the third vampiric woman stepped forward, her presence a captivating blend of allure and danger. Rosa, as she called herself, had a voice that dripped with mischief, her words tinged with a playful charm. Her eyes, a piercing emerald green, sparkled with an enigmatic sparkle that mirrored the flickering light of distant stars.

As the realisation sank in, I found myself before Helga, Ingrid, and Rosa, the embodiment of temptation and darkness. Their identities were clear, and I was drawn into their alluring embrace, knowing that my life would never be the same again.

Helga, her voice laced with a seductive charm, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Good evening, Chris Johnson," she purred, her words dripping with allure. "We are absolutely delighted to have you here tonight, surrounded by the enchanting glow of candlelight. Your book, 'While He Was Sleeping,' has certainly piqued our interest, much like the ethereal light that glistens off our elegant fangs. Pray, tell us, what inspired you to create such an intoxicating and suspenseful supernatural thriller?"
 

I felt a subtle shiver travel down my spine as Ingrid, with playful grace, traced a delicate finger along the line of my jaw. Her eyes locked onto mine, a mischievous glint in her gaze. "Ah, secrets and mysteries," she murmured, her words carrying an air of enchantment. "They tantalise us, much like the captivating charm of the night itself. Chris, we cannot help but be intrigued by your character Maerie. Can you offer us a glimpse into her enigmatic nature and the role she plays in the seductive dance of this story?"

Caught in the intoxicating spell woven by the three enchantresses, I leaned in, anticipation tinging my voice. "Maerie," I began, my words coming forth like whispers in the twilight, "is a creature of mystery, much like the flickering dance of candlelight upon your graceful fangs. She intertwines herself with the narrative, an enigma that both enthralls and unnerves. As the story unfurls, her true nature gradually emerges, casting a haunting shadow over the lives of Norman, Ella, and Robin. She becomes a catalyst for a battle between darkness and loyalty, adding a layer of sensuality and enigma to the tale."

Rosa, her voice a velvety whisper, leaned closer, her eyes glinting with curiosity, her breath cold yet warming on my cheek. "Mmm, a battle between darkness and loyalty," she breathed, her words enveloped in a cloud of allure. "Boundaries blur, passions ignite. Chris, as Robin and Ella embark on their harrowing journey, can you paint a picture of the temptations they encounter? The pleasures and dangers that intertwine as they venture into the depths of Norman's secrets?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as I pondered Rosa's question. The candlelight flickered, casting ethereal patterns on the table. "Ah, the temptations that lie in wait," I responded, my voice laced with both excitement and caution, "reminiscent of the seductive allure of moonlight on an uncharted path. Robin and Ella succumb to psychological and supernatural challenges, drawn further into the enigmatic tapestry of their friend's secrets. It's a journey that tests their very souls, entices them with the thrill of the unknown, and explores the depths of their resilience."

Helga leaned back in her chair, a sultry smile playing upon her lips, as her legs crossed revealing her form through the thin fabric of her dress. "Your words weave an enchanting spell, Chris," she purred, her voice like velvet against the night. "Now, let us explore the atmospheric presence that lingers within the pages of 'While He Was Sleeping.'" The gentle candlelight casts shadows and illuminated their sharp yet elegant fangs. "How did you craft such a tantalisingly chilling and suspenseful tone, leaving readers yearning for more?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, the flickering candlelight reflecting in my eyes. "Ah, the atmosphere," I mused, my words drifting through the air like a whispered incantation. "Like the interplay of shadows and candlelight, I aimed to create a captivating tone that immersed readers in the heart of the story. Through intricate descriptions that engaged the senses, carefully orchestrated pacing, and an embrace of the unknown, I sought to leave readers with a subtle shiver, an insatiable desire to uncover the concealed secrets hidden within the pages."

Ingrid leaned forward, her voice dripping with intrigue. "Mmm, a subtle shiver," she whispered, her words a siren's song as I indeed shuddered. "A sensation we know all too well. Chris, indulge us in a playful tease. If we were to suggest savouring the essence of your work, akin to the candlelight flickering off our fangs, how would you react? Would you feel a thrill of excitement or a sense of anticipation?"

I couldn't help but smile as my gaze met theirs in a moment of shared understanding. "Ah, the dance of playful teasing," I chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the flickering candlelight. "While the suggestion certainly adds a touch of intrigue, I must confess that I find the excitement of storytelling to be my preferred elixir. I prefer my blood left flowing within my veins, fuelling my imagination and creativity."

Rosa's voice lowered, a velvet whisper in the air. "Such creativity is an intoxicating elixir in itself, Chris," she murmured, her words lingering in the space between them. "We appreciate your response, leaving a hint of mystery in the air. Now, as this bewitching interview draws to a close, what do you hope readers will take away from 'While He Was Sleeping'?"

With a sense of both completion and anticipation, I answered, listening to my words echoing in the candlelit chamber. "I hope readers become ensnared by the hypnotic dance within the pages," he confessed, his voice a gentle breeze in the night. "Like the flickering of candlelight upon their eager eyes, I want them to immerse themselves in the mysteries, feel the pulse of suspense, and experience the thrill of unravelling secrets. Ultimately, I hope they emerge from the story with a renewed sense of wonder, their imaginations ignited, and an insatiable appetite for the mysteries that reside within the realms of their own dreams."

Helga's sultry smile deepened, her eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and intrigue. "Thank you, Chris Johnson, for gracing us with your presence on this bewitching night," she said, her voice a melodic caress. "May your words continue to enchant and beguile readers, guiding them through the seductive realms of your storytelling. Until we meet again, dear author."

I bowed my head respectfully, my heart filled with a sense of both satisfaction and a guilty longing. "Thank you for this enchanting interview," I replied, my voice carrying a touch of wistfulness. "May I please return to my own bedroom and my family?"

With that, a wave of darkness enveloped my senses, pulling me into the abyss of unconsciousness. Strange and elusive dreams danced through the realms of my mind, blurring the line between reality and fantasy. And when the morning light finally caressed my weary face, I awakened with a start, gasping for breath.

A peculiar sensation lingered, a phantom touch upon my throat that whispered of an intimate encounter with the unknown. I traced my fingers along the skin, searching for answers, but found nothing more than an inexplicable ache, as if something had grazed the surface, leaving behind an enigmatic mark.