Ernest Zundel, a Man of Truth, Conviction and Courage

Smoking Mirrors — Aug 8, 2017

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
I can’t let pass an important passing of a truly great man; Ernst Zundel who was a tireless fighter for truth and responsible for a large amount of fantasy refutation, like the alleged gas chambers at Auschwitz that never existed.
During his bullshit show trial in Germany I was in the country and followed the charade closely. I communicated with his wife, Ingrid, who sent me a video of his life and work. The Sleaze Patrol in Germany was so powerful that they even gave Zundel’s lawyer five years in prison too, for defending him. I don’t think that was the charge but they came up with something.
As time marches on and the apocalypse accelerates, the truth is being exposed in greater and greater detail. It is astounding that this robust and pernicious lie about the murder of 6 million Jews is allowed to continue and even more amazing that the vast army of cinder-block heads, dunderheads and Nimrods continue to be programmed to believe this fantasy construct. Their own almanac shows an increase in their population over the war years. Given this, how can their claims be at all credible? Of course, they are not. Halfway down this following page is a list of the same hoaxing effort before and during the first World War that is entitled; “read every word and prepare to be mesmerized.”
The thing is… if you are ignorant, or a coward, it is easy to be convinced of anything. It is something else to be so indifferent and obsessed with personal pursuits that the truth is unimportant and only useful when it serves your ends. If you are an honest person and not a coward and you know how the power of lies can pervert the minds of the populations that you have to move among, then… then you probably know about this monstrous lie and those who suffered because of it and you’re not shy about saying so… Still, in time to come, this lie is going to be exposed for the lie that it is and oh my… that is going to be something.
In any case, I wanted to call attention to that fine and noble soul, Ernst Zundel, who had the courage of his certitude and convictions to bear all the censure, injury, harassment and confinement that they brought into his life. Speaking truth to power never comes at a small cost and that is why there is such a small number of us who are capable of it. Ernst Zundel was such a man.
Here is the truth about the so called Holocaust; it is a lie fabricated to cover a far more monstrous Holocaust, performed by these same self proclaimed victims. (who assert that they have been so egregiously injured in an extended event that never happened). I speak of the Russian Holocaust, where tens of millions were tortured and executed by these so called victims. These are the same people who today, torment the Palestinians and seek to replace them in the annals of history, because the Palestinians are the true residents of the so-called Holy Land. Their DNA convincingly proves this. On the other hand, the interloper Ashkenazi Jew has no ancestral claim on this region whatsoever. This is hard, cold and clinical scientific fact.
Lies, enormous lies, lacking in even the most basic substance of validity, are made possible by the control of nearly every large media organ in operation. This is further bolstered by the control of most of the publishing houses, as well as the distribution agencies and social media constructs from Amazon to Facebook. It is further assured by the control of the international banking system. The culture is malformed and misshapen into monstrous abortions of twisted and demented expression by the control of the art galleries, which control the character of modern art. This is even further enhanced by control of the entertainment industries. Here is a classic example of the latter as it relates to the Satanic medium of Rap and Hip Hop. They are like some invasive species that has burrowed into every area of human expression, in order to assist in the downward spiral of devolution, presently in operation. Typhon is one of the mega devils who are operational in the psyche of this tiny demon-graphic, along with Mammon, Baal and a host of others.
When you study the landscape of contemporary existence and omit the invisible presence and influence of the ineffable, it can be crushing and disheartening and certain of dovetailing one’s spirits into the pit of despair. This is the manifest power of shadows and appearances, which cause us to be unaware of the brilliant light of the all pervasive and eternal author of existence, which is the divine. The divine shines forever behind every mask of darkness and is in absolute control of the destiny of all things, be they of the supernal or infernal realms. The supernal realm exists for the housing of every being of light, which serves the ineffable without question or argument at all times and the infernal exists for those who war against the natural harmonies of life …and for the souls of those convinced into the service of infernal designs and agendas.
Those of us that aspire to the light and who, in our own, often less than capable ways, seek to serve the light, can take comfort from the FACT that the ineffable is always in control of everything, no matter what appearances might say. Do not despair, ever! Let your light shine; ♫this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine♫ Do not hide it under a bushel. ‘Put on the whole armor of God’. Let us think that the greatest expression of the ineffable is Love and the highest expression of Love is Sacrifice. Let us imagine Love being the white light that is shot through a prism and which creates all the other qualities of God, which constitute the armor of God. Let Love suffuse, enthuse and maintain you at all times and in all places. Let it grow. Love is like a plant; water it with the attention of your focus upon it and it will grow. However fragile it may appear at its inception, it will become a Sequoia redwood if you cultivate and express it. Love increases with every effort of expression.
You can mull about and agonize over appearances. You can be startled by shadows that bear no resemblance in size to the image casting them. Shadows are without substance. Our fear crystallizes them into manifestation but they are not real. For once in this life, cast all fear aside. Fear can only exist in the absence of Love and cannot exist where Love is resident. They displace one another and those who prey upon our fear require our participation in the charades that they create in order for Fear to have any power at all.
I receive so many emails from people who tell me about what they struggle with and ask what it is that they can do. It could be troubling if I took it seriously; neither should you. {I am much gladdened by those who are perfectly content to receive daily postings from this source and who are dismayed when they stop appearing but you must understand that if I don’t hear from you in the comments section I have no way of knowing that you are appreciating them as you say you do. My sites are presently in transition and a state of turmoil. I have no counter on my pages anymore. I don’t know who’s coming around. The search engine function is gone. We’re working on it but it is slow going.} For myself, the level of pedestrian frustrations is at an all time high. I could take these seriously. I do not. The waters will clear. I do not know when but they will. Remember what has often been said here, “the degree of difficulty accounts for the greater possibilities that are before us. Rise to the occasion!
Ernst Zundel was a great man. He still is a great man. A few will mention this. A few will speak to the accomplishments he was the author of. Mostly there will be silence if not outright opprobrium. He was slandered in life. He will surely be slandered in transition. I celebrate his fearless efforts on behalf of the German people and all right thinking members of the human race. He was a guidon in the march toward liberty in the heart and in the mind. He spoke the truth and he lived it at great personal cost. God bless him!
Much love to you, one and all, in your struggles here in this veil of tears. It shall not always be so that such travail and darkness shall assail us. It shall not always be so that we are burdened as we are. Hold fast to the Love and Truth that dwells within and the day will come when those who trouble us are no more. They will be exposed for what they are and there will be nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. They believe they are impervious and completely in command of events and appearances but they are not. They have revealed themselves because in their hubris they believe that no one and nothing can touch them. They are wrong and walking toward perdition, one step after another. Their time will come and so will ours. Let us hope that when that time comes we are found in a state of being that is pleasing to the author of us all.
Rest in Peace, Ernst Zundel.
End Transmission…….



Smoking Mirrors looks at much of what the mainstream media ignores. While in Profiles in Evil, he seeks to expose those shrouded in darkness to nature’s most powerful disinfectant, light.


Wetbacks in Reverse? Ernst Zundel banned forever from Land of the Free

“Give us your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”

[ Note: After 14 years of legal wrangling at the cost of millions of dollars to both sides, the US government has ruled on discretionary grounds by an unelected bureaucrat named Ron Rosenberg, Chief, Administrative Appeals Office of the US Department of Homeland Security, that Ernst Zündel is banned from joining his family in the US.

According to this ruling, a dissident contesting a disputed historical claim such as the “Auschwitz gassing” is now a “…criminal of moral turpitude.” Can it get any more Kafkaesque?

More will be said about this latest Zundel development at a later time. For now, here is the latest installment of the ever-expanding Global Zundel-Saga… Ingrid Zundel ]


Ernst Zündel, in his own words:

Ernst and Ingrid Zundel: Wetbacks in Reverse?

Within hours of my illegal arrest in February 2003, fourteen years ago, I had been given an expulsion order with stiff penalties, should I dare to set foot in America ever again in the future. Should I be so brazen as to attempt a re-entry and be caught, I was to be arrested “forthwith”, detained, tried, and found guilty – and put in prison to face a 20-year sentence as an illegal “re-offender.”

Not only that, I risked a $250,000 fine for being such a fire-breathing dissident insisting on free speech on a forbidden topic – all this still in handcuffs, without being allowed to at least see an immigration judge to explain that I was not an “illegal” – I had been in the immigration “pipeline” to be admitted to legal residence as a relative to an American citizen wife.

The day that Ernst Zundel was released from his 7-year prison term, supporters greeted him (file photo)

I had been given a social security number, a health check, two FBI checks that cleared me of any wrong-doing, inoculations, a work permit, a travel permit – the works! Not that any of this mattered at this point in the more than decades-long legal nightmare that followed. I was convicted despite all airtight evidence that I was not a “visa overstay” as had been falsely claimed.

Once I had served my time of seven years in six prisons in three countries on two continents for having asked “Did Six Million Really Die” – and after having successfully passed my probation hurdle of an additional three years – I was left, more or less, to my own devices.

My passport had been given back to me. It allowed me to travel to Russia, Spain, Italy, France, Austria, Poland, Belgium, Switzerland and elsewhere, visiting friends and loyal supporters, always wondering when the next trap would fall shut on me – what other judicial injustice was waiting.

I also tried to see Ingrid at least twice a year, always in some dishevelled Third World country. When traveling to Belize, the Dominican Republic, Mexico etc. to meet Ingrid – who cannot travel to Europe because we know for certain there were at least two Interpol arrest warrants out for her as well because of her Zundelsite/Internet work – I usually had to overfly Canada and the USA.

On this latest trip on March 15, as I wistfully looked down on the plane at the outboard display, crossing Greenland, Island, Quebec, New York State – and moseying along the Eastern seaboard and then inland, almost reaching Tennessee – I wondered what would happen to me if the plane was, in fact, forced to make an emergency landing in the United States or Canada.

There was this possibility. This threat was looming against me in the background. What if something happened mechanically to the plane and I was forced to step onto the so-called “free-est country in the world” – and be re-arrested?

Thus, when I boarded the Condor flight on the 15th of March to Cancun where Ingrid was waiting for me, I was keenly aware that I was entering a danger zone. This was a daylight flight – unlike other Condor flights I had been on where I could at least sleep through the night. These long, non-stop international flights are hard on my body and psyche. By the time yet another new Zündel drama unfolded, I hadn’t slept for almost 30 hours.

As I looked out of the airplane window, I saw a shadowy, bluish fog of sorts that seemed to come out of a small crack of one of these jumbo-jet wings that kept us afloat. I watched it for a while, unease on my mind. It didn’t go away – it just curled into itself and dissolved.

Suddenly, there was a crackled message from the Captain in the cockpit announcing that we were experiencing difficulty with the plane’s fuel gauges, which seemed to be malfunctioning. This meant, the Captain informed us in a terse voice, that we would have to make an unscheduled emergency landing “… at the nearest US airport.”

Here was what I had always feared!

This “nearest airport” turned out to be an airstrip in St. Louis, MO, not exactly a home base for large passenger jets. As we descended, I could see the tarmac, old and run-down, with grass growing out of its crevices! With white knuckles, we all held onto our seats. After one of the roughest landings I have ever experienced, we rolled to a stop and were asked to deplane, using a rickety ladder, flanked by several dozen US firefighters in full gear – all of them huge, nice, friendly men next to their flashing fire trucks. Clearly we had landed in the backwoods somewhere of the USA – and here I was, being asked to step down onto the hallowed soil of “the free-est country in the world” – risking yet another 20 years in gaol!

I knew that the Captain had no choice but to alert US Homeland Security and the border police of my illegal entry status. I rang for the flight attendant to let her know about my predicament – that my very presence in the US might cause an “international incident,” as they like to say in legalese. She looked at me, incredulous. Who was that placid senior citizen who looked as normal and as harmless as can be?

She scurried to inform the folks in the cockpit.

Next, the Captain came to see me, wanting to know what, exactly, I had done. I told him I was being punished for spreading historical truth – I had published a booklet with a politically incorrect question mark the Global Noisy Lobby didn’t like. He was shaking his head, looking doubtful. He, too, was left speechless, not knowing what next to do with this senior citizen passenger, almost 80 years of age, who sat there, smiling blithely, expecting to be handcuffed so as not to threaten the almighty USA!

I was the last to deplane. I was flanked by two huge black border guards, armed to the teeth. Off we marched, with me giving the thumbs-up sign to some 250+ co-passengers who stepped aside to let us through, bewildered and aghast. Everybody stared at me as though I had come from the moon.

This emergency landing clearly overwhelmed the airport personnel, and we had to wait for hours in a rundown, seedy reception area out of the 1950s. The two guards stayed by my side as though glued to my hips, and there was enough time to have a little friendly chat in the meantime. This was not the first time that I had entertained my captors with my woes as well as some hilarious highlights of my intrepid dissident past – and by the time it was my turn to have my passport checked, the three of us had now become fast friends.

Next, we were told US authorities were going to admit us “legally” into the US – as visitors! Fat chance for me, I thought! All the while, I feared, I might be sent back to the Vaterland. I crossed my fingers and toes in hopes that would not happen. But luck was on my side. I, too, was bureaucratically “paroled” into Missouri, USA – a minor miracle!

At first it looked like the fuel line problem could be easily repaired, and that we could fly on to Cancun. However, the mechanical problems were too difficult for the local mechanics to fix, and it was decided to order a replacement plane from Germany. That would take another 12 – 13 hours – with me getting ever more groggy from lack of sleep, lack of food and drink, and a simmering, low-level anxiety that sat in the pit of my heart.

Meanwhile, our passports were scanned; finger prints and iris scans were made of each passenger; and of course, thanks to Internet bio information about me that had been surreptitiously studied by the American authorities as well as several passengers, I took on ever more the trappings of an heroic global dissident celebrity.

I began to be treated not just with curiosity but with an open, smiling reverence by black and white alike. I will always remember a few of them with great fondness – for instance, a tall, handsome Mexican-American veteran, with decades of experience in the US military, as well as a picture-book tall, blue-eyed Aryan from the Midwest, coming from a family of nine children.

All of them were super-correct in their treatment of me – very helpful and accommodating. I told them that I felt homesick for my beloved little art gallery in the Tennessee Mountains – and being so near to where Ingrid and I had our place.

Ernst at home in Tennessee

Those uniformed, battle-hardened men seemed visibly moved. There sat a real live, officially criminalized White Supremacist-Holocaust-denying-Hate-monger among otherwise perfectly normal people, looking and talking exactly like them! “A criminal of moral turpitude” is how the US government documents described me!

Once again, I was the last one to be checked before having been granted “parole”, and promptly taken to a room for secondary screening. This procedure took several more hours of interviews by security people, and in the end, I was patted down and thoroughly searched, all my belongings, my money, my address book seized – and I was taken to a holding cell, windowless, brightly illuminated – the kind that I had already experienced in my decades-long travails while battling one of the world’s most vicious political lobbies.

The personnel who checked me into this cell seemed ashamed of what they were ordered to do – and fell all over themselves letting me know that they did not approve of this travesty – and were simply following Homeland Security orders.

I was given some small pillows, two bright yellow FEMA blankets to avoid hypothermia, and my two black, uniformed police or border guards, still armed to the teeth, told me that this was going to be my home until the replacement plane from Germany had arrived.

Thank you to some of the dedicated people who protect our country (file photo)

Soon additional, ever-so-friendly American guards came with three bottles of water, some potato chips and a hearty ham sandwich. No Muslim terrorist, this one, expecting special dietary favors!

It was long after midnight. I slept a little, in spite of the bright lights. There was a video camera on the ceiling, the usual surveillance equipment.

The hours passed slowly. After a while, two officers came to see me for an update. They told me that the plane from Germany was experiencing strong headwinds and would again be several hours later than expected.

The night shift changed to the day shift, and familiar faces – officers I had talked with before in the waiting room – came to take over. Obviously, they too had checked up on me on the Net. They brought me a tooth brush and toothpaste, and a little later, to my utter surprise, a piping hot pizza and a delicious California salad, along with more water and even a Coca Cola – crowning this “hatemonger” prison fare feast with a piece of delicious blueberry pie.

To my relief, there was no attempt to send me back to Germany – and once the plane arrived, we were all processed one more time and allowed to board the replacement Condor plane. It was about 8:30 pm, March 16, by the time we took off to Cancun!

I did not have a telephone number for Ingrid, since no phone had been as yet installed in our little home in Mexico. I cleared the Mexican customs, got all the proper stamps, took an airport taxi and arrived at the door of my very relieved American citizen lady – who greeted me with “Am I happy to see you!”

We had lots to tell each other long after midnight – wrapped in two bright yellow FEMA blankets I had asked to have as souvenirs, which the guards had allowed me to keep.


For a background summary of Ernst Zundel’s political outreach, please read Mark Weber’s excellent essay as published by the Institute for Historical Review:




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