Santa Claus conquers the Axis

Via

Santa Claus was busy during World War II, mostly beating the crap out of enemy leaders portrayed as various stereotypes. (Hirohito getting particularly vicious treatment.)

Via

Merry Christmas, readers.

F'd Ad Fridays: Star Wars pin-up propaganda calendar

Photographer Joey DeMarco managed to combine an obsession with WWII recruitment posters, Star Wars, and tits in his unlicenced calendar on Etsy:

DeMarco ads, "Quantities are limited. Get them now before you-know-who slaps a Cease and Desist on me!"

Pretty cheesy stuff. However, the samples he posted include one epic mashup:

You can see all the Star Wars pin-ups here.

A post from the past

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm quite the bleeding-heart pacifist. But around November 11, I am humbled by thoughts of the incredible loyalty and commitment it takes for men and women to enter the military and serve their country in combat. To kill strangers, and to watch friends die.


So today, I am not the one who should be blogging about what Remembrance Day really means. I've never been to war.

(Thanks to cousin Lyle for the photos)

This post was written by someone who was. My Great-Uncle Jack, writing from behind the lines of the French front on April 2, 1918, to his father (my great-grandfather):

Dear Dad —


I am afraid I may not be able to write very often for a while however I will do my best. Easter Sunday and Monday passed in a perfect blaze of work, tonight things have slackened up and I am snatching the opportunity.

There was a good imitation of a Canadian sunset and I got thoroughly homesick by reason of the short walk I took, watching it.

My work has been very varied lately and there has come into it a little danger I had not expected. The Hun is getting busy — but you probably know more about the situation from the news-papers than I do.

Night before last I had a job which as an artilleryman I never expected — on a Lewis gun popping away at one of his night fliers. We fired about 400 rounds into him and he dropped about 38 eggs, luckily he missed our pit but put a dud through the office roof. He got away safe. 

Yesterday I had a thrilling ride in a sidecar — I had to get as quickly as possible down to another place and do a job for them. On the way back, rushing as fast as possible, out went our lights and we had to finish our trip without them, no safe job with the traffic there is.


Today I saw a very spectacular stunt pulled off — a Hun attacking one of our balloons.


So things are lively —


Love to all   Jack

Uncle Jack survived the "Great" War, and finished his studies in Canada to become an engineer. He returned to military service as a middle-aged man and a Major in World War II, earning an MBE for his work — which we think was in intelligence.

Thanks, Uncle Jack.

The Unforgettable Fire

Walking to work today, I passed through most of central Ottawa, and I was disappointed not to see one chalk human silhouette on the pavement.

Today is Hiroshima Day, the 65th anniversary of one of the most brutal military attacks on civilians ever perpetrated. Whatever your feelings about whether it made a quick end to World War II, the fact remains that it was a sad day for our species when one group of people decided to literally nuke 140,000 (or more) other human lives out of existence.



Back in the '80s, we could never not notice the passing of another August 6th. Or, for that matter, could we ever forget about the threat of nuclear annihilation. As the United States and the Soviet Union played their high-stakes version of "chicken" during the endgame of the Cold War, those of us who were young and impressionable were hammered with reminders of our doom, like The Day After and When the Wind Blows.



No "duck and cover" for Generation X kids. More like "put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye".

So for us, I guess Hiroshima and Nagasaki seemed like more than historical events. They were a very possible future. It was a reality that people around the world hammered home, on August 6, by drawing chalk outlines of themselves on pavement as a reflection of the "human shadows" burnt into the Japanese streets from the heat of the blasts.



Hopefully someone chalked up a memorial somewhere in the capital. I wish I had. But however we choose to note the date, there is one message we need to share:



Never again.