After my divorce in Sweden my ex and I had to decide about the custody of our son Emil.

I was soon chocked about the massive cruelty of the evil bitches working there in the court.

I was really treated extremely bad by them, the swedish state, (SS from now on).

Even when I brought more than 100 of pages of positive evidence, the judge said:

"Fuck your evidence"

Really !!!

I know now why this horrible creatures are evil as nazists.

They descend from the nazi-helping swedes from the 4. axis power state, Sweden!

 

LINKS TO TIMELINE OF THE CASE, EVIDENCE, MAILS AND COMMUNICATIONS

 

So here is the secrets about Sweden’s past history, 

and facts about how the SS crush people in our time.

 

Even before the II World War, the SS greedy helped the Nazis.

Marking the jews’ passports with a big, red J so they where easy to spot,

and fabricated steel and wood products and fighter aircraft for Hitler!

Under the war Hitler’s Nazis could use the SS railroads

and Sweden continued to produce for the “Third Reich”’s war-machines,

all the way up to 1944,

where the allied threatened to bomb the swedish steel factories

if they continued to work for the Nazis!

Hitler paid the SS, industry barons and the swedish king gustaf V,

with gold and valuables stolen from the slaughtered and gassed Jews!

 

The wealth of today’s Sweden is actually founded by millions of Hitler’s murdered jews’ stolen values!

 

Nazi-like evil from Sweden's past crimes still exists in the SS, the 4. axis power state.

Discrimination and violence from the police and court of the swedish state are second to no dictator-state today about:

Violence.  Kidnapping.  Rape.   Torture.  Killing.

Really!

As seen through the eyes and thoughts of the amazing children books writer, Astrid Lindgren.


READ THE NOVEL FREE HERE

(Until December 28, 2015)

 

Three Yellow Swastikas

Copyright (c) Bjorn Danh

2014

No reproduction of text without permission from author.

ISBN :         9788740436495


 

Chapter 1.

  

     My dear children.

     Now I shall tell you another kind of story from my life. From my childhood to my eternal rest:

 

     I look at the waving green fields that curve their way down to the rippling creek, typical for the nature in this county. And all the funny-shaped gray rocks and cliffs popping up everywhere in the terrain.

     The tall pines on the right side of the meadow almost reaching into the deep blue sky. Gently rocking in the summer-breeze.

     The wooden braided fences over on the left, and behind them the neighbor's cows grazing cheerful. Nice, warm summer here in swedish Smaland.

     I am 5 years old now. I am sitting in my favorite place, the chair-rock, not far from the creek. I love the calm sounds from the little river, always like it is talking to me. Makes me feel comfortable.

     I have just finished reading a book. My first book. About Ronny Rabbit. It is very funny, and I am happy and proud, laughing a little. Oh, I can read now!

     I run over to the fence and shout to the cows and the two calves: I can read!

     I run up to our house. Exited.

     Mom, mom, I read it, really.

     My mother laughs, clever girl, was it funny?

     Yes, mommy, Ronny is a funny rabbit and I want to read one more. Mom, do you have another one, please, please?

     Ok Astrid, she answers. But this one is a little thicker, maybe too difficult for you?

     Oh mom, it is ok, let me try, otherwise you can help me tonight, ok?

     So I run back down the green hillsides, to my place, with my second book.

     And so it begins. My interest for literature is born. First reading, and later writing.

     When I am thirteen years old, I get an essay published in our local paper, “Vimmerby-Tidningen”. I am very proud, but at this time I don’t know, it is the beginning of my career.

     Later I am employed there as a journalist student. Reading and writing is my life, and I am very happy.

     With my best friend I often talk about men. We are both seventeen. Feelings appeared in us, from time to time. Warm, sensual and dangerous. And moist, I thought shy, but nice, so nice.

     I have noticed him, our editor on the newspaper. His eyes on my curves, always. He probably think, I have not observed his glances.

     But I have, of course. First time a month ago. I caught him in a mirror, starring at me, almost drooling.

     I smile, inside myself, because he is a handsome man, and I feel these strange feelings in my loins and lap. Hot and itchy, and I have to leave the room very quickly, because of the danger of the sexual attractions!

     It is inevitably. One day. We are working late, on an article about a German, Herman Goring.

   I should not stay so close to him. But he is like an erotic magnet and my heart beat faster. My body is getting hotter and out of my control.

     Several times he touches my arms, and at last he goes behind me. He put one hand on my hip and one hand on my breasts, and pulls me tight, but gentle, back against him. I can feel him, very much indeed!

     I can’t resist him, his hands slide up under my long skirt and we end on the big couch where he fucks me gentle and makes me a real woman.

     Several days, no, many days, end like this and the result is, of course, pregnancy.

     Not good in our little narrow-minded community, shame. No hospital in this strictly religious swedish Smaland, no doctor in swedish Stockholm, no one in Sweden, will help me, if I not tell who the father is.

     But I want to protect the editor. He is a good man, even if I don’t want to marry him.

     So I have to find another place, outside Sweden.

     Denmark of course. Copenhagen has the Kingdom Hospital, and there they are not strict. They are more open and warm-hearted over there, more helpful.

     I telegraphed the big hospital. You shall be so welcome miss Astrid, they warmly answer.

     With moist eyes, shaking, I write a thank you letter. Thank you, dear people in Denmark.

     After the successful birth of my son, I take a little Dannebrog, the red and white crossed Danish flag, with me home. I will keep it as a souvenir, to always remember their help.

     1928, I get a new secretary job. My son is in care at another family, and he is fine, but I missed him a lot of course.

     He is born in difficult times. All over Europe dark clouds are gathering. Poverty and unemployment become big problems in many countries. It is brutal times for the poor people without jobs and the big companies have no bad conscience at all over crushing their employees nowadays.

     Same situation here in Sweden. Obey or leave. Thousands on the streets just wait to take over a job for a few nickels a day.

     14 May 1931. I am shaken. The swedish state commands soldiers against demonstrating workers in A-valley. I mean here, in Sweden!

     Bourgeois politicians commands armed troops out to fight down workers, demonstrating because of a greedy company cut down their salary, and lousy scabs steal their job. The swedish state!

     Oh, from now on will I write the swedish state as the S.S.

     It will make everything a little easier, right?

     The S.S.’ soldiers kill 5 unarmed poor people! Among them one young woman, that just is watching the demonstration from nearby. So sick!

     The grey and black clouds gathering over Europe now are more intense now. Forcing the colours of nature away. Seems like a stormbringer coming.

     Why this rise of evil inhuman violent organizations? Fascists in “bella” Italy, lead by Mussolini. And down south of the Baltic Sea, in Germany, what are they called? Oh yes, Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei. In short: Nazi party, lead by this Adolf Hitler, guarded by his Schutz Staffel, the SS.

     I am very worried in the early 30’ties. We just had one big war in Europe.

     Haven’t we learned anything?

     The tensions, especially between the liberal and the socialists, are growing everywhere.

     Even worse: The S.S. and the swedish bourgeois, many of our big companies, are flirting with Hitler’s Nazis.

     He is now rebuilding Germany’s army, air force and navy. He needs steel. A lot, primary for his tanks, submarines and his two new planned super battleships, Bismark and Tirpitz. He looks for our prime Kiruna iron, the best quality war machine steel. And steel ball bearings. And many more prime steel and wooden products from our country. To construct all his new war machines.

     I can’t believe it is true. I wrote about him before: Herman Goring, the swedish married German rottweiler. Well supported here in Sweden, and second in command to Hitler, is he allowed by the S.S. and his royal swedish friends to built warplanes for the rising Nazi powers here!

     How could the S.S. allow that! How many Deutch Marks are they receiving?

     Herman Goring is building Junkers warplanes on the Island, down in Limhamn to the new Luftwaffe!

     I have to sit down, take it easy Astrid, I say to my self. What now. Yes, make a cup of tea and warm up a few buns. They are so yummy with jam.

     It is only the beginning. The Nazism reaches its fangs into my country also. Soon people are polluted with this sick ideology. They pop up everywhere, lead by this cross-strap wearing furugard. SNSP: Swedish National Socialist Party. 15000 men and women in 1932. Plaque, cholera or Nazis? I am in shock again.

     Herman Goring founds the Gestapo in these devilish times, I read in the Swedish Daily. Our king gustaf 5, and two von rosen counts eagerly enjoy their connections with the top Nazi down in Germany. Hunting games and high society dinners are the usual orders.

     But worse, the swedish Nazi party keeps growing. 27000 votes they get. Amazing I think, don’t these folks know, what is happening down in Europe?

     I must write a letter, addressed the counts von rosen and gustaf 5, because they plants these seeds of evil in my country.

     Not easy to write about Nazism in the S.S. I think I must be very careful, because it is forbidden to criticize the Nazis and Hitler here. Really!

     In the S.S. there are no freedom of speech, hehe, I laughs. Well, we have some kind of freedom of speech. Same kind that the Kremlin dictate in Sovjet Union!

     Civil War in Spain. Headline in Swedish Daily newspaper. They cheer for the Nazi-supported fascist Franco. We must fight down the communists!

     I see it all over Europe: Violence increase. Terrible. I try to understand the mechanisms that trigger this march towards hell.

     Only two decades ago Europe were on fire. I am very worried, it can happen again. And I close my eyes, daydreaming myself back to the green meadows of my childhood, nice, so peaceful.

     I drink my morning coffee. What a nice scent, that fills my little family’s apartment. My husband has left for work, so I can read the paper.

     More brutal terror appears. Crystal Night in Germany. No, I can’t be awake, impossible. It is a nightmare. This can’t be true. Germany is exploding!

     Manhunt from Munich in the south to Hamburg in the north. Launched by the dear friend of the S.S., the aristocracy, the swedish counts von rosen and gustaf 5: Herman Goring!

     Oh dear, not even a headache tablet helps me. I must out. Out, down to the park, a promenade. You bastards!

     The counts von rosen and you, gustaf 5. You are choosing the side of unbelievable evil. I shall never forgive you, Nazi-supporters!

     They want to make my day really bad. More incredible reading in the papers: The swedish hunters association, lead by, of course, von rosen, announces Herman Goring as a member of honor.

     Don’t those stupid moose’s know, the only thing he hunts, is humans?

     I put my coat on, and walk outside. Nice to breathe the lovely fresh air. It is snowing lightly and daybreak arrives. The railroads near the river are reflecting the dim yellow glow from the streetlights. A train is slowly rumpling by on its way into the center of Stockholm.

     Soon it is December, time of Christmas, I think. But in these troubled times it will probably be difficult to enjoy the usual lovely holidays.

     Several people have already Christmas candles in the windows, despite it is only November.

     It comforts me, thank you, nice folks. Yes, we need lights in these dark times.

     Hitler and the Nazis have now annexed Austria and moved in to Sudetenland, a part of Czechoslovakia. What is next, what are his bigger plans?

     I walk up the now snow-dressed street, across Ericsplan, and right there is the park entrance.

     The park is very pretty now. The small curved hills and the big old trees and bushes covered in the tinkling white frosty snow, lit up by the round lamps along the paths.

     I am feeling better already, healed, my worries far away. I bring some old crumbs of bread for the ducks, and they welcome me with loud, impatient uack uack.

     A nice walk in park it is. For an hour or so I wander around and enjoy the beauty of Father Winter. Other people are also taking a stroll here and it seems the new fallen snow brings a smile to most peoples faces.

     When I come back home in the warm apartment, I begin to write some letters to politicians, some editors and gustaf 5 about S.S.’ attitude and pandering for the German Nazis and Hitler.

     1939 is here. Happy New Year. But not a happy new year for Europe. And a shameful year for my country Sweden.

     The S.S. continues friendship and trade with the Nazis. And to help them, they even ask the German authorities to mark the passports of the Jews with a big, red J, so the border police of the S.S. easier can recognize them and keep them out of Sweden.

     Jews are not welcome and communist are hunted here. Nice politics, S.S. government!

     Our gustaf 5 is a big fan of Hitler and visit in February Goring in Berlin, where our swedish prince also attends in long, black shining boots.

     They are having a good time in Berlin, our swedish nazi-friendly aristocrats. Probably discussing the prices of the deliveries of fine swedish Kiruna ore and other of our country’s fine manufactured steel products, for Goring’s Luftwaffe, Dönitz’ Kriegsmarine and von Brauchitsch’ Heer.

     When I come back, I put on a kettle water to make us a nice, hot pot of tea. I begin to write a letter to my Danish friend down in Copenhagen that helped me a lot, when I gave birth to my first-born child.

     Dear Friend, first I must excuse my country’s leaders insane admiration of the Nazis. Did you read Herman Goring got the royal swedish sword-medal? I was shaken into my bones when I found out!

     My dear, I do not know what to do. I want to scream. I want to write protest-letters.

     But the S.S. forbid us to do that, just like they put journalists and writers in handcuffs if they question the S.S. government’s politics. They will put us in jail for months, if we critique their love to Hitler’s Nazis, really!

     And you know the S.S. sends an official delegation to Hitler’s 50 years day? The von rosen Nazis, chief of the swedish marine and chief of the swedish army!

     Oh dear, what is happening in my old Sweden? I am so sad for the S.S.’ betrayal of humanity here.

     Wish you well down in Denmark, you are so welcome up here next summer, my dear friend.

     September come, fall of the leaves and fall of peace in Europe. It really happens: Hitler invades defenseless Poland.

     The Nazi war-machine unleashes the blitzkrieg hell. The panzer rolls unstoppable forward and the Stuka dive-bombers crushes the weak Polish forces.

     England declares war to Germany and Satan laughs, as fire and death again are set free. Terrible headlines in the newspapers: WAR, in Europe again!

     Instantly our prime minister albin declares Sweden “neutral”. “We must stay out of the war and protect our values”, in short.

     Yes albin, the swedish values you so shameless sell to herr Hitler, right?

     Of course “neutral” coward albin, because you were advised by your Nazi friends and their sympathizer gustaf 5, right? You know perfectly well Hitler’s panzer III tanks rolling into Poland are built with prime swedish steel.

     Shame on you. You, albin, are not neutral, when you sell swedish steel and other products to the Nazis. You are only a lousy hypocrite greedy liar, when you declare neutrality and continue to help the construction of the third Reich!

     And I start to write histories for children. I begin to write some cute and funny stories to balance out the evil, inhuman politic of my country, Sweden, that hurts me a lot.

     I needed to think white, good. Not gunmetal-gray and Nazi evil black, that was all over Europe now.

     So writing stories for children help me, help calm my poor troubled soul, a nice therapy for me.

     Watching those little innocent girls and boys smile and laugh, as they read my books, will be wonderful.

     Today I am sad again. We have no real freedom of speech in Sweden, well, we never had.

     A parliament member writes about Hitler’s hell. He is sent in prison for 3 month. They did it, the S.S. imprison people for writing the truth.

     I write a letter to the prime minister:

     Dear Mr. albin. You declare our country, Sweden, neutral. But why do you keep negotiations with the Nazi’s foreign minister von Ribbentrop?

     Is the S.S. still selling raw materials and steel products to Hitler? I know a certain ball bearing factory had their best result ever last year. Can you guess what was their biggest market?

     You should know, dear minister, politics are not what you say, but what you do.

     Are you not aware, that all the countries in Western Europe look contemptuously at Sweden as the Nazi’s little brother?

     Do you know the S.S. sympathizes with cold-blooded man-hunters?

     I really hope and suggest your coalition government will change the foreign politic course.

     Nothing happens, of course, not even an answer. He is really arrogant. The S.S.’ politics is mostly dictated by greed now. Blood money.

     Many bourgeois right wing members of the parliament have huge economic interests in keeping a good relation with Hitler’s Nazis, probably their biggest customer in Europe. Better sell to the Nazis than help the allied, right albin?

     1940. It is New Years day. I look at my husband, Sture, still sleeping beside me in our bed.

     Thank you for the great sex last night my dear, I think. A good fuck. Your cock hammering inside my warm pussy, very good.

     Just what I need in these times, my man to fuck my brains out so you can forget all those nazi-lovers here.

     Thank you, Sture, I will make you a good morning coffee and give you a big kiss.

     I light a fire in the kitchen stove and soon the woods spluttered cheerful. After I put on the kettle with water. Come here, little cats. Look, we have a little cream left from yesterday.

     Happy New Year to you too, pussycats.

     Our children play with their new toys from Christmas and the scent of the hot coffee wakes up my husband. He comes in to the kitchen and smiles to me. I smile back. Good morning my love, what a wonderful night, right dear?

     We enjoy the quit breakfast and look at the snowy weather through our dew-covered windows. The wind is blowing strong, and it looks very cold outside, better stay inside, in our little, cozy apartment.

     We talk about the year to come. What will happen in 1940? We are worried of the war and sad because of the S.S.’ shadow-alliance with the Nazis.

     Do the allied know we in the most hypocrite way help Hitler?

 

    

Chapter 2.

   

     It has been a very cold winter and the Nazis are a nightmare for Europe. Only positive thing of the snow is when we go with the children to the park. They just love to build snowmen and skate over there.

     Hard times in most countries now, all are affected by the war. Rumors are heard that Hitler has plans to occupy Scandinavia and attack Western Europe.

     3 March 1940. The S.S. commits anti communistic terrorism in Lulea. S.S. army officers bomb the newspaper “Norrskensflammen” and kill five people, including two children!

     Are you completely insane, S.S. creeps?

     Again I must grab my pen and write to albin and gustaf 5 in anger. What are they thinking about, burning and bombing civilians to death?

     News and rumors are raining over us daily, from the “Winterwar” in Finland, and from Poland and the Atlantic, where the British Navy are engaging the Nazis.

     I want to write an article about S.S.’ sales of iron and steel products to the Nazis to our local newspaper, but are not allowed to publish it by the editor. He is of course afraid of sanctions against the paper, yes, he could even be sent to jail by the S.S.!

     Home I talk with my husband about my frustrating situation. Many journalists in Sweden are in the same situation, gagged by their editors, not able to tell the truth to our country: The S.S.’ shadow dance with Hitler.

     And once again we end up in the bed moaning and breathing heavily.

     Wow. You make me so hot, Sture, really turn me on. Kiss my boobs hard, and bite my nipples, please. Again, more. Do everything to me. Take me as you want, Sture, ok?

     Thank you dear husband, for freeing me. So good.

     But the Britain and France know about S.S.’ trade with the Nazis. Here in February they are making plans to cut off the swedish iron ore supplies, that the “neutral” S.S. continuously sells to Hitler’s Nazis.

     And USA’s government knows it very well. The S.S. wants to by American Curtiss fighter planes to defend Sweden, but is denied because of the S.S. and gustaf 5’s suck up to Hitler.

     So the S.S. has to turn to Mussolini’s Fascist for fighters and warships. And it is easy to get the deal done, because gustaf 5 is a good friend of “Il Duce” too.

     Much of our iron ends up in Hitler’s new submarine fleet, that he the 15th February orders to ravage the north Atlantic, attacking freighters, tankers and warships of the British Navy.

     Well done S.S. government and gustaf 5. Tears run down my cheeks and I tremble because of thinking of our S.S. traitors to the free world.

     The two flickering candle lights comfort me though. Their reflections of yellow dancing flames in the ice-covered windows are comforting me.

     I decide to begin to write a new book. Important it must be real funny, because it will help me as therapy in these dark times. Help me flee the sad realities of the war. Yes, I will create some adventures full of amusing fantasy, as normally only children can create.

     Karin has already given me the basic idea, when she asked me to tell her a bedtime story. About Pippi Long-stocking. This girl is the main character in the tales. A very special girl, with special powers and a heart of gold.

     I talk with my children about my ideas and we have a lot of fun in the evenings. They give me some good inputs, and soon I have the foundation for the book ready.

     The book is a little bit about myself. Her fight against the authorities. Against unjust and the evil of the S.S. and the narrow-minded and a bit stupid policemen Kling and Klang, you only can pity.

     Spiced up with a lot of fun and fantasy, her monkey and her horse. Good ideas, dear children!

     9th April. Hitler attacks Denmark and Norway. Not much little Denmark can do against the well-oiled Nazi war machine. Norway is fighting the invaders courageously in the fjords, supported by the British forces. Oslo is though occupied quickly and the Nazi’s form a new government with quisling, as defense minister.

     Have you seen that Sture, quisling is appointed as minister for the Nazi’s Norwegian government?

     Yes, dear Astrid. He is in the same boat as our hypocrite minister albin.

     My book about Pippi begins to take form. The person gallery and the scenery are set. Every evening after dinner our kids and I talk about ideas and they draw funny pictures of the scenes. We are having the best times in the family, when our children happily laugh of their ideas full of fantasy.

     The more serious talks are with my husband Sture, about our country. There is a lot of tension now because of the pro-nazi S.S. and gustaf 5 are beginning to hunt the people that question the governments Hitler friendly politics. Special the communists are exposed for harassments.

     May has come with all its beauty. The flowers blossom in our parks and the birds sing.

     But even springtime can’t hide the darkness of the war. The allied give up in Norway, pushed out by the powerful Nazi forces.

     Reality: Hitler has got his swedish steel!

     We know now very clearly the true face of the Nazis. I am so scared, because they seem to be unstoppable, just rolling all over Europe.

     They have begun a big scale attack in the west. And still our government help them. Again I write a letter to gustaf 5 and the ministers. No use of course, but I have to react, to do something. Their minds are already made up and Hitler pays well for swedish services and goods.

     My family and I go on a picnic at the seaside. The fresh, salty breeze does us good here in the summertime. Our children are playing and swimming on the little beach. Sture and I relaxing. A wonderful deep blue sky with a few white nice-weather clouds is over our heads.

     I read the newspaper. The S.S. expands their services for the Nazis: Telecommunication and train transports to Hitler’s “heer”!

     In the beginning the S.S. had allowed Hitler the use of the swedish railway, when his soldiers in Norway were going home for holidays.

     But Hitler pays so well, that the S.S. soon expands their rail services to the Nazis unlimited!

     I am furious.

     Sture, have you seen those greedy idiots? Our pseudo-nazi government are now helping Hitler in a big way against Norway.

     Yes Astrid, it is terrible. It is a scandal that the S.S. and gustav 5 helps the evil and dark powers for gold. How can they still claim they are neutral, when they allow the Nazis to transport tanks and guns on our railways?

     I am afraid the Allied will punish us.

     But we do not let our kids discover over worries. Important they are happy of course.

     Sture takes my hand and look into my eyes, smiling. I know what he thinks of course and smiles back.

     As always, when we have been to the beach, starring at each other, hot sex in the evening.

     Promise me to fuck me from behind tonight, Sture, I think, when I look at him. I need it badly, Sture.

     I have to take my eyes away from him, before it gets to dangerous and juices starts to flow.

     Look, Sture. What at wonderful house they built in the sand. Maybe it is Pippi’s Villa-Ville-Kulla?

     He laughs, because know he knows about my book. Well, almost our book, the family’s book, everyone contributes with ideas.

     Yes, it is a wonderful day. After some hours, we almost forget about the war. We eat the rest of the picnic at dinner, and head back to town as the Sun crawls lower in the hot summer sky.

     The long, bright days make it easier to endure the war. Our nazi-sympathizer gustaf 5 offers his services to Great Britain and Germany for peace negotiations.

     With contempt Winston Churchill refuses “the despicable king”, as he calls him in public.

     We know of course gustaf 5 is unofficially called the Nazi-king in all allied countries. That is almost the truth. right Sture? 

     One morning at breakfast, my daughter Karin told me something disturbing. Two kids in her school class from Finland, a boy and a girl, were always sad and yesterday the girl was crying a lot.

     I knew thousands of poor Finnish children had come to Sweden because of the Winter-war over there against Russia.

     These two from Karin class had been here sometimes, nice kids, but they were a little melancholy. Of course, they missed their families. That must be why.

     But Karin told me the girl had big blue marks on her legs, because her foster parents hit her, if she did not obey them, she told Karin.

     Impossible, Karin, they can’t hit a child, dear, right?

     It is true, mom. I know she told me the truth. I know mom. She was very sad, mommy.

     But why would they hit her, Karin? She is a nice girl, always polite and I know you like her.

     Mom, sorry, but she said the man always wanted her to hold his pee man, mom. Sorry.

     I looked worried on Karin. Did she really say that, my dear? Did she say that exactly?

     This was very scary. Finnish children violated here? Poor children, victims of the war, sexually abused by swedish paedophiles?

     I would follow Karin to school tomorrow, and talk with the principal. This was a very delicate matter. I must be very careful.

     But those kids are completely vulnerable and defenseless here, so I have to investigate that, for sure.

     The principal and I have a short conversation. She had already noticed some of the Finnish kids were sad. She had also tried to talk with them, but they always just said they missed their parents.

     She assures me she will help the kids and also alarm the social authorities.

     A shiny Sunday some days later, Karin and I go down to our local mini park, the Atlas-blanket. It is just at the end of our street, a few minutes away. We bring lemonade and biscuits, and make it a little cozy afternoon picnic.

     My daughter loves to watch the trains pass by and wave to the passengers. We always try to guess where they come from. Gothenburg? Or Skane in the south? Or Kiruna in the north?

     Today a train we never had seen before passes in front of us. Loaded with trucks. Many wagons, all loaded with dark grey trucks. With small black and white crosses. I understood instantly. Damn you, S.S.

     What is that for a train, mom? I never saw that before.

     Me too, dear Karin. Maybe the king has bought those trucks to all his money, right?

     Oh saw he must be very rich, mommy. Same Pippi Long-stocking, she laughed.

     Another train appeared. Very long, pulled by two big locomotives. Slowly it rolled towards us, slowing down until it came to a complete stop right in front of our little park.

     That was a strange train, mom. I think it has a lot of tractors under those black tarpaulins.

     Probably Karin. Tractors.

     I recognized the shape of the “tractors”. Tractors with cannons, Nazi tanks.

     But in the middle of Stockholm? They must be offloaded in the nearby port and on the way to north, to Norway. Allowed by the S.S. and gustaf 5.

     Now I saw it with my own eyes, disgusting.

     Karin tears me out of my sad thoughts and tells me the Finnish kids were moved into another home, when their foster dad had been taken to jail.

     Wow. So it was true. Children of the war abused here in Sweden. But that was terrible. And there were thousands of Finnish children in Sweden.

     So I decide to contact several social offices around our country to check out, that the children are ok. I hope they answer me quick. The S.S. always brags about the good swedish humanitarian efforts worldwide.

     Not nice to know, some of this “help” actually was violating and sexual abusing children. Our group actually revealed more than 180 cases of mistreated Finnish children here in Sweden!

     Saturday 28th September. The family gathered for breakfast and the smell of “coffee” fills our apartment.

     It is fall and the days become shorter, we have just past Autumn Equinox in the calendar, we are moving towards the cold winter. Also the situation on our globe is darker now.

     I read in the little newspaper, that the power of Axis is a reality; the Nazis, the Fascists and the Japanese imperialists have signed a treaty. I wonder how long before the cowards albin and gustaf 5 of the S.S. signs this pact too, and show their true intensions.

     Winter is here and soon Christmas will be over us, but because of the war, of course in a limited variation. We still manage to make it exiting for our daughter. Lars is 15, and he understands of course the serious situation, so Christmas is not so important to him.

     Snow is falling gently outside, covers the street and lights up nice the dark winter evening.

     It is with much sadness, I read Hitler’s Kiruna-steel submarines, the Wolfpack, effectively kill and sink ship after ship in the Atlantic.

     S.S., you have much blood on your hands now, in fact your long greedy arms are blood red now. Shame on you!

     Our family get a common present this year for Christmas. A new and bigger apartment we will move into next year. We are all very exited about it. I am looking forward it, because the location is nearer to our lovely Vasa Park, and the apartment has a great view over it. It shall be wonderful to go right into the big park and enjoy all the different bushes and trees. Especially in spring when all the flowers are in bloom.

     Bless the New Year 1941. We all wish for peace, but with mad men Hitler and Mussolini, supported by the S.S., hope for peace seems very distant.

     Sture and I have magnificent nights. Our kids are at my parents place for a short holiday.

     So we have time and space for some hot erotic evenings and nights and the New Years evening are painted in seafood, wine and sex. Wonderful.

     Wow. What a salvo of orgasms, brought to live by your magic hands, cock and tongue, Sture. Oh dear, I am shaking.

     Yes dear, again! Lick my itchy pussy for a long time, and drink all my juices. After fuck me hard and fire all your hot sperm into my mouth. I just love it. So yummy! Oh.

     Happy New Year!

     And we move into our new home. Home, sweet home. All the family are ecstatic. Big room for the children. Pure joy. And our own sleeping room for Sture and me. Amazing. It is heaven for us in these hard times.

     Our poor daughter is hit hard by pneumonia shortly after. I take care of her around the clock. Poor my little Karin. In the short periods when she is awake, we talk about Pippi. Where she lives. Invents her friends and the scenery.

     Next day we read the newspaper to our morning coffee. Two Swedish freighters in a convoy are sunk in the north Atlantic. They were sailing for the free world, the alliance against the Axis. The dead sailors killed by the Nazi’s swedish steel submarines.

     Nice neutrality, gustaf 5! Do you get it now or are you still polishing your booths? Time to wake up, S.S.?

     My life continues with the writing. The book about Pippi and a letter once in a while to the ministries of the S.S. and gustaf 5.

     They never return answers; probably just throw them in the dustbin.

     But it is important to me to protest and I keep copies of all my letters, together with the information and the newspaper articles, domestic and foreign, that mention the S.S.’ cooperation with the Nazis.

     So I can write a documentary about the disgusting behavior of the persons here that supported Hitler, after the war.

     Because I am sure it must come to an end sooner or later, and the allied will win, must win!

     Summer. Picnic in the green Vasa Park. I am here with my two children and Sture will meet us later. Lars and Karin are drawing plants and birds. Lots of laughter, because some of the animals they draw are quit funny fantasy figures.

     I read in the paper that gustaf 5 wrote a letter of gratitude to Hitler for his new aggressions.

      “Thank you, herr Hitler, for attacking the communistic Sovjet-union and congratulation with your success on the East-front. I wish also to forbid the communists in Sweden”.

     Send a thank-you letter to Hitler? Will his royal stupidities never end?

     I decide to write a letter to Churchill, to give him my full support for calling the despicable gustaf 5 the Nazi king.

     And this week the S.S. allows a fully armed Nazi division to pass through our so-called neutral country, gustaf 5? From Norway to the East-front in Finland it rolls.

     Here in wonderful July more than hundred trains transports almost 15000 thousands Nazi troops, trucks, tanks and cannons across the northern part of Sweden.

     The Engelbrecht division. Engelbrecht’s Heer is even protected by swedish soldiers, if anti-nazi people would want to sabotage the transport. Nice.

     In the weeks after the transport some terrible rumors reaches us. A S.S. police inspector up north was bribed by a group of Nazi officers and had arranged Sami and Finnish children for their sex orgies.

     How low could the S.S. really sink? Help Hitler and sell poor kids for sex-parties, incredible.

     The summer moves on. We are comforting our children as good as we can, and discussing my book with my daughter helps her through the war times. We have written many pages now, 11 chapters finished and half the Pippi book complete.

     The person gallery is expanded to include Pippi’s horse and her little monkey, Mr. Nilsson, all living in Villa Ville-Kulla.

     Karin delivers daily new funny ideas, and it is nice to see her eyes shine, when she lively tells me her new secrets.

     The autumn comes with wind, rain and darkness. The Nazis are systematically hunting Jews all over Europe now. Their wealth is confiscated by Hitler’s regime. The top Nazi’s secures the finest art and the rest of the values are of course used to finance their war.

     It is very convenient for the S.S. and gustaf 5 to claim their neutrality to this terrible war, while stolen Jewish gold steadily rolls in on their bank accounts.

     Disgusting dear Sture, right? Blood money!

     SS troops kills thousands of Jews at Babi Yar near Kiev, and the poor occupied little Luxembourg is declared “Judenrein”.

     The secret trade of Jew gold that the Nazis steal is changed to the valuable swedish iron ore.

     It is a terrible fact. No excuse, S.S. and you, despicable nazi-lover, gustaf 5.

     But it is unheard to speak of that in Sweden. The worst accusations you can come with. If you should dare anyway, you will be thrown in S.S.’ cold jails for month after month.

     So the black triangle of death and betrayal is a fact:

     The Nazi’s stolen Jew gold rolls north to Sweden. Swedish iron and other products roll south to Germany. And Hitler’s killing machine rolls all over Europe!

     All parts are happy and no one lifts an eyebrow in the “neutral” S.S.!

     Despite the WW2, and the falsehood and cowardice of the S.S. and gustaf 5, our family manage to have a merry Christmas and a relative happy evening into the year of 1942.

     Our despicable gustaf 5 Nazi friends Goebbel and Goring have some really nice plans for the European Jews in the new year. The first concentration, KZ, camps are opened, that shall help Hitler with his most evil scams of all times:

     The extermination of the Jews. All Jews. The “Endloesung”!

     In the mid of the year, reports in the international newspapers about Hitler’s use of gas to exterminate Jews in his KZ camps in Eastern Europe. An unbelievable nightmare for the Jews, hunted down for gold.

     Reality: the S.S. works together with mass-murders guilty in genocide, creators of Holocaust.

     In our dear Sweden, the S.S.’ defense-force, national security service and the police are hunting communists in greater scale, blessed by gustaf 5.

     With the misuse of police brutality and raids, the S.S. tries to scare the communist to give up their legal activities. Many are imprisoned without trial of the swedish court.

     The S.S. looks the other way as usual. So shameful for what should be a democratic country.

     A group of killed pro Nazi policemen are found in the north of Sweden, in Lapland.

     Notes are stapled into their foreheads: “Do NOT sell children to the Nazis, Traitors! DanNor freedom-brigade”.

     From Narvik the commandos of Denmark and Norway had sneaked into Sweden to punish and scare the Nazi friendly people of the S.S., who supported Hitler’s Heer in the most disgusting way.

     I am very ashamed of the leaders of my loved country, but now I know it is that way, and it will not change, unless Hitler runs out of war luck.

     The S.S. was renting out railway capacity to the Nazi’s in big scale now.

     Around 10% of the swedish railroad transport was of Hitler’ army. Soldiers and war-material in huge numbers rolled north and south on regular basis.

     The S.S.’ and gustaf 5’s claimed neutrality was a black joke, of course. Sweden was directly involved on the Axis side, a shadow Axis-Power country!

     Hitler opens yet another KZ camp, Treblinka, in Poland. Here the polish Jews ends up for their final destination. Robbed off their dignity, life force and valuables.

     Again, quit a big part of their gold ends up in the S.S.’ national bank cellar in our capital, Stockholm.

     How stupid can the S.S. and gustaf 5 be?

     Do they really think, the world don’t know, that our country sells military services, industrial products and raw materials to the Hitler’s Nazis for exterminated Jew’s gold?

     1943. February. Hitler suffers his first big battle defeat at Stalingrad. His forces beaten by the Russians, and the mighty Russian Mother Nature.

     For the first time Nazi soldiers surrender in big scale, a chock for „Der Fuhrer“.

     Also a shock for the S.S. and gustaf 5 that had put their bet on the Nazi’s victory in Europe.

     Through the springtime, many thoughts run through the mind of the S.S.’ politicians, the pro Nazi aristocracy and gustaf 5. What leg to stand on now? Change side or continue the support to the well paying Fuhrer?

     Because the flow of Hitler’s stolen gold into the dark cellars of the swedish national bank in Stockholm was sweet.

     He paid well for the S.S.’ railroad services and the swedish natural resources. Damned, if that business should end, the bunch of our swedish creeps thought.

     It took a half-year more before the politicians in the S.S. finally had the guts to deny the Nazi’s transports on the swedish railroad net.

     Until August their decisions were still helpful for the Fuhrer. And helpful to their bulging bank accounts of course.

     So, ladies and gentlemen:

     Until midsummer 1943 the S.S. of Sweden has done nothing but support the Nazis. The S.S. government and gustaf 5, with his royal freak show, have done nothing, nothing but help Hitler’s Nazis!

     I am beginning to write short Christmas tales for several newspapers now, and as with my book about Pippi, it helps me a lot to escape the tragedies of our government, royal and the war.

     Just light a few candles, and as their reflections flickered in the windows and the wind howled outside, I also burned a little pine branch to get the wonderful smell of Christmas. The scenery for unlimited fantasy was laid.

     1944. The S.S. still exports fabricated steel products to the Nazis. People in the south of my country are helping Jewish refugees, mainly from Denmark, but in Stockholm the S.S. still trades with Hitler. Gold is silent, doesn’t tell where it comes from, and many here look the other way, as their accounts getting fatter.

     Our gustaf 5 is not seen in long shiny booth and black uniform so often these days. I wonder why, hehe?

     I am lucky to have a secondary book published in the summertime. It even got a runner up award for best children books in Sweden.

     So our family is happy here under the deep blue July sky. My daughter is eager to get “her” book Pippi send in to the publisher after we edit a little bit in the manuscript that was rejected the first time at another company.

     Let us look it over one more time, make it perfect before we try again, ok Karin?

     Yes mother, ok. It will be very good and the new publisher will love it, mommy.

     In October the S.S., albin and gustaf 5 are threatened by the allied, Great Britain and USA:

     “If Sweden do not stop the ongoing industrial products sale to the Nazis, we will send several hundred Lancaster and B17 bombers to erase your factories off the surface of the planet. You have 3 days to comply”.

     So once again the embarrassed traitors got sweat on their foreheads and red in their faces. The grumpy old men had to wave goodbye to their profitable deals with Hitler and stop the deliveries of steel fabricated goods.

     We enter 1945 with a little optimism, because the Nazis are pressed back on all fronts in Europe, and many countries are liberated.

     Springtime bring us many good times, as Europe is completely freed, the Nazis defeated.

     Karin and I send in the now fully completed manuscript “Pippi Long-stocking” to the publisher, and through the summer of the new European peace we wait for the answer. Our book is accepted and even wins a price.

     Karin is very happy: I knew it mommy. I knew Pippi was a very good book.

     I am happy too of course, because this changes many things to the better for our little family. We came through these terrible 5 years unhurt and together with the peace, I even got several books published.

     After the war, the Nazi supporting S.S. gives about one billion swedish crowns to various countries in Europe for economic support. The still embarrassed politicians are very busy to hide their former war crimes and try to create an image of that they have been neutral in the war.

     So they ship away millions to the war hit countries. So easy to do that, because the amount is only a fraction of what they have made trading with Nazis, of what the S.S. have earned on Hitler’s stolen Jew gold.

     I want to write an article about the aristocracy and royal increasing wealth from the Nazi trade, but yet again no one would print it here of course.

     Cowards they are, the newspaper editors.

     But without doubt:

     In the horrible WW2, most of the S.S., the aristocracy and gustaf 5 were brothers in arms with the Nazis.

     Everybody prefer to forget or keep their crimes secret, but I will uncover them all, so even the penguins on Antarctica will know our country’s crimes to the humanity.

     I promise you that!

     A riddle to me how anybody here in Sweden could work together with Hitler’s and his Nazi’s evil 3rd Reich, to be rich and wealthy on blood and death!

     Shame on you!

    

    

Chapter 3.

  

     Europe is licking its wounds, rebuilding. People are happy, smiling and friendly to each other everywhere.

     Strange mechanisms in us humans. From time to time we have to go berserk in stupid wars and be real mean, before we can enjoy true peace.

     Like every new generation always gives birth to some tyrants, that have to do some stupid things like assault and war.

     Someplace on our lovely planet Earth, in one continent or more, always some insane and greedy war-pigs absolutely have to ignite the fuse to the cannon-powder keg.

     But here in Europe happiness and joy right now. Of course the pro-nazis here in Sweden have to cover their tracks.

     The S.S. and gustaf 5 almost succeed covering up their help and support to Hitler, with their help to the war hit countries. Almost.

     Many people know about the companies, politicians, government officials and royal, that helped the Nazis.

     But impossible to fight this S.S. monster of Hitler-helpers in the swedish high society, as even the courts involved are bought and bribed.

     I am very happy with my life in 1947. My stories are popular and selling well. I get employed in the company that publishes my books as editor. I write books, read books and work with books and writers. I am indeed very lucky, in the after war years.

     But a few years later tragedy hits our little family. My dear husband Sture, the children’s loved father, die!

     So it is some sad years that follow and we reach the sixties, when I got the idea for my next tale, about Emil from Lonneberga.

     Emil is a kind of a copy of a little Danish boy I met in Copenhagen, when I visited my son Lars in Denmark. Lars was in care the first few years of his life in a kind family there, as I could not provide for him here in Stockholm on my low salary. I visited him as often as possible, and became friends with the family and even their neighbours.

     The neighbors had two kids, a girl and a boy, Emil. They were very kind, had a great sense of humor and the kid had a very lively imagination.

     Unfortunately quite often his good ideas to help people ended up in minor catastrophes, but everybody could not stop laughing, when he explained his ideas.

     I will import this lovely Danish character into a typical strict, snobby swedish environment. Emil will be his name, the little good-hearted scoundrel.

     He lives with his little family in a farm in Smaland, and from time to time his free spirited ideas drive his father crazy. His intensions are the best, but even if they are born of love and desire to help the family, often end wrong.

     He could be a brother in spirit to my former Pippi, the funny little Danish-like bandit.

     Like with Pippi, my now adult daughter comes with many funny ideas. We create the little simple universe surrounding Emil in the same way and soon have the countryside scenery ready, complete with the diverse person gallery.

     Eventually I finish the book, and I am happy with the result. It becomes a success and later the history is filmed with a very funny boy as Emil. Good.

     In the end of the sixties, some of our greedy and rather unintelligent politicians in the S.S. get the wonderful idea that Sweden shall have nuclear power. Nuke is cheap, clean and effective. They think.

     Now, as you know, it is a well-known secret, that many employees in the S.S. hate the Danish people.

     I tell you, it is mostly because of jealousy of the Danes more opened and joyful way to be and that the cheerful Copenhagen is chosen by visitors and tourists as the “capital” of Scandinavia, annoying especially the snobby, high-nose S.S. Stockholm’ians to death.  

     Danish-devils they call them. Not in the open of course, cowards as they are, but as it is normal here, only whispering when not seen with a low voice.

     A dozen or so Danish-devil-hating politicians of the S.S. decide in the most provocative and arrogant way, to place one of our new nuke-wonders just outside Copenhagen.

     I mean, only 20 kilometers from another country’s capital. Have those stupid arrogant politicians of the S.S. completely lost their minds?

     They are indeed a bunch of idiots. They calculate the safe-zone around the nuclear power plant is only 5 kilometers!

     So the location Barseback is perfect for the two new nuke silos, because it has a low population density and it is close to several south-swedish cities.

     That makes the cost to the high voltage power lines low and the concern for the million populated metropolis in the neighbor country is zero.

     In that way the Nazi-like evil of the S.S. strikes again. It is a very disrespectful insult to the Danish people, without equal.

     The S.S.’ politicians could easily have found another remote place on the swedish south-coast.

     But they for sure wish to annoy Denmark. I am furious and decided to dedicate more of my time in politics.

     The Danes are very angry of course. And protest continuously in the years of the power-plants construction. But they can’t change the S.S.’ decision of the place for the nuke huts.

     I follow the process, and regularly write letters to the assholes, that are responsible for the disastrous scam, that add instability in the northern Europe’s otherwise peaceful paradise Scandinavia.

     The Danish politicians are divided and incapable of proper actions, which first of course would have been giving the S.S.’ government a warning.

     Second, if the construction is initiated, bomb the site.

     What the S.S. is doing to Denmark here is directly comparable to what the Russians did under the Cuba missile crises.

     Sweden is placing lethal nuclear facilities dangerously near Denmark’s metropolis Copenhagen.

     We enter the 70-ties and I say farewell to my good job, retire to enjoy my life, writing and politics.

     The topics that concern me, are mostly children’s and animal’s rights. Also the wars and killings going on around our beautiful planet, specially the cruelties in Vietnam worry me.

     The protests against the rising plant in Barseback are growing in Denmark.

     I visit my friends in Copenhagen and apologize for the S.S.’ insane behaviour. They comfort me and convince me that it is not my fault, of course.

     Thanks my dear friends, I am in a better mood now, I assure them.

     We take the commuting train out to the wonderful suburb Klampenborg, where we can see for our self the concrete blocks of the nuclear installations shoot up into the blue sky on the other side of the calm sound Oresund. Approximately 20 kilometers away.

     I can’t help it, but again tears run down my cheeks. So sorry, dear friends, so sorry. This is absolutely not to forgive. The evil stupidity of the S.S. is not to forgive.

     I shall fight them, the nuke-barons of the S.S. Sick creatures are they, descending directly from the Nazi-lovers of the past.

     The next day we decide to go on a afternoon picnic in the hot summer afternoon. Up on the historic Kronborg Castle, 45 kilometers north of Copenhagen.

     The train ride up along the coast, through parks and forests and from time to time with glimpses of the turquoise shining Oresund, is stunning.

     We reach the town of Helsingor, where the majestic castle is located, just a few kilometres from Sweden’s coast.

     We bring our food and drinks up to the cannons on the fortification.

     A fantastic view, north the Kattegat sea, south Oresund, and the red and white Dannebrog is fluttering sky high

     And hundreds of sailing boats are out on the blue waters.  Seagulls fly around along the coast, looking for seafood bites from the many fishermen enjoying the sunny day.

     We have a wonderful time. The delicious chicken legs, roasted pork and cheeses accompanied by white wine and a glass of port, make us easier intoxicated, as the sun sink lower behind our backs in the west.

     We talk about everything between heaven and earth, both funny and serious topics, but we have dedicated this day to enjoy life in its full glory on this magnificent summer day.

     The Dragons come thundering just a few hundred meters over us. We see them not before they have past over our heads, insanely load. The roaring bang hurts us and gives us instantly headache, and we all scream loud.

     We see only the back of the fighters, as they with screaming engines fly down through the Oresund.

     Astrid, are you ok, Ingrid asked me.

     Yes dear, I am fine, only a violent pain in my poor head, because of those jets.

     How can they do that on a peaceful summer day, fly so low, and so many?

     Did you see them Ingrid? Was it Danish or swedish fighter planes, that harassed us. How many were there?

     I think at least 16, maybe more. So crazy, why?

     Only a few minutes pass by, as we follow with our eyes the howling Dragons quickly fly south down over the island of Ven in Oresund, before we see violent flashes and fire in the horizon.

     Big, black columns of smoke slowly rise up in the blue sky in several locations, and soon we hear the delayed bangs of dozens of explosions in the distance.

     Of course. They did it. At last.

     Take guts to order the bombing of the neighbor’s billion-dollar nuclear dustbin without warning.

     But of course the right decision. Get that fucking power plant out of my back yard. Well done, Danish politicians, but what will happen now?

     I look straight up into the deep sky. Ironic. What a paradox, the S.S.’ stinky nuke plant erased from the surface of the planet, by swedish built A35 Dragon fighter-bombers!

     I smile in my dream. Sweet revenge, right S.S. government?

     Astrid. Astrid, wake up dear. Time to take the train back to Copenhagen now, it is getting darker. Were you having a nightmare? You screamed loud, poor friend.

     Maybe or maybe not, dear Ingrid, I was dreaming about true justice for Denmark.

     She looks at me with a question on her face.

     What do you mean dear, she asks.

     I will tell you later, Ingrid, hehe, about the sweet disappearance of the Barseback plants.

     Only another year passes, before the circus of the S.S.’ government again unfolds its evil man-crushing stupidities. This time I am the target.

     The mechanisms are always like this, you know: The more complex and intricacies rules are, the more difficult they are for common people to use. And civil servants especially!

     I usually pay my taxes and fees without complain and without much notice and control. It is good for the social balance in our country Sweden.

     But one day I was in the bank to pay some bills, I wondered what happened on my account, because after the payment fee for my new book, the balance should have grown of course. But not. Strangely it had sunk!

     I asked my financial advisor in the bank about what had happened.

     Yes, Mrs. Lindgren, this looks strange for sure. Let me check up on the latest transactions, we have done for you.

     And it turns out the genius’ in the S.S.’ financial department have invented a new fee for draining independents to add to the tax and other duties. So my total taxation has skyrocketed to an unbelievable 102%!

     102%, S.S.?

     Hehehe, it is both ridiculous and funny at the same time, so I can’t help laughing but the same time I am very angry and upset. Ok Astrid, calm now, we will get to the bottom of this tomorrow.    

     So I decide to visit our dear taxation office the next day and arm myself with lots of patience for the upcoming séances.

     As usual when you talk to a stubborn paragraph rider in the S.S., you might as well talk to a door. The reflection of understanding is the same.

     And I am unlucky. The S.S.’ bitch cackles on: The law says. It is the law, etc.

     So I write a small history to a newspaper about the arrogant ice-cold pampers and tycoons in the S.S.’ finance department and a letter to our “clever” Minister of Finance, strang.

     The S.S.’ strang tries as normal to humiliate his opponents, in this case me.

     The asshole’s problem is, I have a secure case with bulletproof evidence from the National Tax Board.

     So after a weeks debate in the medias, he has to bow, admit he is wrong and I am right. Sweet, sweet feeling, you arrogant bastard, strang!

     Have you learned a lesson or two, arrogant counter-pope moose’s of the S.S.?

     It is a wonderful summer Sunday 1978. I have bought the thick Sunday newspaper and take one of my usual walks down in the Vasa Park.

     I bring fresh brewed coffee in a thermo and a few cinnamon snails for a cozy morning in the shadow under the tall, old trees.

     From the little hill where I sit, I can watch the simmering weekend life of young and old in the park.  

     I read an article about an incident at a motor sports event down in Malmo:

     A group of ten swedish violent rockers had attacked a Danish young man.

     It is everywhere. The jealously hate to the Danish people. So I am not so surprised.

     But the problem here was another. The scandalous behavior of the S.S.’ policemen at the crime scene.

     Two cops drove by on motorcycles, and asked what was happening, when they observed the group assault the Dane with wooden sticks.

     They asked the rockers what was going on. They reply the Dane had attacked them, for sure.

     The victim desperately tried to explain the cops, that the rockers had attacked him, because he is to a motor-sports event without a car.

     I would of course never attack a complete group of rockers.

     I was only here to enjoy the races.

     Maybe the S.S.’ cops were suffering from the Danish devil hating disease too.

     They believed the violent swedish men, and arrested the young Danish guy for attacking ten rockers!

     Stupidity and abuse of power unlimited. What is the S.S.’ IQ limits for recruiting people for a policeman job?

     The cops must be more stupid than pigs. If they are not so grotesque evil, I should think they were colleagues to Kling and Klang from my book Pippi.

     But these policemen in my book are just a bit naïve, not cruel and hateful like the S.S.’ low life scum.

     Hi Astrid, my daughter takes me out of my dark thoughts, back into the fine summer.

     Hi Karin, sit down please, have a cup of coffee and a home baked cinnamon treat.

     End of the Seventies.

     The debate about nuclear energy is hectic in our country and we will soon have a referendum to decide the future of atomic power.

     I am very active in the debate. Against nuke of course. No nuke on our soil, please. Let my beautiful country be clean. No radioactive waste in my Sweden.

     Lots of S.S. politicians argue nuclear power is clean. No pollution, no smoke, fine and pure.

     Their starting point is of course born in the huge national-hypocrisy that infects Sweden.

     Easy to say the energy is clean, when we ship tonnes of nuclear waste to other countries, mainly Sellafield in England. Sick are they.

     My main point is no nuclear waste shall be buried in the granite soil of our fine land and threaten unborn generations.

     But many politicians of the S.S. do not give a damn. Economics are the main reason and maybe, or surely, a little pocket money under the table.

     And when they live hundreds of kilometers from the sites, who cares?

     Years passes by, I am engaged in the defense of the rights of animals and in particular, children.

     1986 now, the Black Year.

     It is the year that my Sweden seriously looses its relative peaceful reputation. Forever.

     Our respected prime minister is shot down one evening, as he walks towards home with his wife, and our entire country is in tears and shock.

     Sweden is unfortunately another country from now on. More raw and more violent. Democratic respect vaporizes like dew under the Sun.

     And in the summer tragedy struck in my own family: My son Lars dies!

     A though time follows, and I realize I will not live forever. I must prepare my leaving.

     One day when I am sitting in the park, thinking of my long, good life, I decide to talk with the local priest about when it is my time to pas on.

     I have been lucky, had a good life, with its ups and downs. Thank you, Mother Earth. 

     My life keeps going nice and easy, in great harmony. The only greater concerns that haunt me, is the accidents happening on the S.S.’ so-called safe nuclear power plants from time to time.

     Barseback reactor 2 is shut down in the summer of 1992, after a major failure that could have caused a major holocaust in the south of Sweden and Denmark.

     A hard pill for the nuke agents of the S.S. to swallow. Lucky for the Danes it means that the plans for the shutdown of the plant are moved forward.

     The birds chirp merrily in the tall trees over my head. As I am, are they happy about the hot springtime here in late May.

     A wonderful morning and I am in my favorite spot in Vasa Park. I sit on my blanket with a mug of steaming hot aromatic coffee, watching the city wake up.

     1999.

     I have lived almost a century. I am so thankful to have that privilege. Thank you, Mother Nature, thank you.

     A lot of people are crossing through the park to get a fresh start on the day, parents bringing their children to school and so on.

     A great start on the day, in the green park. Sometimes I can hear the children sing some of the songs from the film adaptations of my adventures.

     It makes me very happy and confirms my success of contributing with harmony to our society.

     The cop boren is terminated with a neck-shot. The cop karlstrom killed with a bullet straight into his forehead, point blank, gun-smoke all over his face. Both killed right outside Malexander.

     Fat headlines in the newspapers today, after the killing of two policemen yesterday.

     I am in a state of shock. Raw deathly violence is in eruption near my childhood home. What is happening in my country?

     As the S.S. used to be, this incident is also linked to Nazi organizations. Founders of the new Nazi organization, National Revolutionary Army are the deed men.

     Oh dear birds sing for me. Dear child laugh and fill my soul with joy. Please take me out of the nightmare of this violent swedish new-nazi hell. I am so ashamed.

     I realize: If we consider our geographic east located Sweden as a Western Europe country, we have the largest group of neo-nazis per capita!

     We haven’t brought Herman Goring up in our country for nothing, right?

     New millennium! Despite my now 93 years of age, I feel relative fresh. My friends and I have great hopes and wishes for a more peaceful mankind in year 2000. We must have learned it now. Must have!

     Special in Europe after the insane nazi-evil slaughtering on Balkan, where violence, torture, rape and murder ravaged for almost a decade.

     Stupidity of mankind unlimited.

     But Mr. Bin Laden has other plans and rocks the Globe. The combination of his luck and careful planning results in a terror deed without equal.

     11 September 2001 he attacks USA. From the inside of the States, with great success, seen from his organization Al Qaeda’s point of view.

     The two majestic skyscrapers of World Trade Center on Manhattan are hit directly by two high-jacked fully tanked jet airliners and they crash into gravel. Also the Pentagon is hit. The horrible results are several thousands dead people.

     Oh no. My friends and my hopes of a peaceful millennium fell instantly to the floor and smashed into hundreds of pieces. Crimson and hellfire would ignite again for sure.

     We are sad, very sad, and a big part of my zest for life vaporizes. I can feel it now, clearer. The terminus of my life.

     I used the autumn days to enjoy the beautiful things. Bought more flowers. Colors. Scents. Must be surrounded by colors and lovely scents.

     And music. Songs from the greatest composer’s evergreens and the big creation’s of the masters of the past, fill my home.

     My last Christmas. My last New Year, and we enter 2002.

     It gets me, the virus. My spirit leaves my body on the 28 of January. Gently I take off. Yes. This is it. I look at myself. There I lay, peaceful, a little smile on my face, relieved.

     Thank you for my life, Mother Earth.

     I fly slowly out of my apartment, through the window facing the park. Wow. I can fly now!

     The park. The center of my life, starting point of many of my thoughts and tales.

     Bye all trees, bushes and birds. Bye park. Thank you for comforting my soul when I was sad. Thank you.

     My funeral on the International Women’s day, the 8th of March, is of course attended by all the brass in and out of Stockholm. Snobs unlimited, arrogant aristocrats, politicians and the royal family.

     The journalists that report from the ceremony haven’t understood my life-works at all. Pages up and down with photos of the so-called important people. Peaceful and humble harmony as I wished, is wiped away. It is all about who is there: Pomp and circumstance.

     I can only smile a little bit, as I look down on them. Poor fools.

    

 

Chapter 4.

     My life as a human being is over, but I decide to hang around some years. I am curious about my old country. Special the nazi-like evil that exists under the surface here made me restless, and the hypocrisy that seems to be our national sickness worry me.  

     I see it. Once again proof of the incompetence of the S.S.’ swedish police hoodlums. Misuse of power and excessive use force at seize of a suspect. Typical despicable behavior of the S.S.’ primitive SS-like piket pigs.

     They just want to draw their guns, the sick bastards. When they are sent out on an assignment. They live and breeze for that. Please let me draw my gun, please boss!

     The Danish man sees the policewoman down on the street. He opens the window and tell her to come up, it is ok, the door is open, no problem.

     The piket police bitch jenny rosen shouts what shall we talk with you about?

     Of course she is not interested in a peaceful settlement of the situation. Her colleges are already preparing their positions outside the apartment door.

     Yes. I see them. Four piket Nazis, licking them selves around their drooling mouths, because they have a green light to pull out their guns.

     Well, we all know their hypocrite boss like many here, hates Danish people, even if he goes to Denmark every week to by cheap booze.

     Damn that stupid Danish-devil! Pull your guns, prepare your guns!

     Look at them. They drool like a bunch of bloodhounds that see a bucket of sausages. So sick in their heads are those evil creatures of the S.S.

     The Dane opens the door and freezes immediately. Three or four guns pointed right at him. He knows instantly the Nazis could have killed him, because they will not be punished.

     So is it now in the peaceful (?) Sweden.

     He is arrested, thrown on the floor, handcuffed and placed in the backseat of the police car.

     The piket-nazi patrick sinclair is sitting beside him again and again shouts: You hit your wife. You hit your wife! But he did not.

     Yes, I see it. The lowlife piket-dog sinclair tries to provoke him. Again and again. As it not works, sinclair leans over him and with his elbow presses the still handcuffed Dane’s head down into the doorframe for several minutes. Real hero, him sinclair!

     Pig sinclair loves his power, and he moans in his orgy of raw violence. Fuck you, Dane, fuck you. Pig rosen, that drives the car smiles. That fucking Danish-devil!

     That is the swedish police standard of today? Brutal violence unlimited? In fact torture? I am shocked, but not surprised.

     The Dane demands the files of the case so he can report the incident to the police and Amnesty International.

     In that way he also got the names of the creepy pigs from the prosecutor that should have hidden their names. But in the S.S.’ justice departments, most staffs are lazy and don’t care so much about their work, so on several pages the pigs’ names appear. 

     The case is investigated. Nothing happens, of course. Cop patrick sinclair insists the handcuffed Dane “jumped” up (in the touring car) and nodded his head.

     Cop jenny rosen agreed the Dane was very hostile and violent. Lie. Even if handcuffed in the little police car, she insists he jumped up and attacked Sinclair!

     So is it in old Sweden now. 99% of the police’s brutality, violence and murders are for free. Never sees a court. Case closed. No evidence.

     As it happened when the S.S.’ police attacks an old man on a petrol station. They beat him up with sticks severely and even if the surveillance cameras show the old man never harm the policemen, the pro police court states, he could have hit or kicked the police in the one second intervals the cameras is working at.

     So the cameras take pictures each second and precisely between the photos, the senior citizen should have hit the S.S.’ policemen.

     Faster than both Bruce Lee and Superman! Nice going, S.S. Your court of truth and justice?

     The S.S. holds their hands over their nazi-evil storm troopers. Truth and justice swept aside. The system of the S.S., the machine, is right. Always. Never fails, never makes mistakes. Same Sieg heil!

     Dear Sweden where are you going? This is very dangerous for your democracy, such misuse of power.

     Something funny happens next year in holy halls of our booze Monopoly.

     I am back in the Vasa Park to nurse my memories as an avalanche of disclosures about corruption hit the S.S.’ Monopoly.

     We swedes have always been very good to accuse other people of bribe to the left and to the right. Especially the Italians. Oh they are so rotten, dishonest and corrupt. And we swedes are the good people, correct and fair, right?

     So it is really amusing, to watch the bribe scandals in the Monopoly roll out. All over S.S. one after another, bosses and managers, are exposed, taking dirty money from different wine and spirits import companies.

     In the usual swedish hypocrite way the S.S. defends the Monopoly. It is made to limit the consumption of alcohol. To protect the health of the swedish people.

     Bullshit, S.S. The wine monopoly is simply a club to protect the traders market, a closed family.

     Yes, swedish monopoly, there is no difference between that and the Italian mafia.

     It is spring again. I enjoy a trip where I soar up the long, magnificent coast in the Gulf of Bothnia.

     It is the time of the yearly S.S.’ and swedish companies scams of Asian guest-workers, the berry-pickers.

     Every year, without exception, poor Asian people are tricked to come here and earn a good salary for a few month of work in the swedish countryside. Promised a fat check to bring home to their families and a good place to stay, as long as they work here.

     And every year they are hustled in the most disgusting way. Ends up living in tents in parking lots or hand built wooden huts without possibilities to wash or shower. And usually get cheated of their paychecks.

     I watch them. There, down in the rain moist forest. Groups of Thai people, many crying, left alone, wet and hungry, robbed off by the greedy companies.

     I do not know what is worst. The greedy swedish scamming companies or the S.S. government, that knows about these problems for years, but will not interfere with protecting laws for the foreign workers.

     Beautiful, warm August. I am back on the meadow in Smaland, where I read my first book. Curious about my childhood home, about what had happened here.

     Oh, the creek is still running cheerful down there between the fields and the rocks.

     It welcomes me warmly. Welcome home, Astrid, it whispers, how are you?

     I laugh. So it is true. Mother Nature is full of life. I am fine, little creek, and you?

     We share memories from almost a century now. Wow. What a life. What a fantastic evolution on our planet Earth.

     Yes, dear creek, us humans have come a long way quick. Maybe too quick, correct little creek, because we keep repeating our own mistakes and mankind is evil like never before. 

     It seems like yesterday, we sat here, right. Airplanes. What was that? Rockets to the Moon, pure fantasy. Impossible. Saturn’s Rings? Nuclear power: The dance of atoms, creating electricity?

     I tell you, my friend, the S.S. has just done it again. Shipped a big shit-load of highly dangerous nuclear waste to Sellafield in England.

     So the swedish politicians can continue their statement: Nuclear energy is absolutely clean.

     Yeah right, but what say the hypocrite and arrogant S.S. politicians about the safety of the British people?

     Hehe, sweet creek, they don’t give a damn!

     I say goodbye to little creek and the wonderful meadows of my once home.

     Several times in the last days, I have heard a distant sad voice. From far away, seems south. Low, sad whispering, or, is it only an illusion?

     Curious under the twinkling stars I fly. Over the hills and forests of mid Sweden, in a southern direction.

     I reach the Vattern Lake after one day. I have to take a break here, because the voice had disappeared. So I listen to the whisper of the wind that gentle blows through the tall pines on the brink. And watch the bright moon dance on the lake. Spectacular nature here.

     I hear a voice again, more clear now. Calling. Begging. Crying is she, for help.

     A desperate girl or a young woman maybe. Lonely and in pain. Help me, she cries, help me.

     I must more south. All the way down to Malmo maybe. So I leave and it will take me another day to reach Malmo in the southern part of Sweden, near Copenhagen.

     I have no problem to find the location of the sad girl, because she is crying constantly now. Her trembling voice cuts deep into my soul. It is somewhere in the ancient center of town. I am near her, can I feel. And there it is, the source point of the voice.

     But, is she in the old main police station. How could a girl be so sad and scared in there?

     There is an advantage of being a ghost. You can get in unnoticed everywhere. Slowly I move, through the copper air duct on the roof. Floor by floor I move down.

     Suddenly the girl screams heartbreaking.

     No, she screams, no, no. I pick up her thoughts too: Make him stop, my God. I beg you, please make him stop, dear God.

     And there, deep down in the cellar I see the S.S.’ police officer hitting a terrified, naked girl with his belt. She is creeping into the corner at the end of a bed and tries to protect her body and head with her arms, as he strikes her, laughing.

     I am paralyzed. I scream. And scream again. Stop, you nazi creep, stop it! No one hears my silent screams, of course.

     I perceive quickly, that the satanic cop is enjoying his power over the girl.

     He is not excited, just enjoying like another Gestapo officer to terrorize her. He hits her slowly, humiliate her and insult her:

     You fucking Bosnian whore. You just do, what I tell you, bitch. You have no one. No one hears you and no one helps you. If you not do exactly what I tell you, then I will send you right back to the Serbs, got it? You know they will cut you up, right bitch?

     She cries: Don’t, please don’t hurt me, please.

     The S.S. police-creep laughs and hit her again, harder. He is in his underwear only. His uniform is on a little table and some other things.

     I will fuck you bitch, in all your holes and you will drink my cum, all of it. Got that, Bosnian whore?

     If not, I will kick your butt out of Sweden tomorrow. Now suck my dick, bitch.

     I am desperate, in chock. What can I do to help her, what can I do, in my non-physical appearance?

     It becomes worse. The S.S.’ prime police officer cop has more evil plans to humiliate the poor girl.

     Take this butter, bitch, and fill your ass. Stop it up your ass, all of it. Now. I will fuck your ass sore, you pathetic pig.

     She refuses. So he takes out, still smiling, some matches. Lights one and throw on her. One more. She screams loud and cries uncontrolled.

     How many you want, bitch? Put that butter up your ass now or I will burn your hair off.

     And she does it.

     Poor, poor girl. Thought she had come to the peaceful Sweden, a sanctuary, from the Balkan wars.

     But no. She just meet another torturer, one of the S.S.’ pride police officers!

     What can I do, what can I do to help her, get her out of her misery. I am shaking of fear and hate.

     I am not the only spirit that has heard her prayers. Other ghosts are present now.

     One knows me. Astrid, dear Astrid of the laughing children. Don’t worry more. I will help her out of her misery. I will stop him. For good and always.

     And she does. Concentrate all her hate against the police monster, and with her spirit full of electric energy, she glides into the fire alarm and activates it.

     She disappears in a small cloud of smoke, the last traces of her. So brave she was.

     Before the bastard can get dressed and cover his crimes, two persons enter the cellar. They quickly detect the outrageous events that have taken place and arrest him.

     I follow the case in the next weeks. The truth comes out. The terror of the S.S.’ police officer is shocking. His nazi evil torture cellar adventure had been going on for month.

     He had abused, raped and violated dozens of defenseless, female immigrants and trafficking victims.

     Yes, it is common now. Immigrants are second range citizens in Sweden. Easy targets. Always second to the S.S., even if they are right.

     As the foreign couple that is assaulted in their apartment. Even if the S.S. police find the intruders shoe in their hall, they will not believe the couple.

     They are immigrants, their attacker swedish, no case, end of a sad story.

     S.S.’ terror and ignoring of immigrants and even weaker and poorer swedish citizens in these days is appalling.

     I am back in Vasa Park. The dear people here have made a little terrace for my honors. So kind of you, thank you dear friends.

     I remember many of you coming here also, since you were kids. Thank you.

     It does not surprise me, when I next day read the news about drunk officials in S.S.’ Forsmark nuke plant. Of course the embarrassed S.S. tries to keep the reports secret, but a crafty journalist gets his fingers in the files and publish them.

     How wonderful. Employees drinking their brains out on our swedish nuclear power plants!  

     I am taking a cruise down the beautiful west coast. I decide to visit Denmark a last time, the majestic Kronborg and wonderful Copenhagen.

     In the swedish coastal towns, many new apartment buildings have shot up in the air, I see.

     Also in the south is it very popular to live near the lovely seaside in the Oresund towns.

     But funny to observe how easy it is for the greedy swedish construction companies to cheat people.

     Again and again it happens.

     The scam is to first build a row of condominiums a little inland. After the all are sold with sea view, they built a new sea view row in front of them, nearer the waters. Completely without conscience. Is that even legal?

     I can only laugh. How stupid can people be, fall for that fraud. Landskrona, Malmo and Limhamn, same trick everywhere.

     Where has honesty gone in these days?

     

    

Chapter 5.

  

     The two immigrants are happy, very happy, waiting for their first child to come, a son. The pregnancy is running like a Swiss clock and they have heard only positive things about the maternity clinic in the huge county hospital, where the birth will take place. A safe and secure clinic that has a good reputation.

     The new-fallen snow covers the hilled countryside here in December and makes the landscape real Christmassy.

     Soon, just between 24th and New Years evening, he shall come, and they have everything prepared in their ancient farm house not far from the town Lund, in the south of Sweden.

     28th December, early morning. The women’s water break and she calls her husband.

     My dear man, it is time. I have a little pain. Please call the clinic now, ok?

     Yes dear, he shouts.

     He calls the maternity clinic. To his surprise the woman on the phone sounds quite uninterested, cold and arrogant.

     You can come 10 o’clock for a check, bye.

     They are a little confused. Their birth nurse Kim has told them when the water goes, the birth starts, and they have to go to the birth clinic direct.

     An hour later, and his wife’s pain increased. He calls again. Same woman: Negative attitude.

     Wait she says, come later. He tells the cold bitch, that his wife has stronger pains now, but she refuses them.

     He looks worried at his poor wife. What to do?

     Ok. Come on, dear. We go now. Are you ready? She smiled to him through her pains. Yes dear, let us go.

     They arrive at the women’s clinic. Two younger women meet them. One of them just a student. They seem a little uncertain about what to do. The wife is in pain now, suffering, but they do absolutely nothing to help her. Well, give her two headache-pills and tell them to come back later!

     The poor couple is sad and confused, and drive back to their little house.

     What happens here? Is his wife not supposed to get any help and care?

     Driving back, he swears inside, again and again, hurt in his soul. We were told the nurses should be helpful and professional here. They are, he thinks:

     Exactly as helpful as the staff in a nazi Gestapo torture cellar or the rotten swedish police!

     I hear the desperate wife screaming for help:

     Anyone, Mother, someone, please help me. Help me. She is crying and shaking of aches, screaming when the pains rolls over her like tsunamis of torture.

     I am in Copenhagen, not far away, and decide to seek them up. Maybe I can do something, can help them.

     One hour I take me to fly over the Oresund, up to their countryside house.

     I see them. Oh dear. Poor woman. She is lying on the sofa and wriggle in pain cramps, screaming.

     Her husband looks in despair at her.

     My dear woman, sorry, I will call them now.

     The same unfriendly woman answers: Can I talk to your wife?

     He gives his wife the phone. Of course she can’t talk, I see. Only scream.

     Her screams through the phone wakes up the unpleasant nurse, that now annoyed realize she has to leave her facebook, coffee and Christmas cakes eating.

     They drive back to the hospital in Lund, and I get a ride with them.

     Poor woman. I sing for her. It helps her, she relax a little bit, some times passes away in waves of pain. She dreams it is her mother from far away, that sings for her.

     Her husband cries constantly. He trembles, thinks all kind of hateful thoughts about the nazi bitches in the S.S.’ clinic.

     He lies to his dear wife, that he drives faster, but impossible on the snow-covered roads of course.

     She manages to squeeze out a faint smile. Yes dear, good. But of course she knows he lies.

     We reach the S.S.’ maternity clinic. She has passed out again, and he has to carry her through the doors. He cries to the staff, help her.

     But the two nurses are not really concerned, so he puts her in the bed himself. They do not even take care of her pains, just tells him she needs laughing gas.

     The poor man has to give her it himself!

     I am shocked. Is this the standard of the S.S.’ hospitals these days?

     The head nurse tells him: The birth has begun!

     He looks at the completely incompetent bitch and tells her:

     Yes, the birth has been going on all morning, you stupid nazi bitch. Er, the last four words he only thought.

     He is in shock, sad. His wife is in a hell of pain all morning, without any real help. He can’t believe what had happened, it should not be like this. It should not.

     At last their son comes. A wonderful and fine little boy says hello to the world.

     He helps a lot, wipe his wife clean and takes really good care of her. Wipes the sweat from her forehead and at last wipe her tears away.

     I smile, they are happy now. As I was, when Lars was born.

     She will give him the boy but he refuses.

     This is your moment, dear. Enjoy your beautiful little boy please, he stutters.

     Their hell is over but I am shocked about the complete lack of care for the poor couple.

     The indifference of the arrogant staff of the S.S.’ clinic is horrible. Do they really hate immigrants, Danes, that much or are they just lazy, occupied of their pc’, cakes and coffee?

     I fly sad back to Smaland, my childhood home. It is full Moon, and snowing lightly in the calm, windless evening. I swarm around in the county, remembering my good times here: My first reading of a book, my first writing, and entering the endless world of fantasy and imagination.

     People are preparing for the coming Christmas, and especially the children in the cozy houses in the hilly landscape are exited. I fly from house to farm, enjoying the peaceful harmony in the snow-white winter-world.

     I pick up news about the S.S. from time to time. One of the S.S.’ politicians must absolutely be nominated for the most ignorant comments of the year.

     He whines and is very worried about Finland’s plans and construction of a nuclear power plant only 150 kilometers from the swedish border. Amazing stupidity.

     Have you forgot what country built nuke huts only 20 kilometers from the capital Copenhagen of Denmark? Sweden, you stupid moron!

     The Nazi ways of the S.S. from the past pops up to the surface again.

     My “neutral and humane” Sweden is caught in selling weapons to warring countries. And to dictator states in the Middle East.

     Handheld swedish produces rocket launchers are exposed in Myanmar. The S.S. claims they never sold weapons to Myanmar, for sure.

     Nice, S.S. But how did they end up there? Was it Santa Claus and his little helpers?

     The greed of the S.S. and the swedish weapon system producing companies are equal to the S.S.’ selling of iron ore, steel products and services to the Nazis in the second world war.

     Yes, the S.S. politics never change. Of course they don’t give a shit about the dead of thousands of civilians in the 3rd world, as long as the money flows into their accounts.

     And the S.S.’ pride, the piket police gun-happy smart-asses continue with their unintelligent and evil stupidities.

     On duty this year they assault the wrong house several times. Kick in the doors at frightened families, storming in, shouting and destroying their property, while kids are crying.

     And of course never give an apology.

     A terrible event happens this year in the south, in the Malmo residential area Lugnet.

     Another violent family drama. Miserable divorce results in a poor man loose his rights to see his children. He is crushed. Going down, can’t function, caught in an endless black hole.

     The S.S.’ led justice system of Malmo court is in play again. A man is desperately claiming his right to see his children. The army of androgynous man-hating bitches rolls out their fangs. Another male we can crush, yummy.

     I have sadly noticed the evolution of a new sex here in Sweden. In many departments of the S.S.

     The, in particular, ugly and repulsive females, that wants to be men. Females that are not so attractive: Fat cake-eating, chips-munching, cola-drinking shorthaired and black-glassed bitches, seeking the power and revenge over men, because they are unloved and know no man will ever have them. Sad and lost unfeminine women.

     Turning into androgynous, disgusting creatures that abuse their powers in the S.S.

     In the days before the trial in court, the man addresses his friends because he is on the limit of suicide.

     They comfort him and also alarm the authorities and police to help him.

     No one in the careless S.S. reacts. Not one single civil servant lifts an eyebrow.

     Kling and Klang in the S.S.’ police continues their coffee and eating Danish pastry and donuts.

     In Malmo police station he wanted to speak with a priest, after he delivered some documents. Unfortunate the 300-pound fat beast doesn’t care about him, because he drinks.

     She says to him: I hope, she will never, never take you back.

     Instead of trying to heal the family or just help the man in his despair.

     What kind of priest is that you have employed, S.S.?

     Judgment Day. He does not stand a change in hell.

     They smile to him, as they steal his children. Gestapo used torture to crush people.

     The S.S.’ court uses paragraphs. The goal is the same. Crush the person. For good.

     And then the ridiculous S.S. court in Malmo commits the most inhumane and disgusting stupidity of the new millennium!

     The divorced woman, who gets the children, is living in a secret place for her protection.

     The S.S.’ court know that.

     Even with that information they release the divorced couple the same time!

     Can you imagine what happens?

     The completely crushed man follows the woman back to her apartment and full of hate he cuts up her guts right in front of their children.

     S.S.! Hell!

     You could have prevented this tragedy, if you cared just a little bit. You are so disgusting, and you are responsible for this tragedy!

     After these horrible stupidities of the S.S., I hover out to the coast. I rest here. With the singing birds and the whispering trees, near the old bronze cannons.

     It is a stunning view of the beautiful Denmark. From the towers of Copenhagen all the way up to Kronborg in Helsingor.

     One amazing sight here is that you can actually see our Earth curve. That Earth is a round globe.

     If you just have a few minutes. Just follow a fast ship in Oresund. And observe how it sinks lower and lower, as it approaches the horizon.

     Or move a few kilometers up or down the coast and observe how Kronborg moves higher or lower.

     Funny and amazing!

     I am surprised how distant the people of Sweden have come to nature nowadays.

     I follow a lot of people jogging on the coast path. All of them have headphones stuck into their ears. All!

     Are the lovely sounds from the breaking waves in the sea not interesting any more?

     Is the enchanting singing of the birds annoying these modern technocratic creatures?

     I see them everywhere with things stuffed in their ears. In the buses. In the Trains.

     Is that what has become of the people of our great nature: Egocentric digital-slave zombies?

     In the circus of the S.S. a lot of young pocket or plastic lawyers are born.

     From the outside the court system looks nice. The men, that are fighting to see their children, get some hope when they have a lawyer. Thank you, S.S.

     But it is just a scam. Most of the newly educated closet-lawyers are only in it for the money. Have no real heart for the case, no engagement.

     Worse. Every time the men try to convince the androgynous bitches about their positive relations with their children, they are denied. Always!

     Also: The S.S. has become a society like facebook. Only thumps up, no thumps down.

     Why? The world does not function like that. It is a fake way of philosophy of life. There is always good and bad. It is a fact. I have seen it all my life and afterlife.

     The S.S. is an artificial monster, only accepting the tings they want to hear. Not the truth. Not the facts.

     The workers in the S.S. simply ignore the things they don’t want to hear. Their clients met with a wall of silence, if their questions are not appropriate. No chance, man, kneel!

     Also women are hit by the S.S.

     After my rest at the coast, I visit Malmo again and I observe a poor, homeless woman that tries to get help to find a job in the S.S.’ employment services, is kicked out of the office on the streets because she has no address.

     After I have observed the cast iron bitches of S.S. in work for years now, I thought I had gone though.

     But again S.S. shocks me. Throw out a woman looking for a job, just because she has no address? Are they not aware of she tries to come back on her feet? Have they no heart? Tears in my eyes.

     I drift across Skane, over to the east. Sweden’s fruit-garden and apple-heaven around Kivik. From the coastal hills is there a magnificent view over the East Sea. In clear weather it is possible to view the Danish island Bornholm. Another little holiday for me.

     Daily horrible news about big swedish companies erupts in these days. Like lava from a volcano.

     Many treat their employees in terrible ways. HswastikaM let staffs in Asia work for 12 hours daily to they drop, almost dead, earning a few bucks and prisoners in DDR worked as slaves for ikea.

     Again and again inhuman swedish firms are revealed. Nice going, you greedy bastards!

     I slide back west to Malmo. I am going in circus. Malmo court circus. This story is unbelievable. Really!

     The gang-wars have going on here in Malmostan and Landsankara at full power for years. Knives shining, guns blazing.

     The "well-educated" officials in the S.S. court are worried. What to do?

     A handful of members of a gang are accused of carrying live arms.

     Hehehe. Amazing. The “intelligent” S.S.’ Malmo court accepts their explanations that they are living under threats and gives them lower sentences, because they have to protect themselves!

     Amazing stupidity, S.S.!

     So the S.S.’ court’s logic is the harder the gangs fight, the more they are allowed to arm!

     If they are under really heavy attacks, it is probably ok if they drive around in tanks, swedish SS-tanks, and they will not even get a parking-ticket, right S.S.?

     I can only repeat while laughing at the ignorance of the Klings and Klangs of Malmo court:

     Amazing stupidity!

     I visit Copenhagen, again. Memories of good times. Kingdom Hospital, where I gave birth to my lovely son Lars. Oh Lars, where are you now?

     Thank you, dear people of Denmark for helping me. And down there is the apartment of my dear, dear friend. She has also past away. Peace with you, my friend.

     A very wise woman, maybe minister of the S.S., has introduced a new law. Brilliant law.

     You know, it is forbidden to sell sex in Sweden, right? Officially anyway.

     So her new law makes the buyer of sex criminal, but not the seller?? Hehe. Lovely work, S.S. bitch. 

     And this is exactly the way the swedish politicians in the S.S. works, when they export weapons to dictator-states and other warring and terrorizing countries:

     We, offspring of former Nazi-lovers, are not guilty selling weapons to beasts around the world. It is only the buyer that is criminal!

     If I were alive, I would puke. The S.S. is more hypocrite than ever, in a trance of greed.

     Hypocrisy unlimited!

     So, you disgusting pig of a minister, how will you punish all the swedes that buy sex in Copenhagen?

     There are a lot, I see. Right there, down in Isted-street.

     And in Estland? And all over east Europe they buy girls and women.

     And how will you punish all the swedish pedophiles that buy sex and ass-fuck children all over Asia, mainly in Pattaya, Thailand?

     Please tell me, you wonderful, wise politician!

     Look how your arrogant and cynical minister colleague bildt vetoes sanctions against the Syrian regime, just to protect ericsson’s communication systems sale in the terrible war-torn middle east country.

     Don’t mind the torturing and killing of thousands of civilians, right bildt?

     Just like the good old days in the 40ties, when the S.S. helped the Nazis, right bildt?

     I take off, up to Kronborg, to enjoy all the boats in the blue sound. I think my way back to my dream about the Barseback bombings. Luckily enough the nuclear power plant is shut down now.

     I look at all the swedes down in the ferry terminal, that grunting and sweating drags their fully loaded carriages on to the boats. Beers, wine and alcohol. In huge volumes.

     Again: I can only laugh at S.S.’ health minister. Equally hypocrite as the above mentioned. Hypocrisy in the S.S. is apparently a national disease.

     The minister is so proud of Sweden’s fine place in the European statistics of alcohol consumption. I shall remind the genius, that the numbers are not accurate, because they do not include the thousands of litres bought outside Sweden and smuggled in and sold all over Sweden.

     The correct figures of swedes drinking booze, is a lot higher, dear minister, sorry to take you out of your false illusions!

     Our swedish hypocrisy is very well shown here in Helsingor. On the other side of the sound in Sweden everything is so correct. Quit and calm to a point of almost life-killing boring.

     All the bad manners of our people are brought to Denmark, where young and old misbehave badly. Piss on the streets, throw up in the Train Station, yes, look at those swedish boys drinking uncontrolled, and throwing their cans on the train tracks. Things they would never dare do in their home country. Pigs exported.

     Helsingor flooded with drunken Swedes!

     I hear a young girl cry. Not so far away. She is very sad, desperate.

     Oh, it is just over there, on the other side of Oresund, near the big water tower in Landskrona. Dear friend, I will come and help you if I can.

     Maria is her name. I see her now, she is shaking in fear, praying.

     She asks her god, please end the terror of the monster, please. Just let me live in peace, go to school with my friends and study, ok my dear god?

     She has been asking the local authorities of the S.S. many times through the year to get help with a secret place to live, so her tormentors cant find her.

     But the androgynous creatures at the community office are of typical S.S. breed, and will not help her.

     We can’t help you, they answers again, maybe they are jealous of Maria’s beauty.

     She prays for the last time. Please god help me. But her god is not here.

     And I don’t have the power to help her when the insane monster arrives. He runs into her apartment, grabs a knife and stabs her continuously.

     She screams loud, try to defend her self. I scream too, but only so silent. Stop creep, stop, what are you doing?

     She is dead after he cuts her ten times. But he is sick in his head and stabs her more than a hundred times. A hundred times. An orgy of blood.

     And tears, the dry imaginary tears of my soul.

     The following is a spectacle. The killer is young and gets only a hand-full of years behind bars.

     For taking a life in the most disgusting way!

     Typical ways of the courts of the S.S. He would probably have got a longer sentence, if he just had robbed her money. A life is not worth much here.

     Who are guilty, civil servants of Landskrona community? Are you proud of your selves?

     You are probably happy Maria was killed so she no longer is an economic burden to the S.S., right?

     Shame on you, lazy arrogant creatures.

     I am seeking back north. Visit Smaland on my way to Stockholm. When I pass Coalmarden institution, I once again observe the S.S.’ employees harass and discriminate a “Danish-devil”.

     The midget-like Thomas and Stig Mauss accuse the Danish guy of stealing. He doesn’t so he gets angry and tells the “Swede-nazis” to fuck off. Cowards as they are, they address the warden: The Danish-devil is aggressive.

     The S.S. warden mobilizes a search team and without asking the Dane what had happened, they search the Dane and his room.

     Well, he is a Danish-devil, right?

     It is hidden in the backbone of many civil servants in the S.S. Never spoken but surely executed: Fuck the Danish-devils!

     Probably the same kind of people that arms them selves with fight-dogs these days. Very popular among the poor frightened people, that chooses to arm rather than communicate.

     Of course communication can be different now, because the S.S. has further limited the freedom of speech in Sweden, so it is extremely difficult to debate for real what is truly disturbing our former peaceful country.

     I am back in Stockholm. Vasa Park. Nice warm summer, lovely.

     The police of the S.S. shows it brilliance again. And again.

     What are the criteria for the education of the terrorists in the piket-force?

     Again they shoot down and kill a person. The month after, one more is killed by the trigger-happy creeps of the police force!

     What should have been shocking me here is the total silence from the S.S. government.

     But I am not shocked, I am now used to the neo-fascistic tendencies in the circus S.S. now.

     In the 1930s and 1940s the S.S. also eliminated physically and mentally retarded persons, and politically undesirables same way their Nazi friends south of the Eastern Sea.

     People that do not contribute economically to the S.S., poor or homeless: Raus!

     So the S.S. kopi the way of the ostrich, head in the ground:

     Who killed who? I did not see. I did not hear. Did you? Oh. A social client less? Well shot, policeman, here is a medal.

     Yes, the S.S.’ police force actually promotes a policeman that is convicted for violence. Isn’t that just wonderful!

     And the next article:

     About the man Sture Bergwall alias Thomas Quick, notorious mass murder here in Sweden.

     He has been many years in prison accused for a lot of murders. Now it shows he has not done even one of them.

     Not a single one of them!

     A huge judicial murder scandal without comparison in the S.S.’ fine juridical circus!

     Stupidity and laziness in the police of the S.S. unlimited, yes in the entire justice system of the S.S.!

     The female sadist psychiatrist, norell, creates a complete career based on the lies she through ten years manipulates out of Bergwall and dangerously gambles with the legal certainty of all the swedish citizens.

     So the naïve S.S. public prosecutor, with the lovely aristocratic name christer van der kwast, believes one hundred percent in all Bergwall’s fantastic histories about his “killings”.

     All the crime sites are checked by police specialists and they never find a single piece of evidence, that can prove the murder or that Bergwall was there. Not one single trace!

     No alarm clock in a single person of all the S.S.’ employees rings. No one thinks it is a little strange. Lack of efficiency amazing.

     But now Bergwall is a free man after a journalist checked all the cases through and he got a new trial.

     I can only laugh. I thought only in my book Pippi could police and prosecutors be so naïve.

     The S.S.’ amazing evil and lazy employees from all over our country, over-trump them easily.

     The S.S. possesses a cruelty equal to the worst dictator-states on our planet.

     Yes, in fact same as the S.S.’ and king’s former friends in the Gestapo.

     Extreme violence from a leading swedish police chief. This time in Uppsala, north of Stockholm:

     The poor seventeen years old girl Nora is placed on an institution for troubled youngsters. She begins prostitution and is selling her body regularly, mostly to richer swedes in suits with good jobs and boring wives.

     But one day it ends really bad for her. A man picks her up in his car to have sex with her and takes her to a hotel.

     He ties her up with leather straps and rapes her several times. The police officer fills her mouth with sperm and at the same time inserts sex toys and vegetables in her cunt and ass, so blood streams out of her.

     She tries to scream, but the creep holds his hand over her mouth now.

     After the terrible violent abuse the pride of the S.S.’ police force drives her back.

     Nora is hurt, but she is also smart. She takes a towel with her from the hotel that he has used. It has his DNA all over it, perfect evidence!

     She goes to the police and tells everything. She has both his phone number and the towel that she brings to the station, but Kling and Klang here drops the case. The S.S.’ lovely policemen refuse to investigate her accusations!

     Of course. They soon find out the evidence leads straight to the police chief, so they cover him.

     Oh yes, the nazi-like evil and terror scum are well and alive in the police force of the S.S.

     Like vultures they regularly attacks the weaker people in Sweden that are already down on their knees.

     Gestapo could not have done better, S.S.

     Shame on you, die soon please.

 

     

Chapter 6.

  

     Another paternity dispute show in Malmo court is beginning now. Another example on extreme misuse of power in the S.S.

     As before, in the Lugnet case where the man killed his ex-wife, the man does not stand a chance.

     He knows it long time before the case even begins.

     He knows the overwhelming crushing system, that exists in the S.S.

     He knows about the flock of androgynous monsters in Malmo court.

     He knows it, even before he gets the first letter from the court, that he is already slaughtered.

     Especially because he is a “Danish-devil”.

     He gets one of the usual plastic “lawyers”. He wants to handle the case himself, but he is dictated from the court: He must have a jurist.

     Haha, he laughs, for what? Those ducklings are only in it for the money.

     He wants to have a part in custody of his son, because he sees many times the authorities, kindergarten not are working so well.

     Fx, the manager ake johansson of the community Kirseberg’s kindergarten served cola to his son Emil, when he was only 1 and ½ years old. Luckily enough his little boy would not drink the shit. Not wise to let babies become sugar-holics at that age.

     So to keep an eye on his son, naturally, and because he loves him very much and enjoy spend time with him, watch him grow and develop his skills, he wants part custody.

     Days, weeks and months he has waited. Time. A lot of time passed without the authorities answer his letters. They did not care, promised him, gave him hope and then they went on vacation, leaving him.

     The social worker in Svalov, ulla holmqvisst lied to him about his son was not feeling very good. That stupid, manipulating bitch playing with people in that way.

     Not only hurting him, also hurting his son that had to do without his father.

     So the father decides to action. Enough. He had behaved very nice and sincere in this case, most of the civil servants just ignoring him.

     So he starts to get his son himself. One day, every week. And it goes really good. They are happy. Father and Son.

     Trips to the seaside, looking birds, play music, paint pictures and they cook together. A lot of laughter in their house.

     But heavy grey clouds are appearing in the horizon, the scorpion pit of S.S.’ Malmo court.

     The circus starts in April. He gets jurist assa muller as advisor. Their opponent is a real snake. The poison snake sussana weibull. Begins instantly to lie in the case.

     He is relieved, because he can easy prove the snake is lying big time. The problem is his so-called help is quit passive and not even answers his own questions to her.

     He explains the judge that he had already seen his son through ten month, in joy, without problems.

     They see it. They know it in the kindergarten. Emil always runs to the father and hugs him hard. And when the father brings his boy back, he is never, never sick.

     The judge just yawns: What, what do you mean.

     As he thought before, he is up against a collection of creeps, that don’t give a shit about this Danish-devil.    

     The first round in court ends with an agreement that he can see his son one time a week in a kindergarten.

     So far, so good. 

     First problem is the staffs in the kindergarten want to play with his lovely son them selves and take him away from the father. He is one big question mark. 

     The helper assa muller is still not answering his question and did not present his evidence in court, why? So he decides to drop her. Bye assa.

     Several times he observes his son is exposed for unpleasant incidents in the kindergarten. Long scratches near his eyes, that later result in an eye inflammation.

     One day Emil is very sad, cries a lot, hyperventilate. Four social workers near him don’t lift an eyebrow, do not comfort him and just leave him alone. Chocking.

     Lucky for the boy, his father is nearby and can help and comfort him.

     Two social workers are assigned to find out if the father is ok to take care of his son. (That has already weekly lived joyful with him without problems for almost a year)!

     From Malmo, vessna ramljak, the monster and from Landskrona marie desseberg, the hook.

     He goes to several interviews and a report is issued. He accepts the file as almost true and after, has to wait for the delivery of file to the Malmo court.

     Thursday monster vessna writes she has got the complete files with his comments and will send it to Malmo court.

     Wow, that sounds good, he thinks.

     But the monster is not especially intelligent, and on the later Monday it mails him:

     I got these files today, what do you want I do with them?

     The father is a little confused. What. He looks through his mails, yes, there. Thursday she wrote she got the files and would send them. What happened, monster vessna?

     He writes to his new lawyer and Malmo court about the stupid monster:

     Thursday vessna confirms she has got all the files. This morning, Monday, I got a mail where she asks what she should do with the information. Is she completely stupid? I am in shock.

     And before this, the two employees had not send the files to my new lawyer, as they promised.

     Also, at the interview, vessna harasses me, tries to give me guilty conscience by constantly asking, if it is not bad for Emil, if I only visit him a short time every week.

     It is not me that want sole custody of my son Emil. It is his mother and snake sussana! Got that, vessna!

     The S.S.’ court pressures the father for several month to get all the information ready. And suddenly because his opponents are not ready, snake sussana, the monster vessna writes to him that the material will first be send in to the court later!

     He realizes, as he is a Danish-devil, once again, the court as expected, are on the mother’s and the snake’s side.

     Worse. The S.S.’ prime bitch jeanette nilsson of Malmo court hit him right smack in the face. With a letter worse than a bullet:

     “You are called to the court 1. November. The negotiations are cancelled. You shall not come that day”.

     Ice cold. Now it is the third time the Nazi-like monsters has cancelled a meeting in the court.

     Don’t they understand every day counts for him? Every day he misses his son and his son misses him and now they have to wait more three month!

     The next trials are postponed to January. The snake sussana spins more lies about him. How Emil’s mother is afraid of him. That he had abused his son. Even if they know Emil’s mother several times before had been drinking coffee with him, and, even let him take proms with the boy alone.

     The Nazi-snake convinces the police to give him a prohibition. He is not allowed to get near his ex-wife and in that way, his son.

     He is furious of course, promise to get revenge over the Nazi-loving swedish state. The S.S. will pay its bill, sooner or later.

     Eye for eye. Child for child.

     Judgment day. Malmo circus court. The father’s third plastic pocket jurist, jon-ass nilsson is present.

     But his performance is pathetic. Let snake sussana rain lies all over him, without interfering.

     The snake’s newest and most evil lie:

     The local community’s social department’s chief demands the mother in order to protect the son, not let the father be alone with his son! Big lie.

     First the father is not so concerned, because he has a good relation with Julia Jabbour that works in social department. She knows his relation with his son is fine and recommend Emil sees his father on regular basis.

     His problem is that none of his so-called plastic lawyers question the snake’s lies. Not one single time!

     This time he knows jon-ass has not, not read the documents of the case, because he does not react on the snake’s lie!

     By the way, why should he? The poor lousy dickhead only receive around 15.000$ for about ten hours of participation in this circus court!

     The semi-final.

     Behind the desk: Almighty mari-ass abdon. Have you seen Pink Floyd’s movie the Wall, with the fat and disgusting judges? Well, comparing to the floppy sloppy counselor marian abdon, they look actually quite friendly!

     Well, fuck her appearance that is not the main issue here. Because in the next minute we will be brought right back to the times, where the shameful S.S. and the swedish gustaf 5 flirted with the Nazis.

     I stay up under the vaults with a clear view over the court. The father’s jurist is inactive. The father has to do everything himself.

     He points out all, I repeat, all, the more than one hundred pages of files and examinations in this case about his son Emil and him, are positive evidence.

     Recommend the father and son to meet regularly. The evidence all points and talks for their relation. All!

     The more than hundred pages of files! All.

     And yet. Yet the fat, ugly, repulsive, revengeful man-hating androgynous queen of the hill bitch mari-ass takes all of the files. Hold the files in her right fat claw, shaking them, and with a loud voice, almost shouts:

     Fuck the evidence!

     Really!

     The circle is complete. This is the justice in Sweden today. Fuck his evidence?

     He always new there was no justice for him here.

     He is torn. Because it is sad, but also very amused, he knew the result years ago.

     Poor his little son. The S.S. kidnaps him. Take him away from the “Danish-devil”.

     I see him sad, and laughing, the final will come later, the main negotiations.

     He doesn’t really care. He knows it is over, so now it is only to get the best out of it, provoke the Nazi-like creeps, all of them. One by one.

     He takes the train back to Landskrona. I follow him. No rush.

     He comforts himself that evening. No one else does. Candle lights and a good diner, roasted leg of lamb and a bottle of lovely well balanced Rioja. Puts on the spectacular film “the Wall”, toasts to the creepy judges, here is to you, mari-ass.

     Later Ozzy rocks: Vampires and warpigs, same you abdon. Die bitch.

     The first he does is address jon-ass. Why, why did you let the snake sussana pee all over me? Why did you not return her lies?

     I know, you little coward plastic jurist. You had not read the case, right?

     Why did you not comment on creep mari-ass’ capital statement: Fuck the evidence?

     You are fired, jon-ass-hole!

     Later he got a letter from the prosecution office. From fredrik jonsson.

     A fine solemn letter with the three crowns weapon shield of Sweden.

     He laughs. Oh, dear stupid kling or klang jonsson, it could just as well have been three swastikas.

     He knows, snake sussana’s lie that his ex plastic jurist would not help him against, resulted in a ban not to see his son.

     Later he get the reports of the proceedings. The bellboy edelssvard, (means noble-sword, hehehe. Noble, must be equal to Nazi-noble here), had not mentioned monster mari-ass’ outburst:

     Fuck the evidence.

     He sends mails several times to him for an answer, but the coward Nazi-like worm never answers him.

     Yes. So is the swedish justice system today!

     To provoke the poor father even more, Malmo court sends him a letter after a few weeks:

     If you have further evidence, please send it to the court in before two weeks! Really! Fucking really!

     Hahaha. Excellent. First the bulging fat bitch mari-ass screams to him: Fuck your evidence, and after the snotty girl ida pettersson sends him a letter about more evidence.

     He plays the game now. No intention to come there anymore:

     Only make it expensive for the Nazi creeps of the S.S.

     So he orders an interpreter and a lot of information. Let the creeps of the S.S. work and run, make it costly.

     Next insult from the Nazi-like creeps, a bill. You see, before the case, the geniuses of Malmo court dictated him that he must have a juridical helper. So far, so good.

     But after he fired his third, er, shall we call it helper, jon-ass, sussanne jonsson send him this bill, 15.000$ for his approximately 10 hours of non-work. He must pay a bill for a plastic lawyer he didn’t wanted, but was forced to have!

     Hehe. Typical the S.S. neo-nazis.

     There it is, folks. The scam. Same the Lugnet case, provoke the man to kill the mother and child, or one of them at least, so the S.S. will save money, because they are on social welfare!

     So it seems, anyway.

     Main negotiations.

     He gets the court to roll out all the artillery. But stay away, because he can’t go there, probably would be sick, puke or worse, not able to control himself and do something stupid.

     Also will he not give all the Nazi-like evil rats of the circus the pleasure to see him down on his knees, loose the case, sad.

     Fuck you, fat creep mari-ass. Fuck you, swedish circus court in Malmo.

     He gets a fine of course, worth it. He refuses to pay, because he was sick, and delivers a complaint.

     Anyway, the S.S. blow hundreds of thousands of crowns. Great.

     Two idiots of the high court, chriss larsson and gorass lambertss decide he must pay the fine. Haha.

     He tears the letter with the expected decision into little pieces and throws it out. Go to hell, S.S. Nazis.

     Repetition in August. They call him, same circus. He wonders. How stupid are this bunch of neo-nazi creeps?

     Yes, they hurt the father again, he is sad, but worse, they cripple his son for life, taking away his father!

     How he can withstand the pressure from the beasts of the S.S. without falling completely apart is a riddle to me.

     He writes to them on the day it self, in the morning:

     Bye bye, Nazi-lovers. Don’t worry, mari-ass. Sooner or later I will get my revenge.

     Sooner or later.

     Child for child.

     One day. 

        

   

 Chapter 7.

     One day I take a ride in bus up to the enchanting Molle on the Kullen rock. I am very surprised to see the unpleasant behavior of the spoiled swedish children of today. Sitting with their dirty feet up on the empty seats. Just throwing their empty bags and bottles on the floor when they have finished their snacks and drinks.

     Why are their parents completely indifferent with the upbringing of their kids nowadays? 

     And I see them: Little swedish boys and girls to shows and hockey in the TV.

     Like their parents they eagerly slurps down the raw violence like it was ice cream.

     What have become to my country?

     The new gods are ruling in Sweden now:

     Greed, Egoism and Violence. So sad.

     In the tv4 gladiator-show six - seven years old girls makes the cutthroat-death finger move, when a participant crashes. Is this the ideal now in Sweden?

     Boys at the same age cheers and screams at hockey-games, when a player is slaughtered and blood are running and dripping on the clear ice!

     I do not understand the S.S.’ lack of law enforcement.

     If the police observe violence on the street, anywhere, they have to interfere. Of course, it is logical.

     But in Sweden today, blood is dripping from hits of violence in the fights on the ice rinks every weekend, without anything happens. Are the players above the law?

     Why does the police of the S.S. and the minister of justice accept this kind of violence?

     My former national ice-hockey team, the three crowns, is today transformed into the three swastikas!

     Before I loved the beautiful game of ice hockey: Elegant, artistic and entertaining. Beautiful game. Today the hockey in Sweden sets the world standard of violence in the sport. Too bad.

     And my poor country, where I was a writer, still has the freedom of speech equal to the Kremlin. Guess my country always is an eastern Europe land, not western.

     So the TV stations manipulate the truth, always afraid to discuss the real issues.

     The svt writes:  You are blocked and can’t comment any more on svt.se!

     Newspapers: The comment waits on approval!

     Another: A moderator must approve your comment before it is visible!

     The S.S. has forbidden swastikas and sign communications like sieg heil in Sweden.

     I know why, of course. The S.S. wants to wipe out all memories of Sweden’s cooperation with the Axis powers.

     In fact Sweden was the fourth country of the Axis. Really was the ghost Nazi country.

     Not good if the world remembers the truth, right?

     And today a large part of the S.S. is still behaving like Nazis, exactly like the S.S. of the times gone by.

     Worst, the most sad:

     My Sweden again and again, yearly, sets new records in Scandinavia for rapes and especially rapes of minors, children

     Raping is skyrocketing because the S.S. does not allow true discussions of the subject, no freedom of speech, no interventions.

     In ten years the figures almost doubled to, oh dear, around 6.500 cases.

     In Stockholm alone, around 1000 cases of rape in the first half of 2013.

     And the 300 cases were about raping girls under fifteen years, children. 300 girls raped in a half year, only in Stockholm alone!

Wake up S.S.!  

     I have to surrender. I have to leave. I can’t stand it any more.

     My old Sweden is on a wrong path. Away from humanity, steering into a world of the new idols today: Greed and violence, more cold and inhuman as ever before.

     I understand the Danes perfectly well, when they compare the bridge over Oresund from Western Europe Denmark, to the Eastern Europe Sweden as a wormhole to an ice-cold black repulsive lifeless asteroid, the way the S.S. is behaving these days.

     And all the digital-techno-slaves here now. Disgusting. I have to leave now, despite all my love for this country. My family are calling me, missing me.

     I have to leave.

     But first. First I shall tell you my last tale. About his revenge. He reveals it for me in his dreams. How easy it is for him to crush a complete country. Take the Nazi-evil S.S. down. Not down on the knees, but all the way down, into the mud. Make them cry and regret. Make them beg. Destroy them. Forever. So all the world, even the polar bears in Greenland, know about these dirty offspring creeps from the former Nazi-loving swedish state.

     So here, here is his dream of sweet revenge:

      An eye for an eye. A child for a child. Simple. Logic. In this case, 1 child for each person that has contributed to kidnap my son. 1 child is the bill. 1 child pr creep.

     1 child for pig holmqvisst. 1 child for snake sussana. 1 child for lazy assa muller. 1 child for traitor jon-ass. 1 child for emperor ake johansson. 1 child for desseberg the hook. 1 child for vessna the monster. 1 child for rat jeanett nilsson. 1 child for dumb edelssvard. 1 child for blimp mari-ass. 1 child for asshole fredrik jonsson. 1 child for bitch ida petersson. 1 child for worm suss jonsson. 1 child for donkey chriss larsson. And the last child revenge victim for mule gorass lambertss.

     I notice how all the names of the involved scum of the S.S. have double s configuration. Got it.

     Of course. The link to the former Nazi loving government and king. That is why they all have double s’ included in their names. The sum of all Nazi evil, hidden in most of the swedish state’s employees:

     You are decoded, Nazi creeps! 

     Not immigrant children, of course. The revenge is not about exterminating social clients, helping the economy of the S.S.

     Only pure blonde swedish offspring. With double Nazi s’ in their names. It is easy. So easy. It is right there, on my doorstep.

     1: First find a location, a true swedish suburb that has a kindergarten full of cute, little blond children. 

     I choose over-class arrogant Lomma. I already hate the principal bitch of the schools there. She was so proud when Lomma got a second place in the national schools competition. She is extremely stupid, of a person in her position, in the community of the S.S.

     In the newspapers she brags all about her fantastic students, and they will all be served cake after their fine achievement.

     It never occurred to her the pupils in the nearby poor Malmo never stand a change of an education on the same level as the rich Lomma. They will never be served cake, but can only read about their lucky neighbours in the newspapers.

     Yes Lomma it is. Have several kindergartens so now it is just to pick the right one, the best location. Far from the police station and difficult to come near by car.

     I know, I would only have a few minutes to get my revenge, before the place will be crawling with the trigger-happy pigs of the S.S.

     I study their positions. The small police station in Lomma is placed in the centre, but probably it has only a few police pigs placed here.

     I know I will be caught or shot. For sure. But it would be nice to stay a few hours in freedom after the hits.

     Alive.

     Enjoy the triumph, hear the S.S.’ speakers on svt cry:

     Fifteen kids killed in Lomma today. Fifteen little kids! Why? Who will kill children in that cruel way?

     Sweet revenge, S.S.!

     So what direction would be ideal for escape? Look here, on the google maps. South? No. Malmo will send hundreds of cops. East? The old city of Lund, same problem. It must be north, many small coastal villages to hide.

     Here I can enjoy my last few hours. Celebrate with an old single malt of the sweet revenge. My last drink.

     Or I can take the seaway. Have a boat ready in Lomma Harbor. No rush, I can choose the plan later.

     2: Armament. Guns and bullets. More easy to get in Sweden nowadays, than buying milk and cookies.

     The S.S. has been so kind to invite thousands of people from the civil war plagued Balkan countries the last decades. And they bring a lot of weapons, a lot. Because they also fight and kill each other from time to time here.

     So, guns, I will just take a trip out to Sweden’s football player Zlatan’s childhood ghetto: The Rose Yard, suburb of Malmo.

     It is too easy. Two hours and a few thousands dollars later, I have the tools for my revenge. Blood revenge!

     Two nine-millimeter guns, four magazines and 200 bullets. Easier and faster, than order a pizza in today’s Sweden. Thank you for your help, S.S. kidnappers!

     Back to the map. There. The Brohus kindergarten. Target. Perfect location in relation to the West-coast Road’s north direction.

     But the police station on the other side of the harbor bridges worrying close.

     I know I only need a few minutes to harvest my revenge, but in a game like this, there are always unknown factors:

     Where are the police patrols? And are there any security companies near?

     I will have to use several vehicles and make a false alarm somewhere, to get the pigs attention and fool the fools. Not difficult with the dog-like intelligence level in the S.S.’ police corps.

     On the nearby Harbor Avenue are a lot of places to park and hide a motorcycle.

     To get there in a few minutes from the scene, perfectly easy on a bicycle. This is the only weak point in the revenge plan, get from the school to the bike so I can drive north and enjoy my victory whiskey, while I listen to the radio about my blood revenge.

     The killings themselves are easy. No one can stop me, no one. Only: It is a minus point for me if I have to kill an adult, a social worker. It must not happen. If they interfere, I will shoot them in their arms or legs. Not kill them, important because that is not my target.

     The rule: Only 15 blond typical swedish kids. Eye for eye. Kid for kid. Times 15 S.S. monsters.

     I check out everything about the guns on the Internet. Learn everything thing, every part of the guns and prepare them. Oil them and secure every moving part slides perfect. All four clips slides perfectly in both guns. No time or place for malfunctions.

     I test the guns at Landskrona shooting range near Oresund. It is brilliant. No one will ever suspect anything here, because it is a place where members come regularly to shoot.

     I bring a six-pack and enjoy the fine sunshiny day, the shining sea and the tests, that runs smoothly. Both guns works excellent, all four clips fit perfect in both guns. Cheers and die, S.S. Die.

     Tomorrow, the sweet revenge: Bring S.S.’ Nazi-evil employees to the ground.

     I know I have to focus. Can I do it? How can I mobilize enough hate, when I stand in front of the four or five years old cute kids? Kill them. Pull the trigger and blow their heads clean off?

     The Last Supper: Big garlic tiger-prawns accompanied by a fat Rueda Verdejo white. After, a big t-bone steak, cream potatoes and a great Rioja Reserva.

     On the turntable lots of the most powerful heavy rock:

     Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica and Led Zeppelin. Perfect to load my soul with power and confidence. Iron Man.

     To built up my hate, rage and wrath, I print out the more than 200 pages of “evidence”, abdon, communication mails and e-mails from the S.S.’ fifteen Nazi-like creeps. Nail them on the wall. Look at them. Read them again and again. It helps.

     I remember Machiavelli: The target justifies the means. My target, revenge, justifies the means, dead kids. Of course.

     The kids? As when netanyahu and sharon kill Palestinian children: Acceptable loses.

     Minister bildt of the S.S. will of course agree. Because it is the same argumentation when the hypocrite peace-book-writer sells weapon to countries in war, dictators and vetoes in Syria, so the civil war continues and thousands of children are killed.

     Right mega-hypocrite bildt?

     These exterminations will unleash tons of tears in the S.S. The rivers will overflow from tears. Without doubt. Victory!

     D Day. I take my Kawasaki down to Lomma, where I park it behind the boat sheds. My old bicycle is already in place here and I change to that. 

     I am dressed up, because the only thing people respect here is money. So: Well-dressed not to make too much attention. The staffs can easily be suspicious, if I don’t fit in the environment.

     I bring my weapons in a computer-bag. And a homemade firebomb in an h/swastika/m plastic shopping bag.

     Excellent. I fit right in here and head for the parking lot outside Lomma mall.

     First thing to do is to make a small fire, to get the police out of my way. Piece of cake, not many people here, and a place my decoy device under a volvo and activates it. No body sees me. Perfect.

     It could take some time before the car will catch fire, so I take place in the entrance to the mall. Studying commercials, well, it looks like.

     10 minutes. I, only me of course, observe a little black smoke rises from the volvo. Wait. Wait. Ok, small flames lick up the side of the xc90. Nice, it works. Give it two or three more minutes, boom!

     I grab my bike and leave the mall, slowly. Walk out on the street, discrete, don’t turn your head, don’t.

     I hear someone scream: Look, Fire, over there!

     Ok, trap set and I cycle back to the harbor bridge. And look. It worked. Excellent. A police car quickly on the way in my direction, away from my target the kindergarten.

     Now is now. All you fucking monsters in the S.S. you will pay now. You will all pay your bills. Kidnap my son, Danish son, are you crazy, assholes? You think you can do that without payback?

     There it is. I park my bicycle and take a change of not locking it for a quick departure. This should only take a few minutes. Yes, a fast seek and “kill’m all” mission.

     I put on my smile and walk into the lobby. If I encounter people, I will ask them about a place for my son, because we have just moved here.

     But I am lucky. No one in the hall.

     I hear distant voices and children laughing. It is only 8:15. The staffs are still serving breakfast. Very good, gives me the time I need.

     Off with my back and in ten seconds I have two magazines in my pockets, one gun in the waistband and one ready in my hand, completely undisturbed. In total 36 bullets to 15 kills.

     I see the different classrooms. There are probably 4 or 5 teachers here in total. I succeed in silently block one door with a baby carriage. So that group are blocked, can’t run away.

     The most import is that no one attacks me while I am reloading the guns.

     Hide your feelings, mobilize your hate. This is not children, but S.S. rats, ok? Ok!

     Shock effect. Most effective, stun the people. I kick up the door and shouts: Sit still!

     It works, it works! Great. They are stunned, mostly with their mouth open. 2 teachers and maybe 11 kids, almost all blond swedish children.

     Boom. Deafening loud in the small room. I hit her right through her little mouth and her back head explodes. Not a pretty sight. All her long blonde curly hair covered with a dark red substance, a mix of blood, brain and scull bits.

     I try to not destroy their faces, so their parents can give them a pretty funeral. In general I am not after the kids, only want to take the S.S. bitches down. All the way down.

     And I will succeed big. I have already succeeded with just one little girl.

     An eye for an eye. A child for a child. Times 15, you Nazi-evil S.S. scum. 15!

     The next 4 go quick and easy. Boom. Boom, boom, boom. Through their eyes. Do not destroy those pretty little faces. But what a mess. Blood, brains and bones all over the classroom.

     But now one of the teachers comes out of her coma and screams: What are you doing? Stop it. Stop.

     She stands up.

     Sit down bitch. Sit down!

     But she refuses. Stop, she screams, stop. She is in chock.

     Sit down now!

     Valuable seconds go. Last chance. Sit down, now. She still stands. Boom. In the shoulder, and the bullets force throw her into shelves with books and toys that falls to the floor with her.

     One kid tries to escape, crawling through my legs. No no no, my little friend. Poor you, I am so sorry, I think. I put my foot on her neck. Boom. 6!

     But now there is a lot of noise from the other room. Screams, and I can hear someone tries to get the door up.

     Cell phones. I must check the other room. Boom. Bye little fellow. 7. Disgusting sight. Adrgh.

     All the kids and the other teacher are under the tables now, so I change the magazine. The adult is shaking, trembling and crying, trying to call someone.

     Phone. Throw it over here. Now!

     She will not, so I shoot it out of her hand, boom.

     Well I know by now, I shoot a lot better than the piket Nazis of the S.S. for sure. Have not taken one adult’s life as planed.

     I run into the other room. Another mess. Children try to get out of the window and a teacher talking in the phone. No time. I shoot her down instantly. 1 bullet in her shoulder and 1 through each hand. Stop that bitch.

     Time is running. My wishes about leave them as pretty corpses falls to the ground, because I know the police can be here soon.

     Head shots. Boom. Dead. Boom, and dead. Easy. All the kids creep together in a corner. So soon I am on 14.

     One to go. 1!

     There. A boy. Number 15. He is trembling beyond imagination. Crying. He knows I look at him.

     You! I read on his t-shirt: Emil. Oh really?

     What is your name? WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I shout, almost in shock myself because of all the blood and shit everywhere.

     He cries and screams:

     Emil! Emil. My name is Emil. Emil. Stop please, stop. Don’t shoot me. Don’t. Please. I am Emil.

     Emil? Your name is really Emil?

     Yes, he shouts, yes, Emil, my name is Emil. Emil is my name. Please don’t shoot me, please.

     Enough.

     Never shoot an Emil. Never an Emil. Never.

     Out know, out. Run. No. Not run. Relaxed walk. You still have a chance for some hours in freedom. Escape.

     Still no one here. My bicycle still there, and I drive calmly down the road. No one here, but just when I reach the corner down to the Harbour Avenue I hear the sirens distant.

     In one minute I am back of the shed, where I change to my old GPz 1100. No one here, excellent, thanks.

     No rush. Calm and legal driving up along the coast. 50 – 60 kilometers pr hour. Through Bjarred, where a police car with lights and sirens thunders by me in the other direction. Wow.

     The police do not stand a change in hell, in the first hours of course, because they do not know what to look for.

     But I know very well my revenge will start the biggest manhunt ever in Sweden.

     Their little helicopter is grounded because of bad maintenance and they are way too slow to get up roadblocks.

     So I am free and alive a few hours more, maybe.

     My destination is Barseback. I will laugh at this, now closed, swedish provocation nuke monster for a last time.

     After, drive down to the little fishing port. Not directly of course. I know the small roads and path there, so I can park and cover my motorcycle.

     After I can wander relaxed down to the port with my lovely Lagavulin Malt. Happy, but also sad.

     Poor kids. Poor parents.

     But wow! Got ya, mari-ass “fuck the evidence”. Got all of you 15 Nazi-evil S.S. plastic terrorists. Got you good!

     Driving through the Sand Forrest. No one here. Good. I counted this road was safe, deserted. 5 minutes to Barseback.

     Freedom. Sweet, sweet freedom. Still free, Bjorn, enjoy it while it lasts.

     There. Opposite the bus stop. The little cul de sac, from where a path leads down to the little fishing port.

     Would I really get time to enjoy my last drink? I park the Kawa behind some wagons and cover it with a tarpaulin.

     My legs are shaking as I walk down to the shining sea.

     My friend, my temple: The Sea.

     Over there, behind the boathouse. Sanctuary. Victory place. No, Victory Square. 

     The plan was perfect. I succeeded. I laugh silent while I cry. A relief.

     S.S. tag! You are it. How long time before you find me, you stupid Nazi-like creeps?

     It is actually a very beautiful day. Sunshine over the dark turquoise waters and the deep blue sky. Wonderful.

     Hi seagulls up there, how are you today? Want to have a drink?

     Pshh. The cork goes. Cluck cluck the malt runs, into the glass.

     Ahhhhh. This is whiskey!

     I open my little radio. No-freedom-of-speech-svt, Malmo station. Remember it is only a half an hour ago I collected my bills.

     Seems like a lifetime.

     On the air: Sobbing voices. Silence. Crying. More crying. Silence. Nervous low voices.

     A swedish speaker screams: Kill that bastard. And breaks out in loud crying.

     Score: Me =14    S.S. =1.

     Victory!

     Look at Denmark over there. Should I steal a boat? I do not have the energy. Leave it. Relax.

     The sea. The ships. And over there wonderful Copenhagen. How could these Nazi-lovers built a nuclear power plant 20 kilometres from another country’s capital? Well swede Nazi mother-fuckers, got ya!

     9am now. News on non-free svt. It is a riot now. The speaker is hysteric:

     It is true. An English speaking man killed 14 children between 4 and 6 years today in Lomma!

     All shot through their heads!

     Several thousand policemen are mobilized. Skane County will be turned upside down to find the killer! All public traffic is cancelled. Trains, busses and Taxis. Nothing moves! Borders closed!

     I smile and close the radio. Someone could hear it and alarm the cops.

     I have won I smile through my tears.

     The mighty child-kidnapping, weapon-selling, nuke-terrorizing and Nazi-loving swedish state:

     Down!

     They will find me for sure. They can torture me. Well, they did before, right piket-pig ssinclair?

     They can kill me. It doesn’t really matter. I won. They can never heal this wound. Never.

     Never, never, never, never.

     It will always bleed.

     Always.

     Cheers birds. Cheers clouds. Cheers sea. Love you all. 

     Look: There is an aero-plane up there. Safe flight and hapiness, people. Cheers.

     Wow. 9:30. I am still free and alive. Oh. Half the Laga already gone. I feel it now, careful.

     Cheers kids, are you up there in the sky? Sorry. It wasn’t my meaning. But the S.S. forced me. They forced me, kids.

     Tears in my eyes, running down my cheeks:

     They forced me, so sorry!

     I have my little binoculars. I can see the top of the roller coaster in the Bakken Amusement park over in Denmark. Would love to be over there now, in the restaurant that serves roasted pork and new potatoes ad libitum. Yummy.

     One more amazing sight: 3 young eagles slowly circles high over my head. They have a course, north. But they do not fly direct north. They circles and at the same time drifts north.

     Mother Nature is amazing. Shame people don’t respect her very much any more.

     Emil. You poor guy. Probably scared for life, poor kid. Wish you well.

     Soon it is time for me to leave. I am pretty drunk right now. What a wonderful malt.

     Oh. Look at that cloud up there. It has the same shape like and elegant old lady wearing an umbrella. She is chancing shape, more clear now.

     I think she is looking at me. She is sad.

     She is wondering, but also understanding. She is torn in pieces, exactly like me.

     I hear a whisper. A low voice.

     Who is she? The woman from my dreams, Astrid Lindgren, inventor of my Emil?

     The children. The children. Innocent. Did you really have to do that? Kill, ... so many?

     I understand what you want to achieve. You got it. But the price. Unbearable.

     Emil. My Emil from Lonneberga. Your son Emil from Billeberga. And Emil from Lomma. Kids, Bjorn. Kids. Innocent.

     Are.. are you Astrid Lindgren, you up in the sky, I ask.

     Yes I am, yes. I could not stop you killing those kids. How could you? How?

     Easy Astrid. You know it. If some Nazi creeps had kidnapped your kids, Lars or Karin, you would have done exactly the same. Exactly!

     Please don’t turn into just another swedish hypocrite now, ok? Please don’t, Astrid.

     You are right about the flag of the S.S., Astrid. It can as well be three yellow swastikas instead of the three crowns, correct Astrid.

     She does not answer me, but I know her thoughts. Slowly the cloud’s shapes change.

     First the umbrella fades away. I feel a few drops, maybe raindrops, hit my face. In the clear blue sky, this little cloud over my head evaporates, and several more drops hit me. Her last tears?

     Am I dreaming?

     Am I dead?

     Astrid! Astrid, where are you going, grandmother of my son?

     I will rest a little bit now. Just a little. I am so tired, exhausted. I can lay down here and wait.

     I will dream of my wonderful son. Maybe the last I do. 

     I close my eyes and smiles.

     You are such a wonderful boy, Emil. They kidnapped you, my dear son. 

     So sorry I could not continue to be a part of your life.

     Good night, shining sea and blue sky.

     Goodnight birds, see you again.

     Goodnight Emil.

 

     Emil.

 

 


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