Gotta see the Hoxha room for myself
turn off your monitor ;))
in the bunker museum there's a room that was specially built for hoxha to use and they have copies of some of his books in albanian on the shelves and there's a phone with a little label that says like 'pick up the phone to hear enver hoxha' and you pick it up and there's a hoxha speech on the other end so it's like you're really there in socialist albania doing all the moves alongside your favourite small nation communist leader, enver hoxha
screen cap this and get dr what to post it on rhizzone dot text, imo, for The Epic Win. imo
The train had long ago left Moscow behind; several days and nights of travel had already passed by. Chagataev stood by the window; he recognized places where he had walked as a child, or perhaps they were different places but exactly the same in appearance. It was the same land, deserted and aged; the same childhood wind was blowing through whining blades of grass, and space was spacious and tedious like a despondent and alien soul. Sometimes Chagataev wanted to get down from the train and walk, like a child abandoned by everyone. But childhood and the old days were long past. In small stations in the steppe he saw the portrait of Stalin; often this portrait had a homemade look and had been stuck up somewhere or other on a fence. The portrait was probably not much like the man represented, but it had been drawn, perhaps, by true feeling and the hand of a Young Pioneer. Stalin looked like an old man, the kind father of all orphaned people on earth; without realizing it, however, the artist had tried to make Stalin's face resemble his own, to show that he himself now had a father and kinsfolk and did not live alone in the world-and so art had proved stronger than lack of skill. Out in the steppe, beyond these stations, Chagataev could see people digging the earth, planting or building something, preparing a home and place of life for those who were homeless. There were no empty, unfriendly settlements where only an exile could live. Everywhere men were at work, moving wholeheartedly away from age-old despair, fatherlessness and a lack of consciousness that had been cruel and universal.
Chagataev remembered his mother's words: "Keep going till you come to strangers. Let your father be a man you don't know." He had kept going a long way, and now he was on his way back; he had found a father in Stalin, a stranger who had brought him up and broadened his heart and who was now sending him home again, so that he could find his mother and save her if she were alive, or bury her if she were lying abandoned and dead on the face of the earth.
don't know what the fuck Garrison is trying to convey here but Uncle Joe's never looked better
we finally broke him. he's been Faithmouse'd
sources close to ben garrison tell me this is an edit
I cannot fucking believe I've been bamboozled by a Ben Garrison edit again!!!
Mao & W E B Du Bois
how many jackets does mao need?
he's always prepared to give one to a cold comrade