Early Rise

 It's eight fifteen

And that's the time that it's always been

We got your message on the radio

Conditions normal and you're coming home...

(Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark)

The nuclear bomb, as the most destructive by-product of human civilization, has been used only twice, both over the Japanese islands, in August 1945. Although it has been detonated more than 2,000 times in various forms, `trial` and `experimental`, thereby enriching the atmosphere, soil and waters of the planet with particles that bring joy and happiness - apart from those two detonations in anger of the extremely cynically codenamed bombs `Fatty` and `Little Kid`, the world has not yet experienced a hat-trick of atomic explosions over an urban center.

The bomb as a bomb differs from conventional ones because it acts in multiple ways and remains in a long and unpleasant memory with its contaminating effect. First comes the mechanical shock wave caused by the force of the detonation expressed in thousands of tons of conventional explosives, followed by the thermal shock due to the extreme temperature that develops during the explosion, the third rider is the ionizing radiation that kills quickly and painfully, the fourth is the powerful electromagnetic pulse and the bonus is the radiation that falls from the sky for hours and days in the form of rain or dust and serves for long-term contamination of the area affected by such a situation.

The amount of luck needed to survive the above is truly significant. And the amount of luck needed to survive the two atomic bombs... is so astronomical that it would utterly shock all the gamblers, bookmakers and gamblers of the world. Such luck was enjoyed by a completely real person, the Japanese shipbuilder Tsutomu Yamaguchi, who survived not one but two atomic explosions!

Tsutomu was not a gambler by nature, he usually played it safe and was a respected member of the community. Working for the Mitsubishi Corporation in Nagasaki, he was assigned to a three-month assignment in Hiroshima, during the last summer of the war, 1945. His last day of work was August 5th, and he was due back in Nagasaki on the 6th. He missed the morning train because he had forgotten his pass at the office, and so he arrived at the fateful ``eight fifteen'' some three kilometers as the crow flies from ``ground zero''...

Mr. Yamaguchi saw with complete clarity the Boeing B-29 bomber and the bomb itself, which had been slowed down by parachutes. It was strange that only one plane was dropping a single device, quite unlike the tradition of hundreds of bombers dropping thousands of bombs in a single flight over Japan. The reason quickly became apparent, the blinding flash and the aforementioned ``beauty`` that followed at the foot of the atomic mushroom cloud caused serious injuries to Tsutomu, ruptured eardrums, burns, temporary blindness... regaining consciousness after some time due to severe pain, Tsutomu headed to a shelter where he spent the night. In the morning he left for...Nagasaki! Although injured, following the stereotype of fanatical Japanese hard work - Yamaguchi showed up at his workplace on August 9th. The next morning, when another Boeing B-29 with another bomb was already flying towards the city - a backup option... because over the primary target (the city of Kokura) the weather conditions were so bad that it was impossible to drop the bomb...

The conversation between Tsutomu and his colleagues, who listened in disbelief to his claim that only one single bomb had destroyed Hiroshima, from which Tsutomu had returned - was interrupted by another strong flash and another explosion. I do not believe that since homo sapiens acquired the power of speech, throughout the history of human conversation - a claim has been affirmed in such a cruelly precise and timely manner. Once again, finding himself about three kilometers from `ground zero`, Tsutomu this time was completely incredible - he escaped without any major injuries, his eardrums were already out of use anyway...Surviving both bombs in a bizarre set of fantastic circumstances, one can ask how much `unlucky` Tsutomu was in the first place to find himself in a position to be hit by both explosions?! After the war, carrying with him the consequences of the bombing - Tsutomu Yamaguchi still lived to a ripe old age and in 2009 became the first officially recognized double survivor of the atomic explosions, although it is assumed that there are others who had that dubious luck to be in both places within a span of 72 hours.

Now deceased, Tsutomu remains known in the world as the man who survived two atomic bombs, thus completely shifting some standards in the perception of luck...or misfortune.

(Roger Mortis, 101)

Anticipation

In the beginning was the Word. At least that's what it said in the book that Dimitrija had been reading for about ten years, always giving up somewhere between pages twelve and fifteen. Dimitrija had been expecting a phone call for a long time, he had been waiting for the doorbell to ring for a long time. Even when he opened his e-mail - he was all in anticipation. Then one day, listening to Everyday by Buddy Holly, he remembered what he had been waiting for for so long...

Dimitrija was waiting for the van, the one that people claim was yellow, to come and finally take him to the institution he had escaped from back when the poor Greeks became European champions in football. But the van never came, Dimitrija's mind was frantically trying to figure out how no one had noticed that he was absent from the mental health facility ``Skopje`` in the village of Bardovci. What, has it gotten to the point where lunatics are not registered in asylums?

Living in constant anticipation, Dimitrija saw potential workers of the institution everywhere looking for him. Every cop, every guard, doctor or soldier and even every street cleaner with a fluorescent vest - caused him unease, a panic fear that the day had finally come, to be caught like a rare butterfly and returned between the soft walls of the asylum.

Dimitrija's life was not glamorous at all. Even by local Balkan standards, he lived more than modestly. The monotony was broken only by his labile nerves and the tics that played on his face. It was frivolous to expect a rich social life, but Dimitrija never gave up on his pursuit of happiness. And that, according to him - was hidden in finding the right woman who would make him happy, give him several children and adore him as if he were a communist dictator. That woman existed and Dimitrija (a.k.a. Dime) had been in love with her for a long time. Her name was unusual for these parts, Jessica, and her last name instilled suspicion in Dimitrija that she was an Albanian, because the woman of his life was named Alba.

In the beginning there was the Word. And that word came from the television. There, quite suddenly - Dime heard that Jessica had gotten married. His nerves could not withstand the shock, Dime completely surrendered to violent impulses, Dime turned into a beast, ran to the basement and took the rifle.The time had come for a showdown with the cruel world!

Climbing onto the roof, Dimitrija carefully looked for a target to shoot at.

A few minutes later, the first victim fell. Pierced by the pellet of the air rifle, the first pigeon fell on the head of a passerby, a pensioner. Who immediately hid the pigeon in the bag in which he was dragging bread and `Podravka` instant soup - because he did not expect such a heavenly gift. Sunday lunch will be enriched with pigeon soup...

(Roger Mortis, 100)

One Denard per Coup d`Etat

In this postmodern, postindustrial and politically correct era of ours, the myth of ``fair and democratic elections'' seems to be omnipresent, undeniable and universally desirable. With the exception of small enclaves like North Korea, Saudi Arabia and Cuba - the world seems to be moving along a trajectory that is, at least officially, determined by millions of ballots. How realistic that is is another question, a question that Monsieur Robert Denard, the original ``Dog of War'', a character who elevated coups to the level of art, and who used his free time to acquire the not-so-flattering titles of polygamist, serial apostate and semi-secret agent, never bothered to consider.

After serving in the French Navy during the colonial war in Indochina in the early 1950s, Bob decided to enter private waters because the civil service was rich in decorations but poor in cash. While in Morocco as a mercenary for the colonial administration, Denard fell under the charm of a Jewish woman, which led him to change his religion for the first time and reorient himself from Catholicism to Judaism. It is not known how that love story ended, but Denard wasted no time and got involved in the first of what would turn out to be dozens of coups d'état in which he participated or organized.

Like any beginner, Bob Denard decided to start at home, that is, he joined a right-wing group that was preparing a coup in France, with the aim of overthrowing Prime Minister Pierre France. After the plot was prematurely discovered, Bobby-boy was imprisoned, from which he was released thanks to an amnesty resulting from his intention to get involved in the particularly bloody war in Algeria. He did not stay there for long as a secret agent, since the war was already lost anyway. Bob returns 'home' where he has difficulty fitting into civilian life, working for a time selling washing machines and various odd-jobs when he learns about the organization of mercenary units in neighboring Belgium that were sent to the Belgian Congo.

At that time (1961), due to the existence of a leftist government in Kinshasa under the leadership of Patrice Luulumba, the Western powers decided to initiate a secessionist war to overthrow the new regime - and to that end, the province of Katanga, under the leadership of a maniacal character named Moise Tshombe, seceded from the Congo, following the completely fresh millennial aspiration of the Katangan people for their own statehood. The problem was that Katanga had no army. That's why there were the ``Dogs of War'', including Denar, a mass of mercenaries from Europe, a collection of seriously picturesque characters from ex-S men, former members of the Foreign Legion and the ``Alpine Hunters'' to former members of the SAS, GIGN and various armies, air forces and navies. Denar acquired pseudo-legendary status in that war after breaking several sieges, extracting several units from encirclement and liquidating a certain number of enemy forces.

But despite the mercenaries, the new regime in Katanga was of a temporary nature, after the fall of Lulumba and his liquidation - the need for the division of Congo-Kinshasa disappeared and the secessionist regime itself, mired in corruption and malfeasance - collapsed very easily. This was a sign for Denard to look for a new hotbed, this time in the then Rhodesia (today Zimbabwe), the little apartheid brother of South Africa where a low-level conflict between the white government and the black guerrillas had been raging for years.

As a kind of reinvention of the legend of the ``Wild Geese'', Bob Denard was willing to constantly hire, some might draw a parallel with a street prostitute and some would add that the oldest profession is not prostitution but military mercenary, which is not so far from the truth. Anyway, Bobby returned to his Catholicism, served as an advisor to the Iranian Shah's secret police (Savak) and as a counter-guerrilla fighter in Nigeria and as a mercenary in the Yemen crisis, at one time he returned to Congo-Kinshasa (this time renamed Zaire) to suppress some kind of revolt, participated in the Portuguese colonial war in Angola, placed himself at the service of French and other interests for which he organized coups d'état in Benin, Gabon and Guinea... the list, although final, is still too long and too extensive for a simple blog post and therefore we will focus on Denaro's greatest passion, creating policy in the Comoros archipelago, a secluded place in the Indian Ocean where Bob will for a period become the Grey Eminence, the Caliph above the Caliph, a character who simply cries out for a good screen adaptation.

He first appeared in the Comoros in 1975 with the aim of organizing a coup d'état (and what else would he look for there) against the then president who was not to the will of Paris. The coup succeeded and a new leader was installed, close to the Boulevard Mortier (the French Langley). But like many other installed leaders, this one was not happy in his role as a puppet and therefore began to 'escape' with his own, supposedly pro-leftist programs. At that time, various dictators and 'lifetime' presidents in Africa were scared with the words 'be calm son because if you are not smart, Uncle Bob Denard will come and treat you' and so it was in this case - the disobedient president was removed with a new coup d'état organized by Bob. Not only that, but the president was liquidated, purely to discourage other similar situations...The islands became too much for Denar's bleeding heart, the hardened mercenary softened in the tropical paradise, changed his religion again (this time from Catholicism to Islam), married several times and established a presidential guard of 500 special forces that he personally organized and drilled.

That guard was not there to protect the latest president installed from Paris, but existed as Denar's racketeering service and his personal Praetorian Guard. Because the guy became the de facto king of the islands. And a king can get by without a crown, but not without his own personal guard - no way. His organization constantly violated the embargo on South Africa and served for secret deliveries of weapons and equipment to the apartheid regime, purchased from France. Mirage planes, armored vehicles, laser-guided bombs and even nuclear reactors found their way to Cape Town. For these services, Denard was richly rewarded by the French secret services, which for some time, investing the money throughout the islands, turned him into a local tycoon. Several marriages later, Islam bored him and he returned to Catholicism...

It seemed that our ``hero``, a polygamist and polyglot - would remain on the islands for life like a kidney in fat...but dark clouds began to gather over Bob's mustache, the latest Comorian president was not happy that he had to be ``second fiddle`` in the archipelago, if we add to that the possibility of grabbing the loot - Denard was ordered to disband the guard. Refusing, Denard and the ``dogs`` found themselves in an armed clash with the Comorian army and police, with the climax being particularly cinematic, Denard with several elite colleagues made his way to the presidential palace and personally shot the president, but in all the commotion he was wounded himself. In the new situation, Bob decided to leave the islands and headed for South Africa in order to avoid mass bloodshed. During that period, he himself became a `burden` for the French secret services, because he was increasingly working for himself rather than for his clients.

The newest president declared Bob persona non grata on the islands, which would only mean signing his own death warrant; Denard's revenge would come to him a few years later. In the meantime, bored in France despite his repeated conversion to Islam, Bob planned the twentieth anniversary coup d'état in the Comoros. Completely privately and without the knowledge of the French authorities, Bob gathered old colleagues, veterans of African wars, and in 1995 he headed for his favorite islands. At the head of 33 hardened mercenaries who, with the help of rubber boats, saied from a rented ship in the Comoros, Bob put an end to the rule of yet another president. The majority of the presidential guard, trained by him, offered no resistance and placed themselves at the disposal of their old founder, who was considered a cult soldier in those parts.

His rule lasted a short time, about ten days, because Jacques Chirac and company began to suspect that good old Bobby had gone mad. The time for mercenary exploits was over, the dogs of war were less and less able to work on their own, "film" actions without permission "from above" were repulsive to Versailles. The fact that Denard did not inform anyone about his plan to become "tsar" of the Comoros was probably one of the last straws...

Two frigates and two corvettes loaded with special forces, legionnaires and paratroopers were dispatched, and air support for Operation ``Azalea`` (as the French military intervention to overthrow Bob Denard was called) was provided by helicopters, ``Bregge Atlantic`` surveillance planes and ``Transal C-160`` transport planes that were supposed to unload paratroopers to conquer key strategic points on the islands.

Unexpectedly, the adventurers found themselves in a difficult position, although Bob, in addition to his 33 colleagues, had over 500 ``guardsmen`` at his disposal from whom he could expect loyalty, along with several heavy machine guns that they had brought with them - however, all of this was too little to think about stopping the French intervention. After sporadic fighting in which four ``guardsmen`` were killed and nine ``guardsmen`` and several legionnaires were wounded - the ``war`` ended with the surrender of Denard and the new government. Denard was arrested and taken to Paris where he was sentenced...conditionally (!?) because his old contacts in the French intelligence services and the politicians he served - made sure that the fugitive adventurer did not spend a single day in a cell.

Finding himself outside his natural habitat (coups and special missions in Africa), harassed by the judicial authorities who had been finding new "tricks" for him for years, Bob Denard repentantly re-converted to Catholicism, changing his faith for the last time. And just in time - because in 2007 he supposedly passed away. Allegedly - because information emerged, witnesses who saw him in various locations throughout Africa later, that using some of the dozens of aliases with appropriate passport documentation, Bob simply fled France...Whatever the real version of Denard's end, whether he has already been eaten by worms or is drinking a cocktail somewhere under a tropical sunset - it is still the end of an incredibly colorful character who transcends the bureaucratic-military framework of the sinister French foreign policy and escapes into a category of his own, a category about which nothing good can be said except that it is never boring...

(Roger Mortis, 099)

Blackadder

It is no secret that television influences the formation of our attitudes and outlooks on life. We can pretend that it is not so, in a fit of imagined originality compared to `ordinary` people, but in that case it would be self-deception. There is nothing wrong with that in itself because television, like everything else, has a wide range of (lack of) quality. Quality, at least when it comes to sitcoms, I would say remains on this side of the Atlantic, and quantity on the other.

Perhaps the famous statement of a film director that ``In Hollywood they never throw away the trash, they just put it on TV`` is partly true. It is certainly true when it comes to the influx of trash in the form of local TV shows and series from third world countries. Although in that case it is not Hollywood who is to blame, but Bollywood. If anything from television has influenced the creation of my views, then it is the British TV series Blackadder (known in these parts as Crna Guja, according to the Croatian-Serbian translation).

The series can be said to be a sitcom, but beyond that - it is not suitable for classification. That Blackadder is the best product of the eighty-year British tradition of television production is an axiom! And whether it is the best TV series of all time is still an open question. Although not for me, it has long been clear to me that it is the best of all time. As an idea, it was born in the minds of screenwriter Richard Curtis and actor Rowan Atkinson, who were later joined by Ben Elton. The idea was realized by producer Johnny Lloyd, naturally for the BBC. 28 episodes were filmed, 24 `regular` episodes in four seasons, a pilot episode and three `specials` in the period from 1983 to 1999.

The genre varies from season to season.

The first series takes place in the late Middle Ages, at the court of King Richard IV, where his son Edmund is at the center of events. An irritating and almost androgynous figure, the Black Snake tries to fulfill the false prophecy of three female spectators and become king. His sidekicks are Lord Percy, a naive aristocrat of modest intelligence, and Baldrick, a cunning peasant and the only descendant of the unfortunate encounter between a certain swineherd and a bearded woman. These three remain permanent characters throughout the series, the others appear more as decoration.

The second season is set in the time of Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, where Edmund and his friends try to survive and get rich in the circle of the totally neurotic queen and her entourage, the spoiled first Lord Melchit. Here we have a major character departure in Edmund, who is no longer a miserable and miserable creature with a shrill voice, but a man of his age, a seducer, a conman and with a noticeable increase in mental abilities compared to his ancestor. What went into Edmund's head, the scriptwriters probably borrowed from Baldrick's head, which becomes completely empty, something above the minimum requirements for not being mentally retarded. But even as such, Baldrick manages to make a lot of problems for himself and Edmund. Percy...is Percy again.

The third season takes place during the Napoleonic Wars, Edmund is a little physically different than before but constant in his endless attempts to provide himself with wealth. He is back in the circle of power, albeit only peripherally as the butler of the Prince of Wales. Baldrick is in love with a turnip, and Percy is taking a break. But here is the Prince of Wales, the English heir to the throne and son of the mad King George. Inheriting his father's weak mental frame, the prince becomes the target of Edmund's attempts to achieve success and wealth, and all this culminates in Edmund's accession to the throne...

The fourth season is also the most mature, script-wise. A series with a strong anti-war message that takes place in the trenches of the Western Front during the First World War. Blackadder is now a less resigned figure who sharpens and refines his potential for cynicism, irony and sarcasm to the extreme limits. As a lower-ranking officer, he is not at all inclined to heroic outbursts, he is just trying to survive and nothing more. But that itself is damn difficult. Especially with Baldrick as an assistant. And George. Who is not a prince this time, just a non-commissioned officer. Percy is gone again, although he transcends into the character of Captain Darling, scribe to General Melchit - who is in turn a caricatured figure with hereditary status in society and military-tactical abilities equal to those of a drunken Orangutan. As such - he is a mortal threat to the ordinary soldier who is supposed to die carrying out some idiotic order. The ending of the series is tragic, a memory of millions of lost young lives that in the eyes of the state were not worth more than half a square meter of conquered territory. Per man...

The pilot episode and special episodes deal with other topics, unrelated to the main series, but in the same spirit. Especially the Christmas one. The main role and the bearer of the series is Rowan Atkinson, the legend of world comedy and doyen of satire, cynicism, irony, sarcasm and metaphors with sexual connotations. Known to the wider audience as Mr. Bean, a role that brought him millions of pounds. Behind the character of poor Baldrick is Tony Robinson, an unremarkable actor who gained a small but significant reputation with his role in Blackadder. He was encountered later in the alleys of cable television, more precisely on the History Channel where he hosts shows about archaeology and history. George is played by Hugh Laurie, today a big TV star thanks to the brainchild of the Black Snake - Dr. House. Percy is Tim McInerney, an obscure English actor who may not even remember ever acting...

The legends of British acting - Stephen Fry and Miranda Richardson - also have significant roles in the series. By no means a sitcom that makes you chuckle or burst out laughing, the humor in Black Snake works with restraint, like a time bomb that can usually be activated during a conversation with an unintelligent person, with an idiotic superior or any imposed authority. And a person can also spontaneously remember a phrase, like, for example, while waiting in line to pay bills...

If you have ever made such a mistake in your life and have not watched the series - immediately head to the nearest Torrent tracker and atone for that sin. And if you have watched it and `didn't like it' then I don't know what else to say except - Lord have mercy on your soul.

(Roger Mortis, 098)

Take it Easy

And who by fire,

who by water,

Who in the sunshine,

who in the night time,

Who by high ordeal,

who by common trial,

Who in your merry merry month of may,

Who by very slow decay...

(Leonard Cohen)

Maestro Cohen quite precisely locates the phenomenon of silent suicide, the one where there are no spilled brains, empty shell casings, ropes swinging over a pushed chair, jumping off bridges, cutting veins or crushing Phenobarbitol.

That is the suicide where a person slowly rots, has long given up on life, ignores inertia as if it were a boring fly and just waits for death to remember and take him. And that could be after 5, after 25 or after 55 years, there is no rule.

It probably depends on how long it takes for the life juices to finally dry up. Or in short : "My life and I have gone our separate ways,'' as one character from the excellent ex-Yugoslav social film ``Petriya's Wreath'' said, thus almost perfectly defining this sad state of affairs.

That silent suicide is a mass phenomenon in these parts. Incomparably more numerous than active suicide, although even that figure is not to be neglected in the last two damned decades. Lifeless faces grafted onto lifeless bodies that are only legally and formally considered alive - can be seen at every turn, on the bus, in front of the counter, at a stop, at the market, on the street... and maybe even in your own home.

But what separates such people from dramatic suicides who actively approach the problem of shortening their own lives - most often it is the immediate environment, family, toys, coffee, beer, the Sunday game that has been losing a bit of its charm for decades, peer pressure amidst the variety of zombies... and maybe it is that some kind of hope still smolders, somewhere hidden in the subconscious that maybe tomorrow...

Tomorrow...

What tomorrow?

Nothing.

Something.

Maybe something

What do you know?

(Roger Mortis, 097)

Closest thing to Heaven on Earth

In the endless gallery of religiously induced nonsense, there are some pearls that resist time and occupy a special place in the risk of human creativity. One such story is the one about the `Old Man of the Mountain`, the man who, unlike the holy scriptures that only promise in vain - really built Paradise!

And on earth no less!!

The place was in the vicinity of the Alamut fortress, which is located in present-day Iran, and at that time was only one of several breakaway territories with certain symptoms of statehood. The time was medieval, fun was guaranteed, the end of the 11th and the beginning of the 12th century, the time of the beginning of the Crusades in the wider region, a period of division among a sect of Shiite Islam called the Ismailis, from whose faction known as the Nizari Ismailis the aforementioned `Old Man of the Mountain`, Hasan-al-Sabah, also came.

A man with a mission from Allah to spread the word of his sect, Hassan went far beyond his initial task, to an extent that is difficult to define from today's perspective. Mystic, founder of a club of assassins, creator of the policy in the region, alpha and omega, of everything, a semi-mythical figure about whom the famous wanderers Marco Polo and Mohammed Ibn-Batuta wrote. Hassan's originality consists mainly in the fact that he came up with the idea of building Paradise, Jannah, more or less as it was described in the Quran. But this was not an end in itself but only a means to provide a fanatically loyal group of special agents who would faithfully carry out orders. The training of a small formation of agents was a dire necessity for the survival of the pseudo-state due to the lack of enough people to organize an army. Therefore, small groups of well-trained and equipped Fedayeen who would strike with surgical precision at the very nervous system of the opponent (the supreme authority, the financial and military elite) were necessary.

But how to ensure the loyalty of those people, who, no matter how trained and practiced, were still only people, inclined to earthly pleasures, money and status? This dilemma did not give Hassan peace until he remembered that no earthly pleasure could be compared to what Paradise offers. And for that purpose, at a super-secret location, he built a magnificent oasis that abounded with the best food and drinks, the highest quality clothing and footwear that flourished in the Orient, where Sherbet and Honey flowed from the fountains, and the branches of the trees were heavy with ripe fruits, the place had perfect service and, of course, a large group of beautiful Houris, women who were ready to satisfy all of a man's needs, from the most banal to those that even the man himself would not want to admit to himself.

As much as this idea was the result of Hassan's genius, it was also caused by the consumption of Hashish and Opium, two substances that have had a particularly stimulating effect on the imagination throughout the centuries...After the hard and thorough training, the candidate was called to Sabah where he was given Sherbet and Hashish. After falling gently into sleep, the candidate woke up in Paradise! The simple young guys from the Persian and Assyrian wolf-folk suddenly found themselves in a completely perfect place that was more fantastic in reality than they themselves would ever dare to dream, where no desire remained unsatisfied. Deprived of all care and discomfort - they remained in Paradise for a while, after which they suddenly woke up again in the fortress of Alamut, again surrounded by everyday life...

Suddenly deprived of the pleasures of paradise, the candidates would do absolutely anything to find themselves there again, the desire for Paradise remained engraved in their minds forever, stronger than any instinct and every urge. As such, they were perfect agents, disciplined and motivated to infiltrate the courts of enemy caliphs, sheikhs and imams, kings and emperors, wherever Hassan's plans reached. Many rich and crowned heads who refused to pay the annual `fee` for Hassan, especially the hated Seljuk Turks - woke up with a final warning in the form of a knife stuck in their pillow. Some paid immediately, some were killed, but after a while the word about the Assassins began to instill fear and panic so that the ``fee'' was paid without a problem.

Some rulers tried to put an end to the Assassin sect by force, but it ended unsuccessfully, with heavy defeats at the hands of the guys who would defeat anyone just to return to paradise. The Assassins gained disproportionate influence in the region considering their small numbers and small territory, thanks to the existence of paradise... something similar would happen if Luxembourg were a major factor in Europe today. But Luxembourg doesn't have its own paradise, and neither does Brussels...Unlike today's Islamic fundamentalists-suicides who "for the life of them" believe that after death they will find themselves in paradise, an unhealthy mix of despair, cheap mysticism and modest intelligence - the Assassins occasionally found themselves in a very real paradise and never committed suicide, but fought to the last drop of blood in the hope of once again entering the paradise of this world.

It is not known exactly how long Paradise existed, it is speculated that it was a century and a half, during which time generations of Fedayeen burned and burned James Bond style throughout the region and beyond, their services began to be used by Sunnis, Christians and Jews, and after the initial clashes with the Templars - they not only made a truce with them but also became allies! The `old man of the mountain` himself, Hassan-al-Sabah, died in 1124 and the `project` lasted until the middle of the 13th century when finally Alamut and the other fortresses fell under the onslaught of the maniacal barbarian steppe hordes known collectively as the Mongols. The savage creatures were on a quest to conquer the world, a military superpower that even the Fedayeen could not stand against. Although they once managed to return Alamut under Assassin control, the Mongols were simply... too many in number. After a failed assassination attempt on the then Mongol Khan, the Assassins fled the region, leaving the territory at the mercy of the Mongol invasion.

What happened to the paradise is unknown, since its location was never discovered, but it is not difficult to assume that without a constant stream of gold to finance such a project - the paradise was simply eaten away by the teeth of time, although one small legend remains that defies time in all its ingenious remoteness. The Nizari Ismailis exist as a Shiite sect to this day (the Aga Khan dynasty of billionaires and jet-setters are their members) and are perhaps the most progressive Islamic denomination at the moment. The term Assassin, derived from Hashish(ini), modernly speaking, hashish addicts or hash addicts - as a synonym for murderer/assassin found its way into many world languages thanks to this very sect. That is the modest legacy this cult has left to the world...

(Roger Mortis, 096)

Thug Life

The distant past, unencumbered by the existence of the media, almost completely free from any kind of mass dissemination of information - was particularly suitable for the long-term existence of original associations of citizens known as cults, one of which is particularly fascinating.

The Thugs sect, with its activity over half a millennium and a number of victims greater than that of all the cults in history taken together, the original Thugs, the terror of India - stand out from the average homicidal sect in terms of its duration, its evolution into a club of hired killers and its boundless loyalty to the goddess Kali. And she is only one of the millions of deities, demigods and aspects of deities in the chaotic religious system known as Hinduism. Sometimes good, kind, fruitful and constructive, sometimes evil, disgusting and destructive, in this case her power depended on a regular supply of human blood and appropriate rituals over the sacrificed. Like all supernatural nonsense, this one is open to all kinds of interpretations, and in the case of the Thug sect - the thirst for blood that Kali supposedly needed to survive in this reality is nothing more than another theological dilemma in honor of the irrational.

The etymology of the popular English term Thug (which means a brute, a criminal, a `gorilla`) refers precisely to the members of this sect, who during the British Raj were the subject of numerous legends and myths, as well as a deadly reality and great efforts by the British colonial authorities to put an end to the danger.

Organized as early as the thirteenth century, the Thugs have lurked on roads and crossroads for centuries, straying travelers and freight cars, messengers and convoys disappearing from the face of the world with the help of the silent weapons of the Thugs, who despised bloodshed for fear of offending Kali. Therefore, they used special fabrics with which to strangle their victims. The blood of the victims was not allowed to spill on the ground because it would become impure and unfit for Kali's appetite, hence the natural turn of the Tagas to drowning as a modus operandi. For centuries, members of this sect had perfected the art of practical ``acting'' in order to camouflage themselves as harmless travelers who inspire confidence, in a word, they were something like a retarded version of the Japanese Ninjas.

Unlike other cults, among the Tagas membership was hereditary, strictly from father to son, with rare cases of recruiting bright children with quick fingers from the ranks of potential victims, whom a ``strangler'' would take pity on. The initiation ritual was particularly convenient, and began at the age of ten when the future Tag had to witness a ritual murder! Later, participation in robberies followed as `logistics`, so that after several years of `training`, the first murder was approached, with which the young Tag entered the world of adults...The number of victims of this sect is impossible to determine, primarily due to the incredible period of time in which this organization existed in total secrecy, everything is left to estimates and speculations, where the figure of 30,000 victims is taken as the absolute lowest and the highest goes up to two million. As in many other situations, perhaps here too the truth is somewhere in the middle, which still leaves room for the sect members to have killed hundreds of thousands of people, which separates them from the world of destructive sects and enters the category of social disasters, since more people have suffered at their hands than in many wars and epidemics.

At the beginning of the 19th century, the British colonial authorities still refused to believe in the existence of such a thing, their skepticism was also strengthened by the fact that there were no reports of British casualties and the local raja was already a bizarre ``consumable commodity''. What later prompted them to take action was the trade that began to suffer from the constant attacks of the sectarians and the fanatical persistence of one man, Sir William Henry Slimane, deputy governor of several areas of the subcontinent and a military veteran of numerous conflicts in those areas. Slimane had serious trouble getting the authorities to take action because few people believed that the Thugs were still active, but after the self-initiated capture of several sectarians and the provision of serious evidence - the British Raj gave him a free hand in dealing with the sect.

A special paramilitary unit (Thuggee and Dacoity Department) was formed, which was tasked with eliminating the sect without much ceremony. From 1835 to 1850, there was a ruthless hunt for sectarians, which included everything from the use of what would later be known as counter-insurgency tactics to entire battles and operations against the organization, numerous trials and investigations, during which at least 1,500 members of the sect were sentenced to death and even more were imprisoned or exiled. The most significant moment was the capture of the legend of the Tages, a certain Tag Behram, who during half a century of "ordination" single-handedly liquidated 931 victims, which places him in a new, previously unknown category of serial killers, an unusual character who would be feared by maniacs like Jeffrey Dahmer or Richard Kuklinski. Naturally, Behram was sentenced to death and hanged at the height of the campaign in 1840.

The beheaded cult, deprived of its legendary sectarians and most active members, began to wither and in the following decades reports of their atrocities ceased altogether. It is difficult to imagine that a secret organization with a huge membership forged through the experiences of five hundred years of hiding from the authorities would disappear completely in such a short time. If nothing else, the myth has survived to this day and it is assumed that on the deserted roads of Hindustan, a stray traveler is still sometimes strangled and robbed by the Tagis even in the 21st century...

This cult has received scant literary and media coverage in the Western world, with the exception of one of the films in the ``Indiana Jones`` series (Temple of the Damned) where the archaeologist-adventurer and his friends try to escape the clutches of the Tagis. The scene remains in my memory when the Magi rip out hearts with their bare hands that slowly stop beating outside the victim, a fate that almost befell Harrison Ford himself in the movie. Naturally, it is a cinematic distortion of reality in which Callie would be heartbroken if she saw ripped out hearts that spray blood everywhere and thus pollute the "fuel" that powered her...

(Roger Mortis, 095)