Diary: May 12, 2012

Real History, and a Radical’s Diary

Documents on the First

The semi-literate morons in Iowa City —
who galloped into action led by a clown named Hefner — are still floundering.. –
note new cities, dates, and times!

[Previous
Radical’s
Diary]

Friday,
April 27, 2012
Key
West, Florida (USA)

AT midday I collect mail from the Key West Post Office. I find the letter I wrote to Little Angel, as we call Jaenelle
Antas, on April 19 has been returned —
endorsed REFUSED.

Hmm, that’s a tad insulting. (The letter just told her the Sprint account’s password so she can switch it back on, if she’s back in the
USA.)

She did not “refuse” the nine hundred dollars she spent in the Pentagon Mall on our company card in November; nor did she “refuse” the $8,000 we paid her after she flounced off at the beginning of December, taking all our passwords, keys, and private mail with her to
Australia, in what we might call a Blonde
Moment, as she chased after the Crock of Gold she wähnte at the end of the rainbow, namely her new but immensely wealthy
Germanic admirer.

That led to a string of broken, shall we say: undertakings, given earlier that month — e.g., to help in Key West for a month this January, and to ride shotgun on the next speaking tour of
New England.

I ask Mrs D. if she has had any response to her inquiry about the storage units. She replies wanly: “No reply, and I don’t really expect one.” She adds:

I
have always been leery of guys who brag, or
who drive bright red sports cars, or if their
hair is “too pretty” or their muscles too
big, or if they are drop dead good-looking.
Usually spells trouble down the
road. . . I also won’t compete with
the younger more beautiful busty girls that
they attract like flies. I hope this guy
doesn’t turn out to be a complete cad.
Jaenelle deserves better than that.

As I have always said.

Mark Lavarre asks on my Facebook official fan page: “Is the Ciano Diary real or fake?”

I post this answer:

Count
Galeazzo Ciano, who married Mussolini’s
daughter Edda and was his foreign minister
(executed in 1944), certainly did write a
diary in handwriting. His daughter Edda took
it to Switzerland for safety and using it,
tried to blackmail the Nazis into pressuring
Italy to spare her husband, on which see the
Goebbels Diaries and other sources. After the
war the diary fell into American (OSS) hands,
probably in Switzerland.

There are several
files on the diaries in the secret papers of
the first CIA chief Allen Dulles in the
Seeley Mudd Library, at Princeton
University. The well known interpreter
Eugen Dollmann told me many years ago that in
British captivity after the war he was
approached by an MI6 officer who showed him
the diaries, or what purported to be the
diaries, and asked if they were authentic.

Dollmann confirmed that they were, but the
officer then smirked and said that they had
meanwhile been “worked over.” And how!
Vicious criticism of top Nazis had been
inserted, including especially Ribbentrop.
This is why conformist historians love
quoting the Ciano Diaries. The diary also heaped
criticism on Rommel in December 1940, blaming
him for “his” failures in North Africa.

Fakery clue: Rommel did not even arrive in
Africa until February 1941, and there was not
even any talk of his going there in December
1940. I shall be researching in the Princeton
library in June, as so often before, for my
Himmler biography: what precisely did Dulles
report to Washington about his contacts with
the Stauffenberg plotters, because the Nazis
were reading his code messages? (I shall be
speaking near Princeton NJ too. See my
speaking tour, www.focal.org/speaks).

Out to Bobalu’s with Albert for supper; a heavy New York steak, which I shall regret.

Saturday,
April 28, 2012
Key
West, Florida (USA)

We need every penny for the first days of the tour, as fuel costs will be very high, and I have spent around $5,000 in postage, stationery, salaries and printing already.

Sunday,
April 29, 2012
Key
West, Florida (USA)

The wonders of the Internet. A Finnish reader warns me:

I
hope that the security plans are good.
The
enemy seems to be starting to organize
themselves.
I wish you a good and safe tour! Tommi

I check the page, but it just repeats items of one or two years ago. I reply, “First the enemy have to find the locations I am speaking in, and they won’t find that very easy.”

I pick up the bike with the puncture repaired after breakfast. Mrs D. apologises for a systematic error she has been making when mailing books from our bookstore. “You have permission to blame it on the dumb people in your shipping department.”

I reassure her: “Don’t worry, you saved our bacon when Jae went bananas, and that earns you a lot of brownie points.”

A sore spot at the tip of my right hand fourth finger is becoming quite painful, like a blister, or paper-cut, or acid burn. It is really mystifying.

Monday,
April 30, 2012
Key
West, Florida (USA)

Up at 7:30 a.m. Heavy dreams all night, including one mildly erotic and another aggravating, a doctor telling me my blood pressure is up to 300, and my replying that there is something wrong with his machine, not me. A slew of good bookings has come in during the night. What strange hours other folks keep.

Cody, age 17, writes me with perhaps undue familiarity from Canada: “Hello David,

I’ve
read many of your texts on WWII and the
happenings there and find it exciting to
share a more objective mindset with another.
As the years go on, do you think the truth is
spreading or being extinguished? Maybe in my
lifetime, will history be rewritten? I
eagerly await your reply.

I reply: “Good questions, Cody. Knowing the truth is one thing; propagating it is quite another, and that is where the unpopularity lies. For instance, Winston Churchill is still the hero of millions although his follies lost us our Empire.

I have seen couples in
Canada walk out indignantly (in Chilliwack, BC) for instance) when I told them facts which I had discovered, about Churchill’s behaviour during air raids, for example, and about his not having actually made some of the most famous 1940
speeches he is remembered for. It is sometimes a fine line, the one which we Real Historians tread. Stay in touch!”

I write to Mrs D.:

I
see that Little Angel was selling my
one-thousand page “Churchill’s War”, vol. ii:
“Triumph in Adversity” for $25. I have
increased that to forty dollars again. If
they want it, they’ll pay it.

2.
Pouring with rain here in Key West today. And
all the coming week. Hah!

I tell Albert this morning as we walk to breakfast that there used to be a verb “to Jew”: to rob, extort, steal and cheat. I am going to coin a new verb, “To Jaenelle.” I repeat it to
Hugo: “You get the drift.” He replies: “I like your new word but don’t like its meaning. I take it that it’s a verb.”

I say: “Yes, avoid getting Jaenelle’d at all costs. The Big Tour starts tomorrow.

Tuesday,
May 1, 2012
Key
West, Florida — Cumming, Georgia (USA)

UP at seven a.m. Packing. The Weather Channel says it’s 88 in Atlanta today. “88,” he says. “A good augury.” I fail at first to get it.

Hugo emails me about something, and I respond: “Flying to Atlanta in an hour’s time, and then the huge drive begins.”

Albert drives us to pick up Mna. at her cottage and then to the airport. I have to pay fifty dollars for fifteen pounds excess baggage in Mna.’s overweight bag. Women can never fly light. Roomy seats on the flight up to Tampa, and because I have paid an excess for them, front-row seats on the flight to Atlanta, all on time. At Hertz I rent a long wheelbase black
Expedition, with no problems at all, it has only
1,600 miles on the clock. Add another zero, when they get it back.

We halt at a McDonalds for coffee and I go online.

Somebody has written, “Hi Mr Irving,

Your
kind reply
to Britta the school
student
was very moving, it was so sincere. But it
reads like an epitaph of a fine man… are
you okay? You forgot to tell us how you are,
after your recent surgery. I often wonder how
you cope with all the people who have let you
down over the years, you remind me of
Churchill sometimes, you seem similar to him
in my mind’s eye. (As I know of Churchill
from reading of him in your books).

It seems
Jaenelle let you down big time, you seem to
be sweet on her, good for you. She went —
but it’s her loss, not yours. She’ll be
back.

Uh, I don’t think so. I assure him that I am well and facing a daunting tour of the United
States. Another reader then informs me:

I
don’t buy the Daily Mail, but idly
looking through it in the pub today, spotted
an item about you and Jaenelle. Usual sort of
stuff of course, otherwise the journalist
loses his job, not just a three liner, quite
prominent in fact. J said you can be
difficult, so what, you admit it yourself.
Anyway she put up with you for three years.
Clearly it woz the Australian wot done it.
(Does he realise wot’s hit him?)

1st
May. Just found out the Soviets in 1940 gave the Polish officers a ‘holiday’ before resuming shooting 250 per night [i.e. at
Katyn].

I at once ask my friends in London: “What’s in The Daily Mail today?”

I find I can access the
Mail article online: it is by Richard Kay, and cautiously worded (or re-worded by their lawyers):

Disgraced
historian David Irving has lost none of his
bombast. Branded a ‘Holocaust-denier,
anti-Semite and racist’ by a judge in 2000,
he’s now embroiled in a legal dispute with
his former personal assistant, Jaenelle
Antas.

Since
she quit her job, Irving has published a
series of scathing items about her on his
blog.

The 26-year-old American began working
for Irving in 2008 after she saw him speak on
one of his U.S. book tours, moving into his
five-bedroom home in Windsor.

David
Irving is now embroiled in a legal dispute
with his former personal assistant, Jaenelle
Antas

He
has contacted her lawyer, claiming she has
taken 20 boxes of his autographed books,
which he says are worth ‘thousands of
dollars’.

Miss
[sic. in fact Mrs.]

Antas has said of
their ‘difficult’ working relationship:
‘David can be charming when he wants to be,
but he does have a temper that’s easily
triggered by even the slightest frustrations,
which he directs at the person standing
nearest to him, which is usually
me.

‘Sometimes
my job can be rather domestic.

For a long
time, David had only one pair of trousers,
which he had loved to death, and I remember
mending those on a regular basis.

‘He
still has them, but now he fixes them himself
with staples because I told him they aren’t
worth mending anymore and I won’t do
it.’

I draft this item for Facebook:

I
see that today’s Daily
Mail has a gossip column story about Jaenelle
Antas,
who worked for me until December: “Irving
pressed for trousers.” The journalist Richard
Kay tries hard to make out there is a serious
grievance somewhere. I tell the friend who
sent me the link that I have never held a
grudge against anybody, not for long at any
rate.

The bit about repairing my trousers
with staples is true, of course, as anybody
can confirm. Eventually Jae will tell me what
became of the twenty boxes of books I
autographed for her in Virginia in November.
At present, I guess, her hands are full –
with guiding the wealthy Australian
confirmed-bachelor that she spooned up on our
last trip to Hitler’s HQ in East Prussia
toward the nearest altar.

Then Mna. drives us on northward through
Atlanta. The delay at McDonalds was a mistake, as we now hit rush-hour traffic which slows us down by half an hour. We get to Cumming at seven p.m. . . . The evening goes well. Mrs D. who now runs my bookstore is indeed lucky with her husband, who has a beautiful home with a large garden and many fine oaks, from one of which dangles a 30 foot child’s swing. We sit outside throughout the long warm evening and have supper at the garden table.

After supper Mrs D. quite irresponsibly starts on Mna. with
Signs-of-the-Zodiac rubbish, and I leave them at it, as she refuses to stop. . . mental poison .
. .

Mna. posts the Daily Mail link on
Facebook with my response. I had no idea she was going to be so useful on that front.

WHERE
IS DAVID IRVING SPEAKING IN THE USA
THIS MAY AND
JUNE?
Contact us: Apply for details.
Register online [link].

Wednesday,
May 2, 2012
Cumming,
Georgia (USA)

Mna. has copied to me these two Facebook comments on yesterday’s post:

John
Fuller: Who hasn’t repaired their
pants with a stapler? Its an easy fix.
Really, what’s the guy trying to say. You
have a stapler but not a needle and
thread?

Thanks
John. As the years passed, and much soap lodged beneath my wedding-ring, I have evoked much dispair in wives and other ladies by the use of that stapler: if tailors did their job properly, trouser turn-ups would stay up.
That’s where the stapler best comes in.

David
Hunsicker: We have taken a poll Mr.
Irving, your’re the most hated seamstress in the U.K

Damn!
That’s one peg down from being “Britain’s most disliked historian.” That’s what my friend Professor Donald C Watt called me in the first line of his frontpage Sunday Times review of my Göring biography (the price he had to pay, so to speak, for lauding the book beyond the stars). I asked him: “Most disliked?” How do you know? Did you stand in
Oxford Street with a clipboard, asking passers-by at random: “Who’s your most disliked historian? 1. A J P Taylor? 2. Hugh
Trevor Roper? 3.

David Irving?” OK, Irving it is. Nowadays it would be that turgid Skunk in
Chief, Richard Evans, professor emeritus at
Cambridge. Reminds me of what Rupert Murdoch said in the movie Selling Hitler about
Trevor-Roper. “Emeritus. That means he’s out, and he deserved it.”

I answer emails after that. Hugo asks: “Where did the Mail get that piece about
Jaenelle mending your trousers?”

Well, she didn’t, but he knows as much about the source as I do.

D. offers a private venue for the New Haven talk in June, and a dinner buffet.

Donald Bady, a multi-millionaire New
York collector of my books, has died. His widow gives me the sad news: “David: I need to tell you that Donald passed away in November. . . He was failing for about a year.”

I reply:

Oh
Gosh, I am so sorry to hear that, Barbara. I
will always remember the happy hours I spent
chatting with him about history, and once at
your estate north of New York City.

Don’s death must have been a great sorrow to you, and I wanted with these lines to reassure you how very much I appreciate the fact that you have still found the time to communicate so swiftly with me. Times would have been hard for me without the occasional if distant support of people like him. If prayers can do anything, then you have mine too, and the sincere wish that you will eventually move into sunnier times, even though it can never be the same as before, without
Don.

I am concerned with the Chicago event as usual. I still have not booked a restaurant. And an “E Manning” is beginning to crystallize as the suspected mole — [reasons omitted] — there are all the usual “red flags”.

Thursday,
May 3, 2012
Cumming,
Georgia — Nashville, Tennessee (USA)

Emails at 7:47 a.m. Nothing of note. The world seems to have stood still. No orders, no emails. Slept very well, the local Georgia climate being very conducive to that.

We set out at ten a.m. and arrive at
Nashville, Tennessee, at five. I confirm the
Omaha restaurant booking, and the Chicago one for the 8th. Great locations, the
Intercontinental at O’Hare will turn a deaf ear on protests, they say.

Turns out to be one hour earlier now, I always forget the time-zone shift. A great crowd turns up and . . . Mna. rises to the occasion very well. I speak for too long. Never mind, a great start to the tour, and our bacon appears to be saved.

Friday,
May 4, 2012
Nashville,
Tennessee — Louisville, Kentucky — Columbia,
Indiana (USA)

PAPERWORK all morning. I ask Mna. to post this update on Facebook:

We
had the opening meeting of my Spring Tour at
Nashville last night. A full house apart from
one gentleman who failed to phone for final
directions in time. (I routinely issue the
location only a day or two ahead.) We already
have locations for the entire tour booked but
there is no indication that our friends in
black ski masks, seemingly on their way to a
baseball game, have cottoned on to even one
of them.

I hope that “cottoned on to” is not now deemed a racist phrase, like “n*ggardly”. If so,
I apologize to all who take offense – minus the
Black guy who beat the face of M.’s Italian friend to a pulp three nights ago as she was walking home in Key West and stole $20 from her.
I have seen the photo of the appalling injuries.
Seems that all law-abiding citizens are now afeared of “standing their ground,” since the
Trayvon Martin case.

Dan L. writes about last night’s Tennessee meeting:

If
tonight is any indication, it appears your
2012 USA speaking tour is off to a great
start!

You
left the “standing room only” crowd wanting
more, even after your 44 minutes/44 years
presentation and, after the break, a lively
question and answer session!

I
noticed several attendees eagerly purchased
more than one title of your books and
DVDs.

You
graciously autographed each one as they
patiently waited in the lobby area..myself
included.

Those who stayed afterwards were
treated to a special surprise artifact, well
worth the wait and a fitting end to a evening
of Real History!

That’s a bit over the top, but appreciated all the same. We arrive at Louisville, Kentucky, through a torrential downpour and lightning-storms, which continue on and off all evening. Churchill Downs has the Kentucky Derby this weekend and all hotels are full. (But for the heroism of the British, standing alone in
1940, I muse like a seasoned conformist, we might now have been racing on Hitler Downs?)

After the evening’s meeting, we drive for an hour through increasingly violent storms to the
Columbus (Indiana) hotel I have prebooked, a
Super-8. They have only one room left, a smoking room, at which Mna. takes one look and recommends we cancel and flee. We go the Sleep
Inn next door.

Saturday,
May 5, 2012
Columbus,
Indiana — Carmel, Indiana (USA)

BREAKFAST at the Sleep Inn, and it is the usual ruination of an otherwise fine hotel.
Stale bread stacked up waiting to be toasted, and a search for butter turns up only something called “Real Buttery-taste Spread” which the girl confirms is all they offer.
I.e. a chemical concoction. These deceptions would not be allowed under European law. The
ORANGE JUICE is of course not that, but orange-flavoured drink.
Enough to stop me ever staying at a Sleep Inn again.

I pick up a Dannon yoghurt pot, and check the ingredients. It lists no ingredients by name, but tells us that it includes “9 simple,
ALL NATURAL INGREDIENTS,” the latter words being in large print, which tells me that the actual mess inside the pot is mostly as artificial as engine-oil. Probably, as the American country folk say of “rabbit soup”, one horse, one rabbit.

K. writes from London:

Sounds
like you are doing the more impoverished
parts of the US. The Orange Juice I got in
Naples was the best I’ve ever had — totally
fresh and clearly very local. I don’t like US
beef — nowhere near as tasty as that from
the [Scottish] Highlands. They don’t
hang it for long enough in the US.

The
Swan full of women so ugly last evening, that the only way to photograph them would be in
Black and White and with a serial-number underneath the resultant image.

CHARLES and his wife come at one p.m. to the hotel, and I invite them to lunch. We drive down to see the Public Storage units rented by
Jaenelle. Each one is less than one-third filled with pallets of books I have shipped here from
England, so I intend to consolidate them into two units or even one unit, saving thousands of dollars a year. No sign, however, of the twenty boxes of books I autographed for the Little
Angel in Virginia in November.

Last I saw of them, they were in her car as she skedaddled back to Indianapolis.

4:09 p.m I email to Matt P., who lives nearby:

I
intend to reorganise them [the three
units] tomorrow, which involves a couple
of hours of physical labour, and I wonder if
you know any young men who would like to earn
some easy cash helping me to load and unload
a truck? Nothing heavy, just tedious, and
many hands make light work.

He does not reply. From London, K. comments:
“Good news re the missing books.” I reply: “A total of about ten pallets. Hard work now to consolidate them.”

Mna. has booked a massage appointment for three p.m. tomorrow which rather truncates my working day.

Sunday,
May 6, 2012
Carmel,
Indiana (USA)

TODAY I will do what I can about consolidating the storage units. I inform
Jessica, who is worrying about things: “I will be out of touch all day in a warehouse here, trying to shift tons of books single handed, but you can reach me at the usual cellphone number if you need to.”

I ask Mna. to put this update on
Facebook:

I
have paused for two days in Indianapolis,
which was the headquarters of my US tours in
the days when Indiana Jae ran things for me.
The pause was necessary to inspect the
contents of our storage units. . .
As I expected, the storage space “we” were
renting was rather excessive, and I have
reduced it from three units, costing 300
dollars a month, to one costing 130.

It has
involved some heavy lifting and stacking all
day today; but as the surgeon who installed
my metal hip in January was not watching, I
seem to have got away with it okay.
Ouch.

Later I send this message to Jaenelle via the online contact-form on her website, Lighthouse
Literature, which is still selling my books (Hmmm): “Hello Jaenelle,

no
hard feelings at all, as you know, but . . .
where on earth are the approximately 200
books which I autographed and put in your car
in Virginia in November before your return to
Indy? I have spent the day searching our
three units and there is no trace of them.
This is getting serious. . . Hope you’re in
good health.

K. as usual does not like it and says so. I chide him: “The twenty boxes of books are worth around 5,000 dollars or more, and she has persistently refused to answer the very simple question: Where are they? What would you do about that?”

7:03 p.m: He replies, “All you can do is ask her and then threaten proceedings.” I reply:
“Precisely, which is pretty nasty stuff.” She knows I would never do it. She does not reply to my message.

Dinner at a steakhouse. “E Manning” phones from
Wisconsin about our coming Chicago dinner. I ask for his full first name, and he says Eugene
Manning. Hmmm. Under closer questioning, he says he bought Göring from an Illinois gent (Lance Frickensmith) some years ago, in paperback, and Nuremberg also from somewhere. He promises to keep the location of our Chicago dinner secret. Hmmm again. He says he wants to buy two more books, the Hitler and
Churchill biographies.

He finally persuades me to give him the location, and at once I regret it: did I do the right thing? At ten p.m. I send out the location to the rest of the Chicago dinner list, always a ticklish moment.

The production company of the very popular
DVD, Ruins of the Reich, offers us more stock when we need it, at a reasonable discount.

Monday,
May 7, 2012
Carmel,
Indiana — Chicago, Illinois (USA)

WE check out at ten-thirty a.m., and since we have time to spare I decide on a detour to
Spencer, where Jaenelle managed our “bookstore”.
It takes an hour to get there, finally through rolling hills and forests, and beautiful countryside. I recognize the corner store instantly from its Google picture, and can see even before getting out of the car that it is indeed deserted, as we were told some weeks ago by a local fan, David E. There is no sign of the missing boxes of books.

The store, a former café, is swept clean and has just one piece of mail on the doormat, addressed to somebody else. The accountants next door say it has been empty for a couple of months. How sad for her: Jae told me she was really happy setting up the bookstore there and living in the cottage nearby, in the forest with her long-suffering fiancé James.

So once again there is no sign of the missing twenty-odd boxes of books. Only course of inquiry now is to write to James, or her parents in Minnesota. Those boxes have got to be somewhere: she told her lawyer — who accepted it, but has now quit acting for her — that they were in the storage units. Hmmm. More gullible than I am, it seems.

At five pm we arrive at Chicago. The restaurant is buried in the Intercontinental hotel, and gradually my guests arrive. More and more of them, which is an embarrassment as the big table set-up is fixed and only a certain number of meals has been ordered. Never mind, it all goes fabulously. Eugene Manning turns out to be okay, an elegant 74-year-old, though looking much older than I, I flatter myself: a very educated, academic type.

We set off at ten p.m. along I-290, heading into damp, swirling mists and fog. The hotel is thirteen miles away. Mna. is less truculent today, having found an elegant Polish lady among the guests — this is after all Chicago — and conversing with her throughout. As for travelling with me, she has bought earplugs, as a last line of defence.

Tuesday,
May 8, 2012
Chicago,
Illinois — Iowa City, Iowa (USA)

B., ONE of our long-time supporters, has surprisingly written:

The
reason I skipped out on Poland was because of
Janelle. About two months before the trip
would get underway. . . communication simply
stopped between us. Do you want to spend a
week in rural Poland with someone like her?
The answer was no. After that, I might as
well have been a Trotskyite.

I think that must have been when the work gradually grew too much for her to handle alone.
She was never normally rude to me. K. writes from England:

I
think you should write to her — a short and
plainly worded note to the effect that in the
answers to the Questions . . . she warranted
that these books were in your storage unit.
If this is not the case then this puts her in
breach of the terms of your settlement. You
have been fair to her and have paid her
rather more than she was asking for, so she
needs to be fair to you too. If not you will
have to issue.

“Unfortunately,” I point out, “we now have no working address to contact her. In theory you are right, but you are always so impractical.”

David
Irving (right) shares a joke with Albert Speer at the Frankfurt Book Fair, Oct 11,
1979

LIFE continues. A reader, Mike Mosley, writes:

I
have got Albert Speer’s 1970 “Inside
the Third Reich” Book. But due to his
Nuremberg performance in wishing to avoid the
noose, I’m sceptical about reading the book,
as I don’t know if he is speaking the truth
or just telling us what we want to hear, so
as to back up what he said at Nuremberg.Is it
worth reading, David? Or, can you recommend a
non-biased Speer Book to read?

I inform him: “Speer’s book is not what he wrote in prison. He read that to me all one afternoon in the 1960s. The book as published was written by Joachim Fest, Annette
Etienne and Wolf Jobst Siedler at the
[Ullstein] publishing house.”

One of last night’s guests thanks me: “You gathered together a diverse group of good people, and we are all thankful you have recovered from a very serious operation, and are traveling again around the U.S. in order to teach us some Real History. In addition, we had a good meal, great conversation a very informative talk with many details, and a terrific Q&A session. Thank you David and
God bless you.”

WE arrive at the Iowa City hotel around 4:15
p.m., and trundle books into the big meeting room, three rooms rolled together. After two hours I notice the first demonstrators strolling past the hotel front door, one runty figure in a floor-length black overcoat incautiously carrying a small placard about
F+CK THE NAZIS or something similar. A bit of a give-away. I give
Mna. the evening off.

At 7:15 p.m I report to
K., who asks how things are going: “They are photographing all the cars on the lot, and I’ve now sent Mna. off for the evening to rubberneck around the town in safety. She is taking this unexpected stress well. . . Police have been called, in case.” Just to be sure, I phone Mna. shortly before eight and she has got safely away.

Later I tell K.: “Mob still outside caterwauling, I believe.” He says: “I did not think there would be enough unwashed leftie homo drop-outs in Iowa to cause trouble.” I explain:
“A lot came from out of state.”

Mna. returns about nine-thirty p.m. Relates that there were already fifty demonstrators there when she left. The police turned up, the management confirms to me, and shoveled them all off the property and they had to make their noise and shake their puny fists several hundred yards away, at the entrance to the parking lot.
Mna. has weathered this modest storm well.

Wednesday,
May 9, 2012
Iowa
City, Iowa — Omaha, Nebraska (USA)

MY German lawyer asks how things are going with the tour. I reply: “Der übliche Mob draussen gestern abend, habe meine Assistentin rechtzeitig in Sicherheit gebracht. . .”

My youngest daughter, Jessica, emails: “I’ve decided that due to your absenteeism when you get back we are getting a kitten called Winston or Ralph and you won’t be able to send him to a
‘farm’ like Sassy! Where are you expecting to look for places to live when you get back?” I reply we will start the day after I get back.
She continues: “Spent six hours in library today. Mentally drained.” — “Do not force yourself.

Your health is important.” “How is the tour going?” — “A spot of trouble last night at the location, but I got Mna. out to safety in time, and all went well.”

WHERE
IS DAVID IRVING SPEAKING IN THE USA
THIS MAY AND
JUNE?
Contact us: Apply for details.
Register online [link].

A HOOSIER friend has unexpected news: “Your
‘Snowdrop’ [Jaenelle] went on a small tirade on her Facebook about you.” I reply: “I am not going to get into a shooting war.” She then copies to me this excerpt from Jaenelle’s
Facebook page:

Apparently
DI made an out of the way trip down to
Spencer to look for me and is talking about
contacting James or my parents for help in
locating me. As if they would even talk to
him, let alone help! If I were still in
America, I would have got a restraining order
a long time ago. What a freak!

Methinks her wealthy Aussie admirer is ill-advising her. There is no court here that would humour her. As for Spencer, I went to look for the stray twenty boxes of books.

WE start heading west, and drive five hours to
Omaha. On the way, I phone D. She lives here but she can’t come to tomorrow’s dinner, she is restoring her house and her husband has fled to
Baltimore with a male friend to write a book.

I check out tomorrow’s restaurant. Rather grand. Hmmm. Mna. blithely books another massage session tomorrow, ten miles away from the restaurant and ending at five-thirty pm, just an hour before the dinner is scheduled to begin.

I am depressed by J.’s moves. Sniping on her private Facebook page for her remaining friends to see, where I cannot defend myself… Not nice. The fact remains that she quit without notice and waltzed off to Matilda-land in
December, turning her back on her job, her friends, and her country.

More to the point, she took with her to Australia all the keys to the storage units holding our equipment and inventory, all our mail from the Indianapolis mailbox, and all our passwords, anticipating (and even announcing to our customers on
Facebook) that it would be impossible for us to do any future business, while meanwhile her own bookstore Lightbouse Literature was offering my books for sale.

She reluctantly answered an Interrogatory put to her by her own patient and long-suffering lawyer, but it turns out — now that we have this week been able to unlock and inspect the storage units — that her answers were, shall we say, unhelpful. She has doggedly refused to answer questions about the missing inventory. If she had simply done so, it would have spared a lot of nuisance.

I wish her only the best; and I wonder who is encouraging this attractive and spirited girl to crank up a whisper-campaign on Facebook.

Apart from her family home in Rochester and
James, the long-term and supportive fiancé she dumped when the rich
Australian came along, there is no contact point. All very odd. I have seldom resorted to lawyers. They bottom-feed off those with murkier consciences than mine.

Thursday,
May 10, 2012
Omaha,
Nebraska (USA)

AN
Australian student writes:

I
just received my copy of The Destruction
of Dresden and am very happy indeed!
Thank you for the great service. I am
currently a student at university studying
film production in Australia at SAE, and I
want to purchase Hitlers War in
preparation for a further four years’ full
time study in history, but have lacked the
available funds to do so easily.

I saw on
your site that you try to help students who
are currently struggling financially and was
wondering to what extent you might help
me?

I reply: “I will look out a copy of the book, and mail it to you as a gift. The mail will be the slowest available but still not cheap to New
South Wales! Best of luck with your studies.
Most of my books are available still as free downloads at /books.”

Patrick C. comes for lunch. He is a local attorney. I set out the +++ legal isssues, and the difficulties . . . He mentions that Paypal is one of the biggest employers here.

Friday,
May 11, 2012
Omaha,
Nebraska — Sioux City, South Dakota (USA)

I ASK Mna. to put this on our Facebook fan-page:

We
had a full table at last night’s (Thursday)
dinner-lecture in a private room in a
downtown Omaha luxury restaurant, and it was
eleven p.m. before we finally got away.
“Nobody died,” as I am wont to say (after one
unfortunate incident in a snowbound Hamburg
restaurant thirty years ago). Most of this
tour I am talking about Heinrich Himmler and
Adolf Hitler, but this time the emphasis was
on Winston Churchill, gravedigger of the
British Empire.

Now, onward to South Dakota.
More
details: www.focal.org/speaks

We set out northwards around midday. I text to Jessica: “Just on the road from Omaha up to
Sioux Falls, about 250 miles, through what was
Indian territory,” — before the Americans embarked on their own Final Solution, that is.

At five p.m. we arrive at Sioux Falls. I sweep the Internet. The semi-literate morons in
Iowa City — who galloped into action led by a person named Hefner — are still floundering.

Jake
Johnson: So, anybody ever hear if the
meeting happened at Iowa City or anything
about Chicago the night before or any other
city dipshit has been to? I am not seeing
anything online.

Shay
Gabriel O’Reilly: A friend of mine got my text message a day late and when he called the hotel, the lady working the phones laughed and said Irving hadn’t spoken there.

Shay
Gabriel O’Reilly: well, said they hadn’t let Irving speak.

If they want to believe that,
meinetwegen.

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Radical’s
Diary]

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