The Pete Quiñones Show - Pete Reads 'Blockade' by Anna Eisenmenger Part 10 - The Finale

Episode Date: June 10, 2024

27 MinutesPG-13Pete concludes his reading and lite commentary on "Blockade: The Diary of an Austrian Middle-Class Woman 1914-1924."FoxnSons Coffee - Promo code "peter" for 18% off - https://www.foxnsons.com/VIP Summit 3-Truth To Freedom - Autonomy w/ Richard GroveSupport Pete on His WebsitePete's PatreonPete's Substack Pete's SubscribestarPete's GUMROADPete's VenmoPete's Buy Me a CoffeePete on FacebookPete on TwitterBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-pete-quinones-show--6071361/support.

Pound of Heineken, please. That could be the sound of someone winning a a Waifa Champions League trip for two. What's that now? Well, order a pint of Heinegan and you get entered into a draw for a Champions League trip for not one, but two people. 100 pubs and a guaranteed winner in each one. If you win, my passport is well in date.

Okay. Check Heinegan's Instagram for participating pubs. Tees and C's apply. Doesn't actually expire until like 2040 or some. Get the facts, be Drinkaware. Visit Drinkaware. You catch them in the corner of your eye. Distinctive, by design.

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Volkswagen Financial Services Ireland Limited. Subject to lending criteria. Terms and conditions apply. Volkswagen Financial Services Ireland Limited. Trading as Cooper Financial Services is regulated by the Central Bank of Ireland. Ready for huge savings? We'll mark your calendars from November 28 to 30th because the Liddle Newbridge Warehouse sale is back.

We're talking thousands of your favourite Liddle items all reduced to clear. From home essentials to seasonal must-habs. When the doors open, the deals go fast. Come see for yourself. The Lidl Newbridge Warehouse Sale, 28th to 30th of November. Lidl, more to value. I want to welcome everyone back to Part 10, the final installment of Blockade by Anna Eisenmanger.

Quick reminder about a new page on my website, freeman beyond the wall.com forward slash movies, where I have links to my Gumroad account, where I post the videos that were Thomas and I, Thomas 777 and I Review movies we've done two so far The first one was Martin Scorsese's 1976 taxi driver

Written by Paul Schrader And Catherine Bigelow's 1887 It was 87 or 88 88 87 Near Dark So go check those out Going to finish us up February 2nd, 1920

It was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon dense snow clouds obscured the sky so that dusk had set in earlier than usual, and Kathy had already brought in the acetaline lamp. Owing to the dearth of fuel, I have had to break up a few old boxes, which I had kept for an emergency, in order to keep the little stove alight and bring the sitting room to a bearable temperature. In pre-war days, the bearable temperature in my household were never lower than 16 degrees rumor. Today I find even 11 degrees rumor very bearable. This theory of relativity has not been discovered by Einstein. The wood from the boxes, which had been kept in the cellar, was damp, and when it began to burn, smoke puffed out into the room from time to time

instead of going up the chimney. Ernie, therefore, had groped his way to the balcony door, opened it, and gone out onto the balcony. I was meanwhile busy trying to get the stove to burned properly, and when the air was free of smoke, Ernie came back into the sitting room. It smells like snow, he said. And sitting down at the piano, he began to improvise softly. I love Ernie's improvisations, and I sat still in the big armchair to listen to him. We were expecting Edith and Rudy at any minute. Both their offices closed at four. As Rudy's office is quite near the American mission, Edith had, for the last few days, been calling for him so that they might go home together.

He asked her to do this, but I think the suggestion originated from Ernie, who since the incident in the cafe, had not liked Edith to go out alone. He seems to think that Carl may annoy her again in some way. As the old Viennese clock on the corner table struck half past four, Ernie stopped playing. They ought to be back by now, Mother, he said. They will be here in a moment. Perhaps Edith has been doing some shopping on the way. That's impossible, Mother. You know the shops shed at four.

That's true. Then they'll be here all the sooner. At the moment the front doorbell rang. There they are, said Ernie, and went to meet them. I stayed quietly in my chair for after hunting all over Vienna in the vain hope of securing a little lard, I was utterly exhausted. Edith and Rudy, March 16, 1920, in hospital. The entry of my diary under 2nd of February was made not at a later date, as is my want. but on that very afternoon, as I waited for Ernie, as I waited with Ernie for Edith and Rudy. Today I lie restored to life after six weeks of severe illness, but still weak and confined to bed in the Videner Hospital, which is only a few steps from our house. With my diary propped on a stand, which the kind sister has placed across my bed,

I have for the first time been reading what is written in it. I have read the words I wrote on the afternoon of 2nd of February. the entry which ends with an unfinished sentence, Edith and Rudy. There I broke off. And now that I lie convalescent in my bed in a hospital, I would describe the frightful stormy events of the afternoon. Edith and Rudy sat down at the dining room table, on which the acetylene lamp was standing,

and Kathy brought them dinner. Mashed potatoes and one post egg each. Ernie and I sat down at the table, too, to keep them company and to hear the news of the day. Then we heard strange footsteps in the hall, and immediately the door was flung open violently, and two Volksved men came into the room. Ah, I said, the Food Control Commission, and I stood up and went to meet our two unwelcome guests. One of them took out a tattered, dirty official paper from the pocket of his blouse and handed it to me.

I gave it back to him without looking at it. Very well, I said, but now I should like to know how you got into my house without ringing. The gentleman there has a key, said one of them, pointed to the door with the door. his thumb. Until that moment, none of us had been in the least surprised or agitated. We were prepared for the appearance of the Volksfer any day and would have borne the searching of our houses for supplies as we bore all the other daily troubles and cares, which are the consequences of a war. But the gentleman there changed the whole situation at one blow, for it was Carl who came into the room, wearing once more his old soldier's uniform, and again accompanied by the same woman,

who this time, however, was shabbily dressed. For a moment he stood in the doorway as though to take in the situation. His wild, unsteady gaze rested on Rudy and Edith, then wandered from one to the other of us. At this moment, a heavy, wordless depression brooded over the whole room. Then the dark-haired girl who was peeping out from behind Carl squeezed in behind him and the door. Now then, she said to him over her shoulder,

as though she were challenging or encouraging him to do something. Now then, and with a mocking grin, which showed her strong white teeth, she sidled over to the piano and sat down on the stool. She began to strum an old street ditty, striking many wrong notes, so that sensitive Ernie sprang up in horror and put his hands to his ears, what is happening? He asked angrily, as he did not know and could not see what was going on. For up till now, no one had uttered a word of explanation. But at this moment, I stepped up to Carl. All I intended was to say a few affectionate words to him and ask him how he was in order to break the painful silence. He took no notice of me, but went up to Leah, who was still thumping on the piano with vicious insolence. He tore her hands brutally from the keys and shut the lid. Get out, he shouted. Get out. He repeated, looking threateningly at the two Volksfer men. The men left the room, reluctantly. But Leah remained standing sulkily by the door. Her eyes were like those of an angry cat. She stamped furiously with her feet. I'm going to stay here. And Carl, as though under the spell of

those cat's eyes, closed the door behind the Volksferremen. Point of Ingan, please. That could be the sound of someone winning a away for Champions League trip for two. What's that name? Well, order a pint of Hinegan and you get entered into a draw for a Champions League trip for not one but two people. 100 pubs and a guaranteed winner in each one. If you win, my passport is well in date. Okay. Check Hinegan's Instagram for participating pubs.

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Volkswagen Financial Services Ireland Limited. Trading as Cooper Financial Services is regulated by the Central Bank of Ireland. Ben Leah Lentz carelessly against the door with her hands behind her back and looked at us all defiantly. Now then, she said again, and her gaze wandered to Carl. He went slowly up to Rudy, who was obviously at a loss to know how to deal with him and was trying to stand up leaning on the table. It was then that the terrible thing happened. With lightning swiftness, Carl pulled out a revolver.

In a voice that could only be the voice of a madman, he shouted, I'll settle with you, and then with her, the, and before anyone could stop him, he fired, and poor Rudy, who had not yet succeeded in getting quite onto his legs, fell to the ground between the table and the seat, shot dead. Ernie, who had recognized Carl's voice, changed though it was, had already groped his way to the tall mirror on the wall between the windows. On the shelf below it were two, heavy myelika vases mounted in bronze.

He seized one of them and through it, exerting all his strength in the direction once the shot had come. Carl and his madness had fired a second shot at Rudy as he lay on the floor and was now aiming his revolver at Edith, who clung to me trembling. At that moment, the vase struck him violently on the chest and his shoulder. The revolver went off, and I lost consciousness. It was only later, much later, when my life was no longer in danger that Edith and Ernie, who took turns at my bedside, told me what had happened. The Maelika vase diverted Carl's third shot, which was intended for Edith, and the bullet passed through my left lung. Ryddy and I lay unconscious on the floor, which was steeped in my blood. The two Volksferre men had forced their way in at the sound of the first shot, but had been unable to prevent the second and third.

Carl was for the moment half stunned by the heavy blow from the vase, which already had thrown. The Volksfair men seized this opportunity to disarm him and binds him with their leather belts. The shots had been heard all over the building, and the occupants had given the alarm to the police. When they heard that Rudy and I were hurt, they also informed the ambulance staff who arrived within a few minutes. When they saw that nothing more could be done for Rudy, they removed me immediately to the name bring Vinder Hospital where I have since been. Poor Carl became very violent after his arrest and was taken to the isolation cell of the criminal hospital. After examination by a psychiatrist, he was confined to the Steinhauf's state asylum

as an incurable lunatic. Edith, gentle tender Edith, displayed as I heard on all sides, the most wonderful heroism. She did not lose herself, her presence of mine for an instant. She saved me from bleeding to death by skillfully binding my woman. wound, and she consoled and calmed Ernie, who in his blind helplessness, was on the verge of despair. As I wrote these words, Ernie and Edith came in to see me. They brought me a dear, clumsy, childish letter from Volfe. He was taken home to Leng Bukle by Uncle Buckling soon after the disaster. Little Lysol is still very delicate, but since she came back from the clinic, she has, under Kathy, and Edith's care, been well for the time being.

Ernie surprised me with the news that his requiem, which he entered into the competition at the Academy, has won a prize. Moreover, he was already found, he had already found a German publisher for it, and has performed in a big concert hall in the autumn, provided that conditions are by that time normal again, so that concerts can once again be given. Ernie is proud and very, very happy. And now I can think of marriage, but first, I want to have that operation. You must do nothing of the kind, said Edith, so emphatically that I looked up in astonishment. We will get married before the operation. I want to be able to nurse my husband back to health. Edith got her way, and the date of their wedding is to coincide with that of my complete recovery.

This will, in the doctor's opinion, be in a fortnight's time. The six weeks I have spent in hospital have not brought any alleviations to the Viennese, but ever since my life has been out of danger, they have done a great deal of good. thanks to the tender care of the doctors and nurses. I have been kept remote from all the cares of daily life, and I have had the knowledge that Edith is looking after our household as well as possible. Our American lodger has shown us the utmost kindness and sympathy during our great misfortunes and helped Edith to secure the necessaries of life.

Edith and Ernie have avoided telling me of the increased difficulty of obtaining supplies, but there has been news of it in the papers. I have seen, too, that the value of our crone has fallen to .02 Swiss sent teams. But Ernie and Edith were blissfully happy, and we made plans for their comfort when they are married. The sister came into the room with a gentle reminder that supper was about to be served. Edith and Ernie left me with a cheerful goodbye until tomorrow. I have now lain for six weeks in my bed in the hospital under the devoted care of the doctors and nurses. I am not ashamed to confess that these weeks have afforded me a welcome,

respite during which I have gradually regained my strength after the last terrible nervous shock. I have lain quite still, letting myself be nursed and cared for, and thrusting anxiety and troubles far, far away. Now this interval of rest is drawing to an end. Life comes to meet me once more, and the past, too, with its sorrowful memories, pursues me. I point the course, please. We do things. We do things differently on the mountain Like never serving our beer until the mountains turn blue

Of course, keep it fresh Get the facts be Drink Aware, visit Drink Aware.comware.com. Ready for huge savings? We'll mark your calendars from November 28 to 30th because the Liddle Newbridge Warehouse sale is back. We're talking thousands of your favorite Liddle items all reduced to clear. From home essentials to seasonal must-habs,

When the doors open, the deals go fast. Come see for yourself. The Liddle Newbridge Warehouse Sale, 28th to 30th of November. Lidl, more to value. Those people who love going out shopping for Black Friday deals, they're mad, aren't they? Like, proper mad.

Brenda wants a television, and she's prepared to fight for it, if you ask me, it's the fastest way to a meltdown. Me, I just prepare the fastest way to get stuff, and it doesn't get faster than appliances delivered, Top brand appliances, top brand electricals, and if it's online, it's in stock. With next day delivery in Greater Dublin. Appliances delivered.aE, part of expert electrical. See it, buy it, get it tomorrow. Or you know, fight Brenda. In the time that has lapsed since July of 1914, that is to say, during the last five and three-quarter

years, I have been swept along by life as though by some destructive hurricane. The time is rushed swiftly by, swiftly and grimly. And though in some terrible nerve-wracking film staged by the devil himself, one frightful picture has taken place to another, one tragic incident followed close upon the last. I think of my poor mad son, whom the war has turned into a mental cripple, of my son missing in Russia, of my husband, of Lisbeth and Aunt Bertha, whom the war in the hinterlands snatched away so prematurely. I think of Ernie's radiant blue eyes, which he had to sacrifice to the war at such an early age. I think of all the slaughter and the manifold atrocities which accompanied this war and which are still in process today. War with its armory of shells, poison gases, hunger, and epidemics continues its ravages long after it has nominally ceased. By encouraging brutality and license, it undermines all true humanity for many years after the last shot has been fired.

And I ask myself, must these things be? What really is war? as I rack my brains, the same answer constantly recurs to me. War is madness. War is a crime. It is hatched by madmen who are a serious danger to society, though they appear to be of sound mind and as such are tolerated in our midst. These lunatics, by skillfully exciting and appealing to the noblest and most sacred feelings

of which the human heart is capable, infect millions and millions with their war mania. They misuse these highest and holiest feelings, such as patriotism, self-sacrifice, and death. death-defying courage only with cynical unconcern to let them sink into the earth and streams of blood. War is a crime. It is the work of the most dangerous, though undetected criminals, who hang on millions of harmless, peaceable men, and forced them to commit innumerable and terrible crimes against each other. War is a crime. In a few moments, it destroys the masterpieces which artists and craftsmen have labored at for years,

and transforms blooming landscapes into devastated graveyards. I asked myself whether those who advocate and support a war should not be shut up in lunatic asylums or prisons before their dangerous mania can bear its devilish fruit. And then I ask myself whether this most frightful of all wars, which even now is not an end for the subjects to the vanquished central powers, might not serve for all time as a warning example, not only to the vanquish, but also to the vanquish. victors, since a next war might turn the victors of today into the vanquished. Amid all these torments and questions and answers, suddenly for no apparent reason, I thought of my little grandson, Wolfie. Soon after his mother's death, Wolfie had a visit from our little school fellow. I left the two boys alone, and I had some shopping to do in the neighborhood.

They were seated quietly at the table playing with the jigsaw puzzle. When I came back a quarter of an hour later, they were both wearing soldiers' caps which Kathy had made for them out of newspapers. They had pokers in their hands and were sitting behind the backs of armchairs in the trenches. Wolfie was an Austrian, his friend of Frenchmen. They were shooting at each other. I had never lost my temper with Volfei had never struck him. But this time each of the enemy powers got a box on the ears from me, which was none too gentle.

It was the expression of my very deep and spontaneous indignation. Wolfie, whose father and uncle were direct sacrifices to the war at the front was playing at war. Wolfie, rather than puzzled and in tears, begged to be forgiven. I explained to him, as I had often done before, that war was the most abominable institution in the world that ought to be utterly done away with. Wolfie must promise me never to play at war again. But Daddy says that when someone hits me, I must hit them back. Fulfi answered rather defiantly, and the Frenchman hit me.

There it is. When someone hits us, we think we must hit back. Therein lies the secret of all wars. December 21st, 1923. Three and three-and-quarter years have passed March 1920. The piece of San Germain has been signed. In the abnormal economic position in which we replaced, it was received with apathy. This fortune has stupefied us. This piece has not brought any alleviation to the Viennese Housewise for the economic war continues, and it is above all from the housewives of the middle and property classes that it demands uncounted sacrifices. Foodstuffs, which three years ago were entirely unobtainable in Vienna and the rest of Austria can now be bought everywhere. But who can buy them? Whose income has kept pace with the tireless activities of the banknote

printing press? Although my holdings and shares is worth, as today's quotation, more than 10 million cronin, I'm at my wits end to know where to find money to buy food. I will let a few figures more expressive than the most lively descriptions speak for themselves. Today, the value of our crone is quoted in Zurich as 0.0070.5 centimes. Its value is, however, higher than that of the German mark. In November 1922, that is about a year ago, a German mark still cost 70 Austrian cronin today a million marks costs 23 Austrian heller some people reputed to be clever are buying German marks today how many catastrophes are concealed behind these figures in Berlin one eggs cost four million million marks one pound of butter is 60 to 70 million marks one loaf

and of bread 25 million marks one dollar is worth one billion marks It is said that the printing of notes is to cease in Germany and that the depreciated mark is to be replaced by a renton mark. The same is said of our crone, but no one knows what will be the relation between present and past values. Everything is wrapped in the uncertainty created by the constantly growing inflation. One pound sterling costs 316,000 Austrian cronin. One dollar costs 70,000 Austrian cronin.

One kilogram of sugar costs today 12,000 cronin. One kilogram of coffee costs today 37,000 cron. One kilogram of rice costs today, 10,000 cronin. A recent sentence passed in Vienna gives an idea of the currency depreciation. A workman found guilty of defamation of character was condemned to 48 hours imprisonment or a fine to 500,000 cronin. The rise are quotations on the stock markets in Vienna and Berlin are precipitous. I have probably grown richer even while I have been writing these lines. But this state of things is unhealthy, feverish, menacing, and every day it destroys thousands of livelihoods.

The weekly wage of a skilled workman in Vienna is between 750,000 and 900,000 cronin. The public will never get used to the fact that the imposing figures on our banknotes cannot be harmonized with prices on the food market. when it says that the weekly wage is 750,000 cronin, I believe, if I remember correctly from earlier, a pensioner was getting 400 cron a month. The ease with which profits are made on the stock exchange encourages extravagant spending and enormously aggravates the light-mindedness of the Vietnamese. In consequence, Viennese displays a sham luxury which might be compared with a frenzy dance on a sheet of ice which is already thawing. When the dancers will fall into the water is only a question of time. I will now turn to the general situation to say a few words more about my own little family. I have let two more rooms in my flat.

I myself share my old bedroom with Vofi and Little Lysol, while Ernie and Edith have taken up their quarters in the bedroom which used to belong to Brudie and Lysbeth. We still share the one sitting room. Volfe is now a pupil in the first class of the gymnasium, and in order that his upbringing shall not suffer from the loss of his father, we have placed him in the school boarding house in our immediate neighborhood. Although he is unmistakably a war child, we have every reason to be satisfied with his physical and mental development.

Lysol, now four years old, is a transparent, pale, often fretful little person. I'm constantly anxious about her health. the defective feeding from which she suffered in the years after the war has plainly left its mark on her as on so many children of her age. A slight attack of ricketts now so widespread has yielded to energetic treatment. Edith and Ernie, who were married in May 1920, live in the most blissful harmony. Although the operation which Ernie underwent was unsuccessful, he has been so consoled and supported by Edith that he recovered from this heavy blow comparatively soon.

As I expected, Edith gave Ernie her entire devotion and entered into all his feelings. Life without her would now be unthinkable for him. She has to the full appreciation of his art, and he has not produced a single composition in which she has not had her share. Although his Requiem won a prize in 1920, it could not be played in public until a few years ago when there was a Christmas performance of it in the concert hall. It was the first concert we had attended for years. We sat in one of the boxes next to the orchestra.

I had a bad attack of first night fever, and Eva went out into the corridor as the Requiem drew to a close. Already during the interval, there had been much applause. When the last notes of the requisite in pace, sung by the choir, accompanied by the organ and orchestra, had died away, There was a spontaneous outburst of applause. Ernie's appearance, when he was fetched from his box to thank the audience, provoked a sensation. And he had to respond to countless recalls.

January 2nd, 1924, the new currency, the impoverishment of the middle class. We poor harassed housewives had a disagreeable Christmas surprise. The Cronin and Heller, which have lately given us so much trouble and about which we have so often wrecked our brains have been changed into shillings and grotian. It is a drastic change. For 15,000 cronin, we get one shilling. Thousands of Austrians have been reduced during the last days to beggary. All who were not clever enough to hoard the forbidden state currencies or gold have, without exception, suffered losses. To give an example, an old married couple with whom I had been friendly for years, had a holding of government stock amounting to two million pre-war cronin,

which brought them in interest 80,000 pre-war coroner a year. They were just regarded as, they were justly regarded as rich people. Today, their stock brings them eight new shillings a year. The state has at one stroke relieved itself of all its debts of the population in the form of banknotes. Panic has seized the stock exchange, shares too, are being converted into the new shillings. My millions have dwindled to about a thousand new shillings. We too belong. today to the new poor. There is light, heat, food, and drink in Vienna today. Everything can be

bought for the new shillings if one has them. But who is lucky enough to have them? The middle class has been reduced to a proletariat. I too can escape from starvation only if I find new sources of income, so I must once again struggle and worry. Once more, I must thrust all spiritual and cultural interests into the background, and like all the rest who find themselves in my position, hunt for shillings in order to keep body and soul together. More fighting, daily, repeated, exasperating, demoralizing, offensive, and defensive fighting of man against man. I feel that my strength is deserting me. I cannot go on. Younger generations are pressing forward ahead of us old people, and we are only obstacles in their new paths. I would like to go away, far away, where there is

peace, rest, and contemplation. peace rest. The motto of Ernie's Requiem rings in my ears. Requisate in Pache, may all rest in peace. Dear God, will that ever be true for me again? The end. I know I repeatedly have said this as I'm reading this. How would you react? What would your opinion be of people? What would your opinion be of certain countries, certain groups of people? How would you react? If you live through that. If you live through that. It's not so easy.

And we're heading down a path. We are heading down a path. If you want to support the show, freeman beyond the wall.com forward slash support. You support me right there on the website. Substack, subscribe star, gumroad, Patreon. And get the episodes early and ad-free. And you can get access to the telegram group.

good people in there and they will keep you sane in the worst of times. All right. Until I start the next book, which I haven't completely decided on yet. So take care. See in a couple days. Bye.