Years later, Chernobyl, photo by Evilviking When I was 19, I tried to convince Leon Kreel that Chernobyl was like a "red berry" eaten by one of Eugene Marais ' more limber-minded chimpanzees, and I suggested to him that a planned economy with a head on its shoulders, unlike the soul-swallowing Yog Sothoth that is pre-sentient capitalism, should be capable of learning not to repeat the same poisonous mistake of building up a reliance on nuclear power. He called me Kugel and then challenged me. "If you have Jewish in you, as you say you do, then tell me what a Kugel is?" I said: "A cake." "Not bad, not bad." he said, smiling. But I think his offbeat response had less to do with my politics and views on nuclear power and much more to do with the way I continued to lust after his younger daughter, who was 17. So Andy went to Chernobyl for a haunting. He went to a place that felt like Tarkovsky's "Zone" in the film "Stalke
Left wing commentary from the heart and the head