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September 3, 2012
The True Origin of World War II Revealed
By Leni Matlin
Recently discovered documents from the personal archives of Sir H. R. Trumpleflush, Nobel Laureate for History, have utterly stunned contemporary historians as to the true causes of WW II. And, incredible as it may seem, it may all boil down to the insidious effects of a little known innocuous root vegetable: Hickleberry Root.
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From 1920 to 1939, the Fabulous Flying Ballantines were the world's premier trapeze act. Rachel Ballantine, her three siblings and husband Luther (who took his wife's surname when he married into the Ballantine clan), were renowned for mastering the triple-twist over/under reverse somersault flap-doodle, the most complex and dangerous maneuver in all of trapezing. This was their showstopper, and they performed it flawlessly every Saturday for nineteen years until one dreadful evening in July of 1939 when Luther inexplicably lost his grip on the bar and he and Rachel's siblings plummeted to their deaths. Rachel was thrown clear of the ring and landed unharmed cradled in the tusks of a parading elephant standing on its hind legs that fortunately just had her tusks sanded and blunted.
When traces of rancid wombat grease were discovered on the bar Luther had used, the trapezing community and the world as a whole were shocked and suspicion immediately settled upon the Ballantines' arch rivals, the Fantastic Falling Felluchi Brothers. It was an open secret the Felluchi brothers nurtured a festering resentment against the Ballantines for besting them in the International Trapeze Tournament of 1930, an event held every ten years. In private, the Felluchis swore vengeance and that they would take the next Tournament Trophy home to Naples.
In the summer of 1939, on the eve of World War II and the International Trapeze Tournament of 1940, unseen but powerful political undercurrents swirled around the upcoming contest. The Felluchis, financed by Benito Mussolini, fascist dictator of Italy, had been hailed by Adolph Hitler as "the finest trapeze artists of our time," while the Fabulous Flying Ballantines were English and had recently been feted by King George VI who went further, extolling them as "the supreme trapeze artists of ALL time."
The entire civilized world awaited the Trapeze Tournament slated for late January 1940 which would still the clash of superlatives and resolve once and for all which family deserved the title of The Greatest Trapeze Artists in the World. However, neither the trapezers nor their supporters knew the Tournament would never take place, for events unfolding behind the scenes were propelling the competing factions and the nations of Europe into yet another World War.
In July 1939, the Felluchis made their move against the Ballantines, and as heretofore described, all but Rachel were killed. Though talented trapeze artists, in all other respects the Felluchis were supreme idiots, and after getting drunk that night could not help but toast loudly and repeatedly to their sinful success. Being supreme idiots, they naturally left the windows of their trailer wide open and their inebriated boasting was overheard by the Bearded Lady, the Two Headed Man, the Fire Eater, the Half Man/Half Woman, and assorted jugglers, gymnasts, and freaks.
Led by a phalanx of fist shaking angry clowns, they marched in costume en masse to the nearest German police station to lodge a complaint and demand justice. Unable to ignore or placate the mob of incensed circus performers, the German police had no recourse but to arrest the Felluchi brothers and investigate the matter. Threatened with four counts of first degree murder if they did not come clean, the plastered Felluchis panicked and confessed the details of the plot. International pressure was levied on German authorities to speedily resolve the affair and the case was swiftly brought to the bar, and under cross examination the chilling facts emerged.
Far from being the masterminds of the scheme, the Felluchi brothers were in actuality nothing more than stooges. Knowing their hatred of the Ballantines, they were approached by an embittered midget who alleged his advances had been snubbed by a Ballantine woman and suggested they join forces to eliminate the entire brood. He had carefully studied the Ballantines in rehearsal and noted the precise spots where Luther positioned his hands on the trapeze bar as they were about to execute the grand finale of the triple-twist over/under reverse somersault flap-doodle, the most complex and dangerous maneuver in all of trapezing.
They agreed to work together, but unknown to the Felluchis, their collaborator was a Nazi operative who had infiltrated the circus masquerading as a midget in order to assassinate Luther. While the five Felluchi brothers stood guard to ensure no one wandered by, the mock midget carried out his deadly assignment and applied wombat grease to the bar.
The Teutonic midget promptly disappeared and left the five Felluchis to stand trial for the murders. Though their account of the events seemed preposterous and nothing more than a desperate fabrication, nevertheless, on August 31, 1939, to the incredulity of the civilized world, which had been riveted by the case, the five Felluchi brothers were acquitted of the dastardly crime by a biased German court. The following day, September 1, Hitler's forces invaded Poland. On September 3, England declared war on Germany, conveying the impression the Polish offensive was the cause of the hostilities whereas in fact the Felluchi acquittal was the underlying motivating force leading to the conflict which would engulf the continent, as heretofore secret files from that era and afterward now prove.
In support of this astounding assertion is a three-page document from the private papers of the eminent historian Sir H. R. Trumpleflush, Royal Historian to the Court of St. James, who lived to be 112 and died in 1966. After his demise, a file was discovered in the Trumpleflush archives composed in Classical Medieval Mandarin, a language only four people in the world could read and write: Sir Trumpleflush and three Chinese scholars.
The Chinese professors had been imprisoned by the communists when they seized mainland China in 1950. A daring raid by agents of MI6 freed one of them, Professor Yew Flung Dung, only days before he was to be executed for cultural crimes against the people of China.
Once securely ensconced in a safe house outside London, Professor Dung was set to work on the Trumpleflush Revelation, as it came to be called by the few who knew of it, and after a month of intensive work, deciphered it. The contents of the document rocked His Majesty's Secret Services as well as the Royal Family, most of who had been kept in the dark regarding the events it described.
(Professor Dung was awarded the Royal Medal of International Cooperation -- the highest honor which can be bestowed upon a foreigner -- by Queen Elizabeth II in a private ceremony after which he was beheaded. His torso was buried beneath the largest stone in Avesbury and his head was sold to a wax museum proprietor who coated it with paraffin and used it in the Chinese torture exhibition.)
The Trumpleflush Revelation reported that in 1960, while he was helping Winston Churchill to organize his papers so as to compose his memoirs, in a rush of candor fueled by brandy and laudanum taken for his chronic dyspepsia, the former wartime Prime Minister divulged to Sir Trumpleflush the following heretofore classified information.
"You know, Sir Trumpleflush, the world still believes it was the invasion of Poland by Hitler which precipitated the Second World War when in actuality it was the acquittal of the Felluchi brothers in the sensational Ballantine murder trial of August 1939 which was the true spark that ignited the engines of war."
Amazed and perturbed by this disclosure, H.R. questioned Churchill about it.
"But, Sir Winston, why would that have been so? Granted, the Ballantines were well liked by the Royal Family and a source of national pride having won the International Trapeze Tournament in 1930, but nonetheless, why would the acquittal of the Felluchis have been such a significant matter to the British rulers?"
Churchill waved the centenarian historian closer, and though none but they were present, whispered in the one hundred six year old historian's ear.
"You must vow to take this secret to the grave, Trumpleflush. Do you give me your word on that?"
Trumpleflush agreed and Churchill went on.
"None but a handful of insiders know of this, but Luther Ballantine was the product of a passionate encounter between Queen Victoria and Lord Nathan von Rothschild."
"My word!" the Noble Prize recipient gasped as small details which had never quite made sense began to fall into place. "So that's why Queen Victoria was rarely seen for a full six months in 1895. It was said she was suffering from severe bloating due to her nightly consumption of hickleberry root, her favorite dessert and highly addictive, and which when overindulged in can precipitate grievous gas production and water retention resulting in the most obscene bloating imaginable. But this is surely preposterous, Sir Winston: Victoria was in her seventies at the time. How could she have possibly conceived let alone borne a child?"
With a sly devilish smile, Churchill revealed, "Hickleberry root."
"Hickleberry root?" Trumpleflush was reeling.
"Indeed. It was the very same hickleberry root which was the source of it all, Trumpleflush. You see, not only is hickleberry root addictive and the cause of grievous gas production and water retention resulting in the most obscene bloating imaginable, but in sufficiently high doses it is also an extremely potent aphrodisiac and can turn a barren woman fertile, and dare I say, an old woman into a young tart. When the Queen met privately in her chambers with Baron von Rothschild, who himself was approaching sixty, to discuss vital financial matters, they both consumed massive quantities of hickleberry root and... Well, I need not spell out the ensuing effects, need I?"
Trumpleflush was astounded and sat quietly absorbing what he had heard. He finally asked, "But what of the child? What happened to it?"
"The child, a boy, was placed with a responsible family to be properly raised, but as a teenager he rebelled and ran away and joined the circus, where he met and later married Rachel Ballantine and became part of the family trapeze act."
"But, Sir Winston, did the Germans know of this, that Luther Ballantine was the son of Queen Victoria and Lord Rothschild?"
"Ah, Trumpleflush, you don't miss a trick, do you? Still sharp as a buzzard's beak at one hundred and six. So, now we draw nearer to the crux of the whole affair."
Churchill waved Trumpleflush to come even closer, which the historian found extremely unpleasant as he was now practically sitting in Sir Winston's lap with his ear pressed up against the man's mouth and being sprayed with brandy scented laudanum tainted spittle with every crusty syllable. But Trumpleflush put up with the revolting proximity to Churchill's vile saliva as he was now about to be entrusted with one of the great secrets of modern British history.
"You see, old boy, the Felluchis were not the true culprits behind the dastardly crime, the wombat greased trapeze bar murder of Luther Ballantine and his in-laws. Do you think those dumb as stones Felluchis could have concocted such a clever and fiendish plot on their own? Certainly not!"
The emphasis with which the last two words were exclaimed was like a gale force gust which sent the five-foot tall Trumpleflush flying off Churchill's lap and rolling onto the heavily carpeted floor and into the fireplace headfirst, in which a roaring fire was roaring. Though suffering third degree burns over most of his head and face, nothing could deter Sir Trumpleflush from hearing the long hidden secrets of the Ballantine affair and the true origins of World War II.
"Trumpleflush, are you all right?" Churchill called out from across the room.
"Never better, Sir Winston," the plucky centenarian responded.
"Are you in need of a doctor?"
"Indeed I am, sir, but not as much as I need to hear the rest of your account."
"Ah, Trumpleflush, you do us all proud. Though horribly burned from the neck up and likely to be hideously disfigured, yet you are ready to do your duty without a whimper or whine. You, Sir Trumpleflush, exemplify all that is noble and courageous in us and embody the very essence of what has made the British Empire what it is today."
"The Empire is falling to pieces all around us, Sir Winston."
"Quite so, Trumpleflush, quite so."
"In any case, there will be ample time for whimpering and whining later, after I have heard all there is to know of this crucial turning point in our proud little island's history."
"Well said, sir, well said indeed. Now climb back on my lap so I may finish telling you the entire story while filling your ear with my disgusting drool."
As soon as Trumpleflush was settled on Sir Winston's lap, the former Prime Minister went on.
"Now, where were we?"
"You had just said, 'Do you think those dumb as stones Felluchis could have concocted such a clever and fiendish plot on their own?' Then you answered your own question with a gale force gust of wind, "Certainly not!' which sent me flying across the room and rolling headfirst into the fireplace."
"Ah. Well, to finish up, the Nazis discovered through their fifth column sympathizers and moles that Luther Ballantine was of English royal blood and a Rothschild to boot so they planned his termination using the Felluchis as their pawns. A German agent who had penetrated the circus disguised as a midget manipulated the Felluchis into being part of the plot. The brain dead Neapolitans had their own reasons -- envy, spite, jealousy, and shamefully poor sportsmanship -- to want to finish off the Ballantines and never knew of the Nazi's true reasons. After the operation, the counterfeit midget vanished, leaving the dumb as stones Felluchi brothers alone in the dock. Quite ingenious of the Krauts, yes?"
Trumpleflush was struggling to hear Sir Winston's words as his ear canal had filled up with Churchill's viscous saliva.
"Please, go on sir, and if you can, quickly get to the point as my scalp has come off and the skin on my face will soon follow suit."
"Right-o then. King George the Sixth, aware that Luther Ballantine was of royal blood, and Baron von Rothschild, who had initially financed Hitler's rearmament of Germany and was furious that Adolph would then turn around and kill his son, knew the Felluchis were incapable of pulling off the crime on their own and together sent a terse warning directly to Der Fuhrer that if the Felluchis and the German agents behind the plot were not made to pay for their crime, then it would mean war... and no more bank loans or credit."
Churchill paused to allow the Royal Court Historian to soak up the import of what he had said and to tilt his head and drain his ear. Having accomplished both, Trumpleflush turned to face Churchill.
"Sir, if I understand all you have disclosed correctly, then in essence what you are saying is that one, the invasion of Poland was not the primary reason for going to war..." Churchill nodded, "...and two, once Hitler realized that the acquittal of the Felluchis alone would be enough cause for the English to declare war..."
As Trumpleflush paused -- for what he was about to assert was almost unthinkable and nearly impossible to say -- Churchill encouraged him, "Yes, go on, H. R., you're getting there."
"...then since war was inevitable, he, Hitler, had nothing to lose and might as well go ahead and attack Poland."
"Precisely."
"So..." Trumpleflush stared directly into Churchill's eyes, "...one could further deduce that King George and Lord Rothschild provoked Hitler to invade Poland..." Churchill nodded as Trumpleflush began putting it all together, "...and the horrors which ensued, the terrible conflict, the loss of life, the destruction of Europe, and all the other dire consequences, can be traced back to one night of passionate ardor between Queen Victoria and the richest man in England and..."
"Go on, Trumpleflush, you've got it in your sights now."
"...the insidious salacious effects of... hickleberry root."
"Bravo, Trumpleflush!" Sir Winston applauded and laughed gaily, "Bravo and jolly well done. I knew you would get it on your own if I just provided you with a few pertinent facts."
Trumpleflush was stunned senseless. All he could do was to mutter over and over again, "Hickleberry root ... hickleberry root ... hickleberry root ..."
"Hickleberry root, indeed. And now you know why hickleberry root has been banned in Britain since 1896."
Both men sat in silence contemplating the true origins of World War II, which the general public would never be allowed to know.
"Sir Winston," Trumpleflush confessed, "I regret to say this, but it appears I can no longer hold back the whimpering and whining and so I fear I must leave you forthwith. Besides, my face is peeling off in great garish strips."
As Trumpleflush stood to leave and seek medical care, Sir Winston winked at him.
"You know, Trumpleflush, I have a private supply of hickleberry root if you would like to indulge in some while I invite the chambermaid in."
Stunned by this proposal, Trumpleflush nonetheless maintained his equanimity.
"I appreciate the offer, Sir Winston, but my primary concern at the moment is saving what I can of my face. Further, I have not had a sexual urge in over fifty years."
"The hickleberry root would take care of that, my boy, but let me not detain you from the medical aid you so urgently require. On your way out, H.R., kindly send in the chambermaid. I am feeling quite randy at the moment."
Grinning, Churchill waved his famous two finger V sign for victory as Trumpleflush tottered off to seek out medical care. That was the last time Churchill and Trumpleflush saw each other. Sir Winston began work in earnest on his memoirs and Trumpleflush retired to his study and rarely ventured out as he was monstrously disfigured and frightened small children and horses and distracted drivers of all manner of vehicles causing accidents wherever he went.
As for Rachel Ballantine, she gave birth eight and a half months after Luther's death. As Luther's son also carried the bloodlines of Queen Victoria and Baron Nathan von Rothschild, it was taken from her and raised in a remote castle with a moat in northern Switzerland. Rachel died a penniless pauper a few years later, and as to the fate of her semi royal offspring, that may be hidden in other secret files as there are said to be more documents written in Classical Medieval Mandarin, but since the deaths of Yew Flung Dung, the two Chinese scholars, and Sir Trumpleflush, there is no one left in the world to translate them.
Will we ever be privy to the secrets contained in those documents? Perhaps someday we may know, or then again, we may never know, for who among us can say if we will ever know or not ever know, for indeed, neither is the knowing or the not knowing something we can unequivocally know ... or not know.
However, there is one thing we do know which is when it comes to the true origins of wars, we, the commoners, don't know didly squat, or how to get our hands on hickleberry root.