From Monika Schaefer: In a German Prison: Alfred Schaefer in the Mask War – Write to Alfred in Jail


[Just in from Monika Schaefer about her brave, principled brother who is in jail for daring to question the stupid Jewish lies about Germans and WW2. It is sad, filthy and disgusting that fine honest Germans sit in jail for Jewish crap. Jan]

Dear friends,

I had prepared an article in DRAFT form on my website ready to go on January 10th, but it was late in the evening, and I just wanted to do finishing touches next morning before hitting the “publish” button. Alas, the censorship world took over, and POOF! my website was gone. was taken down on the 11th of January 2021. My stomach fell, but I soon recovered as I heard from several people that most of my articles would be retrievable at By now I have adopted a better attitude about the website being taken down. We are in a war, and evidently the enemy of humanity is afraid of li’l ol’ me and my words. I guess I must have been doing something right.

My brother Alfred’s birthday is coming up soon, on January 30th. He will turn 66 years old. In light of his resistance and the subsequent treatment he received from his jailers, this would be an excellent time to send him a letter, a card or a short greeting on a postcard. It is not only for Alfred’s good cheer, but also to show the authorities that he is not forgotten, that we are watching, and that we see what is going on.

Here is his address:

Alfred Schaefer


86899 Landsberg am Lech


I ask you to hold off publishing it on the web, but do feel free to share this message. I have had conversation with someone very close to him in Germany who has her finger on the pulse, and there are concerns that the “authorities” may stop his mail. There is more to the story and it needs to get out, so please honour this request, share privately but not on public platforms at this time. My apologies if some people get this message twice, if some of the names on people’s private lists overlap with my current bcc list.

Corona Repression and the Revenge of the System – Alfred in the Mask War

Since last publishing on December 26, 2020 [on my now defunct website], in which I expressed concern about the possibility that food was being withheld, we have a better picture of what transpired in that “iron bar hotel” that Alfred currently resides in. First came the response from Alfred’s jailers to the European patriot who had made a complaint to the Justice Minister of Bavaria regarding Alfred’s treatment. They stated categorically that food had not been withheld from Alfred. It was only my misinterpretation of a short reference by Alfred to “no food for 5 days”.

That was confirmed in a direct letter to me from Alfred dated 16 December 2020, received on 7 January 2021, in which Alfred explains his short hunger strike. Here are excerpts, from Alfred:

“Isn’t it amazing? What an exciting time to be alive. Our Civilization reaches a pinnacle, and we get to be there. Do you know how many of our ancestors would die for this moment in human history, just to be here? They did die for it. And we have not forgotten them. To them we apologize for having taken this long. And by the will of God we will restore their honour and protect their honour for all time.

“Hey Monika, you wouldn’t believe where I was when I received your letter of November 23rd. It was exactly what I needed, because I was in the Bunker. That is the place, behind a double steel door, permanent light, video camera to the office, extra cage around the window, open stainless steel toilet, etc, that I got tossed into after they gave me the spurs to show them if I can still get it right. I could clearly hear the message the entire time: Go WC go! [WC
= Worst Case] Go go go, go WC go! Give it all you’ve got!

“At the time that I received your wonderful letter my mind set was: "I’m outa’ here by Christmas, either in a box or otherwise. I ain’t eating nothing until / as long as I’m in this Bunker." I was on about day 3 or 4 of my hunger strike and it was actually getting easier as I was moving along. Not harder. That surprised me. They tried to bait me but I held out. The details of this episode are now in my diary. They are real, not like Anne Frank’s diarrhoea.

“So what prompted all this? The fact that I’m having a jolly good time with "full pension" while women and children are being beaten down by uniformed "civil servants" for not wearing their Pavlovian Conditioning Idiot Masks, with billy clubs and tear gas and super high-pressure water with stink added, that became increasingly unbearable for me. And let me say very clearly Monika, no matter what the show may have appeared to be for anyone observing it, it was liberating and exhilarating. You will know this very well from "Sorry Mom, I was wrong about the holocaust”. You know this as well as anyone can know this and you know that not for even one fraction of a second did you ever think of backtracking, come what may. [very true ~ MS]

“So as not to be a total bonehead I reduced my demands to my jailers to show I’m willing to negotiate. If I get a pen to write I’ll think about eating something. I need to be able to keep a record of events. What use is it to leave in a box and let them say "Oh, it was an accident."

“All that started 2 weeks ago, I’m still in the "Corona special isolation" but that’s just fine and conducive for my work and writing. This little episode greatly enhances the overall value of my time in the gulag. So many great details that will all bear fruits. (coming soon to a theatre near you)”

~~~~~~[end of that section]~~~~~

Alfred wrote a letter dated 30.12.2020 to a German patriot with a few details of what landed him in the Bunker. It was written in German, and what follows is the best translation I can muster. I have left a few short bits out which were of a more personal nature. I hope that Alfred’s humour, wit and spirit was not “lost in translation”, as they say.

Letter from Alfred to German Patriot – 30.12.2020

In this letter I will just write about the provocation of the provocation of the provocation. I will keep it short, as I could write a whole book about this chapter since December 3rd. I think it has become the most valuable time since I came behind these walls. I am not being sarcastic. I am dead serious.

What happened?

December 3, 2020. As usual at 10:30 I went down to the Canteen to get my meal. I finished eating, got up and pulled my face-diaper up, but because I can’t breathe if I put this idiot bib over my nose and I am an old white man and need to breathe to live, but I have to satisfy the Corona enforcement mob. I thought I was making a good compromise so we can all get through this day in harmony. Everywhere their motto "Gemeinsam Gegen Corona" (together against Corona). If I was to keel over in the Canteen from lack of oxygen, they surely would count me as a Corona death statistic, and I am not willing to give my life in support of this swindle. That is why I always leave my nose free to catch a bit of air.

On December 3rd there was a new guard eager to impress his owners, when he noticed there was this old white man, this Worst Case Schaefer – who was insolent enough to secretly breathe through his nose. He shouted at me: “Herr Schaefer, your nose!”

Because I had both hands on the tray, I continued walking to the drop-off table, saying "can’t do anything, got my hands full".

His veins nearly popped out of his face as he came towards me, so I thought, well alright, he seems a little agitated, so I put my tray on the nearest table and I said to him: “When you look at me, like now, I will pretend to take you seriously and will do this.” (Raised my mask) “And when you look away, then I do this.” (Lowered my mask). But just so he wouldn’t explode or hit me dead in that moment, I put the mask up, walked the 10 steps around the corner, and dropped off my tray. Before I went into the hallway, I turned around, pulled the mask down and smiled at him.

Thinking that all this theatre could not be taken seriously, I wandered in my normal pace back down the halls and stairwell to my cell, and yakked with my buddies there. I barely mentioned the incident because it wasn’t something to be taken seriously.

About 20 minutes later, 3 guards came marching my way. I suspected, uh-oh, maybe they want to talk to me. But no worries, I didn’t break anything.

They told me they have to search my cell. Okay, I thought, no biggie, they do these cell searches again and again anyways, you can’t do anything about it and normally you can live with it. So, I just wait outside the cell until they are done. But first I had to strip down naked so they could check for hidden Kalashnikovs under my testicles. I had to squat so they could see if anything falls out. They checked my foot soles, for little hand grenades between the toes. OK, they found nothing, so after careful inspection of my clothing I was allowed to put that back on.

After about 30 minutes (relatively fast), the 3 guards came back out of my cell carrying a few things in their hands. I glanced into my cell, and was dumbstruck. On my bed was a pile built up out of everything that was normally stowed away neat and tidy, all mixed together. Papers, dirty laundry, clean laundry, fruit, playing cards all scattered throughout, envelopes emptied of their contents, old mail, new mail, as though everything went through a cement mixer. The mattress was stripped down to the bare foam and was leaning up against all this. They took all my Pavlov Dog postcards. Files that I had put aside to send to storage (for space considerations) were now all mixed up with everything else.

I never would have thought such circumstances possible in a land that calls itself civilized. Totally despotic arbitrary act, vandalism, that’s what it was. A couple of my buddies saw it and then it was lock-up time. It was so surreal, I had to photograph it, otherwise nobody would believe it. But I don’t have a camera. I pressed the intercom button.

The voice: "what is it?"

me: "my cell has been devastated, this is not normal"

voice: "which cell is it?"


"yes, that is a cell search, what do you want? Ha ha ha ha ha ha… you are alone ha ha ha ha … now see how you deal with that ha ha ha ha ha"

The violation and then the mockery… raging inside… breathe… it all has a purpose.. I just have to find it… Do not forget what has happened and store up your energy for later…

Just take the first step… just start… okay, the next four hours until courtyard hour I worked through the pile. As I got down to the bottom, I noticed that some of those playing cards were wet, WTF? The mandarins which I got with yesterday’s bi-monthly purchase order were partly moldy and soft, and they got squished under binders. Much later I noticed one card missing altogether: the King of hearts. Coincidence? I understood. Okay, okay.

At 16:30 the cell doors open, I’ve done enough, it is time to go outside, Hallelujah, get my hour of fresh air! In the last while I have always gone down without the Idiot Bib, so why make an exception today. I fly down the stairwell, eager as a bunny, and am the first one there. The guard at the still-locked door suddenly notices – oh my, there is a naked face before me, Help! – and says to me: "Herr Schaefer, where is your mask?"

I answered: "I am going outside and there are no Coronas outside. I have not seen any out there, so I don’t need any face diaper."

Guard: "We are inside right here, and here you need a mouth protection"

Me: "I’ll be outside momentarily, and if your protection works, then you need not fear my Coronas."

Guard: "I am warning you for the last time. Do you have your mask with you?"

Me: "Yes, in case 8 guards want to knock me dead for not wearing my sucker bib, I’ll put it on quickly."

I think the poor guy didn’t know what to do, he opened the door, and like lightning I was out the door into the fresh air, which exhilarated me! I noticed that my friend the guard was on the telephone. Before I had even made my third round, I heard my name being called by another guard. I asked him if I could be of assistance to him. He informed me my Hofgang (courtyard walk) was over and that I was returning to my cell now. I told him I will gladly return to my cell when the hour of fresh air to which I am entitled is over. He was not interested in that, and after a while I gave in as I realized it was a hopeless situation. He threatened to bring out the big boys, and this old man can’t keep up. So, there we were, walking harmoniously together toward my cell. I pulled my mask out of my pocket and swung it like a lasso over my head and laughed out loud because it really was funny. You just have to laugh. And it was fun.

It was only when he ordered me inside my cell that I noticed the seriousness of the situation. I asked him if he had already remonstrated. I wanted to explain it to him but he wanted no such thing. Then I insisted that we talk to his boss. I hung onto the railing outside my cell door because I knew that once inside, it was too late. No, No, No, no matter how clearly and diplomatically I explained the importance of it,

1) remonstrate,

2) manager;

otherwise, he will be personally indictable after this system collapses, which is happening. I carried on this dialogue in front of the cell door until 3 large guys with their hardware jangling marched towards me.

Before I could even say please-and-thank-you, my left arm was twisted so sharply behind my back that I was forced to double over. And my right arm was grabbed with the thumb pressed against my forearm, causing a searing pain in my wrist. Well now it was clear to me they really meant it serious with their Corona-clique idiot mask rules.

But I also mean it seriously and recognized the opportunity. As loudly as I could, I yelled, "MASKS OFF! MASKS OFF!" over and over. Whenever I had to take a breath, I heard the voice in my right ear, "quiet, be quiet". In this mode we went the entire B wing down to the Bunker cell. After they shoved me in, I was ordered to strip naked. My protestations were met with the threat that they would rip the clothing off for me. And I had better hurry up! They were in the majority. I cooperated. Having my clothes ripped off my body was not worth it.

There, now I had a new home. It was spartan. Home sweet home. No light switch. The light stayed on 24/7, because the video camera in the corner needed light. The window way up high had an extra cage on it in addition to the bars, just to be sure a bird wouldn’t smuggle something in or out. The cell door was double, so you cannot get surprised by a visitor quite so quickly. In a normal cell, you hear the keys jangling and have a few seconds. Here, it is jingle-jangle… pause… jingle-jangle and then the door is open. You have maybe 5 to 10 seconds. That is very pleasant.

The toilet is a stainless-steel bowl without lid, there is a tiny stainless-steel sink above, with a button to push for a little water. There are no electrical appliances, like radio, TV, water boiler, nothing at all. No pen, nothing. Just bare walls. And daily 60 minutes outside alone.

After I was in there an hour or two (I had no clock or any way to tell time), three men visited me. One was a doctor and asked if I was injured. No, I am not. Good-bye.

Another thing, on my march from Cell B1-191 to the Bunker cell, it was like an automatic reflex for me, that the harder my thumb was pressed against my forearm, the sharper was the pain, the louder I yelled MASKS OFF! It is like pressing the gas pedal in a car. The car does not think, it just obeys. You depress the pedal, the car shows you what it can do. Is the car sad when you put the pedal to the metal? No. It gives its all. You have a horse and you love your horse and your horse loves you. You give it the spurs, you might hurt it, but that is your language. You really spur hard if there is a tiger chasing you. Your horse does not complain, no, it gives its all. Only when you are in safety, you look into each other’s eyes and cry with joy.

That is how my trip from Cell B1-191 to the Bunker went. Not a single second of sadness. Somehow that day December 3rd from beginning to end, I felt very very satisfied. That day will long remain in my memory as a very important day in my life. The fact that there are women and children being knocked down by uniformed officials for not obeying the idiot-mask rules out there, while I live a nice life in Cell 191, it became unbearable. Now I can sleep better.

Okay, I think I have covered the most important details about my internal move here from B1-191 to the bunker. More to come.

Just to let you know, this event has raised the value of my time here, a very meaningful lesson about the biological healing that we all are going through. I am infinitely happy about the course of events. I will expand on that later. It is about understanding motivation. Motivation = Activation

Okay, it continues, into 2021. By about March, you will have a hard time to find a single man or woman who would admit on camera that they ever believed in Corona. They will have known it all along, even before you or me.

Viele herzliche Grüße,

(WC)88 Alfred

P.S. The herd is turning. Hallelujah! First, they stand still. Then they shake their head, turn 180° and run like never before. 2021

Dear Reader, just a reminder, Alfred’s birthday is coming up soon, on January 30th.

Please go back to the top of the email for his mailing address.

from Monika

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