President Biden has many good qualities. Accuracy isn’t among them.
Politicians, of course, lie a lot. Many will exaggerate (arrested in South Africa huh Joe?). Mostly they don’t need a response, but a recent fib crossed a line.
President Biden has recently taken to claiming that his uncle was eaten by cannibals in Papua New Guinea during the Second World War –
He got shot down in New Guinea, and they never found the body because there used to be — there were a lot of cannibals, for real, in that part of New Guinea
The story is, of course, nonsense. The body was not recovered because the aeroplane sank when it ditched in the water (not shot down, incidentally). What’s objectionable is the slur it casts on Papua New Guineans. Far from being cannibals, the natives of PNG treated allied soldiers with exemplary care (which was pretty generous considering that Australia’s treatment of them was often disgraceful).
Presumably it suits President Biden to describe the Papuans as cannibals. I prefer Sapper Beros’ description –
Many a mother in Australia,
When the busy day is done,
Sends a prayer to the Almighty
For the keeping of her son,
Asking that an Angel guide him
And bring him safely back
Now we see those prayers are answered
On the Owen Stanley track,
For they haven’t any halos,
Only holes slashed in the ears,
And with faces worked by tattoos,
With scratch pins in their hair,
Bringing back the wounded,
Just as steady as a hearse,
Using leaves to keep the rain off
And as gentle as a nurse.Slow and careful in bad places,
On the awful mountain track,
And the look upon their faces,
Makes us think that Christ was black.
Not a move to hurt the carried,
As they treat him like a Saint,
It’s a picture worth recording,
That an Artist’s yet to paint.
Many a lad will see his Mother,
And the Husbands, Weans and Wives,
Just because the Fuzzy Wuzzy
Carried them to save their lives.From mortar or machine gun fire,
Or a chance surprise attack,
To safety and the care of Doctors,
At the bottom of the track.
May the Mothers in Australia,
When they offer up a prayer,
Mention those impromptu Angels,
With the Fuzzy Wuzzy hair.
Road to Rotorua 