Warning: If you need any warning by this time you should not be here. Please leave appropriately.
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I was not going to put out a message this month, in protest of the forthcoming election circus in November; or at most just two words -- 'Never Vote'.
Election Novembers are always a down time for Truth and Decency and Sanity, as long as the horrid scourge of Politics still exists; and I did not want to participate in another one in any way. However, I thought that some Humans somewhere might want to read something from me at such a dismal time as this -- anything -- so I cobbled together this message; based on some recent observations.
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The title of this message came to me recently when I saw the horrible sight of young latino children going into a United Pestilence Confinement. It was so similar to watching the Damned and Condemned enter the Gates to Hell; and yet the children were completely brainwashed and did not know what hideous horrors awaited them in that coffin. I refer to the horrors of endless lies and endless fakery and endless pretenses and endless propaganda and endless hatred of all Real Life. It was an awful sight and what came to my mind was the phrase 'Move Over Dracula Here Come The Children'.
All Humans know how terrible the business of so-called 'Organized Religion' is. It is utterly corrupted and self-serving and evil, to such an extent that all churches were easy targets for Deviate Invasions; and consequently many have died from the poisons of perversions and propaganda. Because of the fakery that is epidemic inside Organized Religion, churches have operated like Retail Stores for blessings and forgiving and misguidance for decades; always trying to expand and increase profits by accepting any evil that the customers bring with them. Possibly the worst, after The Cult Of The Asshole inside the Hideous Boston Horrid Zone and the Queer Medias, is the network of United Pestilence Coffins that make a cemetery of any town that they infest.
But, what of the other so-called churches of Organized Religion?
How do we know if a church is Human or Satanic?
Most churches are now utterly evil and Satanic; filled with mealy-mouthed and greedy and sick and demented haters of all Humanity.
Is there a way for us to know what is inside, before we go into a church? No Human wants to be caught dead inside a church of the Deviates.
Well, the answer is -- Indicators.
Why else do you think we have developed the technique of using Social Indicators to reveal to us what is, and what is not?
Forrid Abominations in parking lots
Known DemoQueers
Known Media Turds
Known Perverts
Filthy Monkey Horror Listeners
Hideous Hags of Deviation
Twisted Harpies of Hatred pretending to be priestesses
Stupid and Greedy White Faggots pretending to be priests
Mindless Zombies with shit-eating grins going to and fro
Scared Piss-Ants too afraid to leave after the church has been killed
And among them are herds of brainwashed children -- doomed
Do you call that a 'Church' or a 'Factory of the Damned'?
How do we save the children from such coffins, and a fate as the Living-Dead?
Answer: Investigation and Correction.
Investigate the METHODS of the METHODOLOGISTS/PROPAGANDISTS and discover their secrets.
Then, correct and rearrange the entire Human Society to make it Methodology and Propaganda Proof.
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I have been trying to teach all of my readers how to think for more than a decade, and as they can tell you it all starts with the basics. Such as 'Why'. Why do we have to do all of this? Why are the Methodology/Propagandy Vermin so dangerous? Why do they require so much effort to reduce and eliminate as threats to our Human Cultures and Human Virtues and Human Lifestyles?
Answer: Unending degradation of all Existence because of them, unless prevented.
Take an idea for example. Any good and Human idea. If kept in the sole possession of the Human creator, the idea remains altruistic and powerful and original. However, in this rancid society that is diseased by such monsters as Filthy Monkey Horrors on FM and the {{ForeverLyingDemoQueerLiars}}, as soon as any non-Human comes in contact with the idea -- and -- has any way of exerting an influence upon the idea -- the idea starts to diminish in quality and die. That is why there are no ideas in politics that are Human. Nothing gets to the voting stage of politics without having been putrefied by the influence of thousands of politics vermin; thus it is degraded by a thousand fold before it is voted upon. IF -- it came from a Human to begin with. WHICH, is forbidden!!!!
No Human idea should ever be allowed to be touched or influenced by non-Humans.
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This is going to be a short message, partly because of that 'Damned Whale' in my driveway call 'The Impala', which I am just now starting to put back together into some semblance of what it once looked like. And yes, I have heard the laughter about the 'Whale' coming from those tiny brained huge-assed TV Watchers that make big detours just to drive past the 'Whale' and laugh; especially when my feet are showing underneath.
One cool thing about rebuilding your automobile is that you get to add all kinds of goodies that the manufacturers never thought of -- like Anus-Seeking Missiles and Crumb-Cruncher Repellent Spray Nozzles.
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Before I finish however, I have taken some time to make more visualizations and here is one of them. I call this one 'How To Boil Compost'.
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The Dream -- 10-20-2024:
As I mentioned above, I was not going to create a message for this month, a month before an Election Circus; but there are Humans out there who need to read my writings at least once a month to keep calibrated to Reality. Then, I had this dream. I had already woken up for the day, but I was feeling lazy (retirement privilege) and I decided to go back to bed and get some extra zzzzzz's. I slept for about three hours and I had this deep dream in CinemaScope and Technicolor.
This dream stands out in my memory because of the clarity of its visions and the spectacular coloration's and the importance of its contents. Before this I was not thinking of any of these topics at all, and I had not been thinking about them for many days.
It began with forty-seven Human Resistance Fighters, myself included. As it moved from scene to scene there were no 'transitions' as you would see in movies. There were no lead-ins or fade-outs and fade-ins. Each new scene simply appeared with visions and events. There was a time displacement in some cases, but the general flow was in sequence. By the time I figured out what I was seeing the scene would end. The key is to remember while you dream, and then stitch it all together as soon as you wake up. That is the hardest part of these dreams and it can be excruciating.
I have used such dreams in the past as the basis for entire stories, but in this case we will stay with what was shown in the dream. One of the huge differences between writing your memories of a dream and writing a story is in the editing. With dreams the editing is limited due to your memories. If you make too many edits you will start to write things that were not in the dream, and the effect will be ruined. With stories, it is often the case of more edits are better; because with each new edit you create new material or enhance material that you have already written.
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I was one of the Human Resistance fighters and I was dressed in a paramilitary uniform with many pockets and attachments and weapons. We had broken into an enemy compound that was nefarious for its horrendous evils. If we were caught we would be tortured to death in the most horrible ways ever invented in the Hideous Boston Horrid Zone. The compound was enormous, much too big to be seen in its entirety anywhere inside.
We low-crawled into the inside of the compound and then stopped together in one place that was surrounded by concrete walls. It was the beginning of a totally lifeless environment dedicated to total Satanism. Here, we were met by organized slaves from the work population that was imprisoned inside the compound. Most of the slaves in the compound were formerly 'local' persons who had 'disappeared' with the help of bribed local officials.
We systematically unpacked our gear, rearranging it so we could use it in combat, and we spoke with the slaves. We gave the slaves some of our weapons, then we broke up into eight teams and went our separate ways; each team carrying their own explosives.
I was part of a team of five fighters and we spent a lot of time at first deceiving patrols of berserkers and AI killer robots. It was a thoroughly inhuman place, no green life, and very imperial; imperial cavalry units roamed at will and they were all from Texas1984. There was one motif to the compound -- concrete and slave blood.
We were operating on our stomachs mostly, moving fast and low from place to place. Our first target was a building that was colored dark grey and blue. It was not the ugly blue of DemoCrapia, instead it was a cobalt blue that was not painted, the grey was really dark stainless steel. Here and there we were forced to crawl through very small pools of slave blood freshly spilled; about a quart at a time.
Somehow I got into the basement of the first target building alone and I found that it was loaded with equipment racks of communications systems. After checking it out for imperial guards, I quickly began to string a long rope of explosives through the racks. When this was done I waited and watched my wristwatch for the correct time.
While I was down there I looked out a basement window and saw the eight monstrous buttugly windmills that represented the anti-human authorities that had made this horror zone. The windmills were mounted on top of a very long building. Each was at least five hundred feet high with enormous ugly propellers. They were mounted in a single row on top of a building that was about one mile long, all rectangular and concrete grey.
Then the right time arrived and I set off these explosives. The communications building began to disintegrate and melt down as I left. I am sure it made a lot of noise as it was destroyed, but my hearing was not working at that time.
Out in the open again, I had to avoid patrols of berserkers driving chariots wildly; imperial chariots bearing the ugly shield of Deviate Billionaires. Many torches were now lit on many tall posts throughout the compound. This was a kind of alarm for the imperials. You have to remember that killers for the imperial lords are dumb and virtually mindless, trained to do a few menial tasks of lying and killing, and are brainwashed. Then, there were large explosions elsewhere in the compound and the chariot patrols departed for that area.
The first truly great explosion shook the entire compound and one of the awful windmill monstrosities collapsed down upon itself; finally leaning sideways and crashing onto several imperial chariots driven by berserkers that were eating something that looked like chicken legs.
I began moving at a low posture through concrete passageways towards my next target. I had no worries about the other forty-six fighters that were here with me. They were all samurai trained like myself. I scaled a wall and on the top I pulled a grenade launcher from my backpack and I fired a round into a fuel storage tank about half a mile from where I was positioned. It blew apart with a whacking big explosion that was far more deep in bass notes than the fall of the windmill thing. A fireball that was hundreds of yards wide rose rapidly into the air, and many imperial cavalry units diverted away from the fallen windmill to see this spectacle. That would give the fighters a diversion which they would badly need.
My next target was one of the monster windmills in the center of the row. I remember that I was dragging a weapons bag with me and I had the backpack on and I was watching the gyrations of many berserkers driving imperial chariots as they drove helter-skelter around the compound looking for Humans to kill. Throngs of slaves had been set free by our fighters and they were upset by these activities. They ran about in the streets and corridors in very confused ways; like permanent prisoners that had never seen the 'outside' before. This kind of slave was easy to identify; dressed in rags and belts and ropes, chains on feet, electrodes sticking out of their chests and backs, running with no direction, disorganized.
((Any Politician's Ideal Voters))
The berserkers ran them over whenever they got in the way, laughing hysterically and killing them; sometimes backing the chariots over them. I remarked to myself about that. Normally a horse will avoid running over or hitting a Human. Those imperial horses went out of their way to trample slaves to death. Training, it must be training.
My weapons bag took a lot of importance to me then. I became determined to make everything right inside my weapons bag. Finally, I took out enough explosives to drop two of the monster windmills; but I do not know exactly how. There were two of them next to each other in line. They were so big I could barely see the tops; but they came crashing down and hit the streets and exploded. I recall that the slaves all around me were being told to stay clear of falling windmills, by slaves who knew who we were.
At this time I side stepped and deployed into nothingness as more explosions sounded; which is very convenient thinking back on it. My fellow fighters were doing their jobs well. I came abruptly upon three imperial chariots, they were just there before me. I was standing. The drivers were killing innocent slaves that had been burnt in fires. I thought the drivers must be Fort McCoy trained. I shouted and the drivers dropped three slaves that they had just killed with long knives. Each of those berserkers was chewing on the fresh severed tongue of a dead slave. In imperial slang this was called 'Silencing Protests Texas Style'. It is a typical Fort McCoy style also. I shot them down like mad dogs, using an MP40 German machine pistol in 9mm. How that got into the dream is beyond me, but since more than a million of them were made I used it from time to time thereafter with no further surprise. I remembered that I was professional and so I rammed a short samurai sword into the throat of each dead berserker, just to be sure.
By this time the compound was supremely lit by many fires and further explosions. In all of the activity and fire fights I could get to higher places and look around. From these heights I could see teams of fighters running from chariots, and running after chariots, and darting out of buildings just before they exploded. All was going well.
Then, I was hiding in a building taking things out of my weapons bag and creating something, probably another explosive. Suddenly, two legionnaires ran into the room and confronted me. They were young and energetic and out-of-place in this dream. Both were armed with weapons from dead imperials. I held them off with my sword. Then they recognized me, bowed, called me 'Centurion' and left quickly. I knew they would tell no one. They were obviously not happy to be here and were looking for a way out through the explosions.
By this time, from the outside, the compound must have looked like a star had fallen to Earth and was still burning. I had been moving now through underground corridors and I got under what had to be the headquarters building. It was manned by many imperial guards. I floated through it without impedance and observed that these things seemed to be quite calm despite the events outside. One of them commented that this makes a good 'Texas Roast' for the berserkers. I took that to mean that this would fry up a lot of slaves, and fried slaves are a 'Texas BUWI Roasted Treat' that berserkers enjoy. I ignored these comments the way I ignore Queershit from the Filthy Monkey Horrors on FM; and I started across a street outside with my machine pistol in hand and dragging my weapons bag behind me.
There was no let up in the attacks and the slaughters of loose slaves and the explosions. This scenario was as bad as the worst that had ever occurred in the Russian/Ukraine War. But that is just an afterthought.
I saw some kind of opening in the street that had been made by explosions and I dropped down into a tunnel this way. The tunnel led to a massive underground vault that had been ripped open by a falling windmill. The vault was very large, towering over me, but split open by a falling generator. I floated inside and began to look around. The inner walls were lined with body chambers shaped for individual clones. Inside each chamber was an unfinished killer queer. Each chamber was illuminated inside by a single blue light at the top, and I could see that the things were oozing blue slime from their necks where gills were growing. Some tubes led into their arms and legs. The eyes were closed, but they had double eyelids. Each chamber was wired with a loudspeaker at the top and from these came the hideous screeching noises of defecating lesie-turds, which is how the things give orders. I floated through and out of this place, it was not on my list.
I came back up to the street level again and I was suddenly shot at by killer AI drones that bore the Death Symbol of BUWI Texas. I returned fire with my machine pistol and with difficulty I shot down two of the things which exploded with blue smoke on impact. If there were more of these crowd controllers they must have been ordered away. So, I began to zig zag at the street level still dragging my weapons bag behind me. At this time smokes and fires were all around me, and virtually everywhere inside the compound. I was dragging my weapons bag and looking into the air over the compound for flares, red flares. I knew the monsters only used blue flares. Red flares were a signal that the main target had been located. While I was running another gigantic and hideous windmill was caused to fall sideways, and it came down with a compound-shaking crash.
I was shaking off dust and dirt from this event when I saw red flares in the air to my right, over a huge concrete bunker. Forty of us hit that place at the same time, smashing into it and breaking into it and crawling into it and dropping into it as the roof was now shattered into pieces. What followed was a wide-scale and close-order battle between us and hundreds of berserkers from Fort McCoy. I must say that as the fight progressed I was able to look around (inside the bunker) and I was very proud of the actions of our Human Resistance Fighters.
I felt a great tidal wave of goodness and righteousness as our fighters hacked killer berserkers to pieces. For my part I became very interested in the berserkers themselves. Each berserker from DemoCrapia that I killed had a zip code burned into its forehead, high over the left eye. Also, each berserker bore the Death Symbol on its naked ass, also burnt in. And, each berserker that I vanquished had a tally sheet pinned to its naked chest (literally) that showed how many pounds of slave flesh it had eaten so far this day.
The fight lasted until all DemoQueers were either dead or had run for their anuses; and then we began to look at what was inside this awful place. One side of the interior was subdivided into mock radio studios, and at the controls were writhing and gesticulating fat blobs of gelatinous Goo that had microphones stuck up their butts. These things squealed many noises and then hit buttons with their pudgy little fingers and fake applause and fake sounds of approval came from loudspeakers over their heads. It was some kind of training facility for pubescent Filthy Monkey Horrors.
On the other side of the interior were many similar blobs, but not as well developed; hanging from meat hooks in long rows of support systems. Many hoses ran from the support systems into their asses. Their heads were covered with crops of orange fuzz and their butts were illuminated with a light blue glow from within. The things had bulbous asses and no genitals. This differed from the things in the training rooms on the other side, and we quickly deduced that these were undeveloped forms of the extremely dangerous 'Unns Gang'.
Unns Clones are used by Satan to control the Filthy Monkey Horrors by fear and direct extermination. When fully developed and trained the things can take on the outward appearance of liars and con artists and perverts physically, which always gains them immediate access into any Filthy Monkey Horror station. However, this is what they really look like without contortions and lies.
These specimens were slowly opening their little greedy eyes and looking for Human Flesh to eat; their huge and slimy mouths grimacing and chomping for Human Flesh. We had killed all of their 'cultivators' so they were going hungry.
I reloaded my machine pistol and stepped closer to one of the Unns. I fired a straight line from its ass to its bulging forehead and the thing ripped apart vertically. Out dropped plasmic vials of diseases; horrendous mental diseases. And, we all knew what the diseases were. We all sprang back from the beast and its radio droppings. Several of us were equipped with flame throwers and they incinerated the Unn and its mental diseases immediately.
For the amusement and education of the undeveloped Unns, slaves were always tortured in front of their rows of hanging corpses. Those unfortunate slaves were exposed to queer loudspeakers in ceilings close over their heads, and the lesie-turd screeches from those loudspeakers caused the slaves to suffer horribly. This suffering was absorbed by condenser tubes wrapped around their bodies and the condensed pain was then pumped into the asses of the Unns; thereby being transformed into Hate Juice for the DemoQueers and their Deviate Masters. A few of these slaves were still enclosed in condensation chambers next to the rows of future FM Controllers.
Then the command was given to torch everything. For an hour the flame throwers worked at incinerating the interior of the bunker while the rest of us, myself included, protected the outer perimeter.
Thus was our primary mission achieved. I would like to elaborate about this part of the dream, but it changed abruptly and I want to stay true to the dream itself. I was suddenly inside another bunker, this one had many long narrow windows, and I was in the basement with a group of slaves recently freed by today's actions.
It became my pleasure to stand among them and to explain what Human Resistance was, and why it is so incredibly important to stop (forever) the hideous forces of the Satanic and Queer Lying-Dead. These slaves listened to every word I said, and this was very pleasing. I realized it was this way because in this compound everything was about producing creatures of the Unns Gang and mental diseases to be spread by the Filthy Monkey Horrors; so there were no terrible TV things to watch.
These slaves could think, and they warned me that the 'camp' was controlled by an awful killer named 'AC Lesbos'. They said they called the thing the 'Blue Menace'. The AC thing was a ravenous killer and always killed at least 1 out of every 3 slaves sent to the compound for its own amusement. It has to be here somewhere they said.
After this was said another explosion brought down another buttugly windmill outside and the compound shook when it hit the ground. I told the slaves to run north. To find breaks in the walls along the northern side. More Resistance People would be outside the north wall to help them.
One female slave, her face showing the ravages of torture, said to me that the AC is a He/She/It killer and enforcer, and is ruthless and sadistic. I thought to myself -- "They all are." Then I told her to run due north to the wall and not look back.
These slaves ran out of the building and started towards the north wall, while I floated upwards to the outer roof of the bunker. I could see the slaves running through debris and wreckage in the streets, and then some shots rang out and a few slaves dropped dead in the ruins.
I had enough equipment left in my bag to attack another buttugly windmill with, and after a time displacement I was looking almost straight up at it, and then I watched it fall to the ground with a whacking good smash.
After this I broke off my attacks and started to look for biology supplies. The Unns monsters are made of fouled and spoiled and deliberately rotten organic compost, and there had to be a place where such raw materials were stored. I carried thermite bombs now.
Then, I saw the Blue Menace. It appeared into a nearby street that was on fire and mostly covered with burning debris. It was tall and thin for one of their kind, and covered in a blue jumpsuit that was accessorized with antennas and weapons. It had no hair on its skull and its neck under its thin face was covered with tattoos of satanic symbols. It grabbed some slaves that were crawling in the wreckage and questioned them, then killed them with a standard weapon one at a time. The slaves were too petrified by the sight of it to run away.
I evade any detection by the Blue Menace and another windmill fell in the distance, kicking up a huge dust cloud over there. The dust and smoke came our way soon, covering the street. By then I was crawling between pillars of great size and height. At the end of my movement I found a storage building. The ground all around it was broken by the tremors of the many explosions and I was able to get into the basement of the building sideways.
Down there I found many rows of killer queer clones suspended in gelatinous chambers, that were actually gelatinous and filled with blue ooze and clones. Then I saw that the basement was divided in half by a very thick glass wall. On the other side was my goal, the compost materials to make the Unns Gang out of.
I crossed into that half of the basement and hastened to set my thermite bombs near anything that might burn quickly, and under the huge vats of liquid sewage that were used to feed the compost. When they exploded the pre-Unn material would be consumed and destroyed. As I was doing this I discovered more escaped slaves that were hiding from AC Lesbos. They gathered around me for comfort, and I had a conversation with these slaves. I explained the necessity for revolution at times like these. However, these slaves were half dead and could barely hear me. But, a few responded as though they understood what I was saying. I stopped explaining revolution and I told them where to run to escape the compound.
At that moment three things happened at the same time. The AC thing broke into the basement and began shooting slaves, the slaves I had talked to ran screaming out of the basement, I leaped up to the street level and set off the bombs.
I was a comfortable distance away (suddenly) when the storehouse blew to pieces and the roof was sent skywards by a large fireball. Then I was in that street again and running north to the wall. Out of the explosions the AC thing walked into the street. It had a twisted face (of course) and carried a bullhorn and a machine pistol. Parts of its equipment were still on fire and I focused on the symbols of white and black snakes embroidered onto its blue jumpsuit.
As soon as it saw me it shot me, and I shot it. I dropped my weapon and fell away. The Blue Menace was hit and rolled backwards, then stood up again and walked towards me. I was on my back but I felt no pain. I had one thermite grenade left for occasions like this. AC picked up my weapon and shrieked, then it shot any slave in sight. Then it threw away my pistol and shot me again in my leg with its own pistol. By this time I had reached for my own backup gun ...
((Which I am pleased to announce was a Ruger Alaskan in 44 magnum with 2.5 inch barrel -- for some reason.))
and I shot AC with six rounds, from its anus (with nose) to its anus (without nose).
The Blue Menace died in agony, collapsing upon itself into the street. As immediately, the only surviving slave (there) ran up to the dead heap and pissed on it.
Without delay more explosions shook the compound, and then the drifting sounds of wailing sirens came across the area like quick smoke. It was the call for withdrawal, and I reached towards the slave and smiled and said to him "Help me get to the north wall!"
Another buttugly windmill fell then with a great rasping sound and a massive thud. I looked into the worried face of the battle-charred slave and smiled again and said "It is a good sound! Music to my ears!"
This disappeared. The compound and all involved dissolved from existence.
The event was so large and portentous that everyone became involved in discovering what had happened there. And what they discovered started a real revolt across the state. The surviving slaves that had spoken to me told everyone of my words. Videos of my conversations with the slaves were found and became public. The revolutionaries discovered more BUWI biological weapons laboratories and more Unn Gang clone factories elsewhere in the state.
The existence of the Unn Gang clones shocked everyone, and slavery by loudspeakers in ceilings of businesses (where the owners and/or managers do not give a shit about the customers) was banished from the Earth forever. In this way the revolution became worldwide, and all forms of slavery to Deviates and Big Business Assholes and the Queer Medias were abolished permanently.
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Ten years later ...
I am at a cemetery slightly covered by snow. There are many trees and many large sedans and many well-dressed People. They have come to the local cemetery of the town where the awful compound had existed; a former slave town. In this local cemetery twelve Human Resistance Fighters are buried with a group of one hundred and eleven slaves killed by the AC thing that day, ten years ago.
The scene is peaceful. The horrors have faded. Only the sacrifices remain. The wind is gentle. The temperature is just right. There is no hate here.
I float and I watch and I appreciate. I like the snow on the ground. I like the trees. I like the skies above. I like the surrounding forests. I like the expansive farmlands. I like the People. I have seen the 'Buried Ones' of course. In Heaven of course.
I just wanted to come back and see this.
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The 'Unns Gang' of the FM Band, which I refer to here, is something that I have known about for decades. I had not been thinking of those turds for many weeks when I had this dream.
The Unns Gang is an elite group of the worst possible freaks and lunatics that exist in the same Queer Coalition Bladders with the Filthy Monkey Horrors on the vile FM. The things are notorious for being the epitome of stupidity and evil incarnate. Some of the Uns, for which they are infamous, are as follows ...
UN-AMERICAN
Unable
Unacceptable
Unaccomplished
Unaccredited
Unappealing
Unattractive
Un-Authorized
Unbalanced
Unbearable
Unbecoming
Unbelievable
Unbidden
Unblessed
Unbred
Uncalled-for
Uncaring
Uncertain
Unchecked
Unchristian
Un-Civil
UNCLEAN
Uncomprehending
Uncongenial
Unconscious
Unconstructive
Unconvincing
Uncouth
Unctuous
Uncultivated
Uncultured
Undemocratic
Under cover
UNDER FALSE PRETENSES
Under-the-counter
Under cooked
Undermined
Undersized
Undertrumped
Undeserving
Undesirable
Undesired
Undignified
Undone
Undressed
Unearthed
Uneducated
Unenviable
UNESSENTIAL
Unethical
Unfair
Unfavorable
Unfeasible
Unfit
Unfounded
Unfriendly
Unfruitful
Ungainly
Unglued
Ungodly
Ungulated
Unhealthy
Unhelpful
Unhinged
Unholy
UNHUMAN
Unimproved
Uninfluential
Uninformed
Uninstalled
Unintelligent
Uninteresting
Uninviting
Unjointed
Unjustified
Unkenneled
Unknitted
Unknowing
Unliked
UNLIVING
Unmannered
Unmasked
Unmentionable
Unmoral
Unnatural
Unnecessary
Unneeded
Unnoticeable
Unpalatable
UNPARDONABLE
Unpatriotic
Unpleasant
Unpopular
Unpromising
Unpropitious
Unqualified
Unraveled
Unreal
Unrealistic
Unremarkable
Unsafe
Unsatisfactory
Unsavory
Unscrupulous
Unsolicited
Unsound
Unspeakable
Unstable
Unsuitable
Unthinkable
Untidy
Untrue
Untrustworthy
Untruthful
UNWANTED
Unwashed
Unwelcome
Unwholesome
Unwise
Unworthy
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I know that some of you are hoping that I will make a political statement for or against some things that are in the upcoming election; that will not happen.
I will, however, bring to your attention some recent mealy-mouthed lies of the {{ForeverLyingQueerMediaLiars}}. Some of those worms are trying to speak Human, and their noises resemble claims that they are 'straight'; while myself and Human Resistance are not. What the things are really saying is "We have to shit on everything that makes us look like the turds that we really are!"
Such drivel from such slime is an Indicator. What it indicates is that those insects are afraid that Trump might win; in which case they want to be seen as 'straights' until Trump is gone four years from now. It is a role-reversal and guttural opportunism and cronyism-for-hire at its worst. Despicable to say the least. And, it shows that the most rotten of the rabble are scared.
At the same time, I remember what was said around Iowa just after the last election debacle; when the endless lies of the {{ForeverLyingDemoQueerLiars}} caused the so-called defeat of Trump. Voter Idiots asked greedy morons what went wrong with the election, and the greedy morons said "We did not think they would lie!" Exact Quote So Help Me God!
How could such blithering stupidity be true? Human Resistance had been saying the Truth about the {{ForeverLyingDemoQueerLiars}} for more than a decade prior to that time. How could any thing not know that all of Politics is about lying?
Answer: It is not possible. The greedy morons were lying.
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I would appreciate it if my messages are translated into Christo Latino for the benefit of all Christian Hispanics. Of course, this does not include any and all Brown Homo-Fascists that own or operate Forrid Abominations and are the slaves of the {{ForeverLyingDemoQueerLiars}} etc. Those things must remain oblivious.
Thank You
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Markel Peters
https://voices-of-iowa.blogspot.com/