I am having trouble with
the word -- 'S-H-I-T' -- again.
All of our enemies are it.
Politics is it.
Propaganda is it.
The Queer Coalitions are
it.
Planet Sinister is it.
The APA is it.
The NEA is it.
The ACLU is it.
The Queer Medias are it.
The Monkey Judges are it.
The Monkey Lawyers are
it.
Since I write about our
enemies constantly, and I have to describe the things accurately, I
end up using that word very often.
However, I do not like
that word as a writer. I am in the dubious position (situation) of
having to use that word to describe the activities and existences of
our enemies. It, and other words like it, are the only words (so far)
that accurately describe or indicate how bad and terrible and
low-life the enemies of the Human Species are.
So, you can see my
dilemma. It occurs to me that the only thing to do -- to solve this
problem -- is to state at the beginning of each message that no
matter what else I write in a message, all enemies of the Human
Species are Shit, and whatever they do is Shit.
That way, I only have to
write the word 'Shit' two times per message!
Woowzers! I like that!
*************************
*************************
No matter what else I
write in this message, all enemies of the Human Species are Shit, and
whatever they do is Shit.
*************************
*************************
I have an idea! We will
make the pathetic and puerile 'Oh Ickers!' happy (can the things ever
be happy not saying 'Oh Ick!') and we will replace the descriptive
word 'Shit', in Part Two of this message, with the following
descriptors that all 'Oh Icker Moderates' love.
Such as >>>>
PinkElephants
YellowPansies
LavenderLobotomies
CamouflagedC*nts
MagentaMaggots
WhiteWussies
ImitationSweeties
BlackButtholes
ImitationElephants
BlackPansies
PinkLobotomies
YellowC*nts
LavenderMaggots
CamouflagedWussies
MagentaSweeties
WhiteButtholes
*************************
*************************
And then again -- maybe
not.
I just cannot do that.
*************************
*************************
Of course that label
'Psycho Blues', currently applies to a variety of crazed
self-interest groups that are convinced that the craze that they
suffer from (mutually) is of their own making -- when in Reality it
is nothing of the kind. The Horrid Masters of many of those psycho
groups have just been scalded like trash-eating dogs -- by Real
Humans. The groupies themselves know nothing about that and still
assume (dully) that their psychosis has not changed. How is that
possible? Do you know?
Meanwhilst -- I have a
particular bunch of Psycho Blues in mind for this message.
****IMPORTANT POINT****
You see the key to it all
-- is that the Politicians and the Politics Game and the Political
Gnomes think they have Locked Up The
Decision Making Process for the
country. They think that they have invented a way to make themselves
irreplaceable in any decision making process. By
forcing all decisions to be made by Voting for the Big Decisions
first.
Which are the choices of the Rats and
the Bastards and the Bitches who will make the Smaller Decisions.
They have imbued all of that with the false ideology that once the
Big Decisions have been made -- of choosing which Bastards and
Bitches will make the Smaller Decisions -- whatever Smaller Decisions
those Bastards and Bitches make will be
acceptable to the Voting Populations -- AND
-- is therefore Legal Already!!!!
Acceptable already. Thus,
it is acceptable and do-able and their purview by default. They
have been given a defacto blank check to do whatever they want to do,
because they were Voted for. And, as long as
they control the Big Decision Making Process of choosing who will
make the Smaller Decisions ...
they think they have got
it locked down. Simple as that. It is the Big Decision Making, or
the Selection Process of the decision makers,
that it is all about. That is where the Voting comes into it.
They have Referendums and
accessories like that, which they try to control, but Referendums
(and things like that) are hard for them to control. There is no
defacto bullshit involved in Voting for a referendum, just a straight
out battle of opposing advertising.
Where the Bullshit and the
Queershit come in, is when they control the Big Decision Making
Process, which needs Voting,
of who will make the Smaller Decisions. The
Selection Process of the Decision Makers -- that is where their
strength is.
That is their lock upon
the society. Break that lock ... and you
destroy Politics.
Break that lock ... and
you destroy the Politicians and you put the Political Gnomes out of
business.
You must find
another way of selecting the Decision Makers, without Voting, and in
a way that they have nothing to do with.
That they are powerless to do anything about! All that the chosen
persons should be able to say is -- "Yes, we will serve."
or "No, thank you." Other than that, they have no input
into it whatsoever. And, if they threaten to refuse to serve unless
their demands are met -- kick their asses over the hill!
In such a new circumstance
-- all would-be Politicians and Political
Gnomes will have no way of manipulating it;
they will have no way of controlling the Big Decision Making Process
in those circumstances. They are selected, and they either say Yes or
No. They have nothing to say about it otherwise. They cannot
campaign. They cannot promote themselves. To do so will get their
asses kicked over the hill.
They are selected because
of who and what they are, and their abilities and their Humanity.
Versus -- Lying, Cheating, Conniving, Scheming, Graft and Corruption,
so on and so forth. In fact, Graft and Corruption would take a nose
dive into the dirt if there was any other way to select the Decision
Makers -- without their input -- without their campaigns -- without
them lying -- without them promising anything. In fact, without them
knowing that they are about to be selected.
The current Selection
Process, which includes Voting,
is where they have a lock and a hold on the Society. Break that.
Change that. Take them OUT
of the equation. Take advertising out of the equation. Take
promotions out of the equation. Take Propaganda out of the equation.
Take lobbying out of the equation. Take Special Interests out of the
equation.
Choose only the best Human
Beings who have the best abilities (and they can still say NO). You
will be amazed at how many will say YES, because they never thought
they would be selected. Then, Graft and Corruption will go right down
the toilet where they belong. Down the toilet, along with the
Political Gnomes and all of the Politicians -- who will wail and
gnash their teeth and beat their chests and their foreheads -- and
then -- Order Their Armies To Kill
You!!!!
Because, you found a way
to destroy their power over the Society. "Forget the Society"
-- they do not care about the Society. It is the power! You found a
way to destroy their power over the Society, and their hold, and
their game, and their racket that Eats
Alive This Society!!!!
You found a way to destroy
that, and you put them out of business. Queer! Lying! Corrupt
Business! So, they will order their Armies and their Navies to kill
you; if you find any way to select Decision Makers that has nothing
to do with Politics. Any way that is NOT a Political System, a
Political Game, or a Political Mechanism.
Oh Yes! If you want to
start a revolution -- just destroy the current and totally corrupt
and queered selection process.
----------
Another way to destroy
Politics is to disarm the Queer and Armed Fart-Forces of Heinrich
'Himmler' Reid, by taking away the funding for the military. It also
will reveal just how enormously selfish, ugly, hating, and despicable
the Queer and Armed Fart-Forces really are. Also, what they think of
the Real People. How they despise the Real People. Because, if you
defund the military by taking away the taxes that the government
needs (in order to pay the military) they will have to pay the
military out of their own, huge, bloated, inflated accounts. Bank
accounts here or in Panama or in Switzerland, you name it. Wherever
they can stuff money, and they have already done so.
If you refuse to pay your
taxes -- or -- you demand a fifty percent cut in taxes -- some really
big reduction and you insist upon it -- and you hold referendums that
wipe out the current tax rates -- and you refuse to pay the Federal
Tax Rates -- because the 'Federals' have no authority anyway -- and
you reduce the incoming revenues of the government which is just part
of the Queer Political Game ...
then they will have to
make up the shortfall from the monies in their own accounts!
They will not want to do
that. They will order the military to kill you, and seize your
properties, and seize your monies, and take away your bank accounts.
When that happens -- look
at the things that are in Military Uniforms. Look at their greed.
Look at their hatred. Look at their brainwashing. Look at the sick
look in their faces, the dead and brainwashed look in their eyes.
Look at the robotic faces, the snarling teeth -- or -- the completely
blank mannequin-like appearances -- deathly and ghostly appearances.
Look at what is wearing Military Uniforms today. Look at how
different the things are from the Pimped PosteriorVaginas that pose
for Military Advertisements.
Look at how they attack,
and kill and plunder the People who refuse to pay for their queered
Armies, and their queered Navies, and their queered Air Forces. Look
at what the squirming Politicians do, per orders from the Political
Gnomes; if you refuse to pay your taxes.
If you Vote, in a Human
State or in a Human Community, to cut tax payments to the 'Federals'
by some large percentage; watch what they do. Watch how they try to
order the Sheriffs to kill you, or imprison you and torture you.
Believe me -- a lot of the Sheriffs are in the pockets of the
Political Gnomes and the 'Federals'. I have tested the Sheriffs in my
own county -- two of them so far -- and they are 100% Federalized.
They were tested with a very simple test that is infallible; which
ripped off their masks and revealed what is inside of them -- and
they are simpering dogs for the 'Federals'.
So, the 'Federals' with
NO authority, will order the
Sheriffs to destroy you, seize your properties, and to seize your
accounts. Because you will NOT finance the God-Damned
Horrid Anti-Human Politics Game Anymore.
By making the scum of
the Politics Game pay for their own queered Militaries.
Try it and you will find
out, believe me. It will happen that way. Unless, of course, you have
a Military too. If you have your own Military ...
GOSH!!!!
----------
There is another way to
look at the phenomenon of Political Gnomes and Deviates and
Politicians, that do not want to admit the
Truths (A thru E); and instead try to substitute their own Truths
(A-Negative thru E-Negative). It is a view that exists because of how
they have things structured inside of the Bladders. How they have
controlled the perceptions that the Public is allowed to have. Anyone
who does not know that the perceptions of the Public, especially the
TV Watching imbeciles, is totally controlled ...
is not a problem here
-- because they are too stupid to know that this message exists
anyway.
So, we can go ahead and
discuss this as much as we want to. They are not reading this,
because they cannot be reading this. They are controlled. The Medias,
the Deviates, the Politicians, the Political Gnomes, the queershit
Powers-That-Be, all have a system that they use to control and
restrict what the Public is allowed to know and what the Public is
allowed to perceive. They do this by constantly feeding the Public a
stream, a flow of falsehoods and contrived perceptions and imitations
and synthetic values and synthetic virtues and even synthetic
personalities, constantly and endlessly. They have an entire industry
devoted to manufacturing pseudo-realities. That is not 'virtual
reality'. It is pseudo-reality, false reality.
False Realities, that are
promoted and forced upon the Public as the actual existence that the
Public lives in, and must accept. That sewage flow, and I do not know
of any other way of saying it ...
that sewage flow ...
you know, I am not an
eloquent person, I try to elaborate about things but I am not that
eloquent ...
a sewage flow is a
'sewage flow'. I mean, what do you think
flows through sewer pipes? ...
that sewage flow has been
given the moniker (by the Queer Medias) of 'The
Mainstream'. The sewage flow cannot abide by
and cannot tolerate and will not tolerate the simultaneous existence
(in the same time and in the same space) of any Truth. The Truth, is
the dynamic opposite of the sewage flow. Which is composed of Lies
and Tricks and Schemes, and any evil that they can think of. Well,
this is where you get a lesson in how the monikers and the labels and
the handles from the Medias facilitate their lies and their
manipulations and their controls over perceptions.
All that the Medias have
to do, to deny the Truth (any Truth) is to say that it (whatever it
is) is NOT ready for 'the Mainstream'.
It is not ready for 'Prime Time'. It is not ready for the 'Public'.
Which, in Reality, is easy for them to say because they control the
Public and the perceptions of the Public. The Public being the TV
Watching and TV Viewing Stupes and Idiots. They only want the Public
to see what the Queer Propagandists want them to see. So when the
Queer Propagandists say that the Truth is not ready for 'the
Mainstream', and the Truth must not be 'Mainstreamed', and the Truth
must not be in 'the Mainstream', and the Truth is not ready for
'Prime Time' -- they literally mean it. They are not going to allow
it. They are not going to allow the Idiot
Voter Followers, the Imbecile Public, to know any Truth!
That is another way of
looking at this, and it is very real. It is happening right now. It
is happening as you live and breathe.
----------
The first step to getting
rid of Politics, is to de-emphasize everything that they emphasize.
To laugh off all of their Queershit excuses. To de-power whatever
they need as energy for their Politics Game. To short circuit their
attempts at threats and posturing and demands. To short circuit all
of their enforcement techniques, when they try to force the People to
Vote. When they try to force the People to obey them.
[[The People, who they
have already raped of their 'Will of the People'.]]
When they try to force the
People to admire their awful Politics Game. To disable them, just
like you would disable a program in a computer. To disable them,
wherever and whenever possible. To weaken them as much as is
possible. That is one of the very first things to do. To shun Them.
To shun their Lies. To shun their Games.
There is always going to
be 10% of the population that goes for the 'free handouts'. 10% of
the population that will go for the free money and the stupid
promises and the baubles and the beads and the cheap presents. I am
not writing about them. I am writing about us, the 80% who know
better.
--------------------
Like I said before, do not
expect there to be much of a reduction of Queer Activities to kill
the Nation, just because Chicken Dump is going to be the next
Resident in the White Outhouse. Remember that those things are
backstabbing ModoRats. Queer-Sucking ModoRats. Queer-Wimping
ModoRats. They are ModoRats -- they are NOT Men and Women!
They are ModoRats, which I
call 'RepuCraps'. There has been NO revolution. It is the same
RepuCraps. It is the same ModoRats. Different faces, same spiel, same
schmeer, same Lies. Same cowardice, same greed. They will suck
anything for enough money!
----------
Let us look at this from a
further distance. Let us go back a few more paces and get a larger
overview of all of this. Not much has changed in the Queer Coalition
Bladders, politically. It is a different sucking-arm of the Satanic
and Queer Lying-Dead (SQLD) that will, ostensibly, occupy the White
Outhouse for the next eight years. In the Queer Coalition Bladders,
the Queer Propagandists are busy trying to foment and perpetuate the
charade that there is any difference between the two sucking-arms.
That is something that is going on inside of the Queer Coalition
Bladders, and we do not have anything to do with that. I comment
about it, because it exemplifies and it illustrates just how putrid
it is to be inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders. Other than that,
it is just raw Military Information.
Out here, it is difficult
to find any reactions. Out here in the Real Working World, where
mostly the People have to be Real and are not confined to the Queer
Coalition Bladders -- unless they work at an establishment where
Queer TV is being played all of the time, which would be horrible, in
which case they would be inundated by the Queer Coalition Propaganda
all day long and all night long ...
out here the majority of
persons are Real Working People, and they are not terminal slaves of
the Queer Propaganda that happens in the Queer Coalition Bladders.
Out here, they have real work to do, and they have little time for
Lies. Meanwhile, the more Truth that people like me say and write
continually and constantly -- the more it seems to trickle down to
the persons who seem to have some kind of affiliation with, or
addiction to, anything inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders.
It is a kind of trickle
down effect, and in the case of any thing that is affiliated with, or
permanently enslaved to, the Queer Coalition Bladders I more or less
write it off as not being worth anything. I do not expect any
reactions. There seems to be some reactions, maybe. It is hard to
find a reaction out here. It is hard to see a reaction out here. It
is like the fakery never happened. Which is basically what happened.
Crap happened, but crap happens every day.
So what? The revolution is
still alive. The Revolutionaries are still very much alive. And, if
they read my message about Influenza they will stay alive and they
will stay much healthier.
All of what I said before,
works. Read my message about Influenza put out very recently. See the
section at the end of this message about Influenza. Please, if you
are a Revolutionary read the message about Influenza that I put out
recently. Stay healthy. Use life-sized silhouettes of Federal
Assholes in suits and sunglasses for your preferred targets. And,
stay healthy. Read the message about 'Age and Wisdom'. Stay mentally
healthy. Get rid of all of the Queer Propaganda and the Queer Medias
from your life.
I was going to write
something about how pathetic the Lying Queer Medias are -- but it is
not worth it right now.
Overall, nothing much has
changed. In the twisted little minds of the ModoRats -- they intend
to attack us next year. They are going to 'Kick Butt' on the
Revolutionaries -- like the DemoCraps could not. They are going to
'Get Tough' on the Revolutionaries -- like the DemoCraps could not.
While claiming to be Revolutionaries! Double-talking Queershit!
Their motivations are Pure
Greed and Lust for Power. They are just as violent as the DemoCraps.
They will kill just as fast as a DemoCrap will kill. They probably do
not have as many Berserker Armies as the DemoCraps have, but they can
certainly whistle up killers any time they want to. They are going to
get 'Tough On The Revolutionaries'. They are going to get tough on
'The Bad Guys'.
But First ...
first, they have to paint
us as 'Bad Guys'. If we avoid the paint, there is not much that they
can do -- without tripping off Spontaneously Burning Cities -- which
happen to be situated all over the country.
They have to somehow come
up with a spiel or a schmeer or a theatrical performance that will
explain to their Idiot Voter Followers that Revolutionaries are
really a bad and terrible danger to the country, while portraying
their own pathetic clowns as Revolutionaries.
They must convince their
Idiot Voter Followers that we must be 'terrorists'. Even though we
have absolutely no inclinations towards joining their Terrorist
Governments.
They are going to slap
their filthy lies and paints all over us. After which, they will
attack. Of course, painting us as villains IS an attack. However --
if we Revolutionaries instead -- paint ourselves and promote
ourselves as the Real Americans that we are ...
and that is the case, we
are the Real Americans not them ...
they are scum in a
Bladder, we are the Real Americans ...
if we portray ourselves as
the Real Americans by explaining to everyone (including the Idiot
Voter Followers) how bad the ModoRats are, and how awful they are,
and their Evil Intentions ...
we can neutralize the
paint job.
We can neutralize the
$19.99 paint job. They are going to spend Billions$$ on that paint
job, but it is going to trickle down to about $19.99 worth of cheap
paint at the individual level. That is easy to overcome.
We can out paint them any
time we want to, because we have the Truth.
NOT -- that we have to
expose ourselves as Revolutionaries. All that we have to do is to
demand that the Truth be recognized. (A thru E) and every other Human
Truth that there is.
Besides -- you do NOT have
to say that you are a Revolutionary. All that you have to say is that
you are Counter-ModoRat, and you will be instantly labeled as a
'Revolutionary'.
Butt, that is obviously
Politics and even Idiot Voter Followers will understand that.
Certainly, since you are countering them. This is going to be quite a
mud slinging contest. However, I do not expect to sling any mud from
my side. They are going to sling mud at us. I am going to sling the
Truth at them. I have a few things happening in that regard, a few
things coming up.
You have to get active
too. You have to start talking about the ModoRats and about how slimy
and backstabbing and murderous and vile they really are. Do not take
this lying down. Do not hide under a rug. You do NOT have to tell
anyone that you are a Revolutionary. You do NOT even have to mention
'revolution'. You do NOT have to mention the word 'rebellion'. But --
it is YOUR RIGHT
to say the Truth about the ModoRats aka RepuCraps. About Chester Dump
and his gang of -- guess what they are -- they are Bullies!
*************************
*************************
The Psycho Blues:
All of this is true, and
it is leading somewhere. It is leading to a Body of Truth that no
amount of Lies can overwhelm, or fool, or undermine; or that our
enemies can twist to their own purposes.
This is fact, even though
the ModoRats always delude themselves with thoughts of harnessing our
Truth and Energy as though we are Nuclear Reactors that they finally
have enough courage to operate.
Truly, the pathetic
RepuCraps are now thinking that they have found a way to use our
Revolutionary Existence to their own Political Favors. Does anyone
smell a boiling frog?
----------
There is something in all
of this that I call -- 'The Psycho Blues'.
'The Psycho Blues' are
operated by the Queers (the former Liberals), the Deviates, the
Politicians, and the Political Gnomes that think that they can get
over on the Idiot Voter Followers by -- thinking like we do.
They think that they can
prevent a revolution from happening -- by thinking like we do. By
reading everything that we write. By trying to infiltrate all of our
structures and organizations. By trying to figure out how we think --
and then trying to circumvent how we think.
How do you circumvent a
Bulldozer with a mind of its own? Without anyone knowing about it?
Without making a mess?
They are trying to
out-think us, using our own ways of thinking. I call the creatures
that do this -- 'The Psycho Blues'. It is a code name for the Think
Tank of the Queers, the Deviates, the ModoRats, and the DemoCraps
that are all in it together. They all outsource to (classified), who
have promised to break into our ways of thinking and to provide to
any customer (who can pay the price) ideas and plans and thought
patterns that can out-think the way we think. That can out-think the
way Revolutionaries think.
How do you out-think a
baseball bat?
----------
I suppose it could be
considered flattering. What it really is -- is 'Aping' our own
behaviors. They are Aping our own behaviors and are trying to figure
out what thinking goes along with what behaviors.
Assuming, of course, that
the behaviors that we allow them to see -- are what we really are.
Assuming that the thinking that we allow them to know about -- is
what we really think. 'The Psycho Blues' is something like the 'Skunk
Works' or some 'Black Operation' -- some 'Black Ops' at the
(classified) level of already demented hyenas.
Which is how they operate.
They operate at the psychopathic and psychotic levels all of the
time, because they really need 'Psychiatrists'. Their Psychiatrists
really need Psychiatrists, and the Psychiatrists of the Psychiatrists
really need the Deviates. It is a vicious circle-jerk, and they go
around and around in it with their lunatic ideas and their horrible
habits and their vile swapping of filth. They get the idea that if
they could just find a way to think like we do, or they could parse
off enough lunatics into a Think Tank that will be tasked with the
job of learning how to think like we think -- so they can then
out-think us -- and think of ways to short-circuit our thinking --
then all of them can continue merrily along with their Cesspool
Circus of Queer Politics. Without having to worry about what we will
think of it.
How we might react to it.
What we might do about it. Because, their Think Tank -- which I have
code named 'The Psycho Blues' -- has already told them what we are
going to think. How we are going to react. What we will say. What we
will think. What we will do.
Therefore, they will be
one step ahead of us all of the time. 'The Psycho Blues' are
constantly claiming that they will always be ahead of us, and that
they have broken the codes to how we think.
Now, that right there is
an Important Point -- because that shows you the limitations and the
absurdities and the junk that goes on in the brains of the losers
inside of the Queer Coalitions.
Oh, and by the way --
(classified).
There are all kinds of
tragic cases like that. I could get into a long description of them,
but there are all kinds of sad cases claiming that they belong to
'The Psycho Blues', and claiming that they now know how we think.
They now know how to out-think us. They know what we will do in
reaction to any particular situation. They have assured Chicken Dump
and Company that they can provide Chester Dump with beforehand
information about how the Revolutionaries will react to anything that
Chicken Dump does in obedience to the orders that it gets from The
Cult Of The Asshole.
So -- The Cult Of The
Asshole can give all of the orders that it wants to, to Chester Dump.
Meaning, Chicken Dump can say all kinds of Lies and Propaganda, and
they will all be happy about it ahead of time; since they will think
that they will know what our reactions will be. How we will react.
What we will do. They already think that they know how we will react
to the latest psychotic event (that weird election thing) in the
Queer Coalition Bladders. Thus, they think that they are forearmed
with such advanced knowledge.
They certainly expect me
to put out a message about it, and they are reading this message to
see if they were right about what they thought I would write.
That is an Important
Point. They are reading this message to find out if I actually wrote
what they thought I would write. But, maybe this is not the only
message that I put out. Maybe they know so little.
----------
The ModoRats are as 'Blue'
as you can get. The idea that there is a Blue State layout and a Red
State layout, and the 'Republicans' are Red and the 'Democrats' are
Blue -- is Ancient History. That was long long ago. That died many
years ago. That died when the ModoRats hijacked the Governor's
Election here in Iowa, back when Bob Vander Plaats should have been
made the Governor of the State of Iowa. Instead, the ModoRats
resurrected their Incest-Pest ('Il Duce' Branstad) and got that thing
elected; because it would give them more profits. It would allow them
to rape Iowa more. Someone with a Human Conscience, like Bob Vander
Plaats, would never go for all of this rape and plunder of the State
of Iowa. Butt, 'Il Duce' Branstad would do so at any time, even in
its sleep. So, the ModoRats hijacked that election, and they got 'Il
Duce' Branstad elected, instead of Bob Vander Plaats.
That was the day, when the
Red versus Blue bullshit on the political maps (as it was configured
at the time) ceased to have meaning.
Now -- Red is
Revolutionary.
Everything else that is
Politics -- is Blue.
DemoCraps are Blue.
ModoRats are Blue. Queers are Blue. RepuCraps are Blue. Any thing in
the Politics Game is Blue. It is a Blue Game. A Blue Slime. It is a
Blue Disease. It is a Blue Funk. It is a Blue Dementia. It is a Blue
Racket. It is a Blue Machine.
The only thing Red -- is
Revolutionary. Revolutionaries and revolution.
That is why I call the
Think Tank for all of them, that tries to out-think us and to
pre-think us -- 'The Psycho Blues'.
----------
Did you hear any apologies
from the Queers since that psycho event occurred in the Queer
Coalition Bladders? Have you heard any apologies stated? The only
thing that I would listen to is AM radio, and I have not heard
anything like an apology on the AM radio from the Perverts.
Do you think maybe -- 'The
Psycho Blues' have something to do with that? An apology from the
Deviates on TV, or FM, or in the queer newsrags or the queer magrags
would be an impossibility anyway.
[[Who would believe a word
of it?]]
The only place where you
might hear an apology, which would be a burst of Involuntary Honesty,
would be on an AM radio talk show. Have you heard any, I have not.
Why is that? Why are the Queers (formerly Liberals) thinking that
they do not have to apologize for the last eight years of Absolute
Horror and Terrorism that they have harmed this country with? Eight
years of trying to kill this country.
Maybe, 'The Psycho Blues'
do more. Maybe, they try to out-think the Public.
Try to come up with your
own list. I am always giving you lists -- possibilities 1,2,3,4
(etc). This time, come up with your own ideas. Come up with your own
possibilities. How many reasons can you list for why the Queers
(formerly the Liberals) and the Deviates and the slime of the Medias
(the Liars of the Medias) are not apologizing for the last eight
years of their terrible terrible affronts and attacks against our
Human Species.
Make a list. Give it a
good title. Include 'The Psycho Blues'.
Make the title tell you
what the list is. Write it in Big Letters. Use a black marker pen.
Write it in big black letters. Make it a good list. A kind of
presentation. Something that you can frame. Then nail it to your wall
somewhere. Nail it to your wall and leave it there. A list of the
reasons why they will not apologize for their crimes and their
attacks against the Human Species. Write it down. Make it very
understandable to you. I do not care if it is ten pages long. Write
it out, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 and then nail it to your wall somewhere.
Prominently display it. Nail it to your wall where you can see it all
of the time. Believe me, that will help you a lot.
I know what I am
talking about. You nail it to a wall
where you can see it quite often and it will start to sink into your
brain that all of that stuff is true. It will start to sink into your
brain and your long-term memory that all of that stuff is really True
-- you wrote it -- you are right! You
were right when you wrote it. If you
doubt yourself later, just read it again. You were right when you
wrote it!
Stay right. Read it again
from time to time. Or, just stare at it and realize that it is True.
You know it is True, because it is nailed to your wall.
----------
Another result of 'The
Psycho Blues': Have you noticed that the RepuCraps aka ModoRats are
trying to appeal to the fringe elements that are not exactly their
Idiot Voter Followers by trying to sound like we do? By trying to
imitate our voices. Trying to use phrases that we use. Trying to
group their sentences like we do. Trying to group their words like we
do. Trying to sound like the Real Revolutionaries.
There is that saying out
there that 'Imitation is the highest form of flattery'. However, it
is pretty GROSS-TESQUE stuff because those Pieces of Worm Bait (POWB)
are not in the same Universe with a Real Revolutionary. They are not
even in the same dimensional subset. They are just refuse in a world
of refuse that prizes refuse above everything else.
And yet, they want to try
to appeal to anyone who might become an Idiot Voter Follower -- who
is not in their world of refuse already.
Out here --
Revolutionaries sound like me. So, they are trying to imitate me, my
vocal patterns, my sentence structures (which I can change in an
instant) and such and such, and it is not flattery. It is just
pathetic mimicry for bad reasons.
*************************
*************************
Anti-Abortionists:
It occurs to me that the
only way that you can explain the Truth to any of those Politician
Vermin inside of the Statehouse/Pantyhose Emporium is to make it
clear to them what their Individual Situation is. Explain to the
things, individually, that they will lose forever their Standing
Space inside of those two Deviate Boutiques (inside the Emporium) --
where only Politicians may stand or sit.
If they do not do what you
want them to do -- and stop abortions everywhere in Iowa -- then they
will never stand or sit in that space again. They will be removed
from office. Never again will they get to wallow and fart and lick
and urinate and wallow and fart and squirm and fondle each other in
that space. They will lose all Political Privileges inside of those
Deviate Boutiques by the simple fact that they will never be in them
again. They will be out of the favorite environment of all Political
Piggies. They will lose something that is dear to them, if they do
not do what you want them to do.
----------
Have you ever heard a
ModoRat make a joke? Have you ever heard what passes for jokes
amongst ModoRats? It goes sort of like this >>>>
"Hi! I'm Whimpy
Whimpy Whimpy!"
"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh!" -- Every ModoRat
Laughs.
"And then I said --
Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"
"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh!" -- Every ModoRat
Laughs.
"And then -- Whimpy
Whimpy Whimpy!"
"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh!" -- Every ModoRat
Laughs.
"But, I did the
Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"
"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh!" -- Every ModoRat
Laughs.
"And of course there
is always Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"
"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh!" -- Every ModoRat
Laughs.
"And then Whimpy
Whimpy Whimpy!"
"Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh
Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh Heh!" -- Every ModoRat
Laughs.
And, they always go home
feeling very satisfied -- and Anal.
----------
There is an easy way to
check the sincerity of ModoRats -- IF -- you want to check the
sincerity of ModoRats. If you are just a Six Year Opportunist, then
you do not give a (bleep) about the sincerity of the ModoRats; you
have your own Six Year Plan. But, if you actually expect results from
those vermin and you want to check the sincerity of the ModoRats (I
cannot imagine anyone who would want to), ask them if they admit how
wrong they were in the past. Ask them if they realize all of the
mistakes that they made in the past. Will they admit to the mistakes
that they made in the past. Will they actually voice their sorrow and
their regret that they made so many mistakes, and they made so many
lies, and gave so many chickenshit excuses in the past. Will they
admit it? They do not have to do anything about it, but will they
admit it? I am telling you that they will not even admit it. They
will not even confess. They will not even tell you how bad they were.
You are NOT supposed to remember that! You are only supposed to think
about the topics that you are told to think about now!
You are not supposed to
think about the past. They will admonish you and say "Oh, the
past is the past and we should not dwell upon the past! We should not
belabor the past. The past is gone. The past is over."
Translation >>>> "There is nothing we can do about
it, because we are still too greedy and afraid to put out any
Executive Orders that demand Humanity and an end to Queerism!"
Go ahead, prove that I am
right; by trying to prove that I am wrong. Ask them if they will
confess. Ask them if they will admit to any malfunctions and misdeeds
previous to the current and glorious 'Trifecta Superiority' that they
are wallowing in at this moment.
Explain loudly to the
things that you do not want to hear their Propaganda Of Today --
whatever it is. Demand that they admit to their deliberate misdeeds
and crimes of the past. Watch them look at you and say to you with
their eyes -- "How dare you interrupt our Glorious Moment And
Monumental Victory!"
----------
Bear in mind that if
you do not agree with whatever excuses they come out with, and
whatever playtimes they come out with -- like the same old hackneyed
reduction of taxes (that they should never
have allowed to become so high to begin with, but which provided an
opportunity today to seem to be doing something right for a change,
which is why they let the taxes get so high to begin with)
-- and their attacking the Insurance Medicine Fraud of the so-called
HObamaCare -- if you do not agree with those ploys then you will be
ostracized.
You must get on Their Band
Wagon, not yours. You are expected to get on Their Band Wagon and
play musical instruments according to their theme songs. You are
supposed to join their parade and join Their Band Wagon phenomenon.
The fact that you have your Own Band Wagon, full of musicians, and
you are playing your theme songs as loud as you can -- means nothing
to them!
If you dare to try to join
their parade with Your Band Wagon and your theme songs, they will
counterattack. They will ostracize you. They will try to dis-empower
you. Disable you. Disenfranchise you. Look up what 'Disenfranchise'
means. They will try to cut you off. They will try to undercut you.
They will try to take away your resources, your opportunities and
your finances. They are vicious. They are a different kind of vicious
sickness, but they are just as vicious as the DemoCraps are. They are
all full of vicious, right up to their eyeballs.
Do you see me talking to
one? Do you see me listening to one?
----------
You know, if you want to
be humorous and truthful at the same time when dealing with the
ModoRats aka RepuCraps aka Republicans, you can explain to them that
their problem, which is also your problem because they are a problem,
is the fact that they are so completely uneducated.
Their entire education is
about greed and the attainment of selfish goals and selfish
interests. They know nothing about the Real World and they know
nothing about Human Beings. So, when it hurts because you make them
hurt, because they will not do anything unless they hurt -- you can
tell them that it is part of their education. Not that they will
remember anything besides the hurt, because they were raised to be
stupid and narrow and selfish. But it is a fact, they are extremely
narrow of education. Listen to the gibberish that they talk about all
day long. Listen to the nonsense and the greed and the selfishness
and the sterile and clinical nothingness that they talk about all day
long. What they think about all day long, about their sterile world
of imitation importance. Which they have been molded to and grafted
to. Not just molded (which must have hurt) but grafted to as well
(which must have hurt). They have forgotten the pain, and they were
told that the pain was necessary for them anyway. Now, when they have
to do what they should have done ten years ago -- and they squeal
about it and they complain about it and they say that they still
cannot do it (repeating Deviate Excuses) because it hurts -- tell
them that the hurting is part of their education. It is true, they
truly have tunnel-vision. They truly have almost no education
whatsoever. They truly are blinded by greed and a huge synthetic
importance upon unbelievably dull and idiotic fictions that no Human
would spend His or Her time thinking about.
[[Do you remember the
Deviate Excuse that the Republicans used to keep Bob Vander Plaats
out of the Governorship? Vander Plaats was going to issue an
Executive Order to stop the horrid shame of Queer and Phony
Marriage-Hatred, as dictated by the Queer Monkey Judges in Des Aliens
-- and -- the Republicans said that could not be allowed -- because
-- it would generate law suits!]]
All of that manufactured
and fabricated self-importance depends upon manufactured and
fabricated phony goals that are supposed to be important to anyone
who wants to be successful in that Society of Liars. Or, you just
cannot be a successful fabricated personality there. All of the
successful personalities in there depend upon the success of their
thinking (and believing) that all of those imitation and fabricated
goals that they are always talking about (like lunatic chimpanzees)
are actually important. Actually real in ...
you cannot go any
further into that! ...
the next statement is --
"their own insane world" ...
but you are NOT allowed to
say or think that. You are NOT allowed to know that, or think about
that! They have to think that such stupidity
is real and important.
So, all that you have to
do, to realize how dumb and uneducated they really are (and I mean
really), is to listen to their banal and stupid and imbecilic
sub-tongues. Sub-speech, they really do not have speech.
AND NOW
-- they will hire somebody (some company) to try to come up with
funny and colorful things and witty remarks for them to copy and say
later; that will make them sound like they are 'Worldly' and they
know something about anything outside of the Bladders.
They will hire somebody to
think up a bunch of sayings and scripts that they can memorize and
repeat in their political jargon, their political schmeer, that will
make them sound more 'Worldly'. More erudite. More sophisticated.
More aware of the General World. More in tune with Reality. If you
watch that, you will see that sure as (bleep) all of it is the same
propaganda spread out laterally because they just cannot think Human.
----------
I have something to say to
anyone who thinks that they are going to get some kinds of benefits
or gains or perks from the 'Republicans', because somehow things have
shifted or things have changed inside of the Queer Coalition
Bladders. I mean this, this is from the Heart, what you do not
understand is -- you have to do everything that you can to force the
ModoRats to do what they should be doing to begin with, and what they
should have done a decade ago. You have to do everything that you
possibly can, and I mean everything. Throw out the book. Do NOT be
polite. Do NOT be courteous. Make them do what they should have done
ten years ago.
Accept no more Spineless
Excuses. They gave all of us those excuses about 'Senatorial
Protocol' and they cannot do this and they cannot do that because of
'Senatorial Rules', and they cannot get a majority here, and they
cannot get a majority there, and blah-blah-blah Bullshit! Now -- do
everything that you possibly can to force them to do what they should
have done ten years ago. Especially if they squeal about it.
Especially if they do not like to do it! The more they squeal and the
more they do not like to do it -- the better it is for everyone else
in the Universe!!!!
Having said that -- at the
same time -- I want you to be prepared to protect what is yours.
Protect your own resources, your own properties, your own bank
accounts from the ModoRats. Protect your possessions, your families,
your family members, their education, their health, their welfare,
their food supplies, their resources, your assets, your properties --
make sure that you are completely protected against the ModoRats!!!!
That is right! You have to
force them to do what is right, and what they should have done ten
years ago -- which would simply have been an Executive Order by a
Real Governor to stop all of the Deviates. At the same time you have
to protect yourself from their Backstabbing and their Back Dealing.
Their attempts to undercut your power and to undercut your security
and your strength and your stance and your status. They will do
anything that they can to NOT DO
what they should have done ten years ago.
Including -- undermining
you, depriving you of what you need, impoverishing you, attacking
you, and backstabbing you anyway that they possibly can.
This is NOT a Good Time.
This is a time of being forceful and making Republican Scum do what
Human Beings would do. Scum never like to do what Human Beings would
do. Vermin never like to do what Human Beings would do. Politicians
never like to do what Human Beings would do. And, they will lash back
at you in any way that they can to try to disable you. Because, like
I just said, you are supposed to be inferior. You are supposed to be
that 'Third-World Nation' of barely necessary minions out in the
fields growing the 'Agriculture'.
----------
Iowa is more primitive
than it seems to be. People in the rest of the country do not realize
that. There are a lot of things that you cannot get in Iowa (the Real
Iowa) because they are only stocked in the largest population
centers. But, you can always get Corrupt Politicians anywhere. There
are quite a few things that you just cannot find out here in the
countrysides, in entire counties, that would be readily available in
places like Springfield, Illinois or Peru/La Salle, Illinois or
Lincoln, Nebraska or Sioux Falls, South Dakota or places like that.
But, you will not find them in the Real Iowa. Because the emphasis
here in Iowa is on Corrupt Politics.
Unless it has to do with
money-making, greed, making the land look ugly, being perverted, or
Politics -- it just has no value here. Here, it is all truly on a
value basis because what is valued here is considered to be a 'Need'.
What is valued, like the self-aggrandizement of greed and power and
riches, becomes a 'value' and is therefore translated as a 'Need', or
a 'Demand'. Then the economics of 'Supply and Demand' kick in. If
there is a Demand, there will be a Supply. Someone will Supply the
Demand, but the only things in this state (wherever the Queer
Coalition Bladders exist) that are in Demand are the specialized and
narrow items that are considered necessary for Greed, Financial
Gains, Political Power, and whatever it takes to fulfill the feeding
requirements and the housing requirements of the Greedy Piggies that
exist in the Queer Coalition Bladders here in Iowa.
What anyone outside of the
Bladders wants is meaningless.
We are lucky to have
Dollar General and Shopko stores out here. Without those stores in
this state, there would be a revolution. It is all about Demands and
Supplies -- Supply and Demand. Here, the Demand is dictated by the
scum, the Bastards and Bitches, inside the Queer Coalition Bladders.
Therefore, the Supply panders to them, the Supply caters to them.
Whatever they want they get Supplied. Whatever they do not want, no
one gets Supplied.
Unless,
it is absolutely necessary for the overall infrastructure of the
'Agriculture'; because the Bastards and Bitches inside the Coalitions
still need People to grow the 'Agriculture'. That is going away, by
the way. As soon as they can get Robots to grow the 'Agriculture' the
Farmers will be wiped out. The confiscation and commandeering of
their lands by the ButtUgly Windmill Imperials (BUWIs) is just Stage
One of the phase out and the obliteration of the Farmers. As soon as
the SQLD can mechanize farming and automate it, and no longer need
Farmers -- it is 'Goodbye Farmers'.
Farmers are completely
unnecessary to the Bastards and Bitches in the Queer Coalitions. All
that matters to the Supply and Demand system of the Queer Coalitions
in Iowa (which claim that they are 'Iowa') is centered around what
the Bastards and Bitches want, and need for clothing and for food and
for habitat and for nasty habits.
Outside of the Bladders,
it is merely 'The Agriculture'. Agricultural needs. But, the People
who run 'The Agriculture' are absolutely and distinctly secondary,
even tertiary. The further away from Des Aliens that you get the more
tertiary you are. There are places in the Real Iowa that are
literally, and treated like, and considered to be 'Third World
Counties' by the swinish scum inside of Des Aliens. In there, it is
spoken that way -- believe me. The vermin in Des Aliens talk about
the countryside out here just like the scumbags in Nude Yack or the
Hideous Boston Horrid Zone talk about us. Like we are some kind of
strange and uncouth and barbaric and uneducated and barely necessary
burdens upon their finer sensibilities and their greater thinking
capacities. We know where those thinking capacities come from. Their
Anal Orifices! That is the epitome, that is the pinnacle of
achievement, inside of Des Aliens. Anal Superiority!
Just look at what goes in
and out of the 'Homo QueerPoo' orange whorehouse there.
As I was saying,
everything is Supply and Demand. If you do not have a Demand there
will be no Supply for it. Any Demand by the Real People of Iowa (out
here) is virtually meaningless to the vermin inside of Des Aliens and
the Statehouse/Pantyhose Emporium -- no matter what it is. This
is why they will never do anything to get rid of whatever the
Deviates want -- queering next to them and
queering them -- inside of the same Queer Coalition Bladders.
They will never -- not
ever -- help the Human Beings against the Deviates; and of course now
they are Deviates themselves. There are no more 'Liberals'. There
hasn't been a Real Republican in decades. It is all Deviates in there
now, but decades ago this is how it started to decline. Whatever
Demands were happening outside of Des Aliens (and the beginnings of
the Queer Coalition Bladders) were completely ignored -- except for
the most basic subsistence items. Since someone has to grow the crops
out here.
Other than that, we can
all "Fuck Off!" as far as the turds inside the
Statehouse/Pantyhose Emporium are concerned. If -- that is -- we are
considered important enough to be thought about at all -- except
during Political Emergencies. I'm afraid that everybody who thinks
that the Trifecta of ModoRat Piggies inside the Statehouse/Pantyhose
Emporium is going to help causes like ...
Freedom to Bear Arms
Freedom of Speech
Internet Freedom
Stopping Abortions
are in for some real
shocks. There may be a Demand for such things
in the minds of Real People out here in the Real World and in the
Real Country for those things to happen -- but we are 'Out Here'.
Demands from 'Out Here' do
not mean (bleep) to Politicians. That is a Big Point for
Anti-Abortionists to realize. Demands from 'Out Here' do not matter
'In There'. It has not meant anything to them for decades and
decades. Which is how it all degenerated down to being Queer
Coalition Bladders.
You can have all of the
demands 'Out Here' that you want, and all you will get is whatever
you need to stay alive and to grow the crops. And, to transport the
freight and seeds and products, and do the minor tasks, the manual
labors, the menial tasks that the scum of Des Aliens are too good
(and too weak) to do themselves. Thinking, with their anuses, that
you are so unnecessary -- and -- how soon! How soon can you be
eliminated! How soon can you be replaced? How soon can they get rid
of you?
*************************
*************************
Notes:
Sure as heck! I did not
even have this writing done, and the Deviates just proved that their
ModoRats in Des Aliens (at the Statehouse/Pantyhose Emporium) will
NOT do anything to get rid of the horrible spectacle and sickness of
Queer and Phony Marriage-Hatred -- which the Deviate Monkey Judges
across the street in their Cathouse (less-supreme-than-anyone-else)
dictated to all of the Deviate-Sucking Politicians.
I was driving across the
county and I turned on the AM radio to a station in Waterloo/Cedar
Falls that plays talk shows of the 'Queer Jimbo' types of Deviates.
As always, and I mean always,
there was a 'Queer Jimbo' type of Crone Deviate at the microphone,
and it was pretending to interview some Miniature Celebrity over the
phone.
[[That AM station used to
be much better, but it has obviously been bought under the table by
the Deviates. Now it is nothing but slimy snakes with microphones.
The scum on it are so vile that they even call ModoRats --
'Republicans'.
I told you before that it
is not difficult to know what propaganda is being pissed out onto the
Real World by Queer Coalition Bladders. All that you have to do is to
listen to the Queer Medias that broadcast from within the Queer
Coalition Bladders -- AND -- always (forever) remain aware, as you
listen to the snakes, that you are listening to pissing and hissing
-- NOT -- Human Speech.]]
The Miniature Celebrity on
the phone said that the main items on the ModoRat Agenda in the next
four years -- now that they have control of both pantyhose boutiques
inside of the Emporium, and they control the Six-Time Incest Pest
that they installed as Puppet Governor -- will be Gun Rights
legislation and something to do with agriculture.
Then, the
Crone-At-The-Microphone asked if there was going to be anything done
about 'Social Topics', and it said the words as though it was a joke,
and who would want to do anything about 'Social Issues'. The Crony
said that it has been YEARS since the Queer Monkey Judges illegally
made Queer and Phony Marriage-Hatred seem to be Queer Legal; wherever
there is a Queer Coalition Bladder inside of Iowa. The Crony
emphasized the word 'YEARS' as though it was ridiculous to even think
of doing anything about a crime that had been committed YEARS ago.
Then the Crony weakly asked, as though it did not even want to say
the words, if the 'Republicans' might repeal the Queer Laws that
pretend to make Queer and Phony Marriage-Hatred seem to be legal
inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders in Iowa.
The Hack, that it was
talking to on the phone, said this would not happen because it was
Unconstitutional -- emphasizing that Lie
from the Deviates.
Which was their excuse for
buying the Monkey Judges to begin with. It was also the excuse (for
making Queer Laws in the favor of the Deviates) that
the same Monkey Judges wanted to use, because
it sounds like it is legal to Idiots.
Then, the Hack said that
there might be some action by the 'Republicans' to allow 'Religious
Leaders' to refuse to perform Queer and Criminal Marriages.
I was right as always. The
two things that the ModoRats care about -- and are telling everyone
so (through those Deviate Cronies on the radio) is Gun Rights for gun
owners who might kill them -- and -- more political power and
advertising power for Belief Merchants. Belief Merchants have been
losing money. Belief Merchants will pay heavy bribes, to keep from
losing audiences of slaves because of dissatisfied Humans -- who are
realizing that the Belief Merchants are just lying Sacks of Shit
(SOS) in the pockets of Politicians.
Gun owners that kill.
Belief Merchants that pay
big bribes.
Not a word about Abortion.
Not a word about Human
Rights.
Not a word about Reduction
of Government.
Not a word about getting
rid of Monkey Judges.
Not a word about admitting
that the Politics Game is a plague.
Proof Positive. I am
right. From the facial anuses of the Queer Propagandists themselves.
I point your attention to
the emphasis (by the Crony) that no one would want to do anything
about 'Social Topics'. 'Social Topics and Issues' are the killing
grounds for the Deviates. That is where they kill America, and turn
it into a (bleep)hole of their own making and interior decorating.
Why would Deviates (and Cronies) want anyone to do something about
'Social Topics'? The Deviates want No
Resistance where they are killing any
People.
--------------------
Incidentally, the lack of
controlling both boutiques and the puppet governor at the same time,
has been a RepuCrap Excuse for years
-- for their supposed inability to repeal and get rid of the Deviates
attack against us of Queer and Phony Marriage-Hatred (Q&PMH).
Now, we are being told by
their Queer Propagandists that even though they have control of both
boutiques and the puppet governor -- they are not going to do
anything whatsoever about getting rid of the Deviates and their Queer
and Phony Marriage-Hatred rules.
What does that tell you?
Answer: Every Politician
in Iowa, of any description, that has spoken any words about
anything, for as long back as memory serves -- has been a 'LYING
(FILL IN THE WORST BLANK)'!!!!!!!!!!
how about 'lying nefarious
slug'
'nefarious sludge'
'nefarious crud'
'worse than you like to
think about'
--------------------
Question: How much of a
change in Republican Policies does this represent?
Answer: It does not. It is
not 'Republican Policies'. It IS
Deviate Policies, modified by the two needs to stay alive (Gun
Owners) and to get rich (Belief Merchants).
That means -- absolutely
nothing has changed. Not one word or syllable of their Lies and Evil
Intentions has changed. Nothing at all has changed. The ModoRats (aka
'Republicans') are exactly the same GROSS-TESQUE Pieces Of Shit (POS)
that they were back in 2000, and 2002, and 2004, and 2006, and 2008,
and 2010, and 2012, and 2014.
No changes -- just Pure
Greed and Evil.
Only a slack-brained loony
would want their help against Abortions, or Gun Grabbers, or
Deviates.
--------------------
If, for some reason, I had
a bad leg ailment that threatened to turn gangrene and my leg would
have to be removed -- and -- the ModoRats were the only things in the
Universe that could help me save my leg ...
I would rather
have my leg sawed off while I sing Hallelujah!
-- then let any ModoRat of any description get near me -- or accept
their (insincere) help for any reason.
--------------------
****At this time,
I would like to inform all Future Historians that I am telling the
Truth about all of this in my writings -- no matter how preposterous
or hideous these accurate descriptions are. This, is literally what
is happening in these Times -- here and now.****
--------------------
We want right -- not what
is 'Politically Correct'. Not what is 'Politics'. Not what is
'Politically Expedient'. Not what has been 'Politically Paid For'.
Not what is 'Politically Suitable' to any Senators and Legislators
and their Political Goals. This is all about creating a World of
Right versus Wrong, and getting rid of the Wrong. We are not going to
tolerate the Wrong because the Wrong pays well. That 'Toleration
Bunkum' is nothing more than Queer Propaganda. Never has been
anything else.
--------------------
Another true measure of
just how pathetic Idiot Voter Followers are: There are going to be a
lot of disappointments in the future because of the psycho-dyko
military moderate douche bags that are now becoming the next regime
in Wash This Death City -- by appointment. I want to illustrate how
pathetic the Idiot Voter Followers are in Political Campaigns in the
hideous Queer Coalition Bladders. Will the Idiot Voter Followers,
that were ripped off and cheated and lied to and fornicated by
Chester Dump and Company -- will they rebel, will they resist, will
they start websites on the Internet explaining how they were ripped
off and lied to by Chicken Dump and its ModoRat Militant pack of
turds? Will they complain? Will they rebel? Will they resist? Will
they start Human Websites explaining how they were lied to?
Explaining the Inner Evils of Chester Dump and Company. Or, will they
just slink off into a corner and die? With their tails between their
legs. Will they act like the whipped dogs that all Politicians will
want them to be -- until 2020?
Complaining and talking on
a Queer AM radio station, like the one in Waterloo/Cedar Falls, will
get them absolutely nothing. The Queers that operate AM radio
(bleep)houses only want to hear something that will help Queer
Propaganda.
--------------------
Do you remember the Monkey
Judges and the Monkey Lawyers?
Who do you think that the
lowest forms of existence known in the Universe -- the Monkey Judges
and the Monkey Lawyers -- firmly entrenched under the toilet bowls of
the lesie-turds -- are trying to suck up to now? Inside the Queer
Coalition Bladders. What do you think those wormy, squirmy Monkeys
are doing now? Does that sound like something you wanted to Vote for?
--------------------
Nothing could prove the
Truth of what I am writing, about the ModoRats (aka RepuCraps), more
than the feeding frenzy of the Idiot Voter Followers on this
so-called 'Black Friday' after Thanksgiving (on orders) to boost the
profits of as many ModoRat-invested retail companies as was possible.
Of course, there was also
the lower-mentality sense of relief and confusion and dim (very dim)
hope that the Society of Liars would be better to them with Chester
Dump as the Resident -- than it obviously was NOT under HObama the
Magnificent Purse Robber.
--------------------
Rush Limbaugh is trying to
explain to his audiences just how worthless is any idea that there
will be changes made for Humans by the next Regime -- while wondering
why Communism still exists -- and he obviously does not get what is
happening. Whether it is Communism or Black Friday mobs of Idiots, he
does not take into account the Bestial Herd Mentality (very small and
very powerful) that runs through low-light populations of retards
that Vote.
[[No insult meant to Real
Retarded People.]]
It is as simple as Light
Attraction. Big Lights attract low-lights. Idiot Voter Followers have
very little light in their skulls -- and are optically (almost
magnetically) attracted to Big Light Con-Artists like Politicians and
Big Light Sales Events like Black Friday. The Bigger Lights attract
those with almost no light of their own in their skulls. It is 'Herd
Mentality'. Rush Limbaugh just does not take that into account. He
hopes too much for too much.
That surprises me about
Rush Limbaugh. He should know that Propaganda always tries to take
advantage of (and instill and increase) Herd Mentality -- IF -- those
Herd Mentalities can be molded and shaped and fooled to serve the
needs and demands of Propaganda. Herd Mentalities are a tool of
Propaganda. Not that Herd Mentalities always originate from
Propaganda. Unfortunately, Herd Mentalities and Herd Behaviors (like
the Feeding Frenzy that just happened on Black Friday) are something
that occurs in large and compressed social environments. It is a
stunning indicator (usually ignored completely by 'The Herd') that
the population density is WAY TOO
HIGH!!!! It is a earmark of social
decline into degeneracy, and always has been, and is happening more
frequently worldwide as the world population soars -- and -- provides
the worst of scum opportunists (The Propagandists) with a tool to use
against their enemies.
Wars are examples of
clashes between carefully crafted and planned Herd Mentalities in
action. The Queershit Election inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders
that just happened, was another clash of Herd Mentalities. Communism
is a Propaganda Technique for instigating, programming and
controlling Herd Mentalities.
It is so commonly done,
that the ingredient 'Herd Mentalities' is a vital part of the recipes
in all Political Cookbooks.
I did not see any of it,
of course, but the recent Black Friday must have been like watching
Herds of Salmon swimming upstream to spawn. Once the Herd is gathered
and is sparked (brainwashed) to think one small thought, and
directions are given, they are off to swim upstream and do whatever
the small thought says to do.
Furthermore, as of this
writing, that happened four days ago; and out here in the Midwest I
see no sign of any change whatsoever because of it. No sign and no
mention of it at all, except in hourly news blabberings on the AM
radio; and that is already old news by now. I suspect it all happened
in the worst social environments where Poverty of Life Qualities and
Depravity of Minds are the most horrible -- New England and the West
Coast.
Rush Limbaugh is
forgetting his History.
--------------------
Meanwhile, just as I
predicted, the cheesy and slimy and greasy and dirty Filthy Monkeys
on the Queer FM Band are using new twistings of songs (that they have
not played in decades) in a feeble attempt to kiss up the the 'New
Republican Revolutionaries' (the gutless cowards and frauds that we
have already discussed) -- while -- playing sorrowful songs of
twisted apologies to the Deviates -- for -- having to kiss the butts
of the 'New Republican Revolutionaries' with twisted applications of
songs that they have not played for a very long time.
The Speakers in the
Ceilings must be in shock!
Butt -- they obviously had
long sequences of such ass-kissing noises prepared -- just in case it
was necessary.
How filthy is a Filthy
Monkey? You decide.
--------------------
You know that the ModoRats
are going to try to rape America, and squeeze the blood out of every
stone again, now that they have Chicken Dump as the puppet figurehead
in the White Outhouse. Well, we should preamble all of their
Atrocities as -- 'Awful Dumps'.
Every time that they
commit an atrocity against America, by raping it or killing it or
perverting it with more ButtUgly Windmills, by ripping it apart, by
exploiting it for their own pocket books -- each time they do that --
that will be an 'Awful Dump'. Awful Dump 1. Awful Dump 2. Awful Dump
3. Awful Dump 4. All credited to Chester Dump itself. It will be the
Legacy of Chicken Dump.
Sounds like a movie title.
'The Legacy of Chicken Dump.'
--------------------
I heard something on the
AM radio, when I was listening that day, which said that some of the
RepuCraps (aka ModoRats) will not be happy with Chester Dump. Due to
the idea that Chicken Dump will govern more to the center than they
want it to. Of course, it was a Queer Liberal (a Liberal which is now
a Queer) that was saying it, and trying to deface the ModoRats (aka
RepuCraps). But, the questions remain -- Govern? Puppets do not
Govern! -- and -- To the center of what?
To the center of ModoRats?
What else could it be? It sure as heck cannot be to the center of
Reality! It cannot be to the center of the Nation! It has to be to
the center of the Queer Coalition Bladders. It has to be to the
center of the Society of Liars. Or -- is it just to the center of the
Special Interests of the ModoRats?
To the center of what?
That is my question.
--------------------
I am noticing that there
is definitely a large percentage of -- what do you call them? Poor
pathetic fools? (that in all likelihood are Idiot Voter Followers for
the DemoCraps) that do not seem to be too
unhappy about the fact that Chicken Dump is going to be the next
Resident in the White Outhouse. I am trying
to attribute that to something. Why are they not upset?
Is it because of Secret
DemoCrap plans? Is there going to be a Military Coup d'etat? Inside
the Queer Coalition Bladders!
That is like having a
rebellion in a septic tank.
Humm. Maybe they are just
so anesthetized (with anesthetics) that they cannot think of anything
else except their own work, or what they are supposed to do to make
money. They could be numb. They could be popping anesthetics pills.
HEY!!!!
This could be why there was such a big push to legalize Marijuana!
I mean that. Really, I
mean that. Something accounts for this. Secret Ideas. Secret Plans.
Secret Expectations.
Or -- maybe they think
they won. I mean -- who knows? Who knows what the Queer TV Turds are
saying? Who could care?
Of course, you know it
could be because they know that everything that I say and write is
True.
--------------------
You cannot just stop part
of the insanity and allow the rest of it to kill the world. You have
to stop all of the insanity together at the same time.
--------------------
Some faggots that voted
for Chester Dump and the ModoRats think they deserve to win something
now because they did not Vote for the Deviates!
Wrong Wrong Wrong!!!!
They DID
vote for the Deviates!!!! And -- Voting is a Deviate Act!!!!
What things like that will
never be able to admit, is the simple fact that no amount of lies are
going to change those Five Truths, which are just the first five
anyway.
The Five Lies that those
Five Truths correct, are so horrible that the Truths about them will
never die!!!!!!!!!! That is a simple mechanism of Reality that will
never go away. Even after those Five Lies cease to exist the Five
Truths about what those Five Lies were will always continue to exist
-- Forever.
Accepting lies is not
progress. Accepting lies has never been progress.
Accepting lies is not
compromise. Accepting lies has never been compromise.
Accepting lies is just
losing. Losing everything.
Accepting lies is like
Voting.
The Grim Reality that
results from so much overpopulation and deviation and Politics is why
I give 'Damnation Alley' 3 1/2 stars for accuracy.
--------------------
Nothing is over inside the
Queer Coalition Bladders and was never meant to be -- but out here
they are over -- they are inside the Queer Coalition Bladders!
Out here, revolution is
the order of every day.
--------------------
As for the ridiculous
ModoRats who think they can continue to ignore the Facts and the
Truth -- they are so pathetic they would have to take dumb pills just
to get smart enough to become Idiots.
--------------------
It just occurred to me
that the volume of the Queer Coalition Bladders is finite. Limited.
Cannot expand. That means there is a certain amount of pressure
existing inside of those Crowded Bladders, due to the amounts of POS
and slaves inside of them; and because of the huge amounts of
Queershit that are packed into them every day from such deviate
sources as the Ministry of Queer Propaganda - the Huffingbutt's Post.
Inside of such brain-deadening pressures, the scum of the Queer
Coalitions eek out a meager and insane existence.
So far, and partly by my
own orders, we Humans have rejected and avoided any connections with
the Queer Coalition Bladders. However! If we were to redirect our
sewer pipes so that they would pour our waste into the Queer
Coalition Bladders -- then a Kill-or-be-Killed War would occur for
control of the Bladders -- between all Queer Propagandists and our
own Feces!!!!
It could be an easy way to
kill off everything inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders.
--------------------
I am certainly not someone
who is phony and fake, like some (bleep)heads that call themselves
'Conservatives'. All you have to do to realize how fake
'Conservatives' are is to see what they do.
They go into the same
rooms that Queers do.
They talk to Queers
instead of talking at Queers.
They avoid Truths A thru E
at all times.
They pretend that their
own greedy financial goals are the actual desires and needs of
everyone else.
They pretend that the
things which they speak of, are the most important things to do in
the Society of Liars, and also must be the most important things for
everyone else to do.
Their cowardice and greed
prohibits them from doing anything in accordance with Truths A thru E
-- so they must pretend that the gutless twaddles that they can do
are the most important things for everyone else.
What do you expect from
things that are half Rat and half Chicken? ChickoRats.
--------------------
I have noticed, through
careful observation, that the 'Ford Fit' psychotic drivers of Ford
Fuckups undoubtedly have the smallest cranial sizes of all American
motorists. Through direct observations, I have been able to deduce
that their skull sizes are the smallest (dimensionally) of all
American motorists. The smallest skulls. The smallest brains.
Which I suppose -- makes
it easier for their Assholes.
--------------------
Do you remember back to
June 26th of 2015? When the Five Naked Monkeys in a Cage in Wash This
Death City took that second collective dump and expected the Human
Species to eat it?
They expected the Human
Species to believe for one microsecond that Twisted and Perverted
Teams of Rats and Idiots could pretend that they are 'married'. Do
you remember that? Some people got very upset about that and they
thought they were going to start a revolution party. Or, at least
have a revolution event.
When it did not happen ...
and the People involved
were Light Years better than the God-Damned ModoRats ...
I responded by writing --
did you really think that the NRA would support a revolution, or a
rebellion, or an uprising?
The NRA is part of that
Socio-Economic System centered around Wash This Death City. They are
part of that slime. They are not going to support anything like a
revolution!
Even if they were faced
with several states that had already succeeded from the SQLD, and had
rebelled, the NRA would still not support it.
BUT -- THEY WOULD
WANT TO SELL GUNS TO THOSE STATES!!!!
They would want to sell
ammunition to those states. They would want to kiss the butts of the
People in those states. Oh Yes! Butt, they would still not openly
support a revolution or a rebellion.
[[Poor You. Now you have
to listen to NRA advertisements that try to change the subject of
discussion, and pretend that they are Revolutionaries at the same
time. Butt, now is not a 'Convenient NRA
Moment' to have a revolution. OH
MY!!!!]]
Who did the NRA Vote for,
in this latest psychotic event? Inside the Queer Coalition Bladders?
You can bet it was not that God-Damned Clinton Bitch. You tell me.
Who did those NRA assholes Vote for? Who are they sucking up to now?
ModoRats. M
O D O R A T S ! ! ! ! What I call
the 'RepuCraps'. Are they on your side? They say they are. Are they
kissing your butts? I bet they are. Do you want (bleep) like that in
your rebellion? Do you want (bleep) like that in your revolution?
--------------------
I wonder if those
Queer-Sucking Perverts and pigs at Gannett are going to realize that
printing toilet paper in Iowa doesn't work anymore. Iowans do not
want all of that rubbish on their toilet paper, before they use it.
Which means that the Des Aliens Rearsniffers are going to have to go
away. Go away! Go away! Not pretend. Not change faces. Not squirm and
plead. Not fake it. Just go away, go away, go away!
Go away! Never come back.
Never come back.
--------------------
If you live in Iowa, you
are going to have to brace yourself for some more rape. More rapes
will be committed against the State of Iowa now that the Chicken Dump
is going to be the next Resident in the White Outhouse -- and -- the
RepuCraps have complete control of the Statehouse/Pantyhose Emporium
at Des Aliens.
The ModoRats now think
that they own the Federal Government, which has no authority. And,
the state government of Iowa which has no authority. They will have
Chester Dump in the White Outhouse, and they will have the Six-Time
Incest Pest in whatever building they use there in Des Aliens;
probably hanging in a closet in the Emporium. They think that will
give them a ModoRat Monopoly. Which is supposed to mean that they can
do anything that they want to do.
They are ModoRats, and
they are greedy, and they are killers, and they are murderers, and
they are backstabbers, and backstabbers, and backstabbers -- and they
have plans already written up for raping Iowa even more. More
ButtUgly Windmills. More pipelines. More solar plants. More
atrocities. Watch, and you will see.
They ARE as sick as
(bleep)-eating dogs.
As far as I am concerned
-- they ARE (bleep)-eating dogs. Every one of them, and they are
going to prove it. Don't our enemies always prove what they are? You
watch. But, do NOT watch TV.
Just watch their actions. Forget their lies. Forget their fakeries.
Forget their ugly grinning faces. Just watch their crimes.
--------------------
****IMPORTANT POINT****
Something else that I
wanted to emphasize in this message is the deep and heavy fear that
Evil-Doers like the DemoCraps and the
Deviates, and all of the Opportunists that
tried to kill the Human Species for the Deviates, have of our
memories. They were taught and trained by the Queer Propagandists
that because of TV, and FM and the queer newsrags and the queer
magrags, and the efforts of the Middle-Managers-For-Hire -- that the
General Public and the Human Species no longer have a memory.
No longer have memory
abilities. No longer have the ability to remember what has been done
to them. We are just punching bags. Dupes and Stupes. Dopes and
Idiots. We are abused, fornicated, trashed, criminalized,
villainized, raped, murdered by the Deviates and their cronies; and
we are not supposed to remember it because we are not supposed to
have the memory capacity to remember it. We are not supposed to have
the ability to remember it.
We are not supposed to
have brains left that can remember it. Then, along come
Revolutionaries like me who say -- Write it all down! Memorize it.
Remember it. Put it in your hard drives. Keep
lists.
The Deviates and their
Cronies -- like the Demented White Females, and the Black Radical
Bitches -- all of those scum, every kind of Homo Fascist -- are
really afraid of those lists!!!!!!!!!!
I have written this before
in my messages. They are really afraid of those lists. They are
really afraid of the memories. They are really afraid that we will
remember the terrible things that they have done. That is one of the
reasons why they are trying to tell everyone that they can -- "It
is all over." The Deviates won, and that is what they want. The
Deviates won, and it is all over -- UNTIL
THE NEXT TIME.
BUT, YOU ARE NOT
SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER THE LAST TIME!!!!!!!!!!
You are NOT supposed to
remember how the last time happened. You are NOT supposed to remember
the crimes that they committed against everyone the last time.
BECAUSE, THEY
HAVE MORE CRIMES PLANNED FOR THE NEXT TIME!!!!!!!!!!
Memories are very fearful
to the Deviates, and the White Homo-Fascists and the Black
Homo-Fascists and the Demented White Females and the Black Radical
Females and the Media Scum -- all of them. All Scum, hate our ability
to remember what they did to us. They
despise and loathe lists. Lists of
what they did.
They hate this website,
because this website is an Historical Account of what they have done
to us. This website, and every message in it, is the History of what
they did. Their crimes. Their terrible terrible actions against us,
and all of their plans and their schemes. They hate this. They
despise it. That is why they rant and rave -- "It's all over!
It's all over!" "Forget it! Forget it!"
Forget everything. Forget
that you ever had a memory. Forget everything, you do not need a
memory.
"AND, NEXT
YEAR WE ARE GOING TO FUCK YOU REALLY BAD!!!!!!!!!!"
-----
In numbers, this means
that they are steadily losing numbers. They
are steadily losing people who are leaving the Politics Game, the
Deviate Game, the Deviate Big Business. They
are steadily losing People, because People remember how horrible they
are! People know how horrible they are. That is one of the reasons
why I am constantly reminding the People of how horrible the SQLD
are. It is very important to remind everyone that I can, of how awful
everything on the Deviate side is.
Especially -- The Cult Of
The Asshole. You have never seen Walking Death with a 'Kill You, Fuck
You, And Eat You At The Same Time' attitude as you will if you ever
see any member of The Cult Of The Asshole. It is part of my job to
keep reminding everyone of that, because
our memories are so incredibly important.
If our memories were NOT
so incredibly important -- why would they want to kill our memories?
--------------------
It has been weeks now
since that psychotic event happened inside of the Queer Coalition
Bladders, and I have been looking in good places and in bad places
(relatively for reactions and attitudes) and there seems to be a
Numbed Silence Reaction which is caused either by being mummified
with fear (having been fed so many fearful lies into such small Voter
brains) by the Queer Propagandists -- and/or -- the orders went out
to pretend that nothing happened.
The bad places are full of
assholes (what else can you call them?) that a month ago were raving
lunatics, and I mean that too, I am NOT making this up. Raving
lunatic assholes in the middle of raving lunatic assholes and
surrounded by raving lunatic assholes and amongst raving lunatic
assholes -- and now they are all quiet.
There is a despair and
shock behind their masks of silence. You can see it behind their
eyes. It is about 60/40. Sixty percent are quiet and numb, forty
percent are holding back something; holding back some idea; holding
back some hatred, according to orders. That is the bad side.
The good side is a subdued
happiness. Nothing like the ravings and threats of the Lying Phony
Prophets on AM radio that claim there will be a 'Return to Family
Values' -- which will turn out to be nothing more than their own
greedy fetishes and schedules for riches and power, and have nothing
to do with the Truth. Remember, those things cannot even speak about
the Truth. Those things constantly divert all inquiries about the
Truth, and replace any Truth with their own demands for what is
important -- to themselves and to their Political Regime of extremely
selfish backstabbers.
Why anyone on the
so-called good side (relatively) is even mildly happy is anyone's
guess, because all of it is happening inside of Queer Coalition
Bladders. They just cannot get over the fact that they are good and
the Bladders are not, and the Bladders are therefore a blight upon
their existence, instead of an importance. So, they are actually
allowing something in the Queer Coalition Bladders to affect them out
here in the Real World -- and that is Very Bad Policy!!!! It is Wrong
Wrong Wrong!!!! The most that they could hope for, is that they will
not get such a bad stench from the Bladders for eight years. Maybe,
to them, that is cause for happiness. However, to be in such close
proximity to such evil filth as the Bladders must have derailed their
brains.
They will not get such
evil filth from the Bladders for the next eight years, and that seems
to bring them a mild happiness. They somehow think that the Queer
Coalition Bladders are going to be better now, because the RepuCraps
(aka ModoRats aka The New Republicans) are going to be in the White
Outhouse for eight years. That is pure craziness, that is lunatic.
Thus, the good side (relatively) -- is crazy. They think they are
happy (barely) and in that craziness they feel happier.
Henceforth, what we are
really talking about ...
and let us ratchet back
and away from all of that several settings back back back -- and look
at what it is ...
what we are talking about
overall, is Not Good at all. What we are seeing is the Bad Bad Bad
that are immersed in and permanently attached to the Queer Coalition
Bladders. We are seeing the Pseudo-Good and the Pseudo-Normal and the
Pseudo-People who think that they are not in the Bladders; but at the
same time are allowing themselves to be directly affected by whatever
happens in the Queer Coalition Bladders.
This is why I include the
word 'relatively' in these writings. None of them are really Good.
They are all slaves of the Bladders in some awful way. They are not
living Reality. Theirs is not the Real Good.
Knowing the Real Good
People that I know, we are not having any such reactions whatsoever.
I am not. The Real Good People that I know are not. We are not having
reactions that are anything similar to what I am describing in this
message. Our reactions range from None
about whatever happens in the Queer Coalition Bladders -- to --
Regret when we look at
the Pseudo-Good and the Pseudo-Normal persons who are skin-grafted to
the Queer Coalition Bladders and think that something good has
happened in there -- and also -- the written reactions of reporters
like myself who are trying to explain it all.
About what happened inside
of the Queer Coalition Bladders, I have no reactions personally, no
reactions as part of the Human Species, no reactions as one of the
Real Good People. About the Pseudo-Good and about the -- I am
searching for a word here ...
bear with me here ... I
am going to have to find a better description for this ... to put
some kind of description on it that really applies.
I do not want to use any terms like 'Conservatives' or 'Liberals' or
any false convenient titles like that. I want a description that
actually gives you an accurate depiction (image) of what those
persons are like. It should be in German,
because the German Language has the ability to clamp together and
bolt together and weld together words in long streams that give you
pictures in the brain. So I should find the German translation for
it.
[[Thirty Minutes.]]
I found
something. What I get by using my translation dictionary, which is
very generalized, is -- 'Tod Durch Hangen Von Einer Vlase'. Which is
the translation for -- 'Death By Hanging From A Bladder'.
That is about the only way
that I can describe those Pseudo-Good persons who are pitifully
chained to the Bladders. They are NOT Real People. They are NOT in
the Real World. They are NOT Real Humans. They are having reactions
to things that happen inside of the Bladders -- the Queer Coalitions.
At least I am not. I am
just reporting about them. I refuse to get any more involved in that
filth than these messages.
Those Pseudo-Good persons
are not in the Bladders, yet they are allowing themselves (or could
be helpless) to be affected by the Bladders, and hence their lives
are ruined by the Bladders. 'Death By Hanging From A Bladder'. 'Tod
Durch Hangen Von Einer Vlase'.
'Death By Bladder'
translates as 'Tod Durch Vladder'.
That is about the best
that I can describe persons who have some kind of reaction, in a
positive way, to whatever Queershit is going on in the Queer
Coalition Bladders. If you are a Real Person, a Real Human Being, you
do NOT have any reaction to what is going on in those things. It is
just the Same (Bleep), New Day. What you do react to is the effect
which such evil has upon persons who should not feel any effects at
all. An indirect method of being affected. We see persons who should
have nothing to do with the Bladders, whatsoever, and instead they
are having reactions (negative or positive) -- and we know that they
are not supposed to be in the Queer Coalition Bladders, and the
Bladders should not be having any effects upon them.
The Queer Coalitions have
to be completely isolated, completely quarantined. It IS a mental
disease!!!!!!!!!!
Queerism is a horrific
mental disease!!!!!!!!!! You do not allow a little bit of disease
here and there and everywhere! You always quarantine and destroy
diseases! You do not allow disease to gain any footholds in new
territory. You confine the stricken persons, you confine the victims,
you confine the Opportunists, you confine the Willing Lunatics that
are affected by any disease -- and -- you stop the spread of it. You
stop the lateral dissemination of the disease. You put a finite limit
on it, and then you start to eradicate it. You start to eliminate it.
That is how you get rid of a disease. Physical, Bacterial, Viral, or
Mental like the Queerism Disease.
--------------------
I have been seeing on the
Internet that the Queer's Internet Intimidation and Interruption
Network (IIIN) is trying to make a public appearance of working
against the Chester Dump chicken crowd of the ModoRat sucking-arm of
the SQLD; which is complete fakery because the so-called 'Moderates'
are as perverted as they are. This illustrates something that is
going on in the Queer Coalition Bladders; and that is a need, a
perceived necessity, on the part of the Queer Propagandists to
maintain a synthetic variety and an imitation division between the
DemoCraps and the RepuCraps. Both of which are Queer-Sucking arms of
the same body of the Satanic and Queer Lying-Dead. This is made very
obvious, if you know anything at all about how sick and twisted and
psychotic they think (or think they think) (or pretend to think) (or
are pretending to think).
You will notice at the
same time that the pack of (bleep)heads at Google is declaring that
they (at Google) are the so-called 'TransFreaks (that were invented
at the Deviate Hospitals in the Hideous Boston Horrid Zone). The pack
of imbeciles at Google are claiming to be TransFreaks --
TransDipshits. Does that tell you anything? Inside the Queer
Coalition Bladders the Queer Propagandists are trying to maintain an
artificial division between the Voter Followers of the DemoCraps and
the Voter Followers of the RepuCraps.
Now, why would they want
to do that? Why would they not want every thing that is inside of the
Queer Coalitions to know that they are all the same trash and the
same filth and the same lunacy and the same freaks -- inside the same
Political Circus? Inside the same Bladders of sewage? Why would they
want things as stupid as Voter Followers to think that there is still
some kind of division in there?
What would the Queer
Propagandists gain by trying to preserve that theoretical division?
Which is now nothing but historical theory since it is not real fact
anymore. What are they after? Why would they want to do that?
--------------------
You know, when you think
about it and you gather enough information together about what is
going on in the Queer Coalition Bladders, you realize that such
atrocities and lunacies as those 'TransFreak Sicko Inventions'
(created by the lesie-turds and their demented doctors at the Hideous
Boston Horrid Zone and their endless dementia about imitations of any
kind) (to replace all of Real Nature with) are to be expected inside
of such environments. You realize that the interior of all of those
Bladders are so caustic and sick that deranged plans like that are
bound to happen in a place where there are No Humans and the
so-called Public is nothing better than Utter Cowards. It is the
result of what I told you about. The lesie-turds can only exist in
the most putrid and corrupt and cowardly environments. Environments
that they subsequently kill, and then jack up and rejuvenate as
Living-Death, and then Putrefy To Their
Desires And Specifications.
That is literally the
'God's Honest Truth' about it.
That is exactly what they
do. That is probably the most True Statement that you have ever read
in your entire life. It ranks right up there at the top shelf of all
Truth. That -- Is -- What It Is!
The Queer Coalition
Bladders are the Preferred and Chosen and Manufactured and Designed
environments of the hideous lesie-turds. Anything that happens inside
of those Bladders, like Queershit Elections, can only happen to their
specifications.
Sooooo >>>>
what do you think Chicken Dump and Company are all about? Inside the
Queer Coalition Bladders. Chester Dump is way inside the Queer
Coalition Bladders. Have you seen pictures of Chicken Dump in the
same room with Deviates?
--------------------
One of the reasons why I
make all of these messages (and I try to explain everything both
high, medium, and low) is because I want to lower your comfort levels
until you start to see the dangers that actually exist in this
lesie-preferred environment.
That is what it is, the Queer Coalition Bladders exist inside of
that. I am trying to quarantine the Bladders as much as possible, but
they putrefy everything else with their presence. They putrefy
everything else just by being there, just by being as horrible and as
ridiculous and as sinister and as malicious as they really are. I am
trying to explain all of it (high, medium, and low) at the same time
-- and -- simultaneously lower your comfort levels without turning
you into something that low. That is why there are so many
explanations involved in this dialog. I do NOT want you to become
low-life scum like the Queers and the TransFreaks and the Google
Assholes. I just want you to realize that they are there. I want you
to understand just how horrible those things really are. How
dangerous they really are. You should be able to imagine, by now, the
composition and the makeup and the descriptions of The Cult Of The
Asshole. Your comfort level should be low enough now, while
maintaining a proper perspective (and NOT becoming permanently
lowered by all of this) to be able to understand that The Cult Of The
Asshole exists.
And, realize what it is.
It is Absolute Satanism. It is 100% Unmitigated Unadulterated Pure
Evil. It is Absolute Satanism. Combined with Sadism and Imitation
Sex. Imitation everything. TransCrap everything. That is exactly what
it is. It is the worst of the worst, and if you ever saw what they
look like out of their disguises (at the core of The Cult Of The
Asshole) you would think that you are looking at something that is
dead -- and moving somehow. A pathetic, twisted, perverted, sick
imitation of Frankenstein's Monster. An insult to Frankenstein. I
mean, Frankenstein's Monster was a victim, a poor and sorry victim of
Doctor Frankenstein's ideas. The Frankenstein Monster was NOT evil;
not exactly a hero but not evil either. Well, the things at the core
of The Cult Of The Asshole are
Absolute Evil, unlike Frankenstein's Monster. They are sick and
twisted Satanists to the Max! They are Maximized Satanism. And, they
worship The Asshole -- which they intend to be used as the Downfall
of Man.
By now you should be able
to realize that such vermin as that actually exist. I do NOT want you
to have anything to do with those things personally, except maybe to
annihilate them and their Politicians and their Queer Military, which
would be good. I do NOT want you to become permanently lowered. I
just want you to be aware. There is
NOTHING down there for you. There is
nothing down at those lower levels for you. There is nothing down at
those lower levels to entice you, that you would want to believe,
that you would want to stay with, that you would want to keep in your
life!!!!!!!!!!
This is Military
Information. This is not something that I want you to participate
with. This is not something that I want you to partake of. This is
not something that I want you to join. I merely want you to be aware
of it, and its activities, and admit that it is there. Admit that the
(bleep) exists!
--------------------
There is another reason
why the cronies and the phonies and the collaborators and the
opportunists that help the Satanic and Queer Lying-Dead (SQLD) do NOT
want Humans to have memories and do NOT want us to make lists. That
is because it identifies who and what was responsible for these
terrible crimes. Who is responsible for these terrible deeds against
the Human Species. Who is responsible for this horrific and hideous
plague of sickness and mental insanity. That is killing our planet.
For example, those things
that are the so-called executives for Google. Those things are now
directly responsible for the spreading of that 'TransFreak Sicko
Invention' sick and psychopathic lunacy. Which they now, of course,
must be. There is no such thing as supporting Deviates. There is just
being Deviates. All of those so-called executives at Google are now
responsible for the spreading of that hideous and twisted and
grotesque filth. Absolutely Horrible Hideous Ugly Nauseating Filth --
that Google is going to be from now on. Google is nauseating and
twisted and hideous filth from now on.
Those so-called executives
at Google -- the Hideous Twisted Nauseating Filth -- are now directly
responsible for it. Their bloodlines are responsible for it. Every
one and every thing having anything to do with the God-Damned Things
are responsible for it.
Those Lists -- and they
are on the lists -- and that memory -- and they are permanently in
Memory as Satanic Devils from Hell ...
That Memory -- Is
What They Want To Erase!!!!!!!!!!
They do not want the Human
Species to remember who and what brought on this War. Who and what
brought on the revolution. Who and what tried to kill the Human
Species. Who and what killed the Earth. Who and what killed so many
People, and turned them into 'TransFreak Sicko Inventions'. Who and
what was responsible for those crimes. Those murders.
They do not want anyone to
know or remember that those things and those bloodlines were
responsible for it! That is what I am writing about. They do not want
lists. They do not want memories. They do not want us to remember
anything. They do not want us to remember the Queershit that they did
against the world on June 26th of 2015. After that criminal attempt
against us, they spent an entire year saying -- "Oh! It's over!
It's Over! It's Over! It's all over!"
Oh really? It is all over?
Then what the hell are those 'TransFreak Sicko Inventions' Pieces of
Shit (POS)? If the Queershit is all over, and there is no more
Queershit, then what is that 'TransFreak Sicko Invention' Queershit?
Where did that trash come from?
Answer: It came from the
Planning Boards of the Deviates. Which include the hideous scum of
Google. It is just another Step Of Death being forced upon all of us.
There is no such thing as
-- "It's over! It's Over! It's Over! It's all over!" No
disease is over until it is dead. I said "Dead".
*************************
*************************
Conclusions:
When you hear one of those
False Conservatives (which is being a falsehood of a falsehood) and
all Conservatives are false because the term is nothing more than a
Media Convenience and Propaganda Handle anyway -- when you hear those
ModoRat Assholes talking about a return to Family Values, you are
supposed to think -- "Gosh! Things might be Straight again!"
That is not taking into
account that it is ModoRat Propaganda saying such things. It is
nothing but the ModoRats -- the greedy and two-assholed or
three-assholed ModoRats. It is just the Queers for the SQLD saying
those things. What they mean is the 'Money Family'. The Family of
Money-Making Enterprises. A preference for their Money-Making
Machines over the Money-Making Machines of the DemoCraps. Money for
their pockets -- not for DemoCrap pockets. A financial system that is
theirs, not the DemoCraps'. Financial Power. Political Power. The
only family that they care about -- Money and Power -- Power and
Money. That is what they are talking about when they say that they
are 'Conservatives'.
As I said before, you can
easily test those Bastards and Bitches. Whenever they say the words
"Family Values", ask them what
a (g-a-y) thing is. Ask
them if it means we are going to get rid of the (g-a-y) things?
Is it finally time to get rid of the
(g-a-y) things? Tell
us -- Asshole -- how do you plan to get rid of the (g-a-y) things?!
Oh, and Asshole -- how are you going to
get rid of the lie that there is such a thing as 'Sexual
Orientation'?! How
are you going to get rid of the lie that there is such a thing as
'Sexual Orientation'?!
Listen to their lame and
petty excuses. Listen to their pissant and alien excuses. Then, you
will know what I mean. Also, ask them how will that thing that just
said "We are going to have a return to family values" --
how will it get rid of the lie of
'Homophobia'? How
will it get rid of the lie that there is such a thing as
'Homophobia'? Directly. Worldwide.
Everywhere.
Then listen to its puerile
and feeble excuses. Listen to its stammering and stuttering rhetoric,
and its quick changing of the subject. Watch it call on someone else
for questions. Watch it begin to mouth banal propaganda recitals from
the ModoRat inventory, in an attempt to drown out your question --
and the memory that you ever asked those
questions.
----------
ModoRats only think of Big
Business Values. Big Business Values in the terms of millions and
billions of dollars. Billions of dollars and corporations. The
players on the game board of the ModoRats are all corporations. Big
corporations on a huge three-dimensional monopoly game in their sick
heads, where all of the players are very large corporations. Those
are the actual players, there are no Human Beings there on the board.
It is all corporations on the board. This corporation, that
corporation, if you can imagine a huge corporation with eyes and an
asshole under its nose -- then you have the ModoRat idea of what an
Acceptable Player is on their Money Board.
That is how they think.
They do not think in terms of Human Beings and individuals like you
and me. They only create buffer zones of propaganda between their own
sick and twisted dreams and the necessity of having to deal with the
People like us. They pay out a lot of money to a lot of Liars and
Middle-Managers and Propagandists to keep insignificant and worthless
little things like You and Me -- out of their lives -- out of their
dreams -- and off of their playing board of corporations and money
making.
----------
How about an exercise in
Insufferable Puke! Insufferable Puke, it is one of the tougher
lessons that you can learn. What it is -- is -- a close look at all
of the feeble and worthless and lying and deviated and greedy and
miserable and sneaking and filthy and slimy Parasite Corporations;
that one year ago were kissing up to and kissing the asses of
Deviates and Queers (formerly Liberals) and HObama the Magnificent
Rectum and the Masters of HObama the Magnificent Rectum and the
entire queer regime of the DemoCraps ...
AND NOW ...
because of that worthless
event in the Queer Coalition Bladders (that they dare to call an
'election' which it was not since there were no People involved) ...
watch them Kiss Up to the
New Regime. Watch them Kiss Up to the New
Bunch of Queer-Sucking Scumbags. Watch them
change their advertising, the tone of their advertisements, their
verbiage, their rhetoric, their approaches, their smiles, their
grins, their facial expressions; and what they say they think about
the phony conservatives (since there are no real conservatives
anyway). To see and understand all of that, is an exercise that I
would put in a lesson from 'Queerism 202'. It is already happening,
and it will continue to happen, more and more.
The former Liberal Filth
(now all Queers) are doing everything that they can to pretend that
it is not just another Queer-Sucking Arm of the same Bladders that
they exist in, that has ostensibly won something in those Queer
Coalition Bladders. You watch. You watch all of those greedy and
miserable and worm-brained consumerism-oriented lie-oriented
propaganda-dependent companies and corporations. Watch them start to
fawn before, and kiss the asses of, the RepuCraps (aka the ModoRats).
Your puke is your own, so what you do with it is up to you.
----------
When it comes to any
absurd notion of feeling sorry for RepuCraps or feeling sorry for
ModoRats (same things), or hesitating to defend yourself against
RepuCraps or hesitating to defend yourself against ModoRats (same
things), remember something very real. In their sickness, in their
queer mental disease and in their greed, in their un-measurable
greed, in their immeasurable greed, (which knows no bounds) and in
their desperate needs to brainwash as many people as they possibly
can into agreeing with their lunacy and their sick political ideas
(and to agree with their hatred directed at Human Beings and anyone
else who knows the Truth about them) ...
which also makes them more
comfortable and gives them more freedom to kill without anyone saying
that it is wrong to kill ...
if they have everybody
brainwashed and trained to their spiel and their schmeer and their
campaign of lies (the ModoRats are just as guilty of that as the
Deviates are, which is why the ModoRats are now Deviates) ...
in their insatiable desire
to do all of that, they killed their own relatives!
They killed the brains of
their own relatives. They killed the minds of their own flesh and
blood. They killed their brothers, they killed their sisters, they
killed their children, they killed their parents. They killed
anything and everything they could, and turned them all into
Queer-Sucking and worthless wastrels and wreckage. Empty husks devoid
of Humanity. Filled with the psychopathic and psycho-dramatic
lunacies of the ModoRats. They kill in order to be dominant. They
kill their own flesh and blood, they kill their own relatives in
order to be dominant. They would kill you if they could, to dominate
you.
----------
Bladder Time:
Deep Within The Queer
Coalition Bladders -- where the TV Turds are on every minute of every
day -- there is no True Reality and Time itself is warped and twisted
and false.
So why should Time be
counted in there as it is counted out here?
Inside the Bladders, those
things are now in Year AQD Eight -- After Queer Domination. 2008 was
the Year of the Queer Domination of the so-called government
structure of America. Any year of government before 2008 was BQD --
Before Queer Domination. Any year of government after 2008 was (and
is) AQD -- After Queer Domination. 2008 is the Dividing Year -- Year
Zero.
When the Queer Government
of the DemoCraps, and their puppet HObama the Magnificent Orifice,
came into Bladder Power in 2008 -- with the help of the
Cock(bleep)ing RepuCraps -- that was the New Time Differentiator. The
newest one since the death of Christ, which has now been canceled.
In the Bladders, it is all
either BQD (Before Queer Domination) or AQD (After Queer Domination)
which occurred before or after the Year 2008.
It is important to label
all Time inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders in this way, since
nothing has happened in government (whatsoever) to stop AQD, After
Queer Domination. Nothing has happened at all to stop the Queer
Domination of government, and nothing will. All matters governmental,
all things governmental, are measured by BQD and AQD henceforth.
It is important to keep on
doing this constantly, since the ModoRats are Queers. The RepuCraps
are Queers. They will never, not ever, do anything to stop the Queer
Domination of government. They rely upon Queer Domination, and they
are part of Queer Domination. Not one RepuCrap (aka ModoRat) will
accept the Truths of A thru E, and demand that the Truths of A thru E
be installed throughout all levels of government in the country -- in
all governments in the country. Not one of them will do so. Which,
instantly means that they are all Queers; and BQD and AQD will
continue unabated.
Therefore, Chicken Dump
and Company will have their eight years, and they will be labeled as
...
AQD Nine
AQD Ten
AQD Eleven
AQD Twelve
AQD Thirteen
AQD Fourteen
AQD Fifteen
AQD Sixteen.
Each year being after the
Year Zero (2008) of Queer Domination. Queer Domination will continue
to be the deciding Timeline Indicator, because Queer Domination will
continue and will prosper with the ModoRats (aka RepuCraps). With
Chester Dump.
It is very important to
write it and to understand it that way. Thus, absolutely no
Cock(bleep)ing Programmer for the Queer Propagandists (working for
the ModoRats this time) can pretend that the Chicken Dump government
is not Queer.
It most certainly is
Queer. Until Truths A thru E (and all
associated Truths) are accepted by all governments in the country --
and -- all Queer Laws and Queer Regulations are completely
eliminated. Until that Time -- every Time is AQD -- After Queer
Domination. Period.
For Real.
[[To recap -- Year 2007
and counting backwards is 1 BQD and counting. Year 2009 and counting
forwards is AQD 1 and counting. We are currently in AQD 8.]]
When Chicken Dump leaves
the Residency at the White Outhouse, it will be the Year AQD Sixteen.
Chester Dump is the Second
Resident of the New AQD Era to occupy all of its time in the White
Outhouse, without any Human reading matter and material. This also
means that from now on, all messages that exist inside of the Queer
Coalition Bladders (and therefore in government, of course) and were
previously labeled as such-and-such a day and such-and-such a month
and such-and-such a year must have the appropriate BQD-AQD Dates
added to them.
Inside the Queer Coalition
Bladders, the Year 2020 (out here) will be the Year AQD 12 in there.
Likewise, the Year 2024 (out here) will be Year AQD 16 in there.
After Queer Domination. The old BC-AD method is gone. The old BCE-CE
method is gone. Inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders all Time is
either BQD (Before Queer Domination) or AQD (After Queer Domination).
Absolutely nothing can
change that -- since the Truths A thru E are NOT institutionalized in
all governments -- and -- all Queer Laws and Queer Regulations are
NOT erased and eliminated.
Until that time, inside of
the Queer Coalition Bladders (and all governments) Time itself will
be measured as Before and After Queer Domination, which occurred in
the Year 2008 out here.
How does this translate?
How can you tell what year in the BQD-AQD system any year is -- that
was previously written in the old Before Christ Everywhere-Christ
Everywhere system?
Answer: The Before Christ
Everywhere-Christ Everywhere method was a pissant system used only by
Science Dipshits and Atheist Bozos. It used the same years that the
previous BC-AD system used. For instance, 500 Before Christ was the
same as 500 Before Christ Everywhere. How many years before the Year
2008 was that?
Answer. In the BC-AD
numbering system there was no Year Zero. The Year 1 BC was followed
immediately by the Year AD 1. The year of the birth of Christ was
counted as AD 1. According to that numbering system, there were 2007
years before the Year 2008. Therefore, to translate that into the new
BQD-AQD system of all Queer Coalition Bladders and governments --
take 2007 Years and add 500 years to them. Which gives you 2507 BQD.
The Year 500 BC is actually the Year 2507 Before Queer Domination.
----------
At all Queer Inversities
(formerly Universities) where the Deviates have ordered the
instigation of policies that institutionalize the 'TransFreak Sicko
Inventions' -- wherein all persons will be addressed by the Queerest
Titles possible -- I insist (Now and for Eternity) that each and
every time that I (or any of my writings) is mentioned, referenced,
referred to, studied, read, indexed, written about or filmed or
recorded on audio or video (or both) ...
that I be mentioned and
identified and named as ...
'Our University Is Forever
Dog Shit -- Peters' ... or ...
'This University Is
Forever Dog Shit -- Peters'.
Forever. And, Thank You So
Much!
i feel better now
----------
Queer Bullies Of The Year
Award:
This year's winners for
the Queer Bullies of the Year Award for 2016 -- goes to none other
than (drum roll please) >>>>
The Black Homo-Fascists.
Among the following items
are some of the Lies about me that the Black Homo-Fascists have said
before -- years ago -- and have claimed have already happened -- but
now they are claiming that they will happen soon.
What happened to
already happened? They have tripped
themselves up again, by saying that these things will happen soon --
so they cannot have already happened
-- or -- they would not be about to happen
soon for the first time!!!!
Typical of Queer
Propaganda. It always forgets its own lying past.
SOON PETERS WILL BE >>>>
*OBSOLETE SOON
*A PAUPER SOON
*A LAUGHING STOCK SOON
*A FIRE HYDRANT SOON
*A WHORE SOON
*RUNNING FROM OUR JUDGES
SOON
*A BRAND OF ICE AND SNOW
TIRES SOON
*IMITATED SOON
*CRUSHED BY QUEER PROGRESS
SOON
*A NEW FACE AT THE US MINT
SOON
*A CORPSE SOON
*A HOOD ORNAMENT ON FORD
FUCKUP TRUCKS SOON
*A GIRL SOON
*A BLACK POWER ARM BAND
SOON
*A CHEESEBURGER SOON
*DEAD SOON AND
REINCARNATED AS A VOLUNTEER GYNECOLOGIST
*A MICROWAVE OVEN SOON
*AN UNEMPLOYED LOSER SOON
*A TELEPHONE POLE SOON
*OUR BITCH SOON
*A FORGOTTEN (BLEEP) SOON
*A BRAND OF VACUUM CLEANER
SOON
*HAVE ASSHOLES WHERE HIS
EARS WERE SOON
*TORTURED SOON
*CRUCIFIED ON THE 'WHEEL
OF FORTUNE' SOON
*A BRAND OF PANTIES SOON
-- YEAH BABY!
[[THE BACK OF MY HEAD ON
THE OUTSIDE. MY SMILING FACE ON THE INSIDE!!!!]]
*REPLACED SOON
*A TOASTER SOON
*A MOP BUCKET AT THE
SUPREME COURT BUILDING SOON
*BEHEADED SOON
*A BRAND OF COFFEE SOON
*A DOORSTOP IN THE LIBRARY
OF CONGRESS SOON
*A RACCOON SOON
*DISGUISED AS A REST AREA
IN INDIANA SOON
*AN ENDANGERED SPECIES
SOON
*A HAIRBRUSH SOON
*INSANE SOON
*A COAL CAR FOR THE UNION
PACIFIC SOON
*A WASTEBASKET AT THE ROCK
AND ROLL HALL OF FAME SOON
*BEGGING FOR MERCY FROM
OUR MASTERS SOON
*A BRAND OF GROOVY
TWO-PROPELLER OUTBOARD MOTORS SOON (MY OWN DESIGN)
*A WATERBOY FOR THE DALLAS
COWBOYS CHEERLEADERS SOON (PLEASE HURRY) -- FREE UNIFORM CLEANINGS
WITH MY TONGUE
*SCARED AND HIDING SOON
*MY OWN WORST ENEMY SOON
*THE 'LAUGHING MACHINE' AT
THE BBC WORLD SERVICE SOON
*REAMED UP HIS ASSHOLE
SOON
*A BRAND OF MOUTHWASH SOON
*THE WORLD'S LARGEST
TELESCOPE SOON
*SECRET AGENT 009 SOON
*CHEERLEADER FOR THE
'LITTLE OLD LADIES OF PASADENA BLAST-THOSE-PANSIES BAZOOKA CLUB' SOON
*IN JAIL FOR NOT PLAYING
OUR GAME SOON
*DISGUISED AS A CELL PHONE
TOWER SOON
*BUT I DIGRESS SOON
(ETC)
How about ...
Fed up with their
Queershit soon?
-----
Perhaps a parallel will
help some.
What we are doing by
demanding that the Truth and the Five Truths and all Truths be
honored and placed foremost ahead of all lies and liars -- is exactly
what should have been done in Germany in the 1930's when the Fascist
Nazis were taking over Germany with lies and murders and repressions
and imitations and fabricated morals and fabricated realities; which
were nothing more than propaganda covers for huge and horrible crimes
against Humanity being committed by the same liars.
How many people died in
World War II putting an end to those Fascist Perverts?
Now -- the disease strikes
again.
i for one, have no pity
for it -- and zero mercy
----------
More About Influenza:
In three of the places
that I usually frequent to find out what the 'evil doers' are
thinking and saying -- I have been surprised to hear them saying
lines and phrases and entire quotations from my recent message
against the Midwest Crud Virus of 2016. Usually this would not please
me. The health of children was involved in each case, so I will let
this pass. I would like to restate that everything which I wrote in
that message works for me and is known by me to work for many other
Humans. Of course, I am a hard case about flu vaccines and I refuse
to take any. In the case of children, I would recommend a minimal
participation with flu vaccines -- just the basic dosage -- and no
absurd series of shots to please the pharmaceutical companies whose
headquarters buildings should be turned into soup kitchens, and
health clinics and hostels for the poor and sick!
Those true stories about
young children losing their minds after receiving vaccinations are
horrible to say the least.
Something to add to that
message >>>> in the Aftermath
of that Influenza (which I doubt they can identify except to put out
a label so they will appear to know what they are doing) some of the
techniques that worked in the Battle Stage
of the attack do NOT work well at all! Steam Misters with vapor rub
worked quite well while I was seriously afflicted. Now -- after the
worst of it is over -- the misters and the increased humidity which
they create cause chest congestion instead of relieving it!!!!
Now -- I am trying to
attain the driest environment I can create, and I am even using heat
lamps to achieve that result.
Think -- 'Arizona'!
I lived in Arizona during
'Peters -- The Early Years',
and I know what I am writing about. In that regard the HEPA Air
Purifiers help, because they tend to dry the air somewhat, also
making it cleaner and fresher.
It is as I said in my
message, you have to obtain as many resources and options as you
possibly can at the onset of that 'Oh Ye Damned Whale Of An
Influenza', and then be prepared to use them in any different
combination in different stages of the fight. Obviously what works
well in one month does not work well in another month -- and --
changes in the weather (temperature, humidity, solar radiation index)
will have great effects upon your survival efforts.
Make no mistake about this
-- that Crud will kill you if it can. Anyway it can. All diseases
live to kill.
Fourteen things that the
Crud Virus obviously does not like >>>>
* Attitude -- a Fighting
Spirit against it by it's Victims.
* Natural and Folk
Medicine Remedies -- the use of which proves that you refuse to die
or to be crippled.
* Probiotic Yogurt -- most
yogurt is -- helps your Immune System!
* Orange Juice -- creates
a citric body environment which Viruses cannot tolerate!
* Chest rub -- aka Vapor
Rub -- works well at all stages of the ordeal if applied thickly to
chest and neck and covered by 3-4 t-shirts. Thickly!
* HEPA Filters.
* UV Light Rays -- inside
appropriate air purifiers.
* Being overwhelmed.
* All disinfectant sprays
and aerosols.
* Sleep. It would rather
have you worry yourself to death. So stock up on favorite movies and
fall to sleep watching them.
* People who read and
re-read messages like this, until they know the Battle Plan by heart.
* Differences of activity
and atmosphere. Sedentary bodies are easier to eat to death -- and --
complete exchanges of air every day reduce its effectiveness and
presence. A robust metabolism which is active enables a better
attitude and a better Immune System. Which should be called the
Immunity-Then Fighting-System.
* Anger. Stay 100% pissed
off at it -- but do NOT stress out about it. It likes stress and
hates resistance.
* A NEWS FLASH! That
confirms what I am doing. Researchers have come up with the news that
there is a Temperature and Humidity Envelope around the Influenza
Virus that it depends upon for survival. According to them -- and
according to my own experiences -- it works as follows >>>>
Seventy-Five Degrees
Fahrenheit seems to be the Pivotal Point for Influenza:
Above 75 degrees
-- IF -- the air is Dry -- Influenza is disadvantaged and dies.
Below 75 degrees
-- IF -- the air is Moist -- Influenza is disadvantaged and dies.
Above 75 degrees
-- IF -- the air is Moist -- Influenza thrives and you die.
Below 75 degrees
-- IF -- the air is Dry -- Influenza thrives and you die.
Warm And Dry Air Is
Good For You. Arizona.
Cold And Moist Air Is
Good For You. Upper State New York.
Warm and Moist Air Is
Good For Influenza. Florida.
Cold and Dry Air Is
Good For Influenza. Yukon.
Which
is exactly what happened in my case. In the beginning of the fight,
if I was in Cold and Vaporized air (High Moisture) I was much better
off than in any other combination. In the final stages of the fight,
if I was in Warm and Dry air (Low Moisture) I was better off than in
any other combination.
*************************
*************************
The Psycho Blues -- Dream
Sequence:
----------
You know, it is hard work
putting all of these dreams into words that make sense.
----------
Recently, in the last two
months, I have been having a recurring sequence of dreams consisting
of four parts. The parts used to be separate and individual, then
they sort of globbed together. The order of the sequence keeps
changing from night to night, and yet the parts remain without much
change; except for one parameter. Each night, one part (randomly
selected) will be seen in vivid three-dimensional colors with
quadraphonic sounds that are very realistic. Elements of these dreams
come back to me in my conscious hours and I think of their
complications and implications.
You must understand that I
have seen much of War and Pain and Anguish all around me for decades.
Living under the yoke of successive Terrorist Governments, and their
Deviate Masters, could give a person nightmares; instead I get
dreamscapes and dioramas and vast scenarios and a penchant for
details.
Once these dreams have
been explained -- they will go away forever.
----------
I give them to you here in
the most sensible order. Which usually never happens for me.
----------
Runaway 18 Wheeler:
I was driving a large
semi-truck on a winding two-lane paved road that was not too
difficult to drive on, as the curves were not exaggerated and the
distance between curves was several miles. I did not notice any
forests around me, but I was in farmlands country with typically wide
and expansive fields which are still a trademark of agriculture here
in the Midwest. I was obviously somewhere in the Midwest, it looked
like Southern Iowa but it could have been Western Missouri. I was not
doing anything in particular at the moment, and there was an eighteen
wheeler in front of me by about eight lengths. He was driving a dark
tractor which was pulling a box van trailer like I always do. Nothing
remarkable about the trailer or the tractor. It was a quick dream
without artifacts or accessories. A situational dream that tests your
mental reflexes. We were moving along at 55 mph, and nothing out of
the ordinary happened until we came to a place where the road
intersected with two paved county roads to form a triangle.
The triangle was about
two-tenths of a mile by two-tenths by three-tenths, with the three
tenths being the hypotenuse upon which the eighteen wheeler in front
of me was about to travel and which was curved to the left. The main
road took the hypotenuse of the triangle while the two county roads
formed the other two sides. Again, nothing was out of the ordinary.
All roads were lined on the outside with trees about eighty feet high
and spaced apart, through which I could see the farmlands; and the
interior of the triangle was only allowed to have tall grasses in it
for the sake of motorist visibility. Such road triangles are very
common in this region.
The road that we were
going to take formed the left and long side of the triangle, and just
as the eighteen wheeler ahead of me reached the triangle a John Deere
farm tractor, pulling a big green grain hauler, reached the triangle
at the same time from the road that pointed towards us, along the
right side; and failed to stop for oncoming traffic.
The farmer avoided a
collision with the eighteen wheeler with his tractor, but not with
the grain hauler. There was a loud crashing sound and the grain
hauler was bodily lifted up and ripped away from the tractor. Now,
everything began to move in one/tenth second intervals. The farmer
and his tractor drove into a field off to the right of the triangle
and crashed into something. A side of the grain hauler became locked
to the back DOT bumper of the trailer of the eighteen wheeler ahead
of me, which was already into that curve of the triangle, and it was
being dragged down the road as a new part of the trailer -- throwing
showers of sparks and heavy blue smoke and debris. The trailer was
throwing smoke and sparks and the driver was stopping quickly in the
curve.
Obviously, he did not see
me or had panicked. That was the last place to stop. I was coming on
at 55 mph and had no room to stop on the curve without slamming into
the grain hauler and the trailer. I was forced to drive straight
ahead onto the right hand side of the triangle. I was pumping the
brakes and then I saw that there was a stop sign where the other
corner of the triangle was, and the two county roads crossed each
other. I applied the brakes steadily and nothing happened. There was
no deceleration and I sailed through the intersection heading down
that road towards a farm with a white house and a white barn and a
big chicken coop between the barn and the road -- but not without
first stopping for about two minutes in mid-flight to inspect that
stop sign. Was it regulation? Was it properly placed? Was there a
date stamped on it? I began to write up the stop sign for a clear
sighting violation, because it had not been dusted off in the last
five years, when events grabbed me and I was starting to get some
braking action but it was very weak and I sailed past the farm
upsetting many chickens who flew into the air in surprise and I knew
that I was going where no truck had gone before.
Quickly another farm
appeared, also on the left-hand side, and it was identical to the
last one except three horses were corralled between the barn and the
road and they jumped the fence and began to run alongside of me as I
kept trying to slow down the truck. They were chestnut colored with
light tan colored manes, and they were really enjoying this run. I
got the impression that this happened to every poor soul who for some
reason drove past their farm at speed. Probably scared the bejiggers
out of common motorists.
I was glad for the
company, myself, and the road was getting narrower, less used, more
of an afterthought; soon it was a dirt road and narrow like a
two-lane Missouri highway that is measured as a 'two lane' because
two Missouri Mules can walk side-by-side along it. Most of the time.
The other times are what the deep ditches are for on both sides.
I went through another
intersection of some kind, the horses gave up the chase, and I began
to bump along a narrowing dirt road until finally I stopped next to a
lonely chicken coop out in a field, with only an old fence between
the field and the patch of dirt I had stopped on. From my seat, I
began to inspect the chicken coop for violations and warranties, but
I had left my Chicken Corrections Rule Book at home. On top of the
coop sat a gaggle of Rhode Island Red Hens all calmly observing my
totally surprising arrival as though it happened a hundred times a
day. Rhode Island Reds are actually rust colored with red-orange
eyes, red-brown beaks, and yellow legs and feet. They are immediately
recognizable as are their eggs which are brown. Eggs happened to be
the topic of discussion on the roof. If you know chicken coops then
you know that almost all of them are simple structures of wood and
sheets of corrugated steel, elevated above the ground about four feet
and covered with steel panels. Usually brown if painted at all. This
chicken coop was bright red with a shiny steel roof and white posts
for legs, on top of which sat a conversational group of hens who
briefly looked up at the 80,000 pound rig that had just stopped next
to them; and then returned to their conversation with the
characteristic sneer of females for the Stupidities of Man. Which is
not too surprising as Chickens clearly outnumber Man by
19,400,000,000 plus to our 7,400,000,000 plus, with both populations
increasing.
[[This is something that
cannot happen in Reality, as the braking systems on an 18-wheeler are
virtually foolproof -- and -- checked constantly at the beginning of
each trip. No trip starts without a brake check.]]
I was undaunted. I had
been in tighter fixes than this before. With confidence I began to
back the entire assembly along the tire tracks that I had made coming
in; which is the secret to it. If your furthest back tires deviate
from the path that they took coming in, you are going to go off
course and fail.
I elevated my seat and was
using my rear view mirror on the driver's door to slowly back out of
there, intending to stop and see what had happened in the accident
...
when suddenly I was
driving forwards again at 65 mph on a six-lane Interstate Highway.
----------
You Can Only Be An 'Action
Guy' If Everyone Else Is Toasty:
My passenger was a famous
'Action Figure' actor. He changed forms every five minutes or so,
taking on different torsos and heights and faces; all recognizable as
the 'Action Guys' of the movies. To me they were all the same. They
all killed far too many 'Bad Guys' in each of their movies, than
could have actually existed in such situations. They all gave me the
impression of being train conductors who stood in a stationary
position above the railroad tracks -- as trains full of
'soon-to-be-corpses' slowly traveled through them -- punching each
new victim with a target symbol somewhere on its body as it passed
through. Distributors and Arbitrators of a seemingly endless stream
of blood bags with talking heads.
So, I talked to the
Slaughter rather than to the person, which changed every five minutes
anyway.
"Hey! Here we are
again! Who the (Bleep) are you? Don't answer that! Shit -- I see we
are in Minneapolis. You look like you are dead. That's a topic! Let's
talk about Death, you know all about that. Who's a Mean
Mother(bleep)er? I'm a Revolutionary, dude! YOU are the 'Mean
Mother(bleep)er'!"
That was the basic
ambiance and tone of the conversation, of which I will explain the
greater and more important threads.
We were driving on the
east side of Interstate 35, which means we were north of the split
and heading northeast on I35E which passes through Saint Paul, while
I35W curves to the northwest and passes through Minneapolis; the two
of them passing through the metro region about ten miles apart before
re-combining into one Interstate again at Forest Lake to the north.
The entire metro is looped, and through the loop pass the two I35s
vertically. The loop is a complete circle and is divided north versus
south. The north half circle is called I694. The southern half circle
is called I494.
As I drove, I explained
the realities of the situation after the Society of Liars fell to
pieces -- without a Corrective Revolution.
Each successive 'Action
Guy' phased in to replace the previous one, somehow knowing what I
had already said to the previous ones. For some reason each arriving
'Action Guy' thought he was really special, and each departing
'Action Guy' was blue in the face and upset. I attributed it to
motion sickness.
With the Infrastructure in
pieces and in chaos after the complete disintegration of the Society
of Liars -- there would be no management authority to maintain the
flow of energy shipments and the flow of pipeline energies into the
Minneapolis/Saint Paul Metropolitan Area. Chaos, greed, power
struggles, possession of riches in the form of consignments of energy
-- Wars and Warlords -- Rubble and Rapists -- Road Tribes and
Brigandage -- InterState Wars -- InterRegional Wars -- Energy Wars
and Energy Warlords ...
all of it would shut down
the incoming supplies (in all forms) to the Minneapolis/Saint Paul
area. Promises and contracts and threats would be a joke when the
Society of Liars in which such articles were created -- collapsed --
taking them down with it.
[[The BUWI jackals of
today are just the beginnings of the Energy Warlords of tomorrow.]]
We took the off ramp onto
I494 eastbound, our next way point being the turnoff onto I94
eastbound in twelve miles. As we rolled along, I explained how the
forces of self-preservation would certainly overwhelm whatever
militias were hastily formed in a desperate and futile attempt to
maintain civilization. Even the militias would become Cannibals, or
commit suicide. As food supplies dwindled quickly, feeble attempts to
maintain that Queershit Imitation of 'civilization' would all fail.
Block wars and town gangs would break out, the precursors to the
Cannibals. They would ransack all dwellings for food supply stocks
and ammunition and weapons, hoarding them together as a collective
power base until they too ran out. Then, all that would be left to
eat would be flesh; either their own or that of their captives.
Herding of Food People
would begin and continue until exhausted, as it takes ten years to
grow a new Human Food item of any appreciable size. The Cannibals of
Minneapolis would not have ten years available to raise new Human
Food with.
Plus, there would be the
already existing question of which food is good enough to eat. No one
would want to eat any diseased flesh, like that of the Deviates.
Perverts, with all of their diseases, are not suitable as food -- so
they would become (already are) the Dominant Cannibals. Everyone else
would be their food.
By this time, all of the
'Oh Ickers!' would have been eaten and crapped back out. I explained
this, as we rolled over the long bridge above the Mississippi River,
which would be the wash basin and bathing site for many Cannibals.
Each 'Action Guy' tried to
protest, and sputtered and gasped and turned pale while listening to
my prosaic descriptions of Deviate Cannibal Feasts and the required
'Round Ups' of hundreds of Human Food Stuffs for each occasion.
Perhaps, it was the description of the preferred butcher cuts of the
meat, and the roasting procedures. Each was a pale blue ghost by the
time it snapped out and was instantly replaced by another
'Know-It-All' Action Guy.
As we rolled along I
pointed at the many trees that lined the Interstate, in many
different places. I explained that all of the trees along the major
highways would be cut down for fuel. Along the major highways first,
since they were the easiest to reach. All landscapes along all
highways would become completely deforested by the militias and then
by their replacements (consumers) the Deviate Cannibals.
I mean really! Was it not
Poetic Justice? If you allow the worst and most insane vermin that
have ever existed, that will eat you alive at the first opportunity,
to continue to exist and spread their disease -- and you keep fooling
your own cowardly self into believing that they can be controlled by
Sham Governments, which are devoid of all Authority (and populated by
the most greedy and self-serving Bastards and Bitches, namely
Politicians, that have ever kissed Deviate Anus) ...
AND -- when the whole
House of Dirty Cards crumbles and hits the ground hard ...
THEN -- what else should
you expect, except to become the food of the Deviate Carnivores that
you allowed to exist with your cowardice???? Deviates who scared you
and fooled you totally, and will end up eating you and laughing their
asses off about it.
No Pity -- Where None Is
Deserved.
Cruel Justice -- A Balance
-- An Unexpected Result To Food Items -- The Only Result Possible.
The Cannibal Cities, as
they would be referred to elsewhere, would be used as examples of
what will happen to you, if you do not play ball with the New
Warlords and the New Energy Lords. Which, of course, would require
the offering of percentages of Idiot Voters as Food Tokens to the New
Lords.
[[Strange. So many of the
New Lords have White Business Assholes!]]
After the first Hard
Winter, with Human Food supplies dwindling, and the Deviate Cannibals
faced with starvation -- because even a lesie-turd is not stupid
enough to eat another lesie-turd, despite how stupid they look and
act on TV -- the whole disgusting mess would invade southwards in
search of more Human Foodstuffs.
By then, the southern
countrysides of Minnesota would have been either hunted out of Human
Food supplies, or the cowards would have fled to Oklahoma and Texas.
To be barbecued, no doubt.
I can just imagine the
fate of some Imbecile Little Town in Southern Minnesota, where the
population of 1,000 refused to relocate because the 'Oh Ickers!'
(that tell them what to think) have been saying that there is no real
danger from the Cannibals up north -- because -- "Oh! Ick!
Moving is Icky!"
What a Feast of Idiots
that place would become!
We were on I94 eastbound
by now, heading for Wisconsin, and I was pointing out the many
different buildings that would be ransacked and abandoned. The
parking lots filled with burnt out vehicles. The rough cut open lanes
down the Interstates that would be created by militia and bulldozers,
in an attempt to keep a lane open in each direction, by piling all
abandoned and destroyed vehicles into the ditches along each side.
Which consequently just made it easier for the Cannibals to deforest
the groves and stands of trees along the highways later.
I saw and pointed out a
forested knoll that was about a mile north of the Interstate, on
which could be seen a majestic white house nestled into the dark
evergreen trees. I mentioned that the knoll would be stripped naked
of every last stick of wood, and the house would be ripped to shreds
for anything that would burn -- after the owners were eaten. If, they
had been stupid enough to stay and believe any Queershit Lies from
Politicians, who were only lining them up to be a Human Buffet for
the Cannibals. Cannibals that the Politicians desperately wanted to
stay on the good side of.
[[The Truth About
Politicians Is Always Expressed Freely And Openly By All Truck
Drivers -- Which Is Why All Politics-Suckers Want To Dump On And
Eliminate All Truck Drivers. Starting With The Worst Barley Urine
Vendors In The World -- The 'PudVicers'.]]
Alas -- when it comes to
Hunger and Domination -- everything else goes into a Deviate's
Stomach. Deviates are the worst possible food, so Deviates become the
Exclusive Consumers of everyone else.
I looked at the latest
'Action Guy' to see if he understood that last part. He was holding
his fist to his mouth and faded away from pale blue to transparent.
Sad really, there just is
no one capable of being talked to these days.
As we drove eastwards
towards Wisconsin I went on with the next 'Action Guy' about a few of
the more interesting aspects of what would happen to
Minneapolis/Saint Paul after the Society of Liars had collapsed, and
all of the Political Gnomes had taken fast planes down to Bermuda,
and left their puppets and the 'Mass Idiots' to fend for themselves.
*Turkey Overpopulation.
After the Brave Hunters have given up on them and turned to shooting
Dumb Pedestrians for food -- from Ford Fit Fuckup Trucks -- which
will be so much easier.
*Fly Overpopulation. As
the People Food craze takes over and the discarded (partially-used)
body count goes up due to the Cannibals; mounds of rotting
half-consumed bodies of Idiot Voters will cause such an enormous
overpopulation of flies that their numbers will blot out the light
from our Local Star in massive clouds, over any metro area that the
Warlords and the Energy Lords decide to make an example of. That is
-- IF -- they are not also eaten. Ever heard of a Hygienic Cannibal?
*Huge cattle and sheep
death counts. No fuel means no transportation of foods to feed
livestock with. Also, livestock will be the second-most preferred
meat, after the fall of the Society of Liars. There will be none to
send to Minneapolis/Saint Paul even if someone was stupid enough to
want to.
*Black Fly Skies will blot
out the light over the most populated states.
*Necklaces made of the
fingers of eaten BUWI Farmers -- who were fed to the Cannibals -- by
Non-BUWI Farmers -- will become a valuable commodity and a sign of
acceptance.
*Car hovels for Cannibals
will become commonplace sights at Cannibal villages. In clusters,
without seats.
*Home Roastings. A
Cannibal tribe favorite. Twenty Food People in a roasting house.
*Bridge dwellings built
under bridges -- swinging from bridges. Protected from the elements
by the bridges, and allowing immediate control of the roads
underneath.
*Road tribes (usually
cannibal) living on highways that they claim. Claimed and populated
with road tribe members living in bridge dwellings and at rest area
camps and at villages built on the grounds of major exits.
*Towns burnt entirely, as
body disposal units, to keep the Black Fly count down. Partially
eaten bodies piled in towns, and then the towns burnt down. Called
'Thanksgivings Towns'. Cannibals singing that old favorite song --
'Thanks for the Memories!'.
*Cannibal Dykes will rule
many tribes until eaten when the Food People supplies for ritual
feasts and sacrifices run out, and the Followers turn on the Dykes.
*Preferred foods for the
Deviate Cannibals will be >>>> Piggy Monkey Lawyers, Fat
Politicians, Fat Sheriffs on the 'Federal Suck', Realtors, Scary
Federal Enforcers in expensive suits and sunglasses, Popcorn-fed
Video Gamers (tasty!), lesser White Business Assholes, Hog Farmers,
Dark Meat Radical Bitches lost without TV, former TV personalities
(etc).
[[I thought about that for
two minutes. What brand of sunglasses were those Honky Assholes
wearing? I went over the possible brand names in my head. Of course,
it had to be -- the 'Jive White Nigger' brand!]]
*Preferred fire woods for
Deviate Cannibals will be >>>> Skinny Monkey Judges (who
said this would never happen), TV Owners and Operators of all kinds,
FBI agents, Officers of the Q&AFF, Mannequin Prostitutes hired to
pretend to be Deviates on TV, Chicken Farmers, Accountants of all
types, Idiot workers at Barf-It stores, pathetic McDonald's workers
still clinging to burnt out McDonald's fast food joints, Cops (etc).
*Preferred Sports Targets
for Deviate Cannibal shooting parties will be >>>>
Illusive Filthy Monkeys from FM stations, Camouflaged Scumbags from
queer newsrags, ACLU Jackals, Sports Show TV Turds, TransFreak
Inversity Professors, Scary Federal Enforcers in expensive suits and
sunglasses, Demented White Females insisting "It's Over! It's
Over!", Utility Workers living out of their utility vehicles,
Managers of Barf-It stores, Boy-Sex Scout Masters (etc).
shall i continue
----------
Rest Areas Of The Great
Plains:
My novels and my dreams
seldom have violent episodes in them, and I was reminded of that
while I was watching an 'Action Movie' recently. I would say that I
totally ignore 95% of all 'Action Movies'. This one seemed to have
the possibility of having a plot and a story to it, and it had some
actors which I knew were not HollyQueer monkeys -- in fact it was
made in Canada -- so I took a chance and watched it, knowing that I
would toss it into a trash can if it was unworthy of being in my
collection.
As it turned out, it was
very violent and I blanked out most of it and only noticed the movie
when there was some exposition and story-telling. I think ten people
died between each section of exposition. Certainly, the body count
for the entire movie was much higher than there could have been
bodies for, in that setting and environment. Thus, magical bodies had
to miraculously appear in the movie, just to be killed, without
explanation. As I was watching it, with only one eyeball, I was
reminded that ...
1. It was a lot of
Unnecessary Violence.
2. When there was any
story line it was okay.
3. The body count was
ridiculous under the circumstances.
4. Even the Good Guys
would not get away with so much killing in the Real World. They would
be imprisoned later.
5. I seldom have killing
in my works -- as 'gratuitous violence'.
6. Their final body count
was minuscule compared to what happens in my works -- if -- there is
violence. Can you imagine the body count in a documentary movie about
the elimination of the Hideous Boston Horrid Zone?
7. The directors of such
movies seem to have a 'they are expendable' viewpoint towards bodies
in general.
8. Elimination of any
disease should be made in 'cell counts' -- Not body counts. The
things of the Queerism Disease are Most
Certainly Not individual bodies; and
all act as intended by the Queerism Disease, as mere cells of a
larger sickness. It is the Disease that counts the bodies of its
Victims.
So, it is seldom that you
encounter 'Action-For-Its-Own-Sake' in one of my novels or dreams.
[[In case you did not know
-- I have so much contempt for Politics and the creatures that use it
against the rest of us -- that I am somewhat well known for it.]]
kinda shows don't it
-----
This dream segment occurs
by itself from time to time, independently. It always starts between
40,000 and 90,000 feet (or more) above sea level. I am always dressed
in some kind of futuristic jumpsuit that is made of colorful panels
and quarters and stripes, designed to be highly visible, of highly
polished lime-green (not fluorescent green) and bright white (mixed),
or royal blue and bright gold (mixed). Naturally, I am wearing belts
around my waist and across my chest, that are black or tan colored,
with various weapons and ammunition and accessories attached to them.
Sometimes I am wearing a helmet that matches the colors of my suit,
sometimes no helmet.
Always, I am in a burning
jetpack assembly, large and big and complicated, that is smoking and
flaming. The jetpack assembly is so large that it wraps halfway
around my body and sometimes it has short burning wings. Always I am
falling towards the Earth. Always there are big engines on the
jetpack, and they are whining and screaming and revving up in an
attempt to correct the fall, but never is there enough thrust to stop
the descent. These jetpacks are not something that you put on your
back; they are stand-alone structures that you step into -- much
bigger than any backpack.
There are always
instrument panels on armatures that extend in front of me, and they
indicate that there is a failure of some kind and it is irreversible.
Alarms are sounding as I fall in a stream of flames and smoke towards
the Earth. I never seem to tumble much. I rock from side to side, but
the weight is so great that I more or less fall feet first, with
pieces of my suit, belts and jetpack being ripped off and
disappearing above me. The wind sounds are enormous as I fall. I
seldom look sideways. I am always trying to reach for some valve or
push some emergency button on the jetpack which I cannot reach or it
will not work, and down and down I fall ...
never examining the
jetpack for its problems or its complexities. Instead, I always
examine the air through which I am falling, and the topography of the
landscape far below me. I notice arrangements of land spaces and land
usages down there that I would change if I owned this world ...
and down and down I fall
...
into some kind of new
environment that is completely different from where I was before --
both in Time and in Space. I have fallen into Prehistoric Times --
always Cretaceous -- my favorite. I have fallen into great sea
battles of the Ancient Mediterranean World. I have fallen into Alien
Worlds on Alien Planets. I have fallen into tea parties of 'Little
Old Ladies' without breaking their china tea sets; being scolded
mercilessly. I have fallen into empty deserts that became full of
nocturnal lifeforms each night that hunted any and all White Racists
that they could find wandering the desert.
Always -- once I land
(stop somehow) I become very serious about the most fundamental
parameters of life; whether it is how to make a kiln to bake bread
in, or how to fix a wheel on an Egyptian Chariot, or how to train
elephants to do basic mathematics, or how to build elevators in
buildings, or how to teach Rattlesnakes to perform circus tricks --
activities that require planning and careful operations.
One, however, keeps
recurring. A recurrence inside of a recurring dream. I am standing on
an empty Interstate Highway. The jetpack assembly is in a heap of
burning metals and plastics on the highway behind me, smoke and
flames soaring into the sky. I am unharmed, and I am wondering where
I should live.
And always, there is a
Rest Area nearby.
Now, in the dream, I
become a connoisseur of appropriate rest area facilities. I see the
blue sign that says 'Rest Area' and points with an arrow to an off
ramp, but what sort of facility will be there? In the dream I imagine
what I would want for a rest area building. Because of this dream I
always look at the buildings in rest areas in a way that no one else
does, but someday will -- as living quarters. I examine each
variation of rest area buildings for its ability to be modified, and
for how one person would live there year round. I also examine the
grounds and shelter trees. Most rest areas are protected by groves of
trees which adds to their application as appropriate living quarters
after the Society of Liars falls -- and the Cannibals have all eaten
each other.
[[Oh, I am sorry. I meant
the 'Moderates'.]]
I have already stated that
the 'Bug Out' loonies that live in the MegaCities and keep backpacks
full of dried foods and stores of weapons and think that as soon as
the Society of Liars falls they will leave those MegaSewers and
survive in the countrysides, are in for a huge shock when they find
out that >>>>
A. Those countrysides are
already occupied by People with many guns.
B. Bug Out Retards are NOT
wanted out here.
C. They will be forced to
turn back to the MegaSewers, out of which will be pouring millions of
Wannabee Cannibals.
[[Do you think for one
second that the Ford Fit Fuckup drivers are going to give a (bleep)
about anything other than their own survival, and not being eaten?]]
D. All of their food will
be consumed while they use up all of their weapons and ammunition
shooting the rest of the Bug Out Retards who have already gone back
and have run away a second time, this time from the Cannibal Feasts
inside of the Queer Coalition Bladders.
E. The one and only
Restaurant that will still be open and serving food -- will be the
'Me And My Huge Hibachi Cafe'. Serving 'Burnt-DemoCrap-On-A-Stick'
all day long.
In other words -- the
single purpose of survival after that Society of Liars falls is to
KILL. Each day of successful killing means another day of life. Until
all of the Deviate Cannibals are gone.
We are discussing a
Society of Liars in which Institutionalized Satanism and Cannibalism
is already common place -- beneath the enforced radar limitations of
the enforced 'comfort zones' of the Masses of the Public Herd. When
the fall happens, and the Deviates tell their followers that they can
all survive by eating the Enemies of the Deviates -- and -- the
Deviates will teach them how to do it ...
already being experts as
they are ...
what do you think those
Idiot Voter Followers will do?
They would rather eat you
-- than eat each other.
Besides, like I said, no
one will want to eat the Diseased Deviates.
The Law of Survival will
become -- The Most Inedible Will Be The Fittest For Survival.
Everyone else being edible.
-----
The most recent time that
I had this dream segment, I was at the Passing Trees double rest
areas in the southern half of a Great Plains State. Which is situated
in a forest of White Oak trees (about as far north as they range);
and I was happy for that. I had crashed on the southbound side of the
highway and after looking at the burning jetpack for a moment I
pulled a survival kit out of it, complete with camp axe, and walked
along the off ramp into the rest area. I was being scrutinized by
three Brontosaurus Brothers who were standing behind a thick stand of
trees at the southern end of the rest area, with their necks and
heads very much reaching above the canopy of the trees; slowly
chewing leaves and watching my every move. I waved to them in a
friendly manner and promptly ignored them.
I was in luck. I had two
rest areas to use this time, instead of just one. The northbound and
southbound sides were identical and separated only by the two paths
of the Interstate Highway itself, and by a central median of dense
oak trees; which I would easily make a convenient path through. I
knew this rest area well, it was nestled deeply inside a large forest
of oaks which would provide excellent cover from the winds and
blowing ice storms of Winter. The Interstate Highway ran right
through the forest, from farmlands south to farmlands north. Out
there in the fields, there was precious little terrain coverage and
protection from the rains and snows of the Great Plains. Inside the
forest, where the two rest areas were cleverly situated, there was an
abundance of protection and wind shelter.
Out here in the Great
Plains it can snow on your head all day long and you can manage it.
It is the winds that cause Hell and Havoc, ripping up all snow banks
and turning them into flying sheets of icy death. Blinding death.
Clothes cutting death. Creeping and merciless and freezing cold. Out
here the cartoon image of people being mummified by layers of ice is
no joke. The second you become immobile in an ice storm or an ice
rain wave out here, you start to become a frozen mummy. That is why
'Islandization' is so prevalent here on the Great Plains. Islands of
shelter trees around homes and villages make a huge difference in
favor of Human Survival.
My first interest was in
the building on the southbound side, even though I knew that I would
be living in the northbound building. That side had greater
protections from the harsh winter ice winds that always come from the
northwest. I had previously visited this rest area on a dozen
occasions and had decided that it was suitable for singular
'Post-Moderation' living. With the last of the Cannibals and the
Deviate Masters killed and not eaten -- my only worries were how to
survive in a World of just one million people globally. 1/7400th or
0.0001351351351 of the previous population of 7,400,000,000; some of
which might still be prone to occasional Cannibalism. Tasty Designer
Cannibalism.
I quickly decided that in
the southbound building the Men's Room would be for exercise and
ranting and raving, and the Women's Room would be for storage. I
would keep the utility room, where the previous custodians had an
office desk, for a chart and writing room. It was sufficiently far
enough away from the northbound side, where I would live, to be a
decent writing environment. It had a furnace in it of course, but
that was worthless by decades and I could fashion a coal pit inside
there. I would burn wood outside in a pit under a steel canopy and
transfer the coals to the pit inside. I would have to fashion an
outlet for the smoke, which would require a trip to a nearby town for
steel corrugated pipes. That technique would keep the writing room
toasty on rainy and cold days. Outside, the abundant forest would be
occupied by all manners of bird life and wildlife which I would
foster. My hunting policy forbade killing in my own forest.
Of course, the
arrangements at the main living quarters on the northbound side would
be quite different, as that would be my winter writing place as
well.
What I found myself
wanting most of all was a good old fashioned .270 rifle and a long
barreled 22 magnum revolver. Poof and whoosh! There appeared before
me, on a picnic table outside the northbound building, a fine
Browning semi-automatic rifle in .270 Winchester and a Ruger
Blackhawk revolver with an eight inch barrel in 22 magnum. I took
them up in my hands and then put them down and ran through the trees
to the Women's Room on the southbound side. Sure enough, cases of
ammunition in .270 and 22 magnum were stacked there against a blank
wall.
Upon seeing them I shouted
-- "How about a reloading station and gunpowder?!" Poof and
whoosh! There appeared a complete loading station and large crates of
reloading gunpowder.
Well! That was quite nice.
This dream was cooperating! Nice that, it made a welcome change. As
dreams go when they are happy, I went through the setup procedures
for making the rest areas hospitable in a manner of minutes.
There was quite an ample
supply of water available, both for myself and any Brontosauri
neighbors. I found out, through many hikes around the area, that
there were no less than twenty-four ponds of various sizes and
descriptions within easy walking distance. Seven of which contained
fish populations that I managed to catch from time to time.
Somewhere in the effort to
make the rest areas livable I invented a four-wheeled rickshaw that I
pulled around by myself. It was a small horse carriage formerly used
by the Amish People of the vicinity. I completely rebuilt it from
parts of other such carriages. It had two long forks and a makeshift
harness that went over my shoulders. I put on the harness and lifted
the two forks with my arms and off I would go -- a One Manpower
Conveyance. It got me around. I was able to fetch all kinds of things
for the rest area that I would not otherwise have been able to. I was
also able to take it down roads many miles and then go hunting,
bringing back the game that I shot on the carriage.
The mattress and box
springs which I slept on (and later the bedding) I got from a store
in a town a few miles south on the Interstate. I placed eight
skateboards under them and skated them north to the rest areas. I
used my rickshaw for the bedding and hardware supplies.
My main source of food was
a mixed bag of squirrels, rabbits, wild chickens, geese, ducks, wild
cattle (now smaller), sheep (yummy), the small plains deer, and small
buffalo that happened by in small groups, always traveling east
towards the bigger rivers. Twice I was able to shoot some wandering
Gazelles (from 'who knows where'), and once I got a Pronghorn
Antelope at a far range with the .270. Always, I hunted outside of my
own forest. I had established boundaries around my forest, in which
the rest areas sat, by storing up jars of my own urine and then
depositing samples in a boundary around the forest. It worked! The
coyotes kept further away and their howling was more distant at
night.
It meant nothing to my
main competitors however. There were no wolves to speak of yet,
though I saw signs eleven miles up north of here, but I had already
been visited by lions and elephants in camp. The elephants just
rousted about and left after a lot of shouting. The lions came
through in prides and had to be forced out with shouting and shooting
and fire brands. Wild dog packs were my worst problem. They moved
quickly and at very low levels using the terrain and brush for cover.
They could be on you before you had time to pull a weapon, which is
why I kept the Ruger in my belt at all times, and carried home-made
grenades with fuses.
Five times I had been
confronted by dog packs during my hikes across the plains lands to
the outlying ponds where I hunted often. Each time they circled me,
looking for an opening or waiting for one or the other to be
senseless enough to charge. While it died they took the opportunity
to charge. Except I always lit the fuse to a grenade first off and
then shot one of the closer dogs. This signaled the rest to charge
and they ran right into the blast of the grenade. Dogs are not that
calculating you know, and canines always accept conditions for what
they are, if they are not starving. On each occasion the pack fled
the scene leaving several of its members dead. Right then and there I
cut their throats to make sure that they were dead, and then I cut
out their stomachs and inspected the contents. They were living on
the same menu items that I was, with the addition of some grasses. I
kept the grass specimens and began to gather various grass species in
quantity. These I tried to make teas out of, grass tea.
I spent hours in my dreams
on this matter. My intention was to invent a palatable drink to go
along with my Mouse Goulash. Without heads and fur and feet and
innards, of course. A time consuming preparation, but twenty together
made a rich sauce and stew, if crunchy. Beggars cannot be choosers,
but I did relish the idea of a nice herbal tea to go with my Mouse
Potluck. In all cases, the first pressing of the grasses proved to be
too strong and caustic to my tastes. I found however that if I
allowed one particular species of grass to slowly boil, removing the
worst toxicity, and then dried out the blades and chopped them up --
they would make a passable tea if I added dried roots to the boiling.
Almost onion soup like. I spent considerable chemical efforts on this
project.
As this was a recurring
dream, I accumulated a variety of lesser occurrences about this one;
which is always an indicator that it will be replaced by another
recurring dream.
Such as, once while I was
chicken hunting out in the flat farm lands west where the grasses
grow tall and the pioneer forests that replaced some of the fields
are starting to mature, now reaching twenty to thirty feet -- I saw
an F2 tornado lazily drifting along on a northeast heading, winding
and twisting as it went. It was a yellowish afternoon with the star
in a slight declination and trying to break through hazy clouds, only
succeeding to cast everything on the planet in a yellow hue with
bright white shards of light beams coming down at random intervals.
Something was following the tornado on the ground. It was a moving
object which was a rich brown color. Something was silhouetted, with
light beams beyond it, as it struggled to follow the tornado across
the plains. I looked at it with my binoculars, and it seemed for all
the world to be Omar Sharif dressed in a black Arabian tunic riding a
brown colored camel. I watched until it was too far distant to be
discerned. I am sure it was Omar Sharif. Man and Camel and Tornado
slowly faded into the distance northeast.
Across the Great Plains
there still exist, in quantity, old graveyards from the past. Each is
cherished and maintained by local residents, even if the original
towns have blown away as dust long ago. I came across one, five miles
to the southeast, one night while I was following the setting star
back to the rest areas. As the star went down, and I could barely see
the way ahead and I was reckoning by the outlines of groves and
forest islands against the light of the setting star, and I feared
being lost; I sought out the temporary protection of a group of trees
ahead and to the south of my course. It was an original cemetery with
strong iron fences and gates and possessing an archway with an old
forgotten name high upon it. It was replete with the customary tall
trees -- and began to sing and play with lights as I stood there in
the dark looking in. Slowly, as the star went down under the horizon,
spirit images in three-dimensions began to rise from the grounds of
the cemetery and to sing and to flash with lights from within their
bodies. I noticed that they did not rise from marked graves. I
questioned that for two minutes, and then thought of writing them up
for 'Inappropriate Behavior' and perhaps 'Lack of Calibration'. The
need to get home was greater, however, so I left the cemetery and
their revels; giving them a 'B' for effort and a 'C' for accuracy. I
was not impressed.
One Autumn night, that was
a bit on the getting-cold side, but the leaves of the forest had not
started to change colors yet, a brightly lit Texaco Tanker appeared
from the south and slowly came to a stop on the northbound side right
in the center of the rest areas. The apparition sat amongst the
debris that had gathered on the highway with its engine running long
enough for me to get dressed and walk towards it to see who was
driving it. This was not like some scary HollyQueer movie. There was
no mannequin on strings in the driver's seat with a grinning skull
and white teeth. What was there, was all black and sitting slightly
hunched forwards and wearing a dark cap with a short brim forwards on
its skull; as if to block out the starlight from its dead eyes. It
did not look at me, but each time that I got to within ten yards of
the tractor the rig took off again, crunching its way northwards over
the debris. In the daylight of the following day the tracks of the
tanker are very obvious through the refuse and forest litter on the
northbound highway. A ghost driver (obviously) in a Texaco Tanker
with many white and yellow lights who drives through on odd nights --
and -- always leaves a rain storm behind him. Probably died nearby on
a rainy night.
Not that the Midwest
States are filled with ghosts. These sightings are rare while the
Society of Liars still exists.
I see occasional illusions
too. Almost romantic illusions. One that has appeared two times now,
on hot summer days without clouds, is the image of a ship like a
large Mediterranean ocean liner that is about a mile and a half away
from wherever I am in the fields at the time; stuck in the farmlands
and apparently on its way to the rest areas. It just sits there sunk
down in the soil up to its waterline, heading towards the rest areas,
cold and silent. When I walk over to that point, it matches my pace
and recedes away from me into nothingness.
Once, I dreamed inside the
dream that five colorful dragons attacked me while I was sitting at
my campfire. One hit me over the head with his tail and then they
dragged me south out of the rest area while they jabbered in high
dragon voices. I woke up in a drizzle of rain where they dropped me
in the median and left me with no boots. That actually happened. I
had to take the rickshaw to town the next day for more boots, with
eight socks on each foot.
Other than occasional
points of interest like those, everything was usually calm with an F2
tornado passing by saying hello from time to time. By now I was used
to hearing Scholarly Brontosaurs passing by, usually in small groups
and in the afternoons and hidden from view by the trees except for
the top twenty feet of their green necks and heads, discussing sports
or the latest natural news. Ignoring me completely. I wasn't sure if
that meant acceptance -- or triviality.
There was something about
a reservoir to the far south that I avoided with discretion. It was
very prone to intense lightning storms in the daytime when everywhere
else was just covered with overcast skies.
Once I did dream inside of
the dream that Famous Shoes and James Garner (as Captain Call) passed
through the rest areas. Famous Shoes was on foot of course, and James
Garner was on a big brown horse loaded with assorted long guns. They
were tracking the infamous 'Blue Bunns' the Flaming Politician --
that sets its own ass on fire while it roasts Stupid Voters on a
rotisserie -- and faggots dance and sing around the Screaming Voters.
After they left I shuddered, and Thanked the Creator that I was out
of society.
My last vision of that
dream is sometimes of myself standing in about an inch of snow out in
empty fields away from the rest areas. I can see the rest areas and
the smoke from my fireplace. I look out across the countrysides of
the plains and I feel very free. I scan the horizons in all
directions on a slightly overcast day with unlimited visibility and
even though I know that Winter is coming and there will be hardships,
I am free.
----------
Happy Rockets To You --
Until We Sneeze Again:
It was not the same
jetpack that I had crashed in previously. This one was larger and
more powerful and jets of yellow and red flames were coming out of it
at wrong places. The engines themselves were trying to reignite, and
I could hear the starter mechanisms trying to wind up and get those
engines firing again. All of which was of secondary importance to me
at the time, because I was dropping belly first towards the Earth at
about ninety thousand feet and through my face mask I could see that
beneath me was clearly the 'Finger Lakes Region' of Central New York
State.
If you know anything about
the State of New York it is probably very little, due to the fact
that so many graduates of NEA Public Schools do not know that there
is a State of New York. Instead, they only think of the MegaSewer
called 'New York City', which they are taught to think of as the
Mecca for all NEA Droppings, and therefore highly desirable. The
State of New York is much larger than Nude Yack and basically divided
into the following regions >>>>
*Saint Lawrence River
Valley
*Adirondack State Park
(World's Largest)
*Lake Champlain Valley
*Lake Ontario Southern
Shoreline/Syracuse
*Lake George/Albany Region
*Finger Lakes
Region/Cooperstown
*Western New York/Buffalo
Region
*Southern New York Hills
Region/Elmira Region
It is very much possible
(eminently possible) to live in any of the above regions and never
see Nude Yack in your entire lifetime. Nor care either. Each region
is self-contained and not dependent upon Nude Yack for anything.
[[A fact that infuriates
all Black Homo-Fascists in Nude Yack.]]
If you live in one of
those regions, you will invariably travel around the neighboring
regions as well -- but never Nude Yack. Nude Yack could disappear
tomorrow, and these regions would continue to operate quite well on
their own. Of course, Nude-Yack-Sucking Politicians will squeal and
snort and scream at the very idea of being without their Hog Masters
in Nude Yack.
Who cares?
I was falling, slowly,
down to the Finger Lakes Region; which exists in the center of the
State, between the Lake Ontario Southern Shoreline Region to the
North, and the Southern New York Hills Region to the South. The
eastern approaches to the Finger Lakes Region are the lands depicted
in the James Fenimore Cooper 'Indians and Forests' classic novels --
The Last Of The Mohicans and The Deerslayer. Even today there are
many deep forests (as depicted in those books) to be found across the
central span of the state, sliced vertically by the Eleven Finger
Lakes. Which are, from West to East -- Conesus, Hemlock, Canadice,
Honeoye, Canandaigua, Keuka, Seneca, Cayuga, Owasco, Skaneateles, and
Otisco lakes. The entire horizontal span is also interspersed with
many fertile farmlands of extremely picturesque excellence; and
vineyards, the wines from which being equal to any California
counterparts, handily. [[Chardonnay, Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Pinot
noir, Cabernet Franc, Vidal blanc, Seyval blanc and Vitis labrusca.
FYI.]]
The topography of the
Finger Lakes Region from ninety thousand feet is immediately
recognizable and unmistakable, being unique in all respects; so I
knew where I was going. I was falling, slowly for some reason,
towards the uplands ridge between Seneca and Cayuga Lakes; which I
knew was bad for me since it meant a lot of walking to get where I
needed to go. My destination, given little choice, was a never known
ghost lake hidden in the hills and cliffs that blanketed the lands
between Lake Otisco, and Cooperstown seventy miles away.
Usually filled with water
some hundred feet deep, but prone to drying up considerably during
drought years and turning into a muddy swamp with a blue/green pool
at the center, Lake Coyandiesus was fed by, and depended greatly
upon, the associated high falls which fell from an abutting cliff
structure into its northern tip. The entire landscape, including
Taukomonock Falls, was composed of sunken hills and cliffs that were
full sized and yet depressed into a sunken elevation (basin), and
then furthermore surrounded by higher hills and cliffs to such an
extent that if you were not right upon it, or looking down at it from
Space; you would never notice that it is there. Also, being heavily
overhung on all shores by massive amounts of Sugar Maple, Pitch Pine,
and Eastern White Pine trees, there is no distinct outline to the
lake. The depressed basin level of the landscape, relative to the
surrounding regions, keeps the lake full of water much more than it
is dry; heavily frozen over and blanketed with heavy snows during the
wintertime and thus virtually invisible; and a mere speck of blue in
a vast expanse of green deciduous forests during all other seasons.
It is an optical illusion of comparative sizes, lake-hills-cliffs,
that makes the three mile length of Lake Coyandiesus seem to be so
much smaller. Even so, Coyandiesus seems to have a will of its own to
stay as remote and as primitive as it possibly can be. To this end,
its purpose is aided by the complete lack of roads of any description
in the area, which is deemed to be too primitive for habitation and
always has been.
Forgotten if ever known.
Ignored as worthless. Bypassed and unmanaged. One of many Primitive
Areas, allotted and surveyed last century and costing nothing to
maintain. Non-existent to Society, because it never served a purpose
after the trails that traversed the area were allowed to deteriorate
in favor of roads and railroads that took easier routes (around that
area) from East to West and from South to North, using flat lands
that were much better suited for town-building and bridge-making.
Even attempts at logging off its timber had vanished when the
Adirondacks region was assaulted by the loggers and the greed for
cheap logs went North.
Wilderness Societies
ignored, or never knew about, the Lake Coyandiesus area; it being
either too small to legislate or lobby about, or too remote and
seemingly unspectacular to use for propaganda purposes; another
reason why there was no primitive camping in the area. It just did
not seem to be important for any Societal reason. All tolled, the
area measured about ten miles on a side, a block footprint of
landscape that was too rugged for agriculture and too common for
spectacular Kodak Golden Moments. Hence, its survival was assured as
a pristine example of the original continent (and virgin forests)
that had slipped under the radar of Society due to its low profile.
Then, as the continent
deteriorated due to the horrors of Politics, such places (utterly
out-of-mind to the Politicians) rose in stature from forgotten
backwater forests and small lakes to the Last Resources of Nature and
the Last Remaining Reserves (etc). In this case a forgotten reserve.
The many forces and values
and events and phenomena of Nature were in no way diminished there.
Indeed, the surrounding ten mile squares, that bordered this one,
were themselves mostly natural with farmlands in all of them, and
small farming towns in some of them. In the Coyandiesus area Man was
absent. The more the better for my purposes, if I could land there
without exploding, which meant I would have to impact on the lake
itself, or at a large meadow. Meadows were rare there.
Trouble was, it was sixty
miles east of the point that I was falling towards, on fire and
moving slowly; like I was in a dream maybe.
In the dream I remembered
what those test pilots said when they were free falling in space --
the ones from the 1960's -- at Edwards Air Force Flight Test Center
-- testing ejection seat designs in real life -- ejecting from
perfectly good aircraft at 50,000 feet to see if the seats worked
properly and the parachutes held up. I remembered this as I fell and
casually looked over my right shoulder at the jetpack. It was
screaming with faded notes and riffs and oscillations, and its body
was scintillating and vaporizing slowly into showers of many
thousands of small and light emitting pieces, all flying slowly
upwards away from me. I did not look upwards. I watched the jetpack
slowly dissolving and turning into an upwards moving shower of
thousands of pieces of bright yellow and orange lights. I could see
the fires causing the surface of the body to bubble into thousands of
little bursting explosions; and then I looked down again. I was
starting to drift eastwards. Soon I would be directly over Lake
Cayuga, which I was very familiar with and which was not my first
choice of landing zones. I strained my neck and looked eastwards
towards Lake Coyandiesus and the Agate Forest around it. I remembered
what the test pilots said. They said -- 'When you are free falling,
having left the ejection seat because it was never intended to be
ridden to the ground, the intense velocity of the winds encountered
by free fall will force your body to rotate and tumble out of control
-- unless -- you flap your arms like a bird'. Literally. It was a bit
of a professional joke around Edwards, but the test pilots swore to
it. If you flapped your arms vigorously at forty thousand feet you
could maintain a stable position in free fall, preferably facing
downwards.
Some of my elementary
school classes had been taught by those test pilots. I knew them well
enough (they being the First Ever Team) to know that they were
incapable of lying. To this day, I still remember campfire meetings
with dozens of young kids like me and the First Ever Team of Air
Force Test Pilots. They would explain to us youngsters what it takes
to become Air Force Pilots, while we munched on our hot dogs and
guzzled cokes and stared with wide eyes. All of us kids were
astounded that we were actually seeing THE Test Pilots in person. At
the time, I never for one instant thought I would ever be anything
like them.
And so far, I have been
admirably right about that. I started to flap my arms as vigorously
as I could and leaned as hard as I could eastwards, until I was
turned round and pointing headfirst towards Lake Coyandiesus. Eighty
thousand feet now, and once sure of my bearings, I began to flap my
arms as fast and as hard as possible. In my sleep I must have gone
into a hyperventilation, otherwise I would have woken up gasping for
breath and on the floor wracked with cramps.
Closer, oh yes it was
working, closer -- over the southern end of Lake Owasco and the towns
of Ashland, Cascade, Southwest Owasco and Indian Cove. Christ! I used
to stop there during countryside drives and stock up on supplies. I
was drifting too far North. I wrenched my body towards the southeast
and flapped my left arm with more effort. It worked and I achieved a
course correction.
Right into their arms.
They rose up out of the lower atmospheres that they inhabit and began
to caress me and rub themselves all over my burning jetpack and run
their fingers through my hair (what happened to my helmet?) and shake
my hand and welcome me back. They smiled in my face as I struggled
and flapped, and they imitated my flapping body with their own --
flapping around me like we were a flock of crazy geese, their smiles
turning toothy and pearly white. They giggled and they swam around me
and they tried to tickle my tummy and then some of them tried to pull
off one of my boots and tickle my feet.
I said -- "I know
You! Help me! I can't make it back at this height!" Which was
true. I was already far too low to be able to glide all of that way.
This brought up more of the same, and completely outnumbered and
still flapping furiously I was lifted upwards and set to sailing as
they used their bodies to fashion a glider plane with myself at the
center. We stopped falling appreciably, and instead we sailed
eastwards. I had the unhappy thought that once over Coyandiesus they
would abandon me and let me fall like a lead weight. Which I suppose
they would think fair, since I was the mortal who had killed them.
To a ghost lake that could
hardly be seen, I was propelled by these ghosts of the fallen
villains who had perished trying to fight me during past missions
that I had performed from this land, this base, this headquarters
that I had not visited in eight years. I was not only nervous about
their ability to get me there, even though the burning of the jetpack
did not seem to bother them (When was it going to burn out? Why was I
not burning yet?) I was also dubious of what I would find if I got
there. What shape was the place in? Probably even more grown over and
impenetrable than ever. The forests around Coyandiesus were dense and
tangled and the only pathways were game trails no higher than a
deer's back.
I flapped and shouted
"Okay Damn You -- Say IT!!" I recognized most of them,
after staring at each one for a minute. They were changed. They had
lost a lot of their former sinister appearances, and their postures
and mannerisms were quite unfamiliar. But, it was them alright. As
though they were living lives that had been denied to them by the
circumstances of their former lives. To what end? To live as this?
I got back a shower of
very spooky thought waves most of which amounted to -- I should crash
and splatter. Other words were mixed in as thought impulses which I
could separate into 'slam' 'bang' 'crunch' 'strike' 'wallop' and
'thump'.
"Not Chester Thump
Again!" I complained, hoping for a laugh. It was ignored. We all
flapped on as a body and the forests and lakes passed westwards
beneath us. I started to get the impression that I was supposed to
die later. Or, until dead I was somehow their responsibility. It was
unclear what the reason was. They flapped and I flapped and we began
to decline at an angle. I wondered faintly how they knew how to do
this, but I accepted most of it. Suddenly, abruptly, there was
Coyandiesus itself, closer than I expected and they dropped me. They
all moved quickly into a circle around me, still burning as I was,
and faced me with their arms high over their heads. They looked at
each other as I fell like a burning stone into Lake Coyandiesus.
As I fell I rotated enough
to be facing upwards, the jetpack striking the surface first.
Hundreds of feet above me I clearly discerned the ring of their
ghostly bodies, which abruptly split apart and scattered in all
directions. I had the extremely fast thought and question of what
their existence and society must be like, and why did they stay in
this vicinity?
Splash! I was in the water
twenty feet down and so happy that the lake was full on this day. I
struggled to get free of the jetpack before it dragged me down with
it, all the while wondering if there were ghosts in the waters too.
There were none, that I saw, and I managed to reach the surface with
my emergency pack clutched in one hand.
I had hit the lake about
five hundred yards from Taukomonock Falls, which was roaring and
putting up a heavy mist at its base. There were no rocks there, the
falls hit the lake itself always sending out ripples. Today, it was
sending out waves and the lake was foaming at the base of the falls.
Mists and clouds of vapor rolled over the lake towards me.
Taukomonock Falls was only about two hundred and twenty feet in
height, but the volume of water that fell with it today was of such
proportions that I had seldom seen such before. There must have been
some monsoon-like rains occurring north and east of here recently to
account for this. The lake at the top of the cliff, that fed the
falls, must be far over its capacity. The falls was three times its
normal width. It was more like a falls that you would expect on the
Columbia River rather than to find here in such a remote and ignored
place.
There was not even a canoe
landing nor space for one on the lake. All tree species had advanced
right to the brim of the lake, and now it was over capacity too. All
of the trees within fifty feet of the lake were standing in deep
water, and the ground beneath them sloped upwards.
I struggled amongst the
flooded trees until I gained solid ground at last, on the western
side of the lake. I looked southwards through the tree trunks towards
the outlet of the lake and I wondered what the streams downriver were
like and the marshlands down there. All flooded surely. Well, not to
worry. It had happened before. I doubted if this was a 'Five Hundred
Year Event'. Probably a century event though. The lake was as blue
and as clean as I remembered, having excellent drainage. But it was
bothered and in a turmoil and pushing southwards, pieces of trees and
tree limbs moving along from the falls to the opposite end. Amongst
this, Beavers and Muskrats swam about looking worried and confused.
Their homes were drowned I surmised.
Not to worry, they would
survive. If this had happened in January with freezing temperatures,
as it well could have, then they would truly be in a difficult
situation. Their populations would decline in such an event.
As I said, the forests
here were thick and dense with brambles and underbrush; hard to walk
in and only affording game trails. I found one, and I used it for as
long as possible to make my way towards the falls; the sound of which
was seriously loud. The ground beneath my feet rumbled and vibrated
from the waterfall. That was a new one on me. I had never experienced
that here before. I reached a point along the cliff to the extent
that I was about fifty yards from the falls and the climbing was
possible to the top. Not easy, but doable with the emergency pack on
my back.
The lake on top was
crammed with logs where the falls began, and still the volume of
water was so enormous that it merely went over them, occasionally
kicking some loose which shot over the falls into the rising clouds.
Eventually, the flood would sweep them all down to the lake and they
would lazily float to the southern end, possibly to jam up and cause
the overall lake level to rise down there. Just as I had realized
this, a large section of logs on my side broke loose and cracked and
snapped loudly and tumbled over the falls. The sound of their impact
below was completely lost in the huge sounds of the rushing waters.
I was totally soaked, of
course, but not shivering so the outside temperatures must have been
in the high seventies to low eighties. It was very humid, the
atmosphere was choked with moisture everywhere and in response to my
thoughts the rains returned and showers of water fell on everything
-- Man, Falls, Logs, Lakes -- in sheets that moved from east to west
and swept across the cliffs.
Enough for me, I slogged
on into the forests along the western side of this lake and climbed
upwards to a granite crest that overlooked it. The rocky crest was
long from north to south and half a mile wide, covered on top with
thick groves of dark green Eastern White Pines; the whole mount being
surrounded by forests of lighter green Sugar Maples with silver
under-leaves that only appeared when the wind blew them about.
I was looking for a
particular Surveyor's Stone that was mounted in the rock of the
granite slabs on the eastern side of the crest. It looked like every
other Survey Marker in the country, a disk made of brass and having
the Cartesian coordinates of that spot etched into it. Except this
one was also a switch, a lever, and toggle. Pound on it hard enough,
four distinct times in a minute, and unexpected things happened.
If you could. I was
starting to shiver even though the temperatures were not severe. I
finally found the marker and got the crest gateway to open up with
that sliding and slamming sound that I remembered. Above me, set into
the crest, was a cave covered by brush that grew there naturally.
Inside the cave, was the gateway just big enough to walk into
upright. The doors were two feet thick and slow to move. The pathway
tunnel was cold and vacant, not even cobwebs or dustwebs hung there.
The gateway closed behind me and only then did the lights come on as
I had planned. The light was weak, I would have to charge up a lot of
batteries. I would be here for several days, I determined. But first,
start the generators to create the electricity to heat the water to
take a shower, and get it done quickly.
One time I think the dream
ended with me walking into the granite crest down the tunnel. That
must have been unsatisfying, so the dream recurred with more;
starting where it left off. Sandwiched in among other dream parts,
and extracted here for this explanation.
The next day, much
comforted and with the entire facility humming like a well-oiled
diesel engine, some of which were humming along inside, I walked back
out into the open countryside and found a favorite seat in the
granite from which I could look down on the falls and then the lakes.
I had not notified anyone yet of my return. I was not sure I wanted
to. I might just watch and see what was going on for traffic and see
how things were, without revealing my presence. I knew how to do
that, in such a way that my existence in the system was undetected.
First, I wanted to sit
here and think about what the implications were if I got involved in
the network again. An eight year absence from these types of
operations did not present a handicap to me as there was no time
element of that duration in the kinds of cases which I became
involved in. My only concern about time was the condition of the
equipment. I would certainly have to energize and turn on and flight
test everything despite the use of partial vacuums. It could be
interesting to find out who was in charge of this division these days
-- and -- did they know of the existence of this base?
Before I got into all of
that, I wanted to spend some time watching the falls and the natural
wildlife of the Agate Forest, as I had named it many summers ago and
for obvious reasons. The forest from up here was obviously layered
with long curving sections composed of different tree species. Each
species had its own coloration and characteristic shapes. Together
they formed swirling layers all around the granite crest and it was a
fascinating sight. A truly rich and pristine forest shaped out of
swirling sections of different colors like those found in an Agate
Gem. Osprey and crows flew over this land, calling and calling to
whom? Owls skimmed over the lake, in and through the clouds, trying
to catch muskrats for dinner. Deer and badgers and bears watched me
from many hidden places in the shadows of the trees. I stayed and
watched for hours.
I eventually went back
inside and sat down at the communications station. I went through the
password hoops that were required to wake up headquarters to my
returned existence. I was curious about the antenna so I went outside
and walked down to the top lake and looked back at the crested butte
covered with pine trees in which the base had been installed. Sure
enough, there was one more pine tree standing there than had been
there before, slightly taller too. I went back inside and as I worked
the communications panels, for some reason I kept seeing a vision of
a lighthouse that I had once seen on the Great Salt Lake when I was a
child. It was massive to me and so huge that it certainly could not
have been fashioned by anyone other than giants. It was far away from
me, yet so huge that I saw it clearly and was much impressed. Perhaps
it was the far away aspect of it and its great size at the same time
that brought it to mind.
My VERTOL was contained in
a chamber which I had sealed in such a way that it was about halfway
vacuumized. Inside the chamber, now lit and somehow filled with a
fluid of very clear appearance and light weight, sat my VERical Take
Off and Landing aircraft. This was the same craft that I had used in
different dreams and novels. Shining stainless steel outside and all
leather upholstery inside, with a very large cargo section and
loading ramp in the back, between the double tail sections. The one
with the four turbojets and the two tail booms and the wide nacelle
between them.
What passed for a
pre-flight check list was a mental impression which came out of my
brain and moved in all directions throughout the ship carrying my
fervent desire that everything should be functional and all right.
There was an immediate crescendo of snappings and clickings and
whirls and machine giggles throughout the ship, after which it
settled down and all four engines came roaring to life at once.
I got out and tested the
exit hatch, only to find that it was stuck and would not open. The
top was covered with trees but they were my trees. I was perplexed
and spent hours outside using a chain saw to clear away fallen trees
that were not mine, but had blocked mine from moving. Finally, the
hatchway relented and slid open somewhat noisily. I was about to
initiate a takeoff when it all dissolved around me and I was slowly
flying westwards across Upper State New York in person, holding the
'A La Verite Atomique' device in my hands before me.
I floated along at tree
top level through moonlit night fogs and then early morning mists and
the moisture and the aromas of the vineyards and the forests below
were quite pungent and delightful, even delicious, as though I was
flying through an expanse of fine Chardonnay wines. By mid-morning I
had crossed enough counties to have reached my destination, still
standing just a foot above the top heights of the tallest trees of
the forest.
Before me, hidden in the
countryside hills -- where few eyes could see what was really
happening or what transpired or what came and went -- a favorite
tactic of pharmaceutical companies -- was a wide and low profiled
complex of buildings painted in earth tone colors so as to maintain
that low profile which was so important. I knew better. Beneath those
buildings were many subterranean layers of floors, chambers,
laboratories, highways, barracks, offices, hospitals, test facilities
(aka torture chambers) and so forth. What you saw on the surface was
no more than what had to be on the surface. Everything else was
beneath, and deeply. Those companies had a lot of their own billions
and many government billions of dollars to use on creating their own
Islands of Dr. Moreau, on land and out-of-sight of the public.
There was someone waiting
for me there. I could see her clearly standing next to my own
Super-Impala. She had parked in a field of short grass next to the
forest, two miles away from the complex. Both field and vehicle and
her were partially covered with mist and fog that had not been burned
off by the starlight yet.
I floated down to her and
she recoiled from me when she saw what I was holding in my hands. She
protested and asked if that was necessary. I must have said that it
was, but I was not paying attention to what I was saying. I was quite
pleased with what she was wearing, which was one of the most
attractive Las Vegas Showgirl outfits that I had ever seen. It was
mostly white with blue trims all over, with a huge array of metallic
red and gold feathers above and around her. It was one of those
dresses that women wear to show off their bodies by carrying their
own support background around with them. In such cases, there is
always some kind of support frame harnessed to them (somehow) which
supports a vast and wide array of long feathers and plumes and
paraphernalia that fan out behind them; all of which acts as an
accent or a backdrop to their forwards stunning (and almost naked)
appearance.
It works like this >>>>
at the nipples there is either nothing except the naked nipples or
some kind of thin covering which may (or may not) have a design to it
and/or precious gems. From that point backwards everything becomes
more complicated. At shoulder level, behind the breasts, the costume
becomes solid and opaque. She is always wearing a tiny bikini bottom
(usually ornate) and the legs are always bare or wrapped in thin
stockings; shoes are optional. From the shoulder level backwards the
stage props dominate everything. Her mobile stage, which is attached
to her upper torso so as not to be obvious, fans out upwards and
sideways in such a way that her frontal appearance is highlighted.
From the shoulders backwards everything is designed to accent the
frontal appearance from the shoulders forwards. Her outfit sparkled.
I surmised that she had a large array of fiber optics lines sewn into
the assembly; probably powered by a battery in a hip pack beneath it
somewhere. Apparently for such women it is not enough to merely have
excellent breasts and a marvelous figure, they have to carry their
stage and advertisements with them. They are Accessorizing Women, in
all ways.
She was one of them and
dressed to dance with the Ziegfeld Follies. Women like that always
expect a Man to spend a full minute staring at them, and whistling
softly to himself, before he makes a pass at her; which she expects
and has already made up her mind about.
Not this time. She stepped
back fast, as though the device would bite her. She asked again if
that was necessary. I told her not to give me any excuses for the
pharmaceuticals, like it is only the business of making people sick.
She was a Babe, no doubt,
but I could not tell her to wait for me. Besides, what would I do
with the 'A La Verite Atomique' while I was making love to her. Not
that she was in the mood any longer.
I smiled. She got back
into the Super-Impala (the one with the extra long and wide and high
body, V12, dual tandems in the back, heat seeker missiles) -- that
one -- and I turned towards the pharmaceutical death camp with the 'A
La Verite Atomique' in my hands and began to float away.
I kind of felt sorry for
the first security guard that I encountered as I passed through the
outer layer of high voltage fences and stood before his little guard
shack. The shack evaporated and he was stripped naked by the 'A La
Verite Atomique'. He was raised bodily upwards a foot and forcibly
curved backwards until he was facing the skies. He spit out blood and
urinated and screamed in a hushed voice to confess a variety of petty
misdemeanors and domestic crimes. He was obviously oblivious to what
was happening inside. I pushed the appropriate sensor pad on the 'A
La Verite Atomique' and he and his shack reappeared, just as they had
been before I approached. Without his notice, I floated onward
towards the inner sanctum of the complex of buildings.
I passed through the tall
gates which bore the title 'Betterkill Laboratories of the Sellem and
Stuffem Pharmaceutical Company' -- which immediately changed to the
title 'We Will Kill Anything Anywhere For Power And Profits
Biological-Terrorism Company' while we were near it.
I went through a wall of
an outer building, intending to stay on a direct course towards a
large central building, and I passed through a laboratory full of men
in white coats that were throwing mice against a grey wall inside the
laboratory made of bricks. The mice were white and squeaking loudly,
and the men were all dressed in white coats with white face masks
over their faces. Upon my arrival, they turned and stared at me with
big eyes and then immediately dropped the mice and threw themselves
against the grey brick wall, which was already smeared heavily with
red mouse blood. They clawed at the wall with their bare fingers and
licked the mouse blood with their tongues and screamed to be beaten
and molested.
I passed through that
building and began to travel along a wide corridor that was painted
bright yellow and had a horizontal escalator moving along each side
of it, in opposite directions. Suddenly, from a side corridor came a
gnome. A real gnome. It was riding a gnome-mobile. I instantly
recognized it for what it was. I have been deep inside of factories
before, that were so maze-like inside that the only way to get from
one side to the other (usually a quarter of a mile wide) was to
travel by gnome-mobile through an intricate system of corridors. Such
factories have gnomes. The gnomes fix things, and report about
things, and investigate things and carry messages. They are always
subterranean in appearance and know every square inch of the factory
by heart. I swear they must live in the factories. I have never seen
one leave a factory. I have never seen one outside of a factory. They
could have automobiles. If they do leave the factory for any reason,
their outside activities must be alien to them and unwanted. They are
only happy inside the maze. They can come in a variety of forms,
usually short and scrunched over with a dark hat on. This one was of
the taller variety, quite white and dressed in a blue coverall with a
white bib. It had a weird haircut with the front half of its skull
hairless and the back half covered with dark black hair glued upwards
to a spike. It wore thick spectacles, and it sat straight up on its
gnome-mobile. The vehicle was a standard electrical job with three
wheels and a tricycle-like steering bar and a carrying case attached
to the back of it; quite fast and very agile. Gnomes always whiz and
zoom through their mazes, usually with heads down and ignoring
everyone. This one was looking right at me as it turned towards me
and the 'A La Verite Atomique' hit it. The gnome-mobile burst into
dust and disappeared, leaving the gnome with legs spread apart and in
a sitting position, still traveling towards the 'A La Verite
Atomique'. It began to foam at the mouth and it swerved into the wall
to my right, hitting it head on. It backed up, without the
gnome-mobile, and slammed into the wall again looking up at the
ceiling and raving that it had spent all of the money and it had
stolen the check! It kept backing up and hitting the wall again and
shouting that it had stolen the check and hit the ape on the head! It
was a murderer!
I decided to go left and
out of the building, into the open air. I traveled quickly across a
grass lawn on which stood a grounds keeper that was fat and jolly in
appearance with short blond hair under a green cap and a fat
gardeners outfit on, and red cheeks. I went past it so fast that it
only had time to turn around and thrust its butt at me and point at
its asshole and say "I did it! I Voted four times! They paid me!
They threatened me!"
I went into the central
building through a double wall and into a room which I sensed was a
block of some kind, a barrier or at least intended as such. What I
was looking for was beyond it, but inside of it was a tall and portly
ape-like creature with a piggish face and a very bald head. It was
wearing a white T shirt on which 'Boston Fire Dept' was painted
across the back in big red letters. The ape-thing was obviously a
Queer Enforcer on loan to this sewer. It turned towards me and I
could see that it had fat white arms and small button eyes. It
started to jump at me and was struck in mid-air. It immediately began
to thrash about violently at unseen enemies and growled and slavered
and drooled and swung its fists at invisible adversaries and raved "I
like it! Kill them! Kill the plainies! Kill the kids! Yeah! Kill the
kid ones! Make them regret it! Kill their kids! Gay them all! Gay
them to death!" and it swung around and around jabbing and
swiping at opponents that only it could see. Suddenly it froze and
rose up into the air and stiffened; then it seemed to stretch
vertically until it burst into pink talcum powder.
By that time I was in the
next chamber. The chamber. The Missile Room.
Standing between two large
and long blue missiles, that looked like modern versions of the Nike
Hercules series, was a Scientist in a white smock and black trousers
and brown loafers. Each missile was sitting on a launcher at about a
35 degree angle from vertical. Both were pointed side-by-side
westwards. Over us was a domed roof of glass that was covered by a
thin and flat fake ceiling. The dome was not visible from the air
that way. The Scientist had typically short and dark hair, a white
pasty face (very Scientific) that was narrow, with narrow glasses and
it was slightly taller than average. It leered. It wore a permanent
leer across its mouth. It loathed. It was superior. It was
pharmaceutical. It was complicated.
In two minutes the 'A La
Verite Atomique' tore it apart into separate naked pieces that were
tied together by long lines of nerves and blood vessels. Basically,
it was now a clockwork six feet wide. The head was at the three
o'clock position, the butt (which did all of the talking) was at the
nine o'clock position, and the upper torso was at the twelve o'clock
position. Nothing else remained, and it ranted and laughed from its
ass. It was going to rule the idiots and they would never know. Never
find out. It would change the course of the world. The world would
never know. The world would never find out. Kids were dangerous. The
schools were failing. The old 'Olds' were getting wise. Wipe them
out! Government agrees!
That kind of programmed
drivel. Very typical. I pushed a panel on the 'A La Verite Atomique'.
I had heard enough.
While the 'A La Verite
Atomique' was playing with the Scientist, which was screaming now
both in pain and in shock at its loss of supremacy; I floated over to
the missiles and checked the coordinates of their targets somehow. I
was looking at panels of some description. The coordinates did not
immediately mean anything to me, but one line on each panel did. The
lines gave the ETA times to targets -- Cincinnati, Ohio and Ann
Arbor, Michigan.
Once I woke up here.
Awake, I started to research what missiles currently exist in the
Q&AFF inventory that could be fired from either the Hideous
Boston Horrid Zone, or from Nude Yack, or from Wash This Death City
and explode biological weapons over Human Cities.
I told the 'A La Verite
Atomique' to get it over with, and soon I was floating over the
fields again on my way back to that Showgirl Hottie. She was still
there fussing about something inside the Super-Impala. It was the
controls to my built-in bed. Now that I was back she wanted to make
love. I was interested, no doubt. She was in her Tantalizing Thirties
with magnificent female curves and no lesie-turd brainwashing. I
deduced that she had never gone to NEA Public Schools. I looked at
her brain and none of her neurons were twisted by Demented White
Females. A delight! The lack of Femi-Nazism in any woman's brain
makes her ten times more attractive than she would otherwise be; any
day, every day. In fact, this one did not even own any handheld brain
loss devices!
We looked at each other
with lust. She had discarded the take-along stage that she had been
wearing, and now she was wearing almost nothing at all.
I said -- "Security?"
and she replied by asking me for the password. I said -- "Feminized
Filthy Monkey Faggots". She said -- "Spider Shit" and
spit on the ground.
I told her what I had
found and she cooed something like "annihilation", which
was my intention anyway. I kissed her for about ten minutes and there
was considerable exchanges of feelings, and then I got up and left
the vehicle. Somehow, I did not have the 'A La Verite Atomique' while
I was in the vehicle, but now I had it again. I floated over to the
outer high voltage fence of the pharmaceutical complex and hit the
appropriate panel on the 'A La Verite Atomique'. It zoomed up and
over the fence and began to disintegrate everything in its path in
absolute silence. Even sound could not escape its destructive powers,
nor could light. Everything that it hit, simply ceased to exist.
Emptiness. Nothingness replaced everything.
I floated back to the
Super-Impala and my bed. She was there waiting for me, totally ready
and waiting. Just to tease me she said -- "Security?" I
said -- "Radical Black Homo-Fascists" and she said --
"Monkey Poodoo" and spit on the floor. Then we started to
make love again (of the heavy variety) while the 'A La Verite
Atomique' eliminated the pharmaceutical site, missiles and all.
Some hours later, while we
were working together on Orgasm Eight, and while I was offering her
my new and more extended warranty (envied by all of my enemies) I
asked her if she had seen five dragons of five colors pass by while
she was waiting for me. She did not hear me. She was too busy.
And golly -- I woke up
thinking of a really buxom blond babe that I know in Wisconsin. Why
her?
*************************
*************************
I know it is not going to
win the Pee-Yuuitzer Prize for Queer-(Bleep)ed Rotten Literature --
but it was all dreams anyway.
*************************
*************************
Having read this message
-- which side will prevail? Will the Deviates smear their filth all
over any place I have mentioned herein? Or, will the Humans kick them
to pieces and preserve the places that I have mentioned herein?
*************************
*************************
It is NEVER going to be
over. Even after 'HV' Day (Human Victory) we will be teaching lessons
about the Lying-Dead forever.
*************************
*************************
Markel Peters
