____Voices-Of-Iowa: Moderates

Showing posts with label Moderates. Show all posts

Friday, December 30, 2016

Part Two -- The Psycho Blues -- 12-30-2016:

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!

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No matter what else I write in this message, all enemies of the Human Species are Shit, and whatever they do is Shit.

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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

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And then again -- maybe not.

I just cannot do that.

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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.

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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!!!!

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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!

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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?

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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?

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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.

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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'.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!"

"And then -- Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"

"But, I did the Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"

"And of course there is always Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"

"And then Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy!"

And, they always go home feeling very satisfied -- and Anal.

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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!"

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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?

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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.

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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'.

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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.****

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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****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.

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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?

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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?

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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.

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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.

http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2016/10/messy-math-sardine-studies-could-help-fight-flu-outbreaks

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?

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I know it is not going to win the Pee-Yuuitzer Prize for Queer-(Bleep)ed Rotten Literature -- but it was all dreams anyway.

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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?

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It is NEVER going to be over. Even after 'HV' Day (Human Victory) we will be teaching lessons about the Lying-Dead forever.

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Markel Peters

https://www.voices-of-iowa.blogspot.com/

https://www.voices-of-iowa-concise.blogspot.com/

QUEERAPSY IS HERE, AND THIS TRUTH IS NOT GOING AWAY.

IF A DEMOCRAP IS SMILING -- SOMETHING INNOCENT IS DYING!

IF A DEMOCRAP IS DYING -- SOMETHING INNOCENT IS SMILING!

COPY EVERYTHING THAT YOU CAN FROM THIS WEBSITE INTO YOUR OWN PERSONAL HARD DRIVES!!!!!!!!!!

SOON -- IF THE DEMOCRAPS HAVE THEIR WAY -- ALL OF THIS WILL BE 'FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE'.

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DEBT CLOCK IS HERE!

VIEW DEBTCLOCK TO SEE FOR YOURSELF HOW UNCARING AND VILE THE SO-CALLED GOVERNMENT OF THE POLITICS CIRCUS IS.

http://www.usadebtclock.com/

THESE ARE THE REAL NUMBERS BEHIND THE SQLD TAKEOVER OF ALL POLITICS.

HERE ARE SOME OTHER DEBT CLOCKS FOR SO-CALLED DEVELOPED COUNTRIES>>>>

http://countrymeters.info/en/Canada/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Mexico/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Venezuela/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Brazil/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Argentina/economy

http://www.nationaldebtclocks.org/debtclock/russia

http://countrymeters.info/en/Saudi_Arabia/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/South_Africa/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/India/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Taiwan_(Republic_of_China)/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Singapore/economy

http://countrymeters.info/en/Republic_of_Korea/economy

http://www.nationaldebtclocks.org/debtclock/china

http://www.nationaldebtclocks.org/debtclock/japan

http://www.australiandebtclock.com.au/

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WARNINGS

This blog exists to inform the People, of the 'Real Truth' about the real enemies of the Human Species. These Truths are not objectionable, as they are Truths. Only the telling of them can be objectionable, to those who wish to hide the Truth. If the Truth is something you HATE and therefore object to - go elsewhere!

OTHERWISE, YOU ARE INVITED TO CONTINUE READING!!

Do not fear being tracked down to your IP. If you are not SQLD and/or malicious -- I will not track you down!

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The blogging community is quite aware of the mass cyberattacks (as complaints) which the enemies of all Humans use - to attempt to disable the blogs of anyone who writes the Truth. You tried that with all of the newspapers in Iowa, and that will never be forgiven. Don't waste your time trying that with this blog. Blogspot has already been informed that you will try it.

WELCOME AND STAY A WHILE!

____Voices-Of-Iowa

FOR A BETTER COPY OF THE CURRENT COVER ART

Blog Archive

Friday, December 30, 2016

Part Two -- The Psycho Blues -- 12-30-2016:

THE REALITY:

TRANSLATIONS--TRADUCCIONES--TRADUCTIONS--ÜBERSETZUNGEN

TRANSLATE INTO YOUR LANGUAGE

QUEERAPSY IS HERE, AND THIS TRUTH IS NOT GOING AWAY.

Labels Of All Posted Messages--A Way To Search Through Messages By Labels

Fakery and Fake Fakery

Chain of Evil -- still has not changed.

WARNINGS