Decoys

Flying north over the Bay, I saw what looked like a baboon-in-season.  Two scarlet afterburners that weren’t afterburners at all, but rather a distraction device.  They glowed alternately in half-second pulses on a plane that was creeping along at low altitude.  Like a see-saw of red lights where one would expect to see afterburners on a fighter plane.  To me it looked absurd.  The purpose for it was obvious.  Detract attention from departing drones.  Faint albeit, but clearly visible as flying gray cue balls in a pre-dawn sky.

It is laughable what I have seen over the last few months, their decoys.  There has been an assortment of corny, long reaches.  One plane looks like it is carrying a Chinese lantern under its nose, flying at the slowest air-speed and lowest altitude to attract as much attention as possible.  This decoy is to detract from unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV’s) that have peppered the sky since July.   

Come see the corn-balls on parade.  The whole aviation-gone-to-hell charade.  Blazing baboon afterburners.  Aerial ballet helicopters with every strobe they make flashing so brightly that you can see them from Neptune.  What a show.  He even has a spot light designed to intimidate people.  How impressive.  Do tell us Mr. Sparkle Britches, what are you looking for?  Or are you just supposed to look like you’re looking. 

This ridiculous display attracts attention alright.  It shows people how stupid somebody thinks they are.  Recently I noticed how their daily routine ceased for two days during the heavy air traffic to Haiti.  Since all their planes fly a trajectory to Naval Air Station Guantanamo Bay, it would make sense to think that this airport was tied up with humanitarian aid traffic during that time. 

What I would tell the bozo’s who fly this circus every day is that once you get painfully secretive about something and deny that it exists, you attract more attention.  Even more attention than your asinine baboon plane.  In a word – hokey.

Tag-team

There is a pair of rapid small jets that fly zig-zag helices.  They are loud, so one can discern their flight patterns without visual confirmation.  They fly zig-zags above thick ceilings.  The only reason for such a drill over densely populated residential areas I infer is because it is no drill.  Practice drills are flown over the ocean, desert or sparsely populated government tracts usually, not cities and towns.  

Their routine is to fly above a dense veil of artificial cloud-cover during daylight hours (0930-1530).  Working as a methodical pair, they fly in zig-zag patterns over swaths of suburban geography.  They seem to be laying a diamond-netting of aerosol discharge. 

One thing holds true for all birds.  They eventually must come home to roost.  Which might make Naval Air Station Guantanamo Bay a nervous place.  They are strategically located for the squadron of air-whores that work South Florida in three-hour shifts.  Their consistent trajectories upon departure from the peninsula point to NAS Guantanamo Bay Cuba.   

The longer the fuselage, the better.  It is my belief that aerosol tanker-loads are stored in the modified fuselages of commercial airliners.  This is convenient carriage in planes that would seek to pass for commercial air, as not to alarm the public.  It appears they even have painstakingly-replicated passenger windows lit-up at night on their white Boeing owls to make them look convincing.  But upon closer inspection, there are no faces in the windows.  Hoo-hoo would have thought of that?  People as passengers.  In order for me to have seen any of this, consider the altitude of the jet.  It was banking east, flying over a residential, man-made, canal-fed lake.  More like a glorious pond, lain-out in ABA fashion.

Who would fly an empty passenger plane around all night over the suburbs?  I see those big Boeings nightly — spraying aerosols until dawn.  I’ve seen them so low and slow I could have hit them with a hand-bag.  They are beautifully muted.  Mill-horses need their sleep.  

In my opinion the only passengers on those birds are flight crew and particulate elements in a tank.  As to which elements on the periodic table they are hauling on any given flight — well that’s classified.  You’ll have to sweat that out of the guys at the Pentagon.  Maybe you can strap them to a chair and blast Megadeth at them till they crack.

All jokes aside, this would make NAS Guantanamo an ideal roost for these birds.  It’s a heavily guarded communist island.  Home of El Presidio.  Our Navy nests on the southeastern tip.  A place called Guantanamo Bay.  They too have an El Presidio of sorts.  A prison, according to what I’ve read, where they rough-up randomly collected Muslims and hold them without charge.  It’s an island lorded-over by jailers on both sides.  Based on my studies, the Navy enjoys a friendly rapport with this regime. A ”government” who inspires her citizens to get on rafts in the middle of the night in hopes of catching the right ocean current. 

I recently interviewed a man who did exactly that.  You must want freedom badly to brave the sea in a little raft where your only company are the bull-sharks. He said he quit medical school and left Cuba because he did not want to fight in one of their forced campaigns.  He waded ashore at night onto one of the smaller Keys.  “I’ve been afraid of black water ever since,” he told me.  He was medically stellar.  Beautifully bilingual.  Tall, handsome.  The pride of Spain.  Perhaps Cuba is peopled with more of him.  My heart is with them.

So Cuba would make an ideal roost for the clandestine aerosol squadrons around here.  They would have a secret place to fuel-up, tank-up and get AIMD.  The Bay’s harbour and airport would be convenient receiving sites for all their aviation needs.  That way nobody can prove that these planes are what we think they are.  Their roost is on an island that few people visit casually.  I infer that you will find this arrangement holds consistent throughout the world.  There are many heavily-guarded military bases.  And many heavily-guarded government places.  Area 51 comes to mind.  Why might they be so heavily-guarded?

I saw  a small jet screaming out of NAS Key West’s position as the crow flies.  He was loud and obnoxious, feeling his oats that day.  His altitude was questionable.  I think he was just taxi service for one of the “decision-makers” down town.  His wings were fixed at right angles from the fuselage.  Not a Mr. Supersonic.  And not the jet in the photo above.  Note how the wings are swept back from the body in strike fighter format.

Most pilots are full of themselves.  This comes as an advantage to those who purchase their services for tactical reasons.   Remember the Flying Tigers?  Perfect P-40 example. Those mercenary sell-outs didn’t think one click ahead of their cowlings.  All they wanted was the money and cheap, counterfeit glory.  Like that Mustang victory-roll in Empire of the Sun.  Bale’s high-water mark. 

You can wield the ego of your pilots.  Due to the ocular degeneration of human anatomy, they are conveniently callow.  Hence, they are impetuous and sometimes even stupid to your benefit.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ouJ_WyS9v8.

 

Daycare Nightmare

       I got a sudden impulse and whipped into the parking lot of a daycare center.  Never been a parent.  And had no clue what one of those things might be like.  This was the day I planned on finding out.

       Upon entering the place I was eagerly attended by assorted women.  They offered to give me a tour and brochure.  I accepted both.

       From the outside it seemed like a tidy and salubrious place.  Big cheery sign, trust-worthy and friendly looking establishment.  If I had a small child I might be compelled to bring him here.  But what I saw inside horrified me.

       I was appalled by the stale, expired air — moist from too many lungs.  I walked among misery.  So many captives crammed into little rooms like the Chicago stock yards.  They looked up at me beseechingly.  Their tortured eyes seemed to ask, “Have you come to rescue me from this place?”

     As I walked through the crowded, maxed-out rooms I thought of how fast one microbe would spread from breath-to-breath.  Breeding zone for disease and contagion. 

       Upon leaving I was told how they “had room for more children” and how they looked forward to hearing from me about enrolling mine.

       Noisy rooms made teaching a stretch for their so-called curriculum.  After earnest research I learned that this was the Communist Manifesto put into practice.  They take a baby, six months old, away from his mother and begin socializing him for future service to the regime.

       They mold minds in these places.  Wash brains and pick them via “learning tools” to spy on the family’s home life.  The children are told to draw pictues about their daily family lives.  They keep journals in which they are asked to report on family activities.  These are simply devices for a clandestine vista into peoples’ homes.  The children become unwitting spies and informants to a Marxist government.  Dissent, independent thought, initiative, resistence, rebellion and above all, Godliness, are traits that work against a regime looking to enslave its people.

      No wonder home-schooling and organic small farms have been demonized by the government.  One nourishes the mind and the other nourishes the body.  Together they cultivate a force to be reckoned with.  One that rattles the timbers of a corrupt government.  Never send your kids to daycare.  Never wean them on fast-food and irradiated apples.

      I asked the daycare’s corporate headquarters for information about their learning texts and was told, “That is privileged information.”  What’s the big, dark secret?  The way things read to me seems like their kiddy curriculum was designed by a room full of child psychiatrists with sinister intent.

      Crowd the children of wage-slaves into little sweaty rooms.  Brain-wash them into docile, acquiescent, future wage-slaves.  Make them Godless yet worshipful of a monstrous government.

4 O’Clock Rain

I notice how it rains at 0400  —  if it rains at all.  We have had little rain this year.  Wonder where our water is coming from?  What new aquifer is feeding our city’s demand?

I call it 4 o’clock rain because there appears a strategic purpose to it.  They make it rain just before the stars turn down their lights like dimmer-switches and fly away.  Like faint silhouettes they glide across the sky, trying to hide from telephoto lenses.

During this departure phase, the sky is always “treated” with puffy clouds, fogs, mists and more rarely, with 4 o’clock rain.  The “flying bowling balls” need an opacity screen for the spectacle of their departures into a military no-no land.  This I infer due to their sometimes military escort the size and shape of fighter planes. I suspect that they descend into a subterranean, secret place.  Kind of like an under-ground AIMD for nuclear drones.

I say nuclear because the light that they emit when they turn up their dimmer-switches exceeds any brightness heretofore displayed by other means.  And the speeds at which they fly exceeds any conventional propulsion mechanism in our world.

These observations and digestions, I am aware, make me a candidate for traffic and other accidents.  Vexingly, my mental focus is not where most citizens have theirs, after all — on  the tail lights ahead of them, driving to and from a daily job. 

But I watch the road ahead of me.  Daddy used to say while we were flying, “always think a mile ahead of the craft.”

Needle-Free Injection

            On August 13, I spoke with Scott Fleming of MicroDose Therapeutx about a new drug delivery system that is being touted on the company’s web site (http://mdtx.com/).  Mr. Fleming, Senior Vice President of MicroDose Sales and Marketing, said that their needle-free system was presently in development. 

            This new delivery system would enable medical staff to inject a drug or vaccine via rapid pulses from an electronic piezo transducer.  The focal point of the injector, the web site says, is large molecular delivery that has heretofore been limited to needles.  MicroDose promises a needle-free injection that will remove safety hazards from valued medical personnel.

            The MicroDose website states, “…a needle is still the only established route of administration for large molecules, but injections are disliked by patients and can be a safety hazard for healthcare professionals.”  Let’s get it straight.  When I was in the Navy I felt the slam of a needle-free injection system called an “air-gun.”  The pain was so intense, I nearly fainted.  There were some sailors in the vaccine line ahead of me who did.  We scrambled for needles when we could.  There is no contest between which injection method hurts less.

            What is written by MicroDose about patients disliking injections is a given, but their verbiage is misleading by implying that their needle-free system would be any less painful than a needle.  What they list as a “transdermal delivery” is simply another way of saying “injection.”  It hails from the same land of false advertizing one encounters on today’s food ingredient listings.  They call sugar “evaporated cane juice.”  It’s still sugar.  And this is still an injection.

            Electronic transducer-driven injection would be a muscle-ripping invasion of high-velocity pressure with a dose of something behind it.  The way a transducer of this type would work is by transferring an electric current into an injecting force.  How’s that for plain English?  What this will do to tissue is not hard to imagine.

            The MicroDose Needlefree System has disturbing potential.  In a forced vaccination campaign, or rather “compulsory vaccination,” as the medical industry calls it, the advantage here is obvious.  Regardless of how much a person struggles against an injection from this device,  it will not result in injury to the medical staff.  With a needle there is risk of accidentally injecting the wrong person during patient resistance or getting blood on personnel.  It seems that this device was designed with the safety of medical personnel, speed, and large-scale delivery in mind.    

            Emblazoned on the first page of the MicroDose web site is their maxim, “Changing the Way the World Takes its Medicine.”  Based on their partnerships with pharmaceutical titans Merck and Novartis, along with other irons that these people have in the fire, MicroDose Therapeutx bears considerable watching.

Torch

You shall not learn the truth from your mainstream media or that nauseating television we find everywhere today – even blaring above the lockers in gym dressing rooms.  TV’s are in your face on treadmills and exercise bikes.  Turn those things off before they give you radiation burns.  They are a few inches from you face.  You know why?  Because the Wizard does not want you to have your own thoughts while you are exercising.  He wants to control your mind.  Like his medical mafia controls your body with drugs — many of which also control your mind as a side-effect.

Presently most people are confused.  They have been fed lies for so long they think it’s food.  They have been rused and duped by the Wizard’s “dis-information” teams.  The same gang who pits U.S. Marines against innocents.  And gives orders to bomb and kill civilians on behalf of Israeli hatred.  The same horse’s ass who reels in boys right out of high school and promises them the moon at the recruiter’s office.  In less than a year the boy’s got post traumatic stress syndrome. 

Blackwater has changed their name again.  Mercenary whores.  They should change their name — to shame. 

The Wizard’s agents are dug in like head-lice all around you.  In the medical industry, academe, the food and drug industry, government, publishing houses and at the bottlenecks of control spanning every industry.  They supply your children with text books and dictionaries.  They are re-defining English words to suit their lies.  They are even re-writing the Christian Bible and changing the words of Jesus Christ.  They are putting out oceans of bum dope about Islam and the so-called nature of the Muslim mind.  They are think-tanks who think they have you figured out.  

These are the same jack-asses who have smeared and demonized Adolf Hitler for decades.  But they keep quiet about Menachim Begin, Ariel Sharon, Josef Stalin, Fidel Castro, the Bolsheviks and the owners of those slave ships that brought Africans to America.  Don’t you find that quizzical?

I never hear about their suggestions for you to get a copy of Hitler’s well-known, but little-read book in support of their premise.  Why is that do you suppose?  If he was the evil demon they say he was, why wouldn’t the inner workings of his mind bear it out?  Why have they worked so hard to suppress Hitler’s book?  Why have they censored large blocks of text from it?  What is it that they don’t want you to know?  What is it that they don’t want you to learn?

The truth.  It lights up the night.  Like a torch. 

After you read the Qur’an about the demonized Muslims, you should read Mein Kampf and get demonized Hitler’s side of the story.  It pays to get both sides of a story,  before you snap-up what passes for history or news.  I double-dog dare you to read Mein Kampf. 

By history I do not mean a dis-info campaign.  This you can find in your children’s school books.  Only truth merits ink and paper.  Fiction isn’t worth your time.

Ask yourself this.  Who has motive to lie about something?  Saddam Hussein?  Jesus Christ?  Gabriel of God?  Adolf Hitler?  Or those who demonize them?

Go to the sources and do your own homework.  It is, after all, where a nuclear engineer and heart surgeon learn what they know.  They didn’t learn their professions from TV or People Magazine.  Nor did the guys at Boeing who designed a noise-free jet.

It’s amazing how many people will try to argue with you about books they have never read.  Where does that even come from?  Please read something.  But turn off the TV first.  It’s not your friend and it’s not good company.

Learn that Christians have no business killing Muslims.  They have too much in common.  And that Hitler’s mind was drug-free, sound and morally-charged.  According to the unabridged book that bears his by-line, Adolf Hitler has been as framed as Saddam Hussein, Jesus Christ and the so-called Muslim terrorists who are supposed to have been the culprits of 9/11.  Hussein was hanged, Jesus was crucified and they are still killing Muslims.

Those of us who do our own thinking know that 9/11 was an act of treason against America by its own government in partnership with baby-sniping Israel — the mother of lies.  Never forget what they did to the USS LIBERTY.  And never forget who invented terrorism in the first place. 

The same bunch who invented false advertising invented false-flag warfare.  ”By deception thou shalt do war” is a motto every American should know.  Piece of advice for young soldiers marching off to war:  know who your enemy is — and who he is not.

Not too fly

I have been getting aerial visitors for some time now.   The eye-in-the-sky bunch is  worried about my photography.  Their noisy surveillance engines always give them away.  So they tried something new today.  This daring young man and his egg-beater flew by. 

What do you say, DC ?  Is he fly?

Over the last two months they have confined themselves to daylight hours for aircraft surveillance  –  nights being reserved for the Wizard’s new war toys. It’s been a noctural aviation stand-down with the exception of a big white owl of the Boeing pursuasion.  Hoo-hoo, to hoom telephoto lenses send a jolt of adrenaline.  He would roar away if he made a sound. 

During the day they are concerned about me taking photographs of their tanker whores, so they send a surveillance weenie a few minutes before they fly over.  The weenie is supposed to let the ho-parade know when the coast is clear.  Then they sneak in from the Bay.

I noticed a strange moon after 0800 today.  It seemed out of place and unnatural.  So I trotted down to get my long lens.  Upon coming back up to shoot the moon, I saw this little flying appartus coming toward the window.  Good heavens.  The lengths to which they will go!  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  People will do anything for money. 

By the time he saw my lens, it was too late – snap.  Then he swang about and fled.  But I got a few more before he flew over the house.  Can you believe these turkeys? 

The reason for this kite-boy is because he is quiet.  Previous surveillance fly-overs have been single-engine planes.  They announce themselves almost as loudly as helicopters.  So when I hear them I know it’s time for the tanker parade — and now, so does everybody else. 

Neither he nor the moon can compete with my morning serenade from this fellow:

Pentagon Aliens (A Review)

 PENTAGON ALIENS  by William Lyne                                  

The title of this book is bait for audiences of Phil Schneider’s lectures and anyone curious about wingless drones.  In daylight, they look like dark, burnished bowling balls — flying through the air.  Get yourself a good binocular (10x magnification or better). 

To muddle the curious, this book seems like part of an elaborate disinformation campaign funded by the government and its corporate partners.  They do not want people to see these flying bowling balls and have broken a sweat writing bad fiction about flying saucers.  Chortle.

A more applicable title could be  Nazi’s Nazi’s Everywhere!   After having read this densely-printed, wearying loblolly, I feel like I just emerged from a labyrinth of lies.  Though it is larded with entertaining autobiographical bits, I found much of the book a sludge due to its exhaustive, multi-disciplinary overload.  This book is like a bone tossed into the woods to distract an eager pack of hounds from their original trail — one that presently has the government very nervous.

Somebody should have taught these writers that sometimes more is not better.  Verbose overkill detracts from the flow.  The technical writing is tiresome in its effort to appear genuine.  This pervaded the text ad nauseam.  On and on it trudged with convoluted ramblings of electrical and aeronautical engineering to make anyone’s head hurt — even an engineer’s who can easily see that this is baloney.  For non-engineers, it’s just an insult.

It  read like it was the work of a think-tank with one goal in mind:  take the reader down a dirt road and drop him off.  Make it a long, meandering road that disappears into the undergrowth of falsehood and just enough truth to engage the gullible.  It is curious to note how history is re-written to pour every criminal drop of  the universe into the Nazi-Fascist jackboot. 

Throughout the voluminous text there runs a vein of saucy pluck that keeps the reader wondering what happens to the poor guy next.  We must feel compassion for the author.  He has after all suffered hard and long at the hands of our crooked, Nazi-Fascist-Illuminist government.  The author is marked for death, put-upon, persecuted, raked over the coals in court rooms, poisoned and punished, harassed by the Feds, the locals, the FBI, CIA, NSA, ONI and the dreaded high-ranking ”IllumiNazi’s” who are all out to get him.

According to this author, there is a CIA agent under every rock like a salamander.  They are slippery, covert, shadowy and on your six.  Honest, decent Americans and this corrupt government just don’t mix.  You have to believe this author because he’s knocking the government something fierce.  They have been mean to him.  Of course he has to be telling the truth.  Right?

You can’t win for losing.  There is no justice.  They will steal your intellectual property and funnel it to their corporate partners.  America is a slave state already.  The author toots his horn loudly about his  multi-faceted genius whose wings have been clipped by the U.S. Patent Office.  So his many inventions are on hold at the moment and boy are we missing out. 

This book is his revenge against the evil New World Order by exposing a “tip top secret” to the masses that has been kept under wraps by the government since the 1930’s.  Nikola Tesla’s invention was stolen of course by the Nazi’s who used it to build flying saucers.  Today’s man-made UFO’s are a manifestation of “to the victors belong the spoils.”  The book claims that after WWII the Nazi’s were offered asylum in America to develop flying saucers for our military-industrial complex.  The Gestapo was clandestinely absorbed by our Central Intelligence Agency and made it the haven of American virtue that it is today.

Anyone who reads half as much as I do will discern that more than one crook was at work in this kitchen.  For example, the often-written “ether” is also spelled “aether” later in the text.  This is an older spelling more likely to have been used by those who speak the Queen’s English.  Why would one author use two different spellings for the same word?   Though the text is convoluted and inundating, it is spiked with enough old news to keep the reader interested.  It even comes with corny drawings claiming to be the work of Lyne showing Tesla’s “brilliant” inventions.  There is a quick and dirty “how-to” for making your very own flying saucer.  One does not have to be an engineer to see through the motive of this effort.  The appendix is a hum-dinger. 

I feel that the flying saucer theme is only one chunk in this camper stew.  There is plenty more to chew on.  But don’t.  Save your money for printed facts, unless you want a headache along with your insulted intelligence.  Clearly this book had to be written with approval and collusion.  There are too many government agencies and war department contractors who would otherwise sue the author’s pants off.

Bosnia, July 1995

A writer who savours the recounting of war is from the devil.  Today I read a lurid account of the genocidal  massacres in Srebrenica from the faceless, nameless, blameless, authorless “Borg” that is Wikipedia.    The killings bear a signature that ties the deed to the doer.  “By their fruits you shall know them.”

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Srebrenica_massacre

Many  Americans did not get spun-up about this when it happened for good reason.  They were kept in the dark about it.  What passed for warfare in a place they could not spell, pronounce, nor find on a map was mitigated by the media as an understatement.  It didn’t help  that little about it showed up on the radar.  There were suspiciously few journalists to report such news.  Makes you wonder why.  “Where the heck is Bosnia?”   So it was an efficacious strategy to start the Muslim-killing campaign there.  Who’s gonna see it go down?  You can always lie about it later.

I find it impossible to believe that Serbian Christians could carry out what happened there.  No.  It was the work of the Devil.  Kind of like Tex Watson was “supposed” to have said when he came to kill Roman Polanski’s wife, “I’m the devil — come to do the devil’s work.”

Back to this sadistic writer.  He wrote like a Ph.D. by the tone and scope of his vocabulary.  The words were applied deftly to his bragging about what happened to the Muslims.  He wallowed in the intricacies of how a baby’s throat was cut, women were raped and tortured, men were gunned down en masse from ages 16-85.  He gloated, taunted and magnified the war crimes with his choice of words.  He was proud of what happened there on behalf of his unholy ilk.  He used this “historical discussion” to delight in what happened and relish in the reminiscence.  Soak in it, this blood-bath.

This joker goes on to ambiguously lampoon the ragged band of Muslim soldiers.  He made fun of how they marched for days and had no shoes, proper uniforms, government-issued guns, food or water.  He rubbed salt into the wound that is Muslim Bosnia. 

He made sardonic sport of how people were scared, lost in the wilderness, eating snails and grass, dying of starvation and thirst, maimed, mined, carpet-bombed by an international collective.  Some black-hearted videographer complained how his battery was running low while taking footage of men being killed.  Then an American spy plane flies over a few days after the massacre to take photographs of the carnage. 

Do you smell a rat, or is it just me?

It gave him wood to quote the disemboweling accounts of the few survivors.  And then he smeared them for having survived by “pretending to be dead” after the gun-smoke cleared from the mass executions.  He writhed all over the vivid narratives of how these poor lads lay quietly under their dying brothers-in-arms and felt the “hot blood” soaking into their backs.

Whover this writer was is of course a secret.  He didn’t want us to know.  I think he is afraid that some one will hunt him down guerilla-style and kill him with their bare hands.  Unlike those poor boys in Srebrenica though, this Cossack will be wearing boots, burning high-test.  Maybe that is why we don’t see this guy’s by-line.  He fears the winter-hardened bolshoy mott of Universal Justice.  The steel-toe claack.

Life is a temporal arrangement.  It all ends with a flat-line.  This Luciferian writer too shall pass.  Unlike the 16-year-olds sleeping in killing fields, however, he may find himself exquisitely bored at 93 with toes turned up, watching the beige walls that surround his bed.  It is a scenario that makes men wish they were dead, and think, “Perhaps I should have died with my boots on.”  

He wrote for miles about how the Serbs cut off ears, noses and lips.  Rused and abused these Muslims.  Promised them that United Nations Peace-keepers were there to help them.  Lured them out of the woods only to herd them off to the killing fields and mow them down with machine-gun fire.  Machine-guns don’t kill as efficiently as assault rifles and pistols.  Such riddling leaves men weltering in their blood for hours if not for days.  The Serbs (he claims) left wounded men laying in the field who were begging to be killed.  And the Serbs would say, “Let them suffer.  We’ll kill them later.”  This grisly freak enjoyed writing about all this.  I got the full flavour of his tone.  It riled an ire in me that can only be called The Hague of Universal Justice.

And The Hague.  What a joke.  What a big Kangaroo stage of lip-service.  Justice has not been served.  That’s like saying the “International Crisis Group” that was drummed-up over this pre-meditated, highly-organised slaughter is about keeping the peace.  Bitch please.   They had 400 “armed” peace-keepers there who just watched the blood fly and did NOTHING.  Dutchmen were after all the guys who designed the best torture-chambers.  Why the hell would you give them a peace-keeping job, oh Son of the Morning?  Certainly you have given them immunity for their crimes.

Think for a minute on the term “ethnic cleansing.”  Break it down in your mind and arrive at a definition.  The details on “this ordeal” as the freak-from-hell writer put it, have been published.  No way for him then to spin away from what is already known, so he takes the next predictable tack, gloat and brag about it.  Smear and lampoon those whose blood ran in the streets and fields to the tune of 8000 men and boys.

Never forget what they did in Bosnia.  Let it be a lesson to you.  And food for thought when other sustenance fails.

The Camel

In news from the Levant I read that Israelis shot up the Gaza Zoo. They went on a rampage, killing animals of all kinds. The lions managed to escape by running into an attached building. Monkeys were shot in their cages. A mother monkey and her baby tried to hide in some pottery. It was pitiful. God armed some of these animals with fang and claw, but that was no match for Israeli rounds on this day. http://archive.gulfnews.com/articles/09/01/26/10278858.html

I got to thinking that these caged, unarmed animals were no different than the innocent victims of Israel’s “Operation Cast Lead.” Why were they casting lead? Why are they attacking innocent people? Why are they attacking caged animals at a zoo? Why were Gaza families bombed while seeking refuge in houses designated by the Israelis as bomb shelters? Why do the Israelis lie? Why have they lied so many times about so many things?

Then they went to a camel who was due to give birth and shot her also. They shot her in the back, the zoo-keeper said. From the look on her face she suffered while she died. Let this camel-killing exemplify the spirit of Israel.

Looking at the slain camel, a verse from the Qur’an sprang to my mind, (7:73). The Angel Gabriel recounts how He and his Band sent Saleh to Thamud with a message, saying, “…this is God’s camel, in her you have a sign, so leave her to eat in God’s land, and do not harm her, else the painful retribution will take you.” (7:77) “They thus killed the camel and defied their Lord’s command…”

This camel at the zoo — she was God’s camel too.

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Malik
Then they hamstrung the she-camel, defied the commandment of their Lord and challenged Saleh saying: “Bring down the scourge you have threatened us with, if you truly are one of the Messengers.”[77]

QXP Shabbir Ahemd**
They killed the she-camel, rebelled against their Lord’s Command and challenged, “O’ Saleh! Bring the doom you threaten us with, if you are really a Messenger.”