Archive for April, 2015

Just Busted

April 9, 2015

Cops are out of control.  One got caught in the act of shooting a man in the back.  Rapid fire.  Then he had the gall to hand-cuff a corpse.  One of the Charleston brothers happened to catch the whole thing on video.  The videographer asked to remain anonymous.  He knows the crooked cops would hunt him down.

I have been there with these mercenary attack dogs of the neo-bolsheviks.  To my experience they have gone to hell.  They turn a blind eye to crime in my town.  And harass good Christian people instead.

This time one of them shot the wrong man in the back.  How about it johnny law?  How does it feel to be “busted.”  Caught in the act.
All you protesters out there, I’m with you.  100%

Here’s the YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=XKQqgVlk0NQ

Missing Damage

April 1, 2015

There was an entry I made in 2010 that was mysteriously whited out.  They left the title, *Damage*, along with a footnote and software coded the text as white with a white background.  Only upon highlighting it during editing mode, would it show up.  How strange.  They try everything.  Smiley face.

So here is the text again.  As I know there is something in it they did not want you to read.  Prolly something I wrote about aircraft.  As I doubt if murders in the backwoods rate concern.  People have gotten so far away from loving their neighbors as themselves, they don’t seem to give a dam.

Here are the deleted scenes:

There are certain things we don’t know.  Like what kind of drug earned Mr. Hershman his present address at the county jail.  It had to be more than a marijuana cigarette.  Wouldn’t you think?
Hershman’s 27-year-old estranged wife, Stephanie, had his two sons back-to-back.  One was three and the other not quite two.  Makes for a busy household I’d say.  Whilst one was in diapers, the next was on the way.
Two toddlers can make houses into hampers.  There needs to be a strong draw, lest a suitor scampers.  Whatever it was that lured U.S. Army Sergeant First Class Matthew V. Perkins into the arms of Stephanie Hershman had to be that.  A strong draw.
He was the Army Recruiter of the town.  A high-visibility military post that enjoys prestige and hero-worship.  He wore the status of returning warrior with tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan.  His arms are covered in “Billy-Bad-Ass” tattoos.  His job is to lure gullible high school boys into  signing on the dotted line for Israel.  He needs to cut a nice figure.  Be in good physical condition.  Be credible.  Be sharp.  The U.S. military conducts routine urinalysis exams to ensure     that this is how it is and how it stays.
Thereby I find it unlikely and untenable that here comes a man fresh from the battle-field to an important career-enhancing post who just nilly-willy takes up a drug habit.  All of a sudden.  Why would he brave two battle fronts and then shoot himself in the foot with C CH CH(CH 3 )NH(CH 3 )?  Methamphetamine turns bodies into wreckage in no slow show.
Perkins had a lot on the stick.  And a lot to lose.  Why not just knock back a little booze?  His office was located  between George Dickel and Jack Daniels distilleries.  Damn boy.  Why crystal meth?  Just go over to Daddy Billy’s and have a few beers.
Maybe he wasn’t into drinkin’.  So I got to thinkin’.  About horses.  When I’m in a quandary, I think about horses.  Sometimes an equine analogy that helps me makes sense of things.
Horses and I — see eye to eye.  I love them and they love me.  I don’t need to take up a whip to make a pony do the high-step.  He does it just to impress me.  And I give him the candied apple of my smile.  That’s how it is with me and horses.  And has been for a while.
Okay, so you throw in an apple or two with his oats and molasses.  Now he wears you weightless with a skirt of tasses.  And the grooming.  The one-plus hour sessions in the barn where I break a sweat while they lull and bathe in the fragrance of last summer’s hay.  That is the way.  You get out of a horse what you put into him.  Like attracts like.  You give love.  You get love.
Conversely, however, if you abuse a horse and kick him around.  One day he will kick you back.  Horses are formidable kickers.  Not everybody treats a horse like I do.  Not even close.  It breaks my heart but that is reality.
As a realist I’ll take you now to the shows, the races.  Where men go to win.  For the athlete horses who run their races and dazzle in their shows — anything goes.  These ruthless, rabid people will resort to any dirty trick in the book to win.
The foremost edge is an injection of amphetamine.  It hops them up.  Gives them the charge beyond charge that propels them down the track.  As if a good horse isn’t rocket enough.  It’s about winning, winning, winning.  By a nose.  By a hair.  Just winning.
Now let’s go to the battle field.  You’re losing your ass.  Getting it handed to you in spades.  The assigned enemy believes in his fight.  You are making war on his land and he knows it better than you.  Like those Confederates and the Swamp Fox.  They will not only fight you to the death, but they have a home-turf advantage.
Your supply lines are iffy.  Big Money wants to win in a jiffy.  He doesn’t mean tomorrow.  He wanted to win yesterday.  He doesn’t care about that race horse or know him personally.  If he loses one more race he’s off to the slaughter-house.  He doesn’t care if the horse is only two years old.  Off with his head.  He’ll put it in your bed, General.
Your Big Money Boss wants to gloat in glory.  He doesn’t care about those soldier boys.  Or whether they come back with a dog-tag or a toe-tag.  He just wants to win.
The Tactical Mind:  If I was losing a war under great pressure and fear of my over-lords, I might resort to a dirty trick.  You can give a soldier methamphetamine and he will stay awake for days while the enemy has to sleep.  Wired and full of crazy aggression, your forces can sneak up on sleeping Pashtuns and cut their throats.
Crystal meth has the same effect as ergot mushrooms did for Vikings.  Before a raid, Vikings ate them for boosted vim and aggression.  They went berserk. It is how they got their name “berserkers.”  They were noisy frontal attackers, clanging battle-axes, these braided Beowulf’s.
Silence, however, would serve today’s losing officer in Afghanistan’s fight.  Just ask Boeing Aerospace.  They make monstrous muted jets you can’t hear even with your rag-top down and them just a little over your head.  Way-low.  Nocturnal stealth is everything to a hunting owl.  And silence has its place when people are sleeping.  Particularly those you plan on killing.  There is a fine line between predation and war.
Given that the men in charge of today’s “War on Terror” are advancing world terrorism for Israel, anything goes.  9/11 sure did.  It’s a false-flag warfare extravaganza.
So, that said, I see a possibility for Stephanie Hershman’s draw-factor.  She may have had a taste for drugs, seeing as her estranged spouse is in the slammer for them.  Since birds of a feather seek each other out, she may have attracted our returning battle-ax with something other than two toddlers.  What it was may or may never come out in the Jewish-owned and controlled media.
That meth was a factor in this horrendous multiple murder case is on the street.  I was just thinking about the “why and how” of it.  Police say that the murders occurred on 19 September 2010.  That’s a Sunday.
A plausible scenario is this one.  Perkins is in the Hershman house.  One or both of the toddlers might have been fussy, whiney or crying.  The psy-op of a baby crying was used to torment the besieged, soon-to-be victims of the Waco inferno.  Toddlers and babies can sometimes test the nerves of their loving parents.  On 19 September, you not only have a non-parent in the house with these children, but possibly a hopped-up soldier.
Feels like we are supposed to think that he snapped and went into kill-mode.  Would it include carving out the victim’s eyes?  Unlikely.  When this news broke, I felt corralled to think that Perkins went berserk.  But now five years have passed and there have been other heinous murders in the same area.  They all happened after Perkins had been removed from society.
Some of the murders became cold case files.  Rape/murder cases, garroted widow…  Two other murder cases sent unlikely convictions to prison.  According to the relative of one victim, the cops arrested a Mexican alien who could not speak English.  They accused him of raping and drugging to death the victim with fentanyl patches.  Unlikely.  The other unlikely conviction was a family man with five children who had no apparent motive.  He was under heavy guard until they locked him away in prison.  They allowed him no contact with objective, independent journalists during his time in county jails.  His mail was intercepted at the prison with no reply to the sender.
Given that rape/murder and pedophiliac snuff films are big business these days, with easy video gadgets, imagine the possibilities.  One horse towns and rural hinterlands are no longer wholesome places to raise your kids.  Corruption and depravity rule the streets.