Archive for the ‘Prose’ Category

Tony Robbins

October 11, 2016

Take a dynamic speaker.  Give him your money and agenda.  And he will twist people’s minds around whatever you want.

Robbins makes excuses for what is wrong with the world.  Slaps labels on human behaviour.  “Six needs,” he says.  Maslow has already covered that.  No need to re-invent the wheel.  He purports that Arab terrorists feel the need to be significant so they act out as terrorists.  Because it’s boring in the desert (not much else going on there he says).  This is how he “explains” ISIS.  Are they not ashkenazim terrorism du jour?  I ask you.

From a lecture posted on his web site, Robbins smeared Pakistan and Islam in one fell swoop by saying that on 11 September 2001 in Hawaii, a Pakistani man stood up during his seminar and said “I am a Pakistani Muslim and this is retribution.”  How easy is it to get an Indian to say that he is Pakistani?  They are both indistinguishable South Asian natives.  Indians work for and with the israelis against Pakistan.  And hate their Muslim brothers with a passion.  Hating Pakistanis appears to be part of Indian culture.

Sounds like that was staged ahead of time by the ashkenazim who apparantly own Tony Robbins.  Do they not own the police and the intelligence services?  Osama bin Laden’s face is used to drive home the Hitler factor.  Always a demonized scape goat as a funnel for “what is wrong with the world.”  The doers of dirt need them to launder their perfidy.  They even have ashkenazi damage control agents who pretend to criticize their own kind.

Robbins lectured in the 90’s that vinegar was a dietary product of decay that should be eschewed.  Conversely, vinegar has health benefits.  Revealing who his handlers were even then.  They also own the medical industry.  Healthy people hurt their business.  Now don’t they.  Shame on you, Tony Robbins.



November 7, 2015

I deduce that ISIS and their previous iteration, al Qaeda, are a crime laundry. They serve as low-echelon Igor’s to a jewish Dracula. How much of their daring dirt is done consciously — remains to be proven. Money can only buy so much.

ISIS appear to be a collection of misfits. Let us name a few. Unscrupulous knuckle-draggers are common enough. But such men are not always stupid enough to get the job done. So one benefits from employment of the mentally-ill and retarded. All men can be swayed and controlled by drugs. Think of the possibilities of such an assemblage.

If they can get orca delphinidae to do water circus tricks, the sky is the limit of what they can get a man to do. Third world travel proves how this leviathan outranks some homo sapiens in dignity and intelligence. So how difficult would it be to bamboozle an illiterate savage?  Or an ego-driven high school graduate who was raised on pizza, porn and TV?

Using drugs, booze and amnesiacs, there is a bottomless hole of atrocity into which men can be pushed. Given that unwitting victims of medical fraud are tricked into surgeries that they do not need. Insurance money is a lure for greed. But I digress. Back to I-S-I-S.

My finer point smarts. The counterfeit state of israel has been at this dirty work since they invented themselves. Since their early “do-it-yourself” terrorism, they have resorted to contracting out more of the same. The world-stage otherwise would hold them to blame.

Name of the game: false flag.

Blatant and subtle, we have seen much of it since 1948. Things that go boom all over the world. But particularly surrounding israel. America has enjoyed its share of mysterious explosions. Mysterious to most. The only holocaust I know is 9/11.

Since 9/11, the culprits to me are written large. They operate like a collective. On earth no one is in charge. They answer to the devil. Like the boys at the lodge. A swarm of organised locusts. About their organised crime.  They are international like Henry Ford wrote. A tightly woven rug of underground hatred. Imposters and hackers.   Pinko commies and their spies.  I know them from the inside.

I know them from their masons’ lodges. From their student body and professorships. From their positions in government and industry. Like the back of my hand.

Their perfidy precedes them. Hence their long history of ejections and executions. Burned at the stakes in Europe. Beaten to death in the streets of Holy Russia. Lynched in Georgia.

So the virus modifies itself. Now they call it ISIS.

Vladimir Putin, stand by your guns. Hoist an oriflamme over the graves of your Christian martyrs that emblazons “Never Again.”


July 17, 2015

Alcohol is legal and easy to get.  If you are under the age of getting it legally, you can have a friend buy it for you who is a little older.  The “legal drinking age” law is a joke.


Alcohol is a convenient anterograde amnesiac.  Even without doping it with other drugs, alcohol has many sinister uses.


Unattractive men use alcohol to get sex.  They buy it for women at bars all the time.  The ploy is to get her drunk enough so that she will “do anything” and have no memory of it in the morning.


Think about the utility of alcohol for agents of terrorism — for example.  People who are addicted to alcohol are numerous.  It is easy to target them in society.  Once targetted, they can be employed for anything.  Just get them drunk enough and they will do your bidding.  They will pass out afterwards and not remember a thing.


A colleague of mine shared how the dentist offered a drug for use with his children.   They have a sweet drink before the dental procedure that erases their memories of everything that happened.  This precludes anxiety about their next dental visit.


Amnesiacs have many uses.  When people get drunk enough, they will do anything.  Retaining no memory of what they did.  They have to be told by their friends what they did at wild parties.


The reason “demon alcohol” is a term applied to alcohol does not require elaboration.


People who get very drunk will have a sudden change of personality.  They become someone else.  And do things that they would otherwise never do.


Heinous murders, crimes of all kinds, animal cruelty, dare-devil stunts, disgusting acts of lunacy, etc., the list is endless of what a drunk will do.


Yet alcohol is legal.  And marijuana (cannabis, hemp) is not.


Why?  Because many people who currently “use” alcohol will switch to marijuana.  They will prefer it, enjoying the plant’s natural anti-depressant quality.  Cannabis is non-addicting.  It cannot erase your memory.  People will simply grow it in their gardens next to their tomatoes.  Then all the hype, jail-time, underground smuggling and peddling will have to stop.  Think of all the money that somebody will stop making off this plant.  Because it cannot be employed for acts of terrorism, marijuana has no use for the “organisation” who orchestrates acts of terrorism.


The same organisation that engineers world terrorism, writes your laws, rapes your daughters and murders your sons.  They use alcohol and drugs to manipulate and control unwitting operatives.


A word about sex and pornography.  They use these to manipulate and control males.  Women are seldom swayed by the promise of sex.  Pornography and sex are addictions of males, not females.  Every doctor can tell you why.  But he won’t.


So alcohol and its chemical counterpart are the “go to” manipulator for those who would render your daughters a porn star.  Girls gone wild?  No.  They were just drunk.


Without alcohol there would be no frat parties or home made pornography.  There are few women in the world who would succomb to humiliating acts of whoredom unless they were hammered out of their minds.


You can observe this fact in “adult” movies.  The rare sober girl has tears in her eyes.   Reluctant porn stars are women who have been tricked into the industry.  Take a guess at who runs your porn industry world-wide.


It follows that the architects of 9/11 are behind every other act of terrorism.  Why wouldn’t they be?  The sky is the limit of what they will do next.  They control every industry, write your laws, defile your daughters and trample underfoot the Law of God.


Alcohol is the handiest tool in their shed.

Reads Like a Rig

March 26, 2015

Today’s German plane crash reads like a big fat rig.  John F. Kennedy, Jr.’s plane crash read like one too.  Sudden rapid descent.  No distress signal.  Unlikely and untenable turn of events.  John-John was one shoe in the White House.  So was his uncle when Sirhan Sirhan supposedly shot him in the head with no motive.  The adored Princess Diana was on a glide-track to marrying an Egyptian Arab.  She was going to make a Muslim prince charming out of him.  Plane crash, car crash….

Why is it that the news hounds do not identify their sources these days?  Isn’t that what we were taught in journalism school?

The news report says that one of the Lufthansa (Germanwings) pilots was locked out of the cockpit?  What kind of cock and bull story is that?  I would have to hear the recording myself.  It smacks of the same baloney we read about the 9/11 victims who supposedly called their loved ones while airborne from out-of-range cell phones.

Here is a pair that may have downed the plane in my opinion:  “Two Iranian journalists who covered the “El Clasico” soccer match between Barcelona and Real Madrid on Sunday were among the crash victims.”  Journalism is dangerous today if you publish truth or hail from a Muslim Middle Eastern State, particularly Iran.  

Planes, cars, boats, name it — can be operated via remote control.  I believe this is how Princess Diana and John Kennedy, Jr. were killed.  Sabotage is old hat.  But today’s sabotage has gotten sophisticated.  Computers make things easy to lie about and withhold from the public.

I believe that German plane was sabotaged.  Everything they do is “two-bird.”  Who do they hate harder than Germany and Iran?  And who has enough money to bottleneck every industry and bribe just about everyone?  What has happened to the FAA?  What has happened to every rural airport?  What has happened to the three letter guys?  What has happened to those who claim they are there to “protect and serve?”  Why did they confiscate all the video footage from 9/11’s Pentagon kamikaze jet?  Why did they spirit away the forensic evidence of 9/11?

Think about other passenger jets in recent years who met similar fates.  With similar untenable “news” stories that followed.  What pilot suddenly dives into the ocean or into a mountain?  Ask yourself who was on the passenger list and to what country the jet belonged.

In the case of hated journalists and German/Austrian politicians, car explosions have been popular.  If my investigations had not borne out so many other “rigs” over the last seven years, perhaps I would be less jaded by what to me reads like a template.

I invite “the authorities” to share their black box findings with us.  Slap it up on YouTube and the six o’clock news.

Getting the Math

March 5, 2014

I trust and believe that my Maker dictates what of His universe I am to “get” in the math sense.  If everybody “got” aerospace engineering, they’d be aerospace engineers.  But they don’t and they’re not.  Down here in our crude physical world, we are limited enough mentally.  Beyond this world, it’s a great wide open.  Stuff so fabulous and fearsome, most earthlings will never get it on this side of the grave.  God dictates who gets that stuff.  He decides our talents.  He lays the track of our trains up the road.  We cannot know the future.  But trusting in Him, will be pleasantly surprised by it.  I own the knowledge.

One of my math professors was a mechanical engineer before he decided to teach math.  His mind was honed in the ways of engineering.  A keen blade of mathematical disciplines.  During one of our study sessions, he is the one who first used the phrase “you don’t own it,” referring to my ability to work a certain math problem.  In other words, “you do not own this knowledge” yet.  You don’t get the math yet.  You can work the problem by rote and produce the correct answer.  But if I throw you a curve ball on an exam, you won’t understand it.  Since that day I knew what “owning the knowledge,” meant.

Today, sadly, this kind of math is being used to design machines of mass murder.  Medical men are cooking disease.  It is the “my will be done” trying to overshadow the righteous “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven…” that will sound the knell of our world.  When man tries to play God, he fails.


March 21, 2012

How do you subvert a great and Godly nation?  Dr. Zaid Hamid recently sent me a lecture that triggered the following spray of bullets:

Sleaze-up music in the Bible Belt.  Get country music stars to sing about wet tee-shirt contests, backseat conquests and how it’s all okay.  Have them glorify saloons, bars and taverns.

Make the pulpit an organ of propaganda.  Pit Christian denominations against each other.  Bash Catholics and smear the Muslims.  Preach hate and division.  Cultivate paranoia.

Get female country music stars to tart themselves up and sing the praises of whoredom.  Make recreational sex chic and “in style.”  The pitfalls of which is the aim of subversion.  Pitfalls like demoralized women ridden by abortion guilt.

Push alcohol at every opportunity.  Make it chic and “in style.”  Encourage alcohol to the young and especially to nubile women.

Raise taxes.  Charge high interest on loans to the poor.  Push credit cards.  Encourage frivolous spending.  Out-source industry.  Manufacture stupid, superfluous gadgets and charge high prices for them.  Hang them conveniently by entryways and grocery shelves.

Raise the price of seed and lower the value of a farmer’s yield.  Then raise the price of groceries.  Raise the price of gasoline.  For those who still have a job – render them wage-slaves.  Tax their purchases.  Tax their land.  Tax their vehicles.  Tax what they receive as financial gifts.  Tax communication services (landlines, cell phones, television, Internet).  Tax what is left by the dead to the living.

Dumb-down the curriculum in public schools.  Take God out of all awareness.  Advance the hot air of existentialism.  Tell the kids there is no difference between right and wrong.  And that the universe is a random coincidence.  Tell them we come from monkeys and that Adolf Hitler killed six million jews.  Tell them Franklin Delano Roosevelt was a noble hero and that a German immigrant murdered the Lindbergh baby.  Push female novelists but suppress Elizabeth Dilling and Margaret Mitchell.  Do not discuss Civil War history in our books – only anti-Confederate propaganda.  Never mention who owned the slaver fleets.  Blame the crime of black slavery on American Confederate planters.  Omit any mention of Bolshevik crimes.  Focus WWI and WWII “history” on the fabricated crimes of Germany instead.

Devise new words for the dictionary, but be sure to leave out thesaurus entries for them.  New words that nobody can define, like fascism, hate speech, bigotry, chauvinist and passive-aggressive.

Laud feminism and mulattos as the wave of the future.  Never compare Princess Diana to a thoroughbred and discuss why both are valued.   Never list the benefits of the traditional role of womanhood.  Instead belittle and smear it.  Make women ashamed of being Godly wives and mothers.  Push “single working mother” status because no woman can keep that many balls in the air.  Hence, the family and home life are destroyed.

Starch the spines of impressionable young women and tell them that they are equal with men.  Give them bogus goals and false hopes.  Send them on a goose-chase in search of themselves.  Put them on a “mail buoy” watch.  Advance lesbianism and abortion.

Push synthetic hormones and anti-depressants, sedatives and sleep aids.  Push drugs for anything and everything.  But muffle the obvious of oxygen, exercise and wholesome food.

Cultivate anorexia in women.  It will give them something to chew on while they starve to death.  Design clothes that make women look like whores and show their bellies.  Design clothes that foster eating disorders.  Design shoes that punish feet and cause women to trip and break their ankles.  Design cheerleader uniforms that pimp girls to dirty old men in bleachers.  And ones who work in the basements of funeral homes.  Design jeans with spandex and rhinestone pockets.  Put words like “pink” and “juicy” across the backsides of girls’ dorm pants and active wear.

Write Marxist lyrics to catchy rock songs.  Extol Hollywood and all her trollopy trappings.

And there you have it.

Carrie’s Mother

October 15, 2011

Most Hollywood movies that I have seen send an implicit message about Christendom.  The first time I noticed it was in Carrie.

Carrie’s mother is portrayed as a mentally-diseased Christian fanatic.  The implication seems to be that Carrie’s mother was not mentally ill in and of herself.  But that Christianity is a mental illness.

The plot fits under the Fangoria genre of adolescent cult films.  It is a time-capsule of 1970’s youth culture.  Carrie and her “powder-blue” prom date are the dreamy focal point surrounded by the tacky-gruesome of predictable teen horror.

Stephen King and Anne Rice are the kinds of “writers” who channel their stuff straight from hell.  Then they get guys like Mr. Cohen to spin their straw into fouler lob-lolly than it was to begin with.  Voila.  Now you have  Carrie and Interview with the Vampire.  God heppus.

Carrie’s Mother personifies the Law of God in Babylon — from the perspective of what Jehovah’s Wit’lesses call “The Devil.”  To the drug-free mind, he cannot negate reality.  So he manipulates  “what is” by his usual frame-jobs, smears and subliminal messages.  His hints are always strong ones — even to the village idiot.

In your real world, note how Christianity in its pure sense is equally bashed with Islam.  The un-defiled version of our Faith is attacked at 360 degrees by the entity who wrote the script to Carrie.  He attacks Christianity for the same reason that he attacks Islam.

He must needs portray the Kingdom of God as a loony bin.  Analogy:  Communism.  The enemy of The Club of Karl Marx is God.

Commies cannot negate nor argue with truth.  So they declare it insanity and institutionalize its proponents.  In Bolshevik Russia, for example, they tore down the churches while preserving the synagogues.  And made “not liking Jews” a crime against the State.  Think for a moment why that might have been.  Who were the Bolsheviks?  Who is Fidel Castro?

Hollywood is 100% Jew-dominated, aye Mr. Schpeel-berg?  It is a Jewish club that advances the communist manifesto.  Along with whoredom, wife-swapping, perversion, greed, murder and other such trappings of the organised crime lifestyle that is communism.

If you examine what passes for our government today, you will find that it also advances the communist manifesto.  But since most Americans have not read the Communist Manifesto, how the hell would they know?  Most Christians haven’t even read the Bible, let alone the Qur’an.  They are led like sheep by the pied piper ghost of Karl Marx.  The Judas goat of all gentiles.

Sheep now bleating loudly about their lost jobs, skanky daughters, dishonest sons and repossessed material wealth — all the product of a communist undercurrent that has been in the works for over a century.  Right under their gullible, ignorant noses.  Well baa-baa to that.

Adolf Hitler tried to tell you.  But did you listen?  And if you did, could you understand him?  He spoke German.  If you understood German, could you hear him over the coast-to-coast roar of your fire-breathing, Hitler-bashing Jewish media?   He wrote two volumes of road rubber entitled Mein Kampf.   I bet you haven’t read that either.  And yes, it has been translated since shortly after its publication.

If you want a brazen revelation of why your job, house, car and furniture are gone and your kids are hungry — get your broke-asst hands on a copy of what Hitler had to say about the Jews of his time.

When Adolf Hitler was voted in as Chancellor of Germany in 1933, their economic situation mirrored that of ours today.  They had a Jewish media cranking bullshit just like we do.  And usury banks sucking the blood of every hard-working citizen.  They were literally starving to death.  Yeah they were ready for a little change.  And not the hammer and sickle kind.  For that look to your happy-go-stupid president.

When General George S. Patton took office as the occupying conqueror of Germany, he got what Hitler was trying to say in his autobiography, Mein Kampf (My Struggle).  He saw no evidence of the hollow cost hype (neither has anyone else before nor since).  Where were the six million dead bodies?  Patton sympathized with the Germans and criticized the Jews.  He wrote home about it to his loved ones, colleagues and superiors (if there lived such a man on earth).  He told them that now was the time to finish off communism before it devoured and diseased our way of life.  Shortly thereafter Patton had a fatal automobile accident.

What some of us know you cannot learn from MTV or People Magazine.  And you won’t learn it from the six o’clock news.  Most media is owned and written by communist jews.  Like the screenplay of Carrie.

Christendom, Islam and Adolf Hitler are not the enemy.  They are just parallel critics of the Jews.  Now you know the motive for demonizing Jesus Christ, Adolf Hitler and God Almighty Himself.  There is no prouder nor more “stiff-necked” a people than the Cult of Moloch.  Look no further than to them for the culprit of what ails you today.  Add to your ailments any bomb, ruse, poison, social discord, swindle, blackmail, yellow press, extortion, fabricated epidemic, false advertising, false flag terrorism and subsequent war.  And you gottum down.


August 8, 2011

Having read the articles of Charlotte Iserbyt, it struck me that my marxist indoctrination began in boot camp.  The previous twelve years seemed gloriously Christian and politically incorrect.  Our school was fine by me.  I didn’t notice anything commie about it back then.  Perhaps we were too far off the main road.

Charlotte Iserbyt worked for many years at the U.S. Department of Education.  Her job was to instill marxist ideology throughout our public school system.  She reached a point where her outrage outweighed her willingness to continue.  Then she began to expose what she knew with the passion of Elizabeth Dilling.

While reading Iserbyt’s potent discussions, I canvassed my memories spanning 20 years of government work.  Seeking to compare notes, I found ample proof of her thesis.  In both enlisted military and subsequent civil service, I was bombarded by strong-arm brainwashing.

In contrast, throughout public school I recall a strident deference to Christian precepts in our homogenous Bible Belt town.  Up through my senior year, they were still reading Bible verses to us over the school intercom.  I looked forward to this because it made me feel good inside.  And comforted me marvelous much.  It felt like the right way to start the day.

Each morning we would get a little prayer said by a different school kid along with a verse from the King James Bible.  “We’d like to congratulate the Raiders on a very fine victory last night.  Now here’s today’s Verse read by…”  We began our school days with mindful  Christian solidarity.  There were few among us who were not cultured in the fear and love of God.  Those who were not of our cloth stood out glaringly.

It was a sheltered upbringing in our little town.  Everybody knew your Daddy.  Daughters were guarded like prize platters locked in china cabinets.  Our cabinet had thicker glass than most.

It is of import to note how Daddy’s house rules were in lock-step with the ideology of Islam.  He even told me so as he read about the Muslims in those days.  He pointed out how Christianity and Islam were governed by the same Law.  I noticed his chair when he said this.  A distinct memory.

He sat in the arm chair in the corner by the reading lamp.  It’s what the psychology department labels “a flashbulb memory.”  In college lectures, they used the Kennedy assassination as a case in point.  Everybody remembers where they were and what they were doing when they got the news.  Just like 9/11 was for us.  I can tell you exactly where I was, how we got the news, who was sitting next to me, etc.  So what Daddy said had to be of great import and beyond my ken.  Because nothing about what he said at the time was sensational or traumatic to me.  I gaffed it off as another of Daddy’s acerbic, old-fashioned comments.  But it stuck like a zygote in a fertile womb.

After high school graduation I rushed off to the recruiters.  They all vied for my pen-hand, save the Marine Corps.  Any realist knows that women have as much to offer Marines as they do commandos.  So I wasn’t insulted, not fancying a life of blood & guts combat.  I just needed practical skills for future employment.

Opting for the Navy, they flew me to Orlando for basic training.  Arriving at night, we were collected at the airport by military people.  They carted us off in a school bus.

Bouncing along, the full bus was ominously quiet.  In five minutes we arrived at a military base.  There was a brief pause at the guard station and a few seconds saw us to our final destination.   Horror stuck me as a masculine woman entered the bus, barking orders.  Her artificial voice smote me like an iron gauntlet.

Stricken with fear, I jumped to my feet and followed the girl in front of me.  We were herded like heifers into a slaughter house.  Beset from all sides by angry shouting voices.  Their yells felt like electric prods.

They told us to dump the contents of our hand-bags in front of us on tables.  Nail clippers, aspirin, glass containers and anything pointy was confiscated.  Then we were ordered to strip naked and take a shower in a large brightly-lit room.  There were shower-heads lining the walls and no privacy of any kind.  There must have been 60 or more of us herded into this room.  There were not enough shower heads for everyone.  So some of us stood in the center of the room, waiting our turn for further humiliation as we got stared at.  Everything was white.  I went into shock.

I don’t think that shower was about hygiene.  It stripped us of more than our clothes.  Nudity can be used for psychological purposes.  It is sometimes used during torture. That sadistic shower laid the foundation for something.  I notice those who were weeks ahead of us in “training” had blank stares as they marched by.  Their movements were mechanical and didn’t seem human any more.

My autonomic nervous system went on skeleton crew.  Digestion shut down.  After two weeks they detected my condition and marched me off with others of my kind for medical evaluation and treatment.  They called it “culture shock” and said that it was common in military basic training.

We stood in ranks for long periods.  One morning I heard teeth hit concrete.  “Don’t lock your knees,” they barked, as the smell of blood mounted thick air.  Some got shin-splints and other injuries.  They were weeded from the ranks.  Not fit for duty.

Boot camp is a physical and mental screening process.  If your body and mind cannot take the punishment, the government doesn’t want you.  Sorry about the front teeth, kid.

It dawned on me many years later that anyone who volunteers for military service is expendable.

Yesterday I read an article by J. Bruce Campbell in Veterans Today.  I guess Bruce is old and bold enough to not give a damn.  He wrote that not since the war for American Independence has our military engaged in a justified battle.  That means somebody sacrificed centuries of American sons in wars with exo-American agendas.

Who called the shots for all these wars into which my kinsmen shouldered rifles?  Great Grandfather (Confederate Cavalry, 1st Tennessee), Grandfather (WWI Cavalry), Daddy (Korea, 187th Airborne), Brother (Vietnam, USMC).  Who spurred our men off to needless fights?  Who stood to benefit?  Was it the same joker who wrote my boot camp training manual?  The same one who wrote that a soldier who has never seen battle should be armed, pushed into the fray, and let kill or be killed do the rest?  I’m starting to hear the sound of reveille.  Can you?

So while they were wasting our boys in wars for extra-national agenda, they cultivated marxism on the home front.  During our morning drills, we were promised that if we got it right, we could sing as we marched.

It did not sink in while I was singing cadence that there was a message to the lyrics.  “Sailors, you can’t love one.  One.  Sailors you can’t love one.  You can’t love one and still have fun.  So I’m leavin’ on the midnight train…”

Then came first liberty weekend.  With a pal from my company, I got another jolt.  I found myself in a hotel room where she had gotten herself situated with some boys from our brother company.  Her casual whoredom disgusted me even less than her comfortable shamelessness.  As though this was the American norm and I was the odd one.  Peer pressure worked swimmingly on base, but I wanted no part of this shit.

The entire floor of a big hotel in the center of Orlando had been relegated to boot camp sailors and their vomitous revelings.  It had apparently been pre-arranged between the base and this venue.  Could my Navy be fostering this shit?  They kept us to the strictest code of military rigors for eight weeks, then cut us loose on the town.  Booze everywhere.  It was a f**k-fest.

In one night I was shown what Daddy wanted to protect me from.  The following summer on the beach, I learned why the Muslim veils his wife and daughters.  And why the nun wears a black habit. I can think of nothing that stings harder than the ogling stare of lust.

It is interesting to note how commissioned female officers were held to a different code of conduct during my Navy tours.  Lady officers dared not exhibit “enlisted behaviour” for fear of being blacklisted/ostracised/professionally doomed and stigmatised.  Why do you suppose that is?  “Conduct unbecoming…” they called it.

Why would our government stigmatise behaviour in officers that was encouraged and fostered in the enlisted ranks?  Could it be because whoredom destroys a woman’s dignity and self-respect?  A crest-fallen sex slave is easy to trample under foot, command, control or boss around.  Their will is gone and their spirits are broken.  Women who are used as sexual commodities are demoralized.  They become defective articles.  How could a military woman like that give orders to anyone?

The Navy’s creed is “Honor, Courage, Commitment.”  A whore can have no honour.  Sorry to break it to ya, Ms. Magazine.

Take away a woman’s dignity and you have softened her up for further abuse.  Smear her character, defile her honour, tell her there is no God and you have someone with nothing left to lose.  After that it’s just daily bread and getting dead.

I feel the flow of a malignant undercurrent.  Don’t you?  Rendering Christian women into common whores would serve marxist ends.  It also helps to make a ship-wreck of Holy Matrimony.  And thereby also the family.  When you don’t know who your Daddy is, you ain’ got a family, bruh.

At my first duty station, there was a blonde who lived next door.  She was a couple of years my senior and seemed worldly.  One night she sat me down with tears in her eyes and solemnly admonished, “Never let anyone pressure you into sex.  I have had so many men that I can’t remember their names or faces.”  Another flashbulb memory.  We were sitting in my quarters on my room mate’s bed — the one who told me that I should wear men’s cologne.

I didn’t know what she meant by men’s cologne until now.  When a woman engages in adultery, her perfume can be damning when his wife gets a whiff of it.  Not so with Aqua Velva.  To boot, one’s lesbian lovers get a kick out of it.  Yes, they were cooking with gas at the air station.

Pregnancy out of wedlock and other issues of enlisted life appear to be by-products of marxist indoctrination.  Whoredom, by my witness, is fostered in the ranks.  Perhaps today’s “lady” officer is given freer rein with her personal conduct.  Unless the commies who run our country are trying to snow somebody about what they think of the expendable “goyische shiksa.”

Naval officers are supposed to be ladies and gentlemen.  Perhaps it has more to do with our placating traditions carried over from aristocratic Royal Navy roots.  Kind of like the lip-service of most churches.  An officer at table, for example, is supposed to know which spoon to reach for first.

Whereas enlisted men are expected to eat at troughs.  Wallowing in the mire, mediocrity and blind obedience are cultivated among them by their handlers.  This appears to have a sinister agenda.  As though today’s Trotskyites are trying to program a counterpart in America — to the uniformed rabble that became a standing army after the Bolshevik Revolution.

The red army of the USSR (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) was comprised largely of an intellectually-impoverished mob that hung on every word of its leadership.  Because it had to.  They were damn-near clueless.  They don’t teach you that in honors history.

According to Iserbyt, President Reagan signed agreements with the Soviets to prepare the USA for seamless union with communist academic programs.  No wonder the Jews sing Reagan’s praises.  He sold us down the river to communism.  And now, like Wilson, Lincoln, FDR and other fine pieces of work — he’s not around to slap.

Communism seeks, thereby, to dumb down the masses.  The public lends itself more readily to their yoke as ignorant rabble.  But above all, as a Godless one.  That way they are spiritually rudderless with no moral compass.  So when it comes time to do what I recently saw in Afghanistan, brain-washed rabble just takes orders.  Shame on them for what they are doing to Afghan civilians and their animals.  They can take down the YouTube footage — but never fast enough.  I saw the whole thing, you bitches.

As I was told often during my Navy days by salty lifers, “Yours is not to question why.  Yours is but to do or die.”  Mantra of the common brute.  This is the desired mindset for our highly-expendable enlisted “troops” today.

Then it was on to Civil Service.  There I saw just how corrupt the government is.  I have never seen so many writers of policy in the driver’s seat who are loyal to a counterfeit state in the Levant.  Nay indeed.  Enter Jonathan Pollard.

Pollard ate lunch in our cafeteria and collected classified documents from my newly-wed husband.  Nobody had a clue that Pollard was a spy for Israel.  He was smooth operator.  Until he got hauled out of our building in cuffs and hubby got subpoenaed.  Next came the polygraph machines and G-men with their probing questions, “Ms. Pearson, have you ever thought about taking something from a store without paying for it?”  I realised that they needed to get a lie out of me so they could compare it to all the truth I told.

Then there was the Department of Education, ah yes.  What a hoot.  I took a promotion to an office I called Sleepy Hollow.  They did nothing there.  My boss sat in his office so stock-still that his motion censor light went out on him.  There was a pervert who looked at porn on his computer all day and sexually harassed us.

I left the frying pan for the next promotion.  Should I say what “Department of…”?  Better not.  I quit wearing skirts and dresses when I learned why my boss kept taking me to the stairwells.

Throughout my Civil Service career I took many jobs in many different Departments.  Political correctitude was pushed heavily in all of them.  Women and blacks were selected for many token positions not because they were good at what they did nor because they were smart.  But because they were female or black.  If they were both, then so much the better.

Being in a position to see how offices ran, I soon learned that it didn’t matter who held a position anyway.  Because the string-pullers were hidden.  Everything was a secret when it came to “who was responsible” for something.  Fingers were pointed at somebody else who pointed his finger at somebody else and so on.  Bureaucracy leaves a wide margin for lies and corruption.  And serves as a perfect duck-blind for the marxist.

Homosexuality was praised and promoted outside of the war department.  The military is “traditionally” supposed to frown on gay’ness like whoredom in the officer ranks.  They didn’t go to my yeoman school then.  Nice boys.  But queens to beat the band.  Big blue sea, here they come.  Lovely hair cuts.  Always sharply dressed and freshly pressed.  Could they dance?  You bet.  I cannot deny that they were fun.  Best girl-friends I ever had.  And even better study partners.  But what they do at sea plays right into the hand of the Cult of Moloch.  And that I will capitalize, Mr. bolshevik.

Charlotte Iserbyte is shooting straight about the Department of Education.  I have already investigated the school system from a consumer end.  They start the marxist brain-washing now in pre-school.

Take a lesson from history and from our experience.  Lest you find yourself the muzzled ox who treadeth out the corn.


July 29, 2011

He had more power than he ever used.  Men respected him.  Women were crazy about him for reasons that women are attracted to dinner dress whites, a 100 watt smile, stellar intellect, dash, guts, balls, flawless enunciation and The Red Badge of Courage.

He predictably riled the ire of lesser men who coveted his throne.  He stood firm.  He was an Oak.  The converse of Marxism with a woman on his arm to knock ‘um dead.  Oh how they hated him.

So they picked him off and wrote lies about him.  Women came out of the woodwork who supposedly were his numerous lovers.  Claiming they visited him at the White House for sex, sex and more sex.  Yeah right.  Why would a man with filet mignon at home send out for hot dogs?

Not that his appeal to women should bear on his ability to lead our nation.  He wrote, like most intellectuals, feverishly in his diaries about what he thought.  He did his own thinking.  With a great fear of God.  My kind o’ boy.

Here’s a taste of what he thought:


July 6, 2011

Two months after Vanessa Redgrave went public with her 2009 condemnation of the Gaza blitzkrieg, her daughter got suddenly dead.  I cannot help but notice the linear proximity of these two events.

Redgrave groped for hedges during her speech that might lessen the blow of her opinion, but the feedback from her audience was ominous.  Then in March, Redgrave’s daughter, Natasha Richardson, took an ordinary spill on the easy side of Mont Tremblant — that later got fatal.

Richardson’s fall was routine, predictable and indeed expected.  Observers reported that it looked altogether normal.  Hardly anybody wears crash helmets on the ski slopes.  You can break a leg up there.  But powder slopes are not likely places for head injuries like the one that was blamed for Richardson’s death.

Observers said that Richardson exhibited no signs of injury after what looked like a routine fall.  She was lucid and apparently in good shape.  Yet “authorities” appeared who spirited her away from the scene.  Not long afterwards, back at her quarters, she began to suffer a headache.  The clinical details are, of course, a murky mystery.   How does one bang his head in the snow, Mr. Coroner?

There are sports that merit crash helmets.  But skiing isn’t one of them.  Surf board and water ski wipe-outs hit harder than snow.  Skateboards, roller-blades and skates are done on pavement and other hard surfaces.  Who wears crash helmets while figure skating on the ice?   So the crash helmet mania on Mont Tremblant after Richardson’s death was asinine.  And all the ski boys know it.

Adding insult to grief is the New York Times.  The House of Sir Michael Redgrave draws unsurprising fire. Redgraves are English thespian royalty who know how to roll an “R” on a Shakespeare stage.  To see how much they are despised by the anti-Christian gang, all you have to do is read this article.

You will note that any public figure they hate is depicted in unflattering photos, accused of being gay or bisexual (their standard slam for men) and becomes the target of character assassination.  Wikipedia is a good meter for this.

And the NY Times is a bolshevik hate meter.  Their articles are written or “over-written” by them.  Unless you’re one of them or a token toady, they won’t let you write on campus either.  Let’s call a spade a spade.  Today’s bolshevik is the “bolshoy mott” of haters.  His signature points to him in all media.

Let me digress a bit.  His Marxist buzz-words pepper song lyrics of  the top 40.  Because he owns the record companies and edits the songs.  But of course.  Catchy pop jingles and hooks that send the Marxist message of “Babylon Now” to the young and impressionable.  And to any old fool who wants to be hip.

The Trotskyite Bolshevik has been at it for decades spreading his contagion of sex & drugs, racial strife and gangster glory.  Who hasn’t banged their head to AC/DC, Judas Priest and Van Halen Van Halen?  How can anyone resist the marrow-scrambling bass thump of Biggy Smalls?  That’s a hook.  Some of the “music” they throw at our kids today is like the first injection of heroin.  Once they are hooked, the lyrics serve as hypnosis.  Ramones?  “Beat on the brat with a baseball bat…”   “I wanna be sedated.”  Joey, what do you wanna be now?

It’s simple.  You know it’s a bolshevik when they accuse people of their own crimes.  They will commit acts of atrocity and point the finger at whom they hate.  Classic bolshevik m.o.  Like 9/11, the USS LIBERTY’s botched false-flagger and myriad other hate crimes of theirs.  The list is long and glaring.  And written in the sky.  Boy do these jokers need to fry.

Their own Nuremberg gallows are too good for them.  The “executions” should be public for all the world to see.  Long rows of electric chairs.  One crackling fry-hi.  Unison jolt of justice.

If you pissum off, they don’t kill you unless you’re the President or Czar.  They call that “assassination.”  They pick off intelligentsia and Christian/Muslim leadership so the masses will be headless.  This has catalyzed their takeovers in the past.

For maverick elements bringing truth to the people (journalists, publishers, historians, photographers, videographers, writers, news editors) they instead kill somebody they think you love.  In the case of childless journalists, for example, they kill their cat — or perhaps their dog.  They would kill a child’s pet frog.

So I digress.  Back to the house of Redgrave, yes.

English thespians.  A Bolshevik despises them.  Like he despises the Christian Monarchy.  Fancying himself an actor, he smears whom he cannot emulate, seething in his envy.  Shakespeare wrote those plays, so he hates the Bard like he hates Mozart.  And claims some guy by the name of Marlowe wrote them.  He slithers through the crowd, spreading bogus rumours, slander and venom.  He despises King James because he’s got the Bible named after him — so he calls him “gay.”

Isn’t it funny how Bolsheviks use the same label to smear that they promote — like — gay?  For example, they are quick to call Christian and Muslim women whores whilst advancing whoredom the world over.  Like it’s the new chic.  Wikipedia is a veritable bordello “how-to.”

This is their signature.  Their fruit.  And by it you shall know them.

They are organised crime.  Haters who write song lyrics condemning “haters.”  And academics who sing praises of certain Romantic poets because they were callow atheists and sexual free-stylers.  Natasha Richardson played Mary Godwin in Gothic to punctuate my point.

Of course they would sing the praises of Shelley.  Let me digress a bit more.  He was a wild  stallion who touted atheism, “kicking up the sod e’er a step he drew in.”  He was a blood horse, but a useful one, in that they could sully his caste by Shelley’s bahaviour while serving their Marxist ends.

Lined up on the shelves of academe, one can read his fill of bolshevik books on Shelley.  They latched on to his lackadaisical gallop with a zeal.  Hang on for the ride.  Here’s a tool we can use to lead young women and Christians astray, defile the marriage bed, wreck the family, lay waste to God’s Law all under the guise of “Shelley the feminist-moralist.”

Shelley was a dallying philanderer who liked bedding teenage girls.  A playful baronet with time and Daddy’s money on his hands.  His Marxist biographers capitalized on his vegetarianism like they capitalized on Linda Eastman’s.  But on her dying day she was hoping for a self-imagined dream land with her Appaloosa.  One fostered by the lame gibberish of the New Age movement.  I wonder what kind of “Elysium” Shelley was hoping for as he clung to the mast of his sinking boat?  Aye, tenderfoot, and the Hindu hopes for reincarnation.  How can we believe what to us has not been proven?  Then ask yourself how some of us believe what we believe.

Does somebody know something that you don’t know?  Imagine that, Mr. Team Player.  Even Shelley wrote “a man can only believe what he believes.”  In other words, man must be made a believer through epiphany, enlightenment or spiritual awakening.  Else he is only mouthing lip-service.  The Saints have a phrase for it.  They call it “an Act of God.”  Acts of God make believers of men.  Such men wrote the Bible and Qur’an.

Shelley, Byron and Godwin’s mishmash of weird household was fertile Marxist loam, however.  This is proven by how many other take-offs on “the summer of 1816” hedonist Hollywood has put on the streets.  Lame, lame and all the same.  Mr. Passer, how could you?

Godwin’s odd wife, Mary Wollstonecraft, became their poster girl for feminist ideology.  They shove her hard in academe because she is one of the few women with stuff in print who fits their “buck marriage and wreck the family” mold.

Shelley led the way in his “rumpled, but expensive clothes.”  The Romantics are used as pied pipers to a mine field of whoredom and debauchery.  But who knows that at eighteen?  I doubt if Natasha did.  So they shove it down your throat in literature classes.  And it goes down like chestnuts in brandied sugar.

Even Keats, young as he was, had the sense to avoid Shelley’s invitation.  Good tack little man.  Instead of just dying young, you may have gone to hell in a hand-basket.  Sir Shelley knows whether his pamphlet held the water now.  His boat sure didn’t.

Natasha Richardson played demure Mary Godwin with some grace despite the script.  Richardson was young and ambitious back then.  If you want to see the kind of filth that is being launched from the Shelley/Byron platform, see the movie.  Gabriel Byrne makes Lord Byron look like a misogynous, bi-sexual skank whose only redeeming quality is poetic genius.  Shelley is portrayed by Julian Sands as a loosely-wrapped freak who likes to run naked.  This movie exemplifies who is running the movie bizz.  Don’t take my word for it.  (movie title:  Gothic)

I believe that casting their progeny in movies like this is how Team 666 gets even with grand thespians.  Richardson has been in a few other doozies to support my point.  Her work is as delicious as it is disgusting one might say.  If an actor is to work, who escapes such roles today?

I am swayed to think that Richardson’s death was not an accident, given the vengeful nature of the Beast.  It would be classic to have them kill her via medical means between the time she fell in the snow and when she was pronounced a corpse in hospital.   Without having been present during the coroner’s examination and reading his full report, all we have are the words of a Bolshevik media.  Hardly science in my opinion.

And boy — am I entitled to my scientific opinion.  As for book and movie reviews, they are based on my opinions too.  The crux for Team 666 is the following question:

“Is my opinion valued?”