What is wrong with this picture? A road trip part 6.

Image source.

So there I stood, tank full once again, 40 odd quid lighter. I stared out of the service area’s sodium glare into the deep black beyond. Out into the cold, drizzled, sepulchered nation. I mused that if the clowns in charge get their way of de-knowledging us, again, then one day the whole country will be plunged into pre 15th century darkness, on plan, apart from a few chosen places where the bloodlines do their weird genital juxtapositioning, illuminated by over unity machines.

Pre 15th century before Christ.


Now we fast forward from sometime around 2:30am on a forecourt on the outskirts of the Lake district, to a little cottage in Alloway around 11:30am the next day.

Are we to rage against no one. To do violence unto a spectre. To vent volcanic spleen onto superconducting nothing. To kill ourselves. To be defeated, by design, by your own tongue.

Are we?

Aside No6. Before I die I will witness A mid Summer Night’s Dream on mid Summer Night at the Wanamakker Globe as I promised myself when I was unread in DNA and open system replication through closed system chaotic actors.

She holds my glassiphetriephied heart.

This is where a small glimpse of the dungeon state, the leper colony big society, the tired, clapped out old RISC’d pony show gets sent to the knacker’s yard.

This is where you and me take them gown. That is correct.

Gown.

Why would you do this?

H/T

Only if it made sense to Your elite.

iGREEN is the way to self regulate our desires.

No one would voluntarily self asphixiate, unless on drugs.
No one would selficide unless prompted.
No one would die unless they were unlessed.

No one.

To kill yourself you will be invited to a great grating pageant of love.

The Igreen will be used to kill the small people and resRtict the Giants.

However in their excruciating cleverness they forgot about one thing.

id US.

We are none of them.

Some how I don’t think Allah….

…is listening, shit for brains .

Heheheheheee.

I hope you noticed that there is now a lawyer in charge of the US DoD. I’ve warned many times that when these types of goons start piling up in the command structures and political decision trees that there can only be a Stalingrad moment coming up soon.

USofA corp is like a great big litigious U-bend full of massive brown stinking legislative logs. A great big dysenteric statute shithouse full of lawyerliar pongs and stinkard droppings. It needs Jeyes fluid and napalm delivered pronto before the whole thunderbox smothers the planet in green smoke.

I think you will find a direct correlation between the increase in any society’s law giver numbers, hiding in their bunkered chambers and courts; and the unending piles of dead people of a non justis bent lying in field drains, the remains of dwellings and wrecked capital goods.

Bodies piled upon bodies as the good guys get turned into dead guys.

So, Xenophon, Varus or Vortigern, are we having that “Oh shit” we’ve been sold out to the heathen moment yet?

Bearing in mind how compromised the west’s command and control structrures were on 9/11, the PROMIS infestation and other failures previous to that and the total façade and piss take that is the current security state; I feel the corollary must be in place right at this minute. Not a whiff of the ChiComm move. Nothing. The same guys that opened us up to plunder have got the channels all wrapped up tight before the “surprise” move.

Only this time we are the square heads and slanty eyed fall guys.

Some thing big is coming, we’ve been gettting too much sword and chivalry, too much pomp and pageantry and too much empire and monarchy thrown at us for over ten years now. Too much grooming and predictive programming. Just like in the 30 years leading up to 1914.

I love these night shots.

Image source.

Can you see where the Japanese let of their big stick in 1945?

That’s correct just south of where Unit 731 operated from and north of the K-Pop. In the dark spot. Funny that there has been so much light there in 1945 and now it is pitch dark. That is the mark of the bankster vampire.

Anyway I think I told you so .

The killer clowns in Tortuga sur Med. The psycho goons of RCE/TA Regis. The Pripyet squatters in Piratesville del Mar are happy.

Libya continues to degenerate on plan.

USofA corp how stupid are you? Well, evidence coming in suggests that you are rapidly overtaking UKplc.

Greater Bantustan, now that is a better name for what is coming.

All the action and all the killing. All the screaming and all the yelling. All the diplomacy and all the negotiated dead bodies. All of it is to remove resources that free people can use.

Go on think about it. Shah Oil v’s Ayattolah Oil. Saddam Oil v’s Holocaust Oil. Wadi Khaddafi Water v’s Nigger Killer Water.

The dynamic is to remove any resource from commercial intercourse. To kill business. To kill banking. To kill money. To kill us. To introduce a new religion.

Anyway the recent noise in and around the Plain of Jars is part of the coming ChiComm move. I think they are going through Burma. With full approval. Look out for TNPH orchestrated through Roth’s advisors. What will that be? Time is short so expect something big in Tibet.

What is wrong with this picture? A road trip part 5.

The pit stop.

220 miles out and time to fill the roughly half empty tank. As I said before, never hit UKplc M-Ways with anything other than a full tank of gas. At a half tank you pit, if for no other reason than bladder prompting.

The air was chilled and the weather was closing. As expected. However I reckoned we’d break the border before anything really hit. You must understand the weather. That is the basis of farming. The secret for thousands of years after we were given the gift of seed protection.

Only counter battery and queueing theory masters ever got near their nautical ancestors in guessing the secrets held in Admiralty and arable farming.

That is until very recently.

How to put the genie back in the bottle.

SECRET WAR AND CHANGING RELATIONSHIPS
Deficiencies both in the basic understanding of the physical processes in the environment and in the technology of environmental change make it highly unlikely that environmental modification will be an attractive weapon system in any direct military confrontation in the near future. Man already possesses highly effective tools for destruction. Eventually, however, means other than open warfare may be used to secure national advantage. As economic competition among many advanced nations heightens, it may be to a country’s advantage to ensure a peaceful natural environment for itself and a disturbed environment for its competitors. Operations producing such conditions might be carried out covertly, since nature’s great irregularity permits storms, floods, droughts, earthquakes and tidal waves to be viewed as unusual but not unexpected. Such a ‘secret war’ need never be declared or even known by the affected populations. It could go on for years with only the security forces involved being aware of it. The years of drought and storm would be attributed to unkindly nature and only after a nation were thoroughly drained would an armed take-over be attempted.

No chance bitchboybitches.

Now this is where it all revealed itself.

In the purchase of hydrocarbons. As Winston knew he was putting into place when the fleet went oil fired. Feeding the camel jockeying boybitches with the sweat of libertarded fool taxes.

Aside No5. Although Jackie Fisher would not recognise the compliment, he was entirely vindicated when Pearl Harbour was eased into our ken.

Answer me this.

Where is the devil’s id these days?

What is wrong with this picture? A road trip part 4.

Image source.

I hadn’t been this way for a long time.

As I said to friends this evening 20 or more years ago it was clear sailing. 7 hours nonstop. 10 years ago it was simple stuff.

However, now, instinctively I knew there would be a subtle attempt to wangle one onto the M6 toll road through confusing and unclear signage. Sure enough there it was; a sign telling me that the M6 toll road was clear. And I was alone. On the orange black top the mirrored highway snaked its Martian like way into and infinite to come and recently gone.

10,12 or 14 lanes with off ramps and A roads skirting. All empty and yet somewhere a high frequency trading bot needed my attention span. To inform me of nothing. Just like all of today’s intercourse. Void.

Left and 2 lanes to the M5, right and two lanes to the M6 toll, right down the centre the one lane to what I and every other motorist who ever poured benzene had paid for many times over.

My right of way.

As I glided on through the night I reflected the low pressure sodium glare and sought a point on the rainbow road where there might be some kind of touch point in the unreality sphere.

2000 years of waiting. A twinkle of the eye. 65,000 years of watching.

How long can the human memory cling to light?

If there ever was a time to decide then it is now. If there ever was a time of maximum beauty then that filtering of desired outcome was now. If ever there was a mile in the stretching of the sand then that will be our future.

So many routes to follow and yet only the one straight and true, we know the by ways where we idle our rampant minutes. We know the lay byes where sky flys by to night and never returns our call. Compassed to waste days and our greens. No profit.

How many of others years, how many of others tears and how many lives had it taken for me to slip my bonds and escape? Why now? If the colder iris is focussed on the ceremony in which I engage then surely only one conclusion can be reached. There is an end to the days of our lives which reaches out to a beginning.

Engel’s town soon pitched up and the night was as day. So much light for the most unEnglish shit hole in the world. Consider that burgers of Buckingham. Bomber halls and Turing’s test. Have you ever wondered what the world would look like without the living conditions of the Manchester poor ever being brought to our notice?

No.

Well if I set rats in a cage and then incinerated them, do you reckon my pamphlet on the squeeking conditions of the inflamed cagedville rodents would get a printing run without foundation bitchboy funny money? Or then lead to a massive killing spree of mousedom after teaming up with a beardy lazy fuckeD’witz and starting a load of bollox predictively programmed to be named Spotski/Oven/Zyklomoronmarks?

What an indolent dump.

I sped on, past the Plough at Bignall End where I had, in a previous life, stunned locals and kind host in polishing off the belt busting platter.

On past the calling cards to Seaside havens and up into the Lakes.

To the pit stop.

What is wrong with this picture? A road trip part 3.

Image source.

So there I was peeling off the M1 and up the M6 onto what should be a quiet, dark strip of motorway prior to hitting Brummieland. However it was knee deep in artics and white vans. All because the M1 was shut down north of M1/J19. Everyone on the alternate to rejoin the M1.

As I said, conditioning the masses, grooming us to expect constant delays and interruptions to our progress as free people. No longer can one go about one’s business unmolested. All disguised as improvements. I tell you what, the amount of lucre handed over to the so called government in this country by the motorist would pay for everyone of us to be carried around any, so called, road work improvements in a feather lined charabang carried by Vestal virgins whilst being poured pints of Cralsberg export. Now that would be the best way to drink a beer in the world, porbably.

On a related note I see that London is being lined up for a big fine as far as air quality goes. So we will be fleeced of 100s of millions of quid by a Madoffesque Ponzi scheme centred in Brussels. Go on; when was its accounts last signed off? Now to me that looks like our spineless, Big Society Bullingdon club members Boris and Camoron stiffing us, handing the readies over to their Kapo and pocketing their cut. If that is not the case then you can prove me wrong by providing the signed off accounts of the RICO institution concerned, point me to a full disclosure of all the secretive organisation that our so called leaders belong, list me all the Common Purpose graduates that have made their bones in this and previous corrupt governments and finally burn the Bank of England down.

Until then I will assume, safe in the knowledge that I will never be rebutted by evidence to the contrary, that our tax authorities are just allumni off Alinsky, Capone and Madoff. To Live and Die in LA sounds so much cooler than to strive and expire in Hemel Hempstead.

Which got me to thinking about inflation. No, not my tyres. That exists, inflation; inflation.

Today Tesco are selling 500g of pasta for 9p. 9 fucking p. Some one is leaning on the fuckers to kill the government inflation numbers. As we know from fillet/hamburger Greenspan that is total Grimm’s.

Other things that do not exist are enemies of the mind.

Aside No 4. There are no enemies that cannot be thought of. Unemployment is an illusion so to kill the numbers we will hire thousands and thousands of census farters.

Over the past century the following have been the western bitchboys friend.

Russia, USofA Corp, Germany, Japan

Over the past century the following have been the western boybitches enemy.

Russia, USofA Corp, Germany, Japan

Spot the odd one out. There is nothing to be gleaned from government but rentboybitchdom.

Finally I hit the solitary black after the extraneous traffic had re-routed. The cats eyes and the pitch. Gliding over a nonexistent carpet of the imagination. Derren Brown could never handle it.

Out in the no where, mindware and I thought about the events of 2000 years ago.

I thought of how long is the long game if the Semites could be guided to kill the pious pagans. Varus to Hitler. After the Roman taxation come on was slaughtered, they had the time to wait. All the time in the world. Who was running the heathen?

Enjoy.

No.

You and I, me and you, we know. We know the heathen and their runners. We know their heathen ruins and runes. We know the control. We know the pain is endurable. The pain that would break them if they were to but try.

We can and will ease them in the infinite time of their choosing. It will cease.

We’ve only got to toll M6 fannying around. Eons and ages to go.

Tomorrow brings an anime sky.

Rejoy.

What is wrong with this picture? A road trip part 2.

We were leaving 48 hours behind schedule. The MOT had taken a week to get through, hence the CBA. This is the penultimate year of the old girl’s existence. Any expense other than the MOT test itself next year and the pirate scrappy that set fire to the M1 will get a new vehicle to conflagrate and further his obvious mission to bugger up UKplc.

So we had 48 hours knocked off the visit. There could be no extension since school started immediately on our scheduled return. So 22:00 hrs blast out of London, 48 hours later blast out of Kilmarnock, 22:00 hrs approx.. That gave us 40 hours quality visiting time after 8 hrs motoring.

Aside No 2. Familes in UKplc as a rule, in the aggregate, tend not to like each other. Now this may seem like a crude over simplification, however if one witnesses recently arrived families in UKplc, Barnet is a great place to watch Iranians, Chinese, Greeks, Turks etc., you can see that the cool chill of UKplc over familial relations has not yet descended. Give them a couple of generations of degeneration and they will be just like the rest of us. Collateral damage. Why?

To answer that conundrum one must simply consider the fact that UKplc is a godless, heathen dump given over to Mammon and criminality at its core. Before getting too offended at that suggestion I would ask you to examine the Bulger case, a brief synopsis of which graced the GGT last evening. Ask yourself this. Would empty creatures like these exist in a society with a healthy philosophy of money and wealth?

So fully stuffed with fried chicken, purchased earlier in the evening at Barnet KFC a not insignificant fact as we will see later, I threaded my way through Tott & Whet to PB T. There to brim the tank so that an accurate measure of just what kind of mileage the machine returned on a break for the border.

Then on into the night. I had fully expected some sort of snarl up somewhere in the journey. Though the idea of travelling through the night is to minimise wastage of precious life minutes in traffic jams the contingency still existed. What did occur was simple bemusement and to my eye confirmation of a sinister, subtle agenda to get us used to pass laws.

Well it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t come to that conclusion, would it?

Throughout my non stop progress to the first pit stop near J38/M6 I encountered two features which, during my solitary cruising everyone else was sparko and La Gaga remixed by The Petshop Boys had helped the miles whizz past, gave me much to muse on.

At semi regular intervals before and after the closure of the M1 at J19 the whole of the motorway traffic would be funnelled into one lane by carefully arranged sets of amber flashing lights atop cones. First one way, then the next. Outside lane, inside lane. And no person to be seen doing much of anything. Also prevalent in the lower M6 and M1 were signs stating that it was “lights out” from midnight until 5am everyday. So the ghosts of expensively procured and installed lighting stands zipped past and reached like ranks of lank extinguished spectres across the carriageways.

It all struck me as a continuing programme to condition UKplc population to a permanent travel staccatto of, as yet unmanned, check points. No matter where one goes in UKplc, for the past 15 years at least, the making of a journey by any mode is subject to punctuation by stoppage. For the only way that all the investment in surveillance and management in UKplc actually works is when the nation is subject to extreme travel restrictions a la WW11.

That got me to pondering a little journey I’d made very recently past Litvenenko’s old gaff. No one wants to live nearby. Not surprising. Who wants to get toxified? Everyone is scared of the Polonium Pill Pharmacy. Do you remember the travel restrictions? Do you remember the scare about “liquids”? Well here’s a little thought for you to conjure with. What if someone was really shitting themselves that there was a liquid bomb coming into/transitting London. A device that could have taken out a city block, though only the size of a suitcase.

No, not a dial up nuke. You don’t dial up a nuke. They are ceremonial weapons, religious instruments and too variable. As I said a while ago, when the smart lads first set off their big sticks they got more bang for their buck than the maths suggested. Way more!! The local celestial mechanics vary the yield. So you got to choose your target AND the planetary alignments if you want to set off a particular scale of kabblangg!!

Aside No3 . There is a big shock coming for those who think that Tarot, Alchemy, Astrology and Necromancy are all bollox.

No; if you want to discretely take out a city block with a guaranteed kabooomm you would use a liquid device based on ballotechnics I reckon. I’ve mentioned them before. Examples, well again I’ve got my favourites. Bali is a prime candidate and judging by the shear forces exerted to the building, OKC. Though if you’ve read my stufff on WTC then that is not on the list, that was high ceremony and got its own very special nuke. SPOOKED is on that trail.

Now if you stick that thought in your pipe and smoke it suddenly all the Keystone coppery and down right fuckwittery surrounding a Russian Mafia Jew’s bitchboy in a London sushi bar makes sense.

I’ve only got to M1/J19, so imagine what other bollox I got to muse on, on just the journey up there. Loneliness and the long distance driver. A febrile imagination and a full tank of gas. Oh and caffiene.

Enjoy.

What is wrong with this picture? A road trip part 1.

I’ve been away for a short trip and since I’ve come back I’ve been letting my reference frames tend to my natural perspective. Infinitely large and infinitely small.

What did that? The driving? Who knows. Let’s start at the beginning.

The jallopy was parked for it’s “final” MOT. It now costs a multiple of the wheels’ worth to MOT, road tax and physically park the fekker up in this part of pirate zentral. Couple this with the price of, sorry tax on, petrol heading towards 5 quid a gallon, combined with other frustrations I’ll relate later, and the beast is heading for that overly combustable, pirate M1 scrappy. Which is a pity since just as the automobile was turned into a durable and reliable means of personal transport, they, I’ll brook no argument about that, there is definitely a they, decided to remove it from our means.

Since this little tirade is mainly going to be about sunny Scotland a little background will be in order.

As a school boy I used to be wakened every morning, esp. in winter, by my neighbour trying to get his car started in his front drive. I would listen to the pathetic, just off the assembly line, assembly of rusty parts trying to fire up. He’d turn and turn the starter until finally it fired into life, although as often as not the battery would get flat first, then wheeze off down the road,usually to die and restart the whole performance. A collection of sub specced, down to a price, cheap and nasty parts moving in close approximation, usually intermittently. As I lay there I mused that cars, especially Hillman Imps, were a piece of crap and not worth the candle. Now this is important because even at that very young age I realised that I did not want to possess anything made by human hand. I wanted to…well the words were not invented then and still remain elusive. But whatever it was it didn’t come out of some slave runner’s shitty factory.

So when I found out in the 1980s that the US lads who knew about how to make 100% reliable proximity fuses for AAA got the lads out east, who built and let off the fifth A-bomb, interested in building wheels properly in the 50s around Tokyo and Osaka I was thankful and more than glad to finally become the owner of a pit down which you threw money in the late 90s. Bearing in mind the Yen crisis of the early/mid 90s when the Zaibatsu geezers finally started getting the big spreadsheet together and stopped over engineering things, I have been the happy owner of carefully chosen Mr Nissan’s, Mr Honda’s and Mr Mitsubishi’s running gear. Never a failure to get from A to B. Never.

That’s what I want from factories. I want the SOB to do what it says on the box. All marketing, and I mean that most sincerely folks, is there to hide the fact that shit is getting peddled. Which explains why the fools, at the polls here soon, in UKplc will be getting marched into labour camps marketed as revenge, pronto. Boy did they pick a pig in a poke last May. Muppets.

This monotonous barph will unfortunately be full of asides.

Aside No 1. Nothing, absolutley nothing that is peddled from UKplc is fit for purpose. Why is that? All residents of UKplc who have at least one functioning brain cell should surely be asking “Why did I hand over so much money for nothing?” Why does every Windows based PC behave like my old neighbour’s car? Why does everything I do get spied on?

Well one reason is that UKplc has been in a war economy for 100 years. The Milspec accountants, spies, propagandists and social engineers have not been stood down.

So now you know my attitude to stuff, whether it be cars, PCs, iCheeses, dildos and orgasmatrons or financial products. They are all shit and a waste of money. The UKplc consumer society is a war society. 1984 started in 1899. The only thing that separates us from NK is that UKplc is a base of operations for the religioKriminalrats 24/7 party time. Temporarily. That last word should strike the fear of God into you.

Since I came back I’ve idley trundled through my favourite sites and this caught my eye at SPOOKED’s shop. MiB do not realise that when the conditions are judged just so, TPTB will hand them over. It is part of the ceremony. Even Cressida Dick, the CP graduate, cannot escape since she is by her own actions and volition knee deep in the ceremony. Another one that I liked was this at GV’s shop.

That is a beauty and encapsulates everything that the so called equal opportunities and diversity con has to offer the rest of humanity from what ever angle you look at it. TPTB have simply Alinskyised the process that we naturally have no argument with. There is no argument against equality. Except when it is used as a vehicle to recruit more pirates onto the pirate poop deck and ward room for sweet meets and fortified wine. Equality means destruction of the pirate ship and the elimination of all pirates. As I said a while back, to paraphrase one of my mate Tim the tube driver’s favourite INCOMING!!!!!!!isms.

“Equality is not finding yourself bent over a lime filled pit whilst an off colour, transgendered, mute quadraplegic in a wheelchair gets his/her/its guide dog for the deaf to lead pill you. Equality is not inflicting death equally amongst the people of the world through fully diversity compliant death squads and fully quota’d killer lawyers. We don’t want equal opportuntiy fascists, compliant Commie bitchboys and de-glass ceilinged boybitches wandering round organising the iGREEN Einsatzgruppen und SonderKommando. We don’t want a full smorgasbord CIA, NKVD, CFR or OGPU. What we want is for the whole lot of you workshy foundation filth to fuck off and kill yourselves in as fully a diversity compliant way as you want. Knock yourselves out.. Without getting the rest of us involved. What ever your very important mission on this world is we do not want a part of it. Stick it up your arses side ways.”

You can tell I did some driving and cogitating recently.

407 miles door to door the AA routefinder site said. Simples. M1, M6, M74,A71. Travel time approx 7 hours. Well of course your’s truly had a slight variation in mind. Potters Bar Tescos to fill with fuel, never, never hit a UKplc motorway without a full tank of gas, then out through the M10, M1,M6,M74,A71. Sweet. I’d leave around 10pm and drive through the night. ETA 06:00 hours. One pit stop roughly halfway to fill the car with fuel and have a leak. Marvelous. Ominous, though unknown at the time.

Before I belted myself into something I had never ever wanted. Never desired. As I placed the last of our luggage in the boot, the dark night air was filled, stilled I remembered one of the three things I’d promised myself I’d do before I die.

Follow the sakura north, by foot where possible.

One day.

Patterns

Image Source

Lovely

Lovely

Lovely.

Where now?

Now the banks have gone a war will come over the colour of your leaves.

Consider.

And again.

One of the finest quotes the potters bar putter ever pestered me with was “The Rolling Stones were a bunch of ill disciplined degenerates” So, much, for and from the true messengers from Liverpool who could be tasked to transcend on demand.

One thing that I believe to be true is English is NLP, hence the Keystone coppery around our bard.

You live and die in RCE/LC or life will kill you in the fetid swamps.

How dark do you want it

?

Ne’er to dye.

How

Often

Do

You

Need?

No need.

Softley beat them to death.

Cry de Corps

Things to say and no wards to hang the thoughts and feelings on. No words to protect, nurture, and give shelter. It is Spring and only now have I put my Winter books away again. Why this singular delay? Was it really your passing that has slowed my inevitability, my vital ability with these words? Has a constriction stoppered me? Has my constitution changed? I remember our last conversation together. Walking through the eternal. You had been there. I wondered. Now you are gone. Have wandered past the light. My memory and retrograde glance lingers on those cold days that I thankfully never experienced. Take your time, take your place, take the just forever. I remember you…

Trooper.

When you come home trooper, what will you feel? What will your face, face? What is it that has been prepared for you?

What do you see trooper?

“What is an economy?” She asked of us. Her father looked at me. I returned his implied question with silence. My daughter squinted at her friend the inquizator, then to me. Having launched the unexpected from a homework assignment, my friend’s daughter awaited the paternal reply not knowing what magic she had unleashed. I thought. Carpe Diem. She, only 12 years old. He steeped in Communist theory, me full of it. Unpressured, unasked, unbidden, the unintended truth unmasked. There it stood, a perfect moment. How to tend it, to nurse this pregnant moment into birth. Carpe Diem. Looking from her father towards the two unexpectant faces I asked of them “Do you know what a philosophy of money is?” I replace you….

Priest.

Show me your face, priest. Do not protest. Priest. What midden delights have been prepared for you? By you.

Where is your home priest?

Something is destroying commerce. That is; the very phantom foundations of our piratical system are being consumed by mortal erosion, moral arson. Deliberately. Not accidentally, nor through cyclic decline or sytemic fatigue. It, the crazy money, phoney economics and homicidal engine of growth is being removed from history. Everyone now knows that there is no such thing as banking, merely religioKriminal ritualists. There is no such thing as law, merely ceremony carried out unthinking. There is no freedom merely loosely sanctioned worship at prescibed times and places. Everyone knows that what is preached as capitalism is mere theft. Everyone knows that what is touted as democracy is merely gangsterism. Everyone knows that there is nothing but crime disguised as society. None of this is accidental. I know you…..

Lawyer.

Show me your hands so called law giver. Life taker. Ritual sneak thief. What sanguinous statutes are you serving now? Think not of yourself superior...fool.

Where is your soul lawyer?

If ever there was a case to be made for the redundnacy of modern science it would surely be exemplified in the practice of medicine. Never has a single activity on the surface of planet earth enrobed itself in unearned laurels, never has a semihemidemidivinity robbed others more deserving of credit and strutted its empty promises to so many and at such great and ruinous expense. An infinite tax in treasure and blasted lives. Two examples will suffice to make this point. Cosmetic surgery as spread throughout the wealthy and abortion as practiced by the ignorant. If one glances at anything wandering around Hollywood then I think there is no further need to discuss, though I will add that the presence of these skin stretch clinics being registered in the USofA corp. GDP figures gives one a glimpse of how meaningless this metric is for anything relating to real life. Bearing in mind the above GDP quip applied to abortion clinics, I will point out that if it was not for the funny money machine global population would likely be 500 millions and abortion would be unwanted. If you don’t get that final point I will refer you to what is the origin of all economic/ritual/religious/criminal behaviour being manifest in the West. The so called NWO is merely the attempted closure of all endeavour outwith this original crime scene. We are supposed to be all coopted. No one left behind. Isn’t that so…..

relgioKriminal cabal?

Secret and sleekit. Hiding in the darkness like a malformed wee beasty. Studying the tides and currents, the slow precessions and harmonics. Watching and wanting, waiting and baiting.

Within the black envelope of that evil contrivance we will experience their false intensity of being alive.

I think you need to remember, stuffed checkers, that you’ve focussed too much energy on the celestial mechanics and not enough on the day to day invoicing. We can feel your fear. You are shit scared aren’t you? We know what you are scared of and we know that it is scared of us. That’s your job isn’t it, to keep us ignorant of that very basic fact.

You are not gods religioKriminalrats.

We all know that.

So that was just another day on Earth before the FreiKorps.

MOP

"....The Air Force just gave Boeing a $28 million cost-plus contract modification to deliver eight Massive Ordnance Penetrator (MOP) bombs, “16 separation nuts, eight MOP loading adapters, and an aft closure redesign.”

Remember I have speculated in the past that this thing is a binary PSYOPS weapon. One of the reasons "Apple" Coulter wants us to learn to love radiation and embrace the bomb.

The most evil man in the world reaches out again…

…from the dead.


BWAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAAAA.

)BWAHAHHHAHHHAHHHAHHAHAHHHHAHH(

Mau Mau

No; not a Black and Tan, nor a Nazi noxious van. They died out long ago so no fat fees there.

There is a Mau Mau trial in London.

I wonder who that is aimed at bringing to heelaheal?

ChiComm Canadian Maurice Strong if you want to find out more.

Are you named?

Red Lorry, Terror Lorry, Red Terror, White Terror, iGREEN

Are you?

Where is the bread?

There is no bread.

What do you do?

Yankee reporters, working for the Yankee dollar, falling for the pretty lady.

I know you checked the footwear first though. Didn’t you?

From Tunis in the Med to Rostov on Don a slaver’s harem curtain has descended across Phoenicia and beyond. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Byzantium. Damascus, Athens, Antioch, Kosovo, Budapest, Beirut, Bucharest, Alexandria and Carthage, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the pure relgioKriminal sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Rothschild’s evil influence but to a very high and, in some cases, increasing measure of religioKriminal piratical control from RCE/TA and RCE/BS.

Athens alone -- Greece with its immortal glories -- is not free to decide its future at an election under British, American and French observation occupied as she is by RCE/BS carpetbaggers. The Rothschild-dominated Anatolian Government has been encouraged to make enormous and wrongful inroads upon Libya, and mass expulsions of millions of Maghrebians and Tripolitanians on a scale grievous and undreamed-of are now taking place. The religioKriminal parties, which were very small in all these Eastern States of Phoenicia, have been raised to pre-eminence and power far beyond their numbers and are seeking everywhere to obtain totalitarian control.

ReligioKriminal governments are prevailing in nearly every case, and so far, except in Serbia, there is no true democracy. (H/T Winston)

An imaginary curtain has decended across the Mediterranean, its limits already defined. I called it the Ziggurat line. Way behind the line the RCE/TA pirate base will be protected from any further inconvenience caused by the last vestiges of freedom here in the west.

You have been warned.

NOAHide courtesy of RCE/BS.