from The Vigilant One:
from Humans Are Free:
Jacob Rothschild has voiced concern about the global financial system that was established after WWII. The billionaire banker points to the US-China trade war and eurozone crisis as the key problems putting economic order at risk.
“In 9/11 and in the 2008 financial crisis, the powers of the world worked together with a common approach. Co-operation today is proving much more difficult. This puts at risk the post-war economic and security order,” Rothschild warned in his investment trust’s half-year results commentary.
by William B Stoecker, All News Pipeline:
There is a powerful army with tens of millions of soldiers, spread across the Earth and present in virtually every nation, an army dedicated to the enslavement, impoverishment, moral degradation, and eventually the extermination of every human being on Earth…including its own soldiers. It is hidden in plain sight, like most of the secrets of the elites, yet is so secret that most of its own members don’t know that they are soldiers, or even that their army exists. The army has three divisions.
The first division is Islam, a religion supposedly revealed to a merchant named Muhammad living in Mecca in Saudi Arabia in the seventh century. He claimed that the religion was revealed to him by an angel that he encountered while praying (to what?) in a cave. What kind of angel appears underground rather than in the open air? Muhammad’s new religion cobbled together Arabic paganism along with elements of Judaism and Christianity in an apparent effort to make it “sell,” and he built a small army of fanatical followers. When the local Jews refused to convert to his faith, he slaughtered thousands of them and sold the rest into slavery. And ever since Islam has been spread by war and conquest and terrorism.
No other modern religion is responsible for continuous acts of senseless cruelty and mass murder…only Islam. Islam is the only religion that is continually at war with all the others, and, early on, Islam split into the Shia and Sunni factions, who now hate each other as much as they hate Christians, Jews, and everyone else. The new religion spread by conquest across all of the Middle East and North Africa and parts of sub-Saharan Africa. It spread into India and Southeast Asia and Indonesia, and the Ottoman Turks conquered the Byzantine Empire, the last remnant of the original Roman Empire; Constantinople fell on 5/29/1453. Muslims from North Africa conquered Spain, but when they crossed the Pyrenees into what is now France they were crushed in the Battle of Tours on 10/10/732. Later the Turks expanded into Eastern Europe, but were stopped by the Poles, Germans, and Austrians in the Battle of Vienna on 9/12/1683.
Today, senseless acts of terrorism are a daily occurrence; in fact, when the Muslims have no Christians or Jews to butcher, or when the Shias have no available Sunni victims (or vice versa), Shias murder Shias and Sunnis slaughter Sunnis. A Muslim’s gotta do what a Muslim’s gotta do. Muslims enslave their women and practice female genital mutilation and “honor” killings, murdering, for example, their own wives or daughters if they are raped by another man…and radical feminists in the West just love it. In between terrorist bombings, Muslim immigrants commit much of the street crime in Western nations, especially rape and child rape, sometimes aided and abetted by, for example, the British police, who look the other way and refuse even to investigate the crimes.
Leftists continually repeat their mantra claiming that most Muslims are just the most wonderful people on Earth and only a tiny minority are terrorists. It is true that not all Muslims are brave enough or suicidal enough to blow themselves up killing “infidels,” but most of the other Muslims either support terrorism or at least condone it. Where is the outrage from Muslim communities when their co-religionists commit these atrocities? It is no exaggeration to say that the hordes of Muslim invaders that our Western elites have imported into Europe, Canada, and the US are literally destroying Western Civilization. Perhaps that has been the plan all along.
The second division of the Army of Darkness is composed of criminals…individual street thugs, gangs, and drug cartels. Note that they overlap with the first division because Muslims commit so much crime. Criminals of every kind destabilize society, damage the economy, and provide a convenient excuse for federalization of law enforcement, criminalization of almost every act, and the disarmament of the commoners. Never mind that armed citizens are very effective at stopping crime before it happens; ignore the inconvenient fact that almost all mass shootings occur in “gun free” zones. The real agenda is to disarm anyone who might resist tyranny.
And it is the army’s third division that is behind this…the political left. The left aids and abets the other two divisions…it is leftist politicians here in the US and in the EU who have imported Muslims and given them special rights, privileges, and protection, expensive benefits paid for by taxpayers, and even kicked their own citizens out of rental homes and apartments in order to house the invaders. It is leftists who allow Muslim immigrants to spew hatred in their mosques but fine or even jail their own citizens for pointing out the obvious truth. And it is the left that invents rights for street criminals, insisting that they not be executed, giving them probation and parole even when they present a clear danger to honest citizens.
It is leftists who hold candlelight vigils, their tears glistening softly, on those all too rare occasions when a murderer is actually executed. It is leftist politicians who have opened our southern border to Mexican drug cartels and Latin American street gangs. It was Hussein Obama and the smirking Eric Holder who arranged the sale of weapons to the drug cartels…of course, neither of them has been brought to justice…justice in America died a long time ago. Interestingly, the leftist judges who release felons to commit more crimes have no problem imprisoning law abiding Americans for being politically incorrect. The Bundy family was finally released, but what about Border Patrol agents Ramos and Compean, railroaded by Bush II? They were finally released, but never pardoned, and their careers and lives were ruined.
The leftists call themselves “liberals” and “progressives,” but, in reality, they are fascists. Understand that communism, beneath all the rhetoric, all the pretty slogans about “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need,” has always been fascism, and was never intended to be anything else. Nazism and the Italian fascism of Mussolini are not “right wing” ideologies…they are leftist. “Nazi” is the acronym for “National Socialist,” and Mussolini had been a militant socialist since childhood. But what is the origin of this poisonous ideology?
Read More @ AllNewsPipeline.com
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In reality, America is ruled by an oligarchy, America’s 60 families, a de facto government according to Ferdinand Lundberg. This “shadow government” has controlled the top levels of the US government for most of our nation’s history. They have steered us into wars, by way of deception time and time again. And they ultimately seek to impose a one world government on humanity as author James Perloff explains.
from The Vulture:
Since its publication in September of 1986, It has enjoyed a long shelf life, first as a book that spent 14 weeks at the top of the New York Times best-seller list and then worming into nightmares as a TV mini-series in 1990 starring Tim Curry as the titular demonic clown/embodiment of children’s deepest fears. The monster, which a group of kids simply name “It,” manifests as something different for each person based on their specific fears — burning houses, lepers, a dead sibling — and, perhaps because of this, the story has maintained a compelling hold on our collective psyches for more than 30 years. This week, It hits theaters for the first time as a feature film, with a script that was originally set to be directed by Cary Fukunaga, before New Line decided to pivot to Andy Muschietti. (Fukunaga retains a writing credit on a reworked script).
But one controversial scene from King’s novel has dogged the book and subsequent adaptations. After defeating It, the kids get lost in the sewer tunnels on the way out; this is attributed in part to the fact that they’re losing their “connection” to one another. The solution is to bind them together, which Beverly — the only girl in the story’s main group of protagonists, called “the Losers” — says can only happen if each of the boys has sex with her. Where they’re timid and unsure, she’s confident and maternal. (King writes the first boy Eddie comes to her “the way he would have come to his mother.”) The sex is a “consensual” gang bang, with each of the boys losing his virginity, and thus entering manhood, through Beverly.
The ’80s was a bonkers time, but the orgy scene in particular has aged poorly; critics and readers looking back at it have called it everything from “disturbing” to “sick” to “insane.” A Reddit reader from last year simply asked, “WTF?” and generated over 500 comments. For almost ten exhaustive pages, King describes each of the boys having sex with Beverly and their orgasms as a version of “flying.” (You also get the sense that King is a bit of a size queen.) Beverly’s desires are positioned as a way for her to overcome her own fears around sex, but mostly the narrative centers on how the boys literally enter adulthood through Beverly’s vagina. Kingreleased a statement a few years ago through his fan site Stephenking.com, where he wrote, “I wasn’t really thinking of the sexual aspect of it… Intuitively, the Losers knew they had to be together again. The sexual act connected childhood and adulthood.” Perhaps most horrifying to modern sensibilities is that there is no talk of birth control, condoms, or a realization that a circle jerk would have sufficed.
When the new adaptation was announced, many wondered whether it would feature the scene, or some version of it (though the 1990 version eschewed it entirely). As fans often like to say: It’s canon. So does the new version feature a bunch of kids engaging in an orgy? The tl;dr version: No. But while it evades the obvious graphic horror and legal problems of minors simulating group sex, the new film retains a lot of the original scene’s problems — namely, its regressive gender politics and sexualization of its adolescent-girl lead.
The 2017 film flattens and reduces Beverly as a character in retrograde ways. It plays up the love triangle between Beverly (Sophia Lillis), Bill (the protagonist played by Jaeden Lieberher, who loses his little brother Georgie at the start of the film), and the chubby kid, Ben (Jeremy Ray Taylor), who pines for Bev and writes her a precocious love haiku. The climax of the film — when the Losers reconnect to defeat It after they initially disband — is prompted by It capturing Beverly and taking her to its lair. From there, it’s a classic tale of a damsel in distress: When Bev’s friends come upon her, she’s suspended in midair, like a pendant lamp. The boys eventually get her down, but she’s zoned out, her eyes clouded over. And just as in Sleeping Beauty, Ben kisses her and she awakens. She exists first and foremost as an object of their desire.
It’s an odd decision, in part because this is a more classically sexist narrative than what Fukunaga and Chase Palmer wrote in their original screenplay (which was leaked online after Fukunaga and the studio parted due to “creative differences”). In fact, some of the major differences between the old and new scripts involve Beverly in this way; the new script sexualizes her several times, like when she flirts with a middle-aged cashier at a pharmacy to help the boys steal some supplies. (In the Fukunaga script, the hypochondriac kid Eddie, played by Jack Dylan Grazer, fakes a medical emergency). In Fukunaga and Palmer’s version, Beverly flirts with zero old dudes and needs no saving. She goes with the boys to Pennywise’s lair, launches herself into a waterfall and goes headlong into the fight.
The Fukunaga script does have elements of physical horror that hew more closely to the book. But the focus is different: Beverly’s It manifests as blood — buckets of blood that spew from the sink — and Fukunaga makes it clear that the blood is a metaphor for her own fears around growing up and becoming a “woman,” something she fears would make her more of a sexual object to men, including her father. The new version, on the other hand, removes the physical horror, but leaves in the male gaze: Her father leers at her, calling her his “little girl” and attempting to harm her physically, but there is no blatant indication of sexual abuse. And while the bathroom blood remains, it’s not visually connected to her period or to her fear of her dad, making it seem displaced and random.
by James Perloff, HenryMakow.com:
The dropping of atomic bombs on Japan in 1945 was completely unnecessary; Japan had, in fact, already offered to surrender on virtually the same terms the U.S. approved at war’s end.
Why did Truman’s controllers order Japan’s nuclear bombing? As I have grown increasingly aware of the ruthless Talmudic psychopathology of the Powers that Be, I cynically confided to friends, “I think they enjoyed it.” But after discovering David Dionisi’s Atomic Bomb Secrets, we can be much more specific. This well-written, 217-page gem, documented with 496 end-notes, blows the lid off the sordid episode.
After Christianity first reached Japan in the 16th century, it faced growing pains, including times of severe persecution, but gradually became established, centered in Nagasaki, which became nicknamed the “Japanese Vatican.” In 1945, some 50,000 Nagasaki residents were Christians.
After the Enola Gay dropped the “Little Boy” bomb on Hiroshima on August 6, the plane named Bock’s Car (also written bockscar) carried the “Fat Man” bomb to Nagasaki on August 9. Most of the 12-man crew believed their objective was Kokura, and a secondary target was only to be selected if weather interfered. Dionisi does much to debunk the “poor visibility” claim long used to justify the plane’s rerouting to Nagasaki.
The “Fat Man” bomb from Bock’s Car detonated directly over Urakami Cathedral, left, the largest cathedral in the entire Orient. At Nagasaki (250,000 residents), 73,844 were killed, 74,909 injured, and more than 120,000 suffered radiation effects.
Truman and other U.S. officials later claimed there was a military target: the Mitsubishi shipyard. But Bock’s Car flew three miles past the shipyard before dropping its payload. The cathedral was obliterated; the shipyard left virtually unscathed. Its famous hammerhead crane, built in 1909, still stands today.
We shouldn’t overlook that Nagasaki expelled the Freemasons in 1926; by the 1930s Japan banned them entirely. Did this add “payback” to the Nagasaki bomb?
Dionisi insightfully notes: when Satanists conduct a human sacrifice, they believe they draw power from the victim’s death. At Nagasaki, over 70,000 lives, many of them Christians, were incinerated on a satanic altar.
(The Nagasaki bombing’s ritualism cogently reminds us that events like 9/11 are not necessarily purely geopolitical false flags, but often have spiritual dimensions as well. Is Nagasaki perhaps a clue as to why geo-engineered disasters keep striking America’s Bible Belt, but not the “Establishment” Northeast? Dionisi has written a book on 9/11, The Occult Religion of the 9/11 Attackers, which I haven’t read but have ordered.)
When people contemplate Japan’s nuclear bombing, most think: “Hiroshima.” Dionisi considers this a psychological ploy by the PTB (whom he calls “the Brotherhood of Death”). The first bombing would stand out in the public’s mind, while the principal target (Christian Nagasaki) would get largely overlooked.
In another macabre deception, a Catholic priest and Protestant minister were persuaded to bless Bock’s Car before it departed on its mission. Later, both men greatly regretted it.
A ground-breaking detail I learned from Dionisi is the A-bomb’s role in Korea’s division into North and South. I’ve discussed the artificial justification for this division elsewhere, but Dionisi elaborates that Japanese scientists were developing their own atomic bomb. After initial research in Japan, the project was transferred to the Konan region of northern Korea (then a Japanese protectorate). This area was selected for multiple reasons: availability of uranium, the power the Chosin dams could generate, and (perhaps most importantly) keeping away from American bombers.
Giving the Soviet Union postwar control of North Korea (allegedly its reward for a mere five-days’ participation in the Pacific War) now makes far more sense. Not only was the cabal handing Stalin the plans and materials for the atomic bomb (as documented in 1952 by Lend Lease expediter George Racey Jordan in his book From Major Jordan’s Diaries), they were giving him Japan’s installations for making one.
Another compelling fact I learned from Dionisi: the horrifically bloody battle of Okinawa (over 150,000 casualties) was completely unnecessary to win the war; it was fought to convince Americans that A-bombs were needed. Dionisi’s book is packed with other information I’d never heard before about, e.g., Stalin, and Freemasonry.
I was sent a handwritten letter from someone who said she was a Christian, and had contact with Elon Musk and his mother Maye Musk many years ago. The author of the letter claimed that Elon was a “child of the Illuminati” being bred to be a world leader who can present the Mark of the Beast. While such ideas are not completely ridiculous or out of line, especially on this channel, it was worth digging into some of what was claimed in the letter. To my surprise, I was able to verify that Elon Musk’s grandfather, Joshua Haldeman, was in fact part of the Canadian Technocracy movement in the 1930’s to the point of being brought to trial after Technocracy was banned. While many others did not get arrested, Elon’s grandfather “wasn’t so lucky.” But he was let go with all charges dropped, which in hindsight, breeds all kinds of suspicion…
from Neon Revolt:
I’ve been playing around with the idea of doing mini-profiles on individuals associated with #TheCabal, or any of its activities. I kind of dipped my toe into the water yesterday, when I wrote that piece of Johnny Depp, and in the past when I’ve talked about the likes of John Legend, and Cecile Richards.
But it helps to look at the faces of those associated with The Cabal, so we know who the enemy is.
by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., via tnellen.com:
THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.
Some things about living still weren’t quite right, though. April for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron’s fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.
It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn’t think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn’t think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.
George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel’s cheeks, but she’d forgotten for the moment what they were about.
On the television screen were ballerinas.
A buzzer sounded in George’s head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.
“That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did,” said Hazel.
“Huh” said George.
“That dance-it was nice,” said Hazel.
“Yup,” said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren’t really very good-no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn’t be handicapped. But he didn’t get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.
George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.
Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.
“Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer,” said George.
“I’d think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds,” said Hazel a little envious. “All the things they think up.”
“Um,” said George.
“Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?” said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. “If I was Diana Moon Glampers,” said Hazel, “I’d have chimes on Sunday-just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion.”
“I could think, if it was just chimes,” said George.
“Well-maybe make ’em real loud,” said Hazel. “I think I’d make a good Handicapper General.”
“Good as anybody else,” said George.
“Who knows better than I do what normal is?” said Hazel.
“Right,” said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.
“Boy!” said Hazel, “that was a doozy, wasn’t it?”
It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.
“All of a sudden you look so tired,” said Hazel. “Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa, so’s you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch.” She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked around George’s neck. “Go on and rest the bag for a little while,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re not equal to me for a while.”
George weighed the bag with his hands. “I don’t mind it,” he said. “I don’t notice it any more. It’s just a part of me.”
“You been so tired lately-kind of wore out,” said Hazel. “If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few.”
“Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out,” said George. “I don’t call that a bargain.”
“If you could just take a few out when you came home from work,” said Hazel. “I mean-you don’t compete with anybody around here. You just sit around.”
“If I tried to get away with it,” said George, “then other people’d get away with it-and pretty soon we’d be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“I’d hate it,” said Hazel.
“There you are,” said George. The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?”
If Hazel hadn’t been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn’t have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.
“Reckon it’d fall all apart,” said Hazel.
“What would?” said George blankly.
“Society,” said Hazel uncertainly. “Wasn’t that what you just said?
“Who knows?” said George.
The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn’t clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, “Ladies and Gentlemen.”
He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.
“That’s all right-” Hazel said of the announcer, “he tried. That’s the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred pound men.
And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. “Excuse me-” she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.
“Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen,” she said in a grackle squawk, “has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous.”
A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen-upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.
The rest of Harrison’s appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever born heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.
Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.
And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle-tooth random.
“If you see this boy,” said the ballerina, “do not – I repeat, do not – try to reason with him.”
There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.
Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.
George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have – for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. “My God-” said George, “that must be Harrison!”
The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.
When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.
Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood – in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.
“I am the Emperor!” cried Harrison. “Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!” He stamped his foot and the studio shook.
“Even as I stand here” he bellowed, “crippled, hobbled, sickened – I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!”
Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.
Harrison’s scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor.
Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.
He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.
“I shall now select my Empress!” he said, looking down on the cowering people. “Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!”
A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.
Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all he removed her mask.
She was blindingly beautiful.
“Now-” said Harrison, taking her hand, “shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!” he commanded.
The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. “Play your best,” he told them, “and I’ll make you barons and dukes and earls.”
The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.
The music began again and was much improved.
Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while-listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.
They shifted their weights to their toes.
Harrison placed his big hands on the girls tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.
And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!
Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.
They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.
They leaped like deer on the moon.
The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it.
It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling. They kissed it.
And then, neutraling gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.
It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.
Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.
It was then that the Bergerons’ television tube burned out.
Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.
George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. “You been crying” he said to Hazel.
“Yup,” she said.
“What about?” he said.
“I forget,” she said. “Something real sad on television.”
“What was it?” he said.
“It’s all kind of mixed up in my mind,” said Hazel.
“Forget sad things,” said George.
“I always do,” said Hazel.
“That’s my girl,” said George. He winced. There was the sound of a rivetting gun in his head.
“Gee – I could tell that one was a doozy,” said Hazel.
“You can say that again,” said George.
“Gee-” said Hazel, “I could tell that one was a doozy.”
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr
by SGT, SGT Report:
This is not satire, we’re dead serious. Canada is now criminalizing the use of wrong gender pronouns.
Canada’s Senate recently passed Bill C-16, which puts “gender identity” and “gender expression” into both the country’s Human Rights Code, as well as the hate crime category of its Criminal Code.
“I have a problem with the policing of our language, when you are going to force the police upon me to have to SUSPEND REALITY to recognize you as whatever you want to be recognized as, there’s a slippery slope here with C-16,” says Dan Dicks from Press For Truth.
by Dave Hodges, The Common Sense Show:
This is the beginning of several revelations of who is really in charge of what is happening on the planet, what I know about (free) energy, and the future of the planet as some entities would have it. This story cannot be told in one article or one interview. However, ex-NSA Vance Davis and myself have made a decision to tell what we know on certain topics that are not spoken of in open circles. Because there is some risk involved, much of this has already been disseminated to several knowledgeable people for safekeeping and self-preservation.
Vance and I had already recorded the first of a tell-all interview regarding our dealings with Enron, Ken Lay, free energy technology not of terrestrial origin,Tesla links to this story, and the near-future of mankind. I want to be clear on this point. In 1993, Vance Davis was among the first, if not the very first who revealed what was coming over two decades later with regard to transhumanism. The latter aspect of these revelations will be covered in a later presentation.