Tuesday, December 14, 2010


            I encountered a child under five years old at a public place. In good-natured pursuit of conversation, I greeted her and she ignored me. There was no reason for this aversion to my person based on the setting and situation. Yet the girl avoided all interaction with me. She suffered no impairment as proven by her coherent engagement with others in the room.  It was only me whom she ignored -- for some reason.
            At this point I was intrigued and pursued the rapport more aggressively. Upon several attempts to engage the child she finally looked at me. I could feel something big and dark rolling down the tracks as we locked focus.
            The reason this kid was ignoring me is clear. Her in-dweller sensed mine. They clashed. One outranks the other, but because evil spirits are given to pride and arrogance, they will not depart their lodgings without a fight. To the jinn, "might is right." Her first tack, thereby, was to ignore me. Maybe I would go away.
            In this case, the child was in the firm grip of a malevolent boarder that had her overshadowed. Once he felt that hiding in the child was no longer tenable—he flaunted himself to me. 
            Suddenly the girl began to speak in sardonic quips. She was terse, incisive and eloquent, speaking from the diaphragm with the charisma of a dictator. As we engaged, she exhibited the wit and wiles of an arch-fiend not just centuries old, but hailing from outside of time. She lied skillfully and glibly in response to all my questions. Her evil entity was acrid, shrewd and cunning. He sensed my inner world and hated me for it with the same gusto that he enjoyed being inside the child. He looked at me through the girl's eyes smugly, staring down my lack of fear.
            I have encountered such cases rarely in the past. They are examples of great, ranking jinn who inhabit the bodies of children. You will know them by what secular humanists call “precocity.” The seculars often seek to mitigate phenomena for which they lack scientific explanations. Precocity in this case would be an understatement.
            A lesser example that most of you have witnessed is the child in a public place who suddenly throws himself backwards onto the floor. You will hear his skull crack from the impact but he will survive to wreak all manner of havoc for the duration of his parent’s public embarrassment. He will shriek and scream unearthly screams. He will kick, thrash and destroy things in his midst with superhuman strength. The seculars call this phenomenon “a tantrum.” Some of you will call it more than that.
            Note how self-injury is the signature of these episodes.  A child will thrash like a tarpon on the hook.  He will smash his head into walls, furniture and uncarpeted floors.  Ever wonder why?  How different is this behaviour from what we see in an angry man who smashes his fist into a brick wall?  Is that not self-injury?  It serves no other utility.  It is a signature.  An identification stamp of "the driver."  Because clearly in both cases, the life-force for whom those bodies were born are in the back seat -- along for the ride.
            There are children who do sadistic things to animals.  Sometimes they grow into serial murderers. When children under the age of five do diabolical things, be certain that these acts hail from the same land as do all such acts in all such people.  They serve no utility other than to commit abomination.  Once again -- a signature stamp.  Whether child or adult, the stamp remains the same.  Shining a spotlight on the term "senseless killing."
            One should kill for a purpose.  Self-defence tops the list.  A warrior should not be mercenary.  Neither should an executioner.  Predation is part of the food-chain.  Any other predation is an abomination.  A hunter kills for food, not for sport.  You get me?
            I feel compelled here, to mention the kindly virtuous Jews again.  As they so adore the Church of St. Peter the Rock and Mosque of Islam.  It dawns on me that the reason they dote on Germany with tantamount tenderness is for the same reason they cherish the Bride of Christ.
            Let us make the connection.  The Holy Roman Catholic Church has a long history for expelling evil spirits.  They call it exorcism.  In our Bible it gives us  license to cast out demons in the Lord's Name.  The Catholic Church has taken this license very seriously over the centuries.  And good on them.  Somebody needs to.
            What do Germany, the Catholic Church, Christian monarchs and 49 countries have in common?  They have all expelled the Jews.  Talmudic Judaics have been sent packing by countries far and wide since 740 A.D.  The Pontiffs  of the ages have given them short shrift and no quarter.   As have the crowned Christian heads of Europe.
            Germany was just the most recent country to expel them.  Hence the taste of der F├╝hrer's Vaterland is the freshest in their mouths. They have been drop-kicked many times before and for exactly the same reasons -- that Jesus cast out demons.  They have been the doers of evil deeds.
            What evil deeds you ask?  The list is so long that it would take me several volumes to write.  But you can start with Arnold S. Leese's little book on Jewish Ritual Murder.  It's a rocker.  Leese paid for his investigations with jail time, of course.  But his research survives him -- bar none.  Fifty-seven pages of brass tacks.  Based on bibliography and Europe's statuary, what Leese wrote might as well be in stone.  He did his homework and can ride in my cavalry any time.  He delineated the impetus for Russian pogroms.  Wikipedia sure won't tell you.  The Jews bewail their "persecution" over the centuries but they never tell you the "why" of it.  And why is that?  Curious?  Start here (My Irrelevant Defence:  Meditations Inside Gaol and Out on Jewish Ritual Murder,  London:  I.F.L. Printing and Publishing, 1938) and work your way up to 9/11.  Throw in Gaza for good measure.  And the "why" shall come into focus.
            To see these "evil spirits" at work all one has to do is study the French and Bolshevik revolutions.  Here they fomented and harnessed "possession en masse."  It is when a blood-thirsty mob acts as though they are directed by one mind.  They move in unison like a school of fish or swarm of locusts.  No one individual is the leader, yet they all cooperate as though they are tapped into the same command center.  The Jews turned this mob loose in the streets to do their dirty work for them in France and Russia.
            Those who incited these bloody revolutions knew that the illiterate boor was ideal kindling for their work of political arson.  They started the fire with agitation and promises to the "proletariat."  They of course lied.  And the simpleton for whom the hammer and sickle was made an oriflamme -- got duped.
            Today we stand at the precipice of getting had like Russia's proletariat.  As Americans grow dumber and dumber, geese appear smarter.  They navigate beautifully without gadgets from satellites.  Wake the flock up.   
            GPS and TV will turn your brains to mashed potatoes.  Learn to read a road map.  Turn off the TV.   Know where you are going.  Get the lay of the land.  If you act like a muffin, you shall be eaten as one.  Invest in a reading lamp.

Monday, November 22, 2010


26 November 2008 is when it started -- my awareness of Pakistan.  I was on the last leg of my last semestre.  Seeing the home-stretch and a possible graduation day.  My head was down, plowing the last jagged mile.

Then the “news” hit about the Taj Mumbai and how Indians were gunned down in the streets.  India and the Jewish news media were quick to point at Pakistan and yell, “terrorist.”

It seemed formulaic to me  by then, their point and yell routine.  I saw the same one played out on 11 September 2001.  Suddenly every Muslim I saw took on a new status.  One minute I was having a pleasant chat with an Egyptian Arab and the next, she wore a stigma.  We sat next to each other as the news of 9/11 was announced.  Immediately I saw her as a potential terrorist and religious fanatic.  The power of Jewish television yet again -- spreading its manure and doing its dirt.  This time they were out to assassinate the character of an entire Faith.

As I was inundated with scenes from India in November 2008, I began to question the news.  The killers could have been any South Asian men.  It occurred to me that when you cross the border from India into Pakistan, there is no change in how people look.  That is because Pakistanis are of the same breed as Indians, the Indo-Aryan race.

The Muslim Faith of Pakistan is the reason there is a Pakistan.  In 1947 there was a massacre of Muslims by Hindus.  After the bloodbath, it was deemed that a separate region should be allotted to Indian Muslims.  Since then there has been nothing but bad blood between India and Pakistan.  According to Zaid Hamid, "Pakistan and India were separated on the basis of religion. Pakistan is an ideological Islamic State just as Israel is an ideological Jewish, though illegal State, and India is an ideological Hindu Zionist State. Both India and Israel are natural allies against a State which is not just Islamic but also nuclear armed."

Given this history, consider the following:  India is a 3rd world country known for its corruption.  They test-drove socialism after the partition of Pakistan much to their disappointment.  Now they are tucked in bed with Israel like much of the money-loving world, doing the high-step to meet Zionist agenda. 

Part of this agenda, apparently, was to frame Pakistan for acts of terrorism in 2008.  As my investigative mind ran its course on the Mumbai killings, I began to publish related questions in my university blog.  Part of our grade in Online Journalism was making blog entries about current events.   

My initial questions were about forensic evidence.  Every dead body has a story to tell, despite the old adage of how "dead men tell no tales."  This is borne out by how hard it is to get five minutes of a coroner's time.  From journalists like me they bolt for the hills.  I noticed how quickly the killers were killed-off after their killing spree.  It was as if they didn't want those guys talking to anybody.  As if what the killers knew was nothing unknown to those who did the clean-up job.  Why else kill them off so fast?  There are murderers sitting in "protective custody" to this day awaiting some kind of legal procedure.  You would think that in a case of international terrorism, the "authorities" would have questions for the killers.  

Give me a corpse and I can tell you volumes.  Levantine Semites are of a distinct breed.  Their eyes, lips, facial bones, lashes and nasal cartilage cannot masquerade as something else.  Any more than an Eastern European Ashkenazi Khazar can masquerade as a Semitic anything.  So too, in a pure-bred race such as South Asia's, an anatomist can discern the facial signature of an Indo-Aryan.  None of this information was reported about the Mumbai killers.  Why not?

In the case of our dead Mumbai shooters, medical examiners gleaned enough to seal the case.  But we never heard a peep from the media.  Why not?

Not long after the Mumbai media circus, I came across a series of English-language videos featuring Pakistan’s Zaid Hamid.  In them he presented his thorough investigative report on the acts of terrorism that India attributed to Pakistan.  I watched all the videos and read his report.  Everything he said and wrote supported my earlier thoughts on the matter.  What Hamid substantiated answered many of my questions.  A photograph exposed one of the killers as a Hindu male by a thread bracelet he wore that is intrinsic to Hindu tradition.  Call that "photographic evidence" if you will.   Zaid Hamid’s report can be found here: http://www.brasstacks.ca/?p=922
The most stunning detail of Hamid’s delivery was how it came at a confident gallop.  If a man is not telling the truth, there is no such flow to his discourse.  He will pause to think, fabricate, hesitate, and sometimes even stammer.  

Truth is always in long-term memory and falsehood is not.  Truth is never something one has to remember because it resides in random access memory.  This is why they cross-examine witnesses in court rooms.  Sooner or later, a liar will forget his previous lie.  Hence the slips about the 9/11 story from government officials. 

I believe that Hamid is correct in his deductions.  That India employed, like my government did in 9/11, an act of “home-made terrorism.”  I believe that India sacrificed its own people to perpetrate an act of false-flag warfare to frame Pakistan as a terrorist State.  

This of course is supported by the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) who have vested interests in disarming Pakistan as a nuclear power.  This is because Pakistan makes Israel nervous and NATO genuflects to Israel.

I believe what happened in Mumbai on 26 November 2008 was an attempt to create pretext.  If India had any evidence to prove their cry of Pakistani terrorism, it would have been put on the table by now.

For example, the student who allegedly killed his university fellows at Virginia Tech and the grainy video-tape of Daniel Pearl’s beheading was submitted to the public mind as truth.  However, until we see forensic evidence proving who did what to whom and when, what do we really have?  The word of the media?  How good is that?  These are the same people who wrote that a German guy killed the Lindbergh baby and Osama bin Laden master-minded 9/11.

I was a college student during the Virginia Tech Massacre and noticed right after the killings how my university installed video cameras everywhere.  All the classroom doors had automatic locking devices put on them as well.  Were those more staged killings to serve as pretext for other agendas?  How can you disprove it?  Any forensics on that Cho kid?  If you are waiting for them to show up in the news, I wager that you will have a long wait.

What the Mumbai Massacre of 2008 shares with the Nazi Holocaust is how both accusers are screaming bloody murder, yet have no evidence.  If they had any evidence to prove their story, it would be flapping in the breeze from every flagpole by now.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010


There are certain things we don’t know.  Like what kind of drug earned Mr. Hershman his present address at the county jail.  It had to be more than a marijuana cigarette.  Wouldn’t you think?

Hershman’s 27-year-old estranged wife, Stephanie, had his two sons back-to-back.  One was three and the other not quite two.  Makes for a busy household I’d say.  Whilst one was in diapers, the next was on the way.

Two toddlers can make houses into hampers.  There needs to be a strong draw, lest a suitor scampers.  Whatever it was that lured U.S. Army Sergeant First Class Matthew V. Perkins into the arms of Stephanie Hershman had to be that.  A strong draw.

He was the Army Recruiter of the town.  A high-visibility military post that enjoys prestige and hero-worship.  He wore the status of returning warrior with tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan.  His arms are covered in “Billy-Bad-Ass” tattoos.  His job is to lure gullible high school boys into  signing on the dotted line for Israel.  He needs to cut a nice figure.  Be in good physical condition.  Be credible.  Be sharp.  The U.S. military conducts routine urinalysis exams to ensure     that this is how it is and how it stays.

Thereby I find it unlikely and untenable that here comes a man fresh from the battle-field to an important career-enhancing post who just nilly-willy takes up a drug habit.  All of a sudden.  Why would he brave two battle fronts and then shoot himself in the foot with C H CH CH(CH 3 )NH(CH 3 )?  Methamphetamine turns bodies into wreckage in no slow show.

Perkins had a lot on the stick.  And a lot to lose.  Why not just knock back a little booze?  His office was located  between George Dickel and Jack Daniels distilleries.  Damn boy.  Why crystal meth?  Just go over to Daddy Billy’s and have a few beers.

Maybe he wasn’t into drinkin’.  So I got to thinkin’.  About horses.  When I’m in a quandary, I think about horses.  Sometimes an equine analogy that helps me makes sense of things.

Horses and I -- see eye to eye.  I love them and they love me.  I don’t need to take up a whip to make a pony do the high-step.  He does it just to impress me.  And I give him the candied apple of my smile.  That’s how it is with me and horses.  And has been for a while.  

Okay, so you throw in an apple or two with his oats and molasses.  Now he wears you weightless with a skirt of tasses.  And the grooming.  The one-plus hour sessions in the barn where I break a sweat while they lull and bathe in the fragrance of last summer’s hay.  That is the way.  You get out of a horse what you put into him.  Like attracts like.  You give love.  You get love.

Conversely, however, if you abuse a horse and kick him around.  One day he will kick you back.  Horses are formidable kickers.  Keep that in mind.  Not everybody treats a horse like I do.  Not even close.  It breaks my heart but that is reality.

As a realist I’ll take you now to the shows, the races.  Where men go to win.  For the athlete horses who run their races and dazzle in their shows -- anything goes.  These ruthless, rabid people will resort to any dirty trick in the book to win.

The foremost edge is an injection of amphetamine.  It hops them up.  Gives them the charge beyond charge that propels them down the track.  As if a good horse isn’t rocket enough.  It’s about winning, winning, winning.  By a nose.  By a hair.  Just winning.  Keep that in mind.

Now let’s go to the battle field.  You’re losing your ass.  Getting it handed to you in spades.  The assigned enemy believes in his fight.  You are making war on his land and he knows it better than you.  Like those Confederates and the Swamp Fox.  They will not only fight you to the death, but they have a home-turf advantage.

Your supply lines are iffy.  Big Money wants to win in a jiffy.  He doesn’t mean tomorrow.  He wanted to win yesterday.  He doesn’t care about that race horse or know him personally.  If he loses one more race he’s off to the slaughter-house.  He doesn’t care if the horse is only two years old.  Off with his head.  He’ll put it in your bed, General.

Your Big Money Boss wants to gloat in glory.  He doesn’t care about those soldier boys.  Or whether they come back with a dog-tag or a toe-tag.  He just wants to win.

The Tactical Mind:  If I was losing a war under great pressure and fear of my over-lords, I might resort to a dirty trick.  You can give a soldier methamphetamine and he will stay awake for days while the enemy has to sleep.  Wired and full of crazy aggression, your forces can sneak up on sleeping Pashtuns and cut their throats.  

Crystal meth has the same effect as ergot mushrooms did for Vikings.  Before a raid, Vikings ate them for boosted vim and aggression.  They went berserk. It is how they got their name “berserkers.”  They were noisy frontal attackers, clanging battle-axes, these braided Beowulf’s.

Silence, however, would serve today’s losing officer in Afghanistan’s fight.  Just ask Boeing Aerospace.  They make monstrous muted jets you can’t hear even with your rag-top down and them just a little over your head.  Way-low.  Nocturnal stealth is everything to a hunting owl.  And silence has its place when people are sleeping.  Particularly those you plan on killing.  There is a fine line between predation and war.

Given that the men in charge of today’s “War on Terror” are advancing world terrorism for Israel, anything goes.  9/11 sure did.  It’s a false-flag warfare extravaganza.

So, that said, I see a possibility for Stephanie Hershman’s draw-factor.  She may have had a taste for drugs, seeing as her estranged spouse is in the slammer for them.  Since birds of a feather seek each other out, she may have attracted our returning battle-ax with something other than two toddlers.  What it was may or may never come out in the Jewish-owned and controlled media.

That meth was a factor in this horrendous multiple murder case is on the street.  I was just thinking about the “why and how” of it.  Police say that the murders occurred on 19 September 2010.  That’s a Sunday.

A plausible scenario is this one.  Perkins is in the Hershman house.  One or both of the toddlers might have been fussy, whiney or crying.  The psy-op of a baby crying was used to torment the besieged, soon-to-be victims of the Waco inferno.  Keep in mind that toddlers and babies can sometimes test the nerves of their loving parents.  On 19 September, you not only have a non-parent in the house with these children, but possibly a hopped-up soldier.

Feels like we are supposed to think that he snapped and went into kill-mode.  Would it include carving out the victim's eyes?  Unlikely.  When this news broke, I felt corralled to think that Perkins went berserk.  But now five years have passed and there have been other heinous murders in the same area.  They all happened after Perkins had been removed from society.

Some of the murders became cold case files.  Rape/murder cases, garroted widow...  Two other murder cases sent unlikely convictions to prison.  According to the relative of one victim, the cops arrested a Mexican alien who could not speak English.  They accused him of raping and drugging to death the victim with fentanyl patches.  Unlikely.  The other unlikely conviction was a family man with five children who had no apparent motive.  He was under heavy guard until they locked him away in prison.  They allowed him no contact with objective, independent journalists during his time in county jails.  His mail was intercepted at the prison with no reply to the sender.  

Given that rape/murder and pedophiliac snuff films are big business these days, with today’s easy video gadgets, imagine the possibilities.  One horse towns and rural hinterlands are no longer wholesome places to raise your kids.  Corruption and depravity rule the streets today.  


(note: the following link will lead you to a blank slot where Manchester Times has retracted what they previously published about this brutal murder. Why is that? Most of Tennessee print media is owned by Jack Fishman who uses Mark Cox as a cover name for his Middle Tennessee enterprises. Why is that?)

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

To a Ghost-writer

I’m getting a transmission...
Here it comes.
Dude.  Dost thou fancy thyself a lyricist?  Do not so.
Lyricism is God-given.
Your bogus book riles the ire of Powers and Thrones whom you seek to distance from their Faithful.  Are you prepared for the reaping of what you have sown?  Are you aware of who knows what you own?
As typical of your kind, you hide behind fronts, fakes, facades and sobriquets.  Pen-names, pseudonyms and other people who front your holdings.  Even your legal names you change frequently enough.  You hide behind women who get called CEO’s that would never quiz you on your Dante and couldn’t quiz you on much else.  It has the same effect of installing certain “leaders” in parliaments and white houses.  Doesn’t it... 
The ones who could think for themselves, got picked off like deer or had bombs thrown under their coaches.  Oh how you hate a Catholic.  They have the prettiest churches don’t they...  Nothing your ilk could ever design or build.  You lollipop guild. 
How do you like my ellipses?  Indeed, if not for ellipses, that load you wrote would lighten up considerably.  But one must use ellipses when taking that much text... out of context. 
The telling wall for what you wrote is how you did it with immunity.  Impunity.  Anybody else would be dragged into court for libel.  This is how we know that you are cranking decoys and damage-control for trillionaires.  Ones to whom most governments are abject whores.  Governments who are aware of your text and turn a blind eye to it.  Just part of the campaign.  The silent war against Jesus Christ.  You idiots dare.
Here is a goodly fare.  This nameless hack fancies himself a word-smith.  But your kind cannot make art.  Remember?  Access denied.  You don’t have permission to make art.  Glaringly it is how we know you.  The stamp upon you.
As for Joe McMoneagle, that’s just to let you people know that you are not the man in charge.  Nor looming large.  Watch you sixes.  All three of them.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

On Socrates

One might consider the propensity of Socrates in how it echoes the teachings of Jesus Christ. It reads from historical record that God was a dirty word in how Socrates used it much the same way as it rubs against the grain of secular thought today.

The difference is that in the days of Socrates, piety to the Greek Pantheon of gods was part of good citizenship. Going against the accepted religious practices and thoughts was labeled as a kind of heresy, among other things, for which Socrates was condemned. His clean break from the religious consensus of the Greek majority gave his enemies ammunition to use against him in a court of law.

In giving glory to God, Socrates sealed his death warrant. In rebuking the pious sophistry of the Jews and answering that He and God were one and the same, Jesus of Nazareth sealed his death warrant similarly.

Upon surrendering the ego, one is defeated in his ego-centric uphill charge. Defeat by today’s definition is surrender. Though this charge is unrealistic and spiritually self-defeating, secular man pushes on in his stubborn, self-seeking “intelligence” – an intelligence that Socrates and Jesus both dismissed.

To secular man defeat has a flavor. One is defeated by an army in battle, by another lawyer in court, by a sharper wit in sophistry, by a sharper blade in a sword-fight and ultimately by inevitable death – so ego-centric society would have one believe. This current of thought has not changed since the days of Socrates.

The same voice of bogus puffery that attempted to argue with Socrates and Jesus is alive and well today. This voice rails against the same pervading providence that has spouted from the pens of poets, holy men, prophets, saints, mystics, monks, apostles and disciples since the dawn of literacy. There is a stark black and white to this phenomenon that correlates neatly to good and evil.

Socrates and Jesus were by their actions and life-styles inherently good men. They lived humble lives of poverty, doing nothing for their own personal gains. They were brilliant teachers of a universal wisdom that outshone anything in their world that passed for knowledge. Socrates attributed his envied brilliance to an omnipotent higher power. Jesus claimed kinship with this higher power (John 10:30). Both men were made to suffer the outrage and hatred of prestigious groups who held Socrates and Jesus as a threat to their social standing. Both men were put to death as punishment for teaching what they called the truth.

Death is seen as the ultimate defeat and surrender. How many times has one read the headline that another person “has lost his battle with cancer?” It sends the illogical message that organic life should fight against the natural inevitable. Such reasoning is not tenable. Yet the ego-driven human mind would put forth such an absurdity as desirable due to his fear of the unknown. Hence, in drinking the hemlock, Socrates was not giving up the fight inasmuch as he saw death as a fitting end to a life long-lived on principle.

For Jesus, death was a logical exit from the physical plane to which He descended to teach the Law of God. After the Lord’s departure, His followers published what they had witnessed and learned. Hence the four self-titled books of the New Testament, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

Upon making a comparative study of the Christian Gospels and the arguments of Socrates, one sees a striking similitude. So much so, that a scholar is compelled to deduce that both texts stem from the same vein of wisdom. Such reasoning is consistent and in accordance with all guidance attributed to God Almighty throughout all time. It has a Signature. The same Signature, apparently, from which Socrates drew his brilliant method of cross-examination.

Unlike the Sophist who seeks to beguile, trick and dazzle his opponent with abstruse words, Socrates broadcast his clear, succinct talks in marketplace oratory. The Agora was likely in the center of town, a common place where the public milled about. Anyone was free to stop and listen to Socrates carrying on his vigorous, lucid debates with all comers. Note how Jesus Christ broadcast his pearls of Wisdom to the multitudes in the same way. Sermon on the Mount. Sermon on a fishing boat, cast off from the shore.

Socrates saw his death sentence as a way to stand firmly on his premise – much the same way that Jesus of Nazareth did by dying on a Roman cross. By their deaths as innocent men, both Jesus and Socrates gave humanity pause. They had nothing to lose and nothing to fear as both drew their brilliance from the Sovereign of the Universe. By their departures into the feared unknown, Socrates and Jesus became martyred leaders to their many advocates and devotees. These people would write texts on which a philosophy and religion are now plinthed respectively.

In the case of Socrates, he brazenly announced that his intelligence hailed from beyond the paltry realm of organic man. The human brain being a fallible organ, Socrates never claimed wisdom by his own right. He never took ownership of his genius but rather assigned it to God (The Almighty Allah). In so doing he riled the ego-centric ire of Athens.

Most men wanting to be known as wise attacked Socrates intellectually much to their surprise. Upon opening debate with Socrates in the Agora, many of these proud arguers learned that they knew less than they thought and thought more of themselves than they ought. Publicly humbled by their own ignorance, these men banded together against Socrates much in the way as the Jews did against Christ. They fabricated bogus charges against him and rallied the bloated egos of others of their kind to support them in a common cause.

This common cause was to make an example of Socrates. He could have escaped with his life by being run out of Athens into a sentenced exile. This would not have had the impact of his opting for the death sentence.

By logical deduction, Socrates knew that he was already an old man and could not expect to live that much longer anyway. Being a virtuous man, Socrates traveled light. His conscience weighed little. His keel was an even one unto death. His comfort carried him there and surpassed gracefully the harried, frantic, chess-like thoughts of man.

Let it speak for Socrates that despite the feverish slander of his enemies and their Sophists, the words of this great man prevail yet today. The schools of law employ his methods for smelting out the truth. That this is done in pursuit of justice should be a clarion-blast throughout all the land and time. Let it lend credence to the efficacy of virtue, especially since the court of law is supposed to be a place where justice is served.

Like the days of Socrates, there are still Sophists-for-hire who will argue the law, mixing truth with lies for a fee. Justice and truth require a Socrates to make them stand against this barrage of wily iniquity. It would be a plausible supposition to infer that Socrates had a mission on earth as he stated in his own defense – to be a gadfly unto erring man. His motive for sharing his knowledge was, unlike the Sophists, not to make money. Let that speak for him also.

Based on Plato’s Apology, Socrates attracted a group of inquisitive youths who sought his wisdom. Plato was among them. In this way a scholar can compare Plato and his contemporaries to the followers of Christ who would later write testimonies of what they heard and witnessed. This is piquant because for every assailant of virtue there stands an advocate to defend it. For every Pharisee there is a Peter the Rock. For every hubris-bloated Sophist there is a Plato.

Socrates was disgusted with the politics of his times as it was diseased with corruption. A mission thereby remains for him today. He is too soon gone away. Let those who thirst for justice and truth call him back. It would not only amuse him but his advocates to see more cross-examinations of pretenders to wisdom.

In the trial of Socrates one learns that men are predictable. It was foreseen by Socrates that once he publicly revealed someone’s pretense of knowledge that there would follow anger and hatred against him. He knew the risks of what he did but continued owing to a great propensity beyond himself. He attributed what he did to a superhuman, external intelligence – the same intelligence that Jesus claimed as God the Father.

To the free-thinker in pursuit of truth it might seem that Socrates was a gift to mankind from a higher place. The workings of his mind share the rank of saints and prophets. There is a kind of oracular brilliance to the words of Socrates that stands the test of time and place. What he taught cannot be bought. Such knowledge is not inherent to ego-centric man. It is priceless and universal.

In leaving this discussion of a great man, one is given pause by the grace with which Socrates accepted his death sentence. He had an internal voice that he called his “divine faculty.” It warned him of all the things that he should not do before he did them. Since this voice did not warn him to flee the death sentence then he calmly accepted dying as the next proper thing to do. Since this inner voice had helmed the steerage of his course throughout life correctly, he trusted it to do so unto death.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Sudden Salmonella

In light of a new "food safety" bill designed to kill-off wholesome food production, I think it is a good time to publish a story that I submitted to one of my publishers in April 2009.  It was about a similar bill to S.510 which is now at hand.

"In my American life as a peanut butter-eater, I have never heard of salmonella associated with peanuts. As recently as last month, according to employees at a local grocery store, there have been salmonella-peanut concerns.

It is my inference that this salmonella scare is a manipulation of industry to plant the seeds of fear in consumers the same way that 9/11 did about international terrorism. In the case of food poisoning, consumers are made paranoid about where the next deadly batch will turn up. Like 9/11, it only has to happen once to establish pretext for whatever freedom-raping law that the globalists want to pass next.

Once people are good and scared, they will submit to anything. By chopping off a few heads in a public place, you can wield a reign of terror over a whole nation. As demonstrated by the French, Bolshevik and Cuban revolutions, all you have to do is put some blood in the street and most people will do what you want.

Similarly in lesser scenarios, one can intimidate the consumer masses by tainting select distributions of their food supply. All it takes is a pinch of bio-terror in a vat of peanut butter. Then you let public opinion carry the rest. Have a similar taint show up in a bit of spinach and now you have good medium for cultivating fear about eating anything in America -- fertile loam for sinking deep the roots of a Communist Manifesto Bill like HR-875.

Bolshevik crop-seizures come to mind. They wanted to shut down independent farming because food was priceless in a Russian winter. It gave the Kulak independence from communist regime. Kulaks were the last hold-outs against the Bolshevik reign of terror in Russia and the Ukraine. They were finally conquered because their crops were seized and granaries burned. This had the same tactical effect as cutting the supply lines of your enemy. Starvation is a guaranteed strategy for crippling resistance of any kind. Ask the people of Gaza.

The recent salmonella scares are ways to snow Americans into thinking that organic, independently-farmed food is unwholesome. Baloney. Buy the food -- don't buy the ruse. Presently, major grocery stores are importing produce from Third World countries where sanitation and purity are no guarantee. Yet they are raking our farmers over the coals to comply with arbitrary fine print written to exasperate, confuse, demoralize, wear-down and deject our produce growers.

These directives are written to threaten and intimidate our food-producers with high fines and imprisonment for failure to comply with sadistically-rigid and unreasonable rules. These new rules are tortuous with run-on sentences and sub-paragraphs.  The strategy of such text is inundation. There are rules upon rules and stipulations upon stipulations. The fine print goes on for miles.

I think of one whose team of percheron is silhouetted against fuchsia Southern Maryland dawn. He wears a black hat and suspenders. I would buy my seedlings and petunias from his family every spring. They birth and bury their own. Eschew electricity and MTV. No mind of theirs, nor house nor barn is a devil's workshop. Their berries are as sweet and pure as their daughters. I can't imagine not getting my seasonal produce from such people. What they raise from the earth is as clean and wholesome as their Christian families. They were meant to grow our food.

These new food-production rules were written to break the spirit of the American farmer -- someone whose honest work has long been the backbone and foundation of our country. "Professions," an English poet once wrote, "are lucrative to the inverse of their usefulness." The farmer earns a pittance for his labours while the movie-star and Freudian "therapist" make a fortune, for example.

The question to ask is why does it pay to spread the manure of Marxism while the producers of our vital yield are punished?"

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Shark Fin Soup

(** This story just ran in a national weekly.  But the editing was so heavy that I did not recognize my own writing.  They dumbed it down and ugly'ed it up.  And withheld my photography.  The editor inserted technical data that was incorrect and that I never wrote.  Because of their blatant attack on my pen-hand and creepy dis-info,  here is what I really wrote.  Larded with pictures of what I wrote about.)
Shark Fin Soup

On the roof of our 2010 vehicle was mounted a small plastic shark fin.  It was black and rose two and one half inches from its base.  I liked everything about the truck except this curious gadget that looked like a prop from the Jetsons cartoon.  It stuck out like a sore thumb and ruined the looks of our truck for certain.  But that was only the tip of the iceberg.
After a couple of days I pried the gadget off with an oyster knife.  It was easy to pop off with no damage to the roof -- save what was already done by the hole they drilled at the factory.  The device was attached to three thick wires of different color:  brown, black and blue.  
I pulled the wires from the hole and cut them with pruning clippers.  Easy as pie.  Now I had a hole in the roof.  Nothing a little duct tape didn’t fix until the epoxy.
Under good lighting I set about dismantling the sturdy gadget.  For something so small and apparently plastic, it sure weighed a lot.  So I was doubly curious to see what was inside this thing.  Upon turning it over, I saw how nondescript it was.  More breeze to my flame. 
The underside was heavy metal with a small white sticker.  It had a bar code, a long number and “Made In China” written on it.  The cryptic trade name, “RecepTec” was listed below the bar code number.  The base was riveted into the shark fin with one-way screws.  They were machined-in deep with the kind of heads that few would have in a tool box.  It struck me that whatever was inside had to be something they did not want us to know.  The breeze on my flame kicked up a notch.
I was holding an oyster knife, my father-in-law’s all purpose miracle tool.  My lip began to quiver like Peter O’Toole’s a few seconds before he yelled, “No prisoners!”  I was cracking this nut and if it took a sledge hammer.
Because the fin was encased in battle armor and secured like CIA’s inner sanctum, it had to contain at least the glint of King Tut’s Tomb.  So with my sturdy waterman tool I went to work.  Leaning into each screw I turned the knife slowly and sure enough, out they came, one-by-one.  And there came the glint of gold bearing the name of Laird Technologies.
Inside the shark fin was concealed what looks like a computer circuit board with two chips.  Apparently somebody invested big money and computer programming in this little gadget.  There was a silver satellite antenna jutting into the hollow fin compartment that works with the GPS (global positioning system) tracker in the vehicle.  
In the case of our truck, we got the low-end options package.  We just wanted horse power and a four-wheel drive.  So it did not come with a GPS-navigator which is why most people would want a satellite antenna.
Despite the low-end options package, I noticed how our truck was equipped with an OnStar Network interface and satellite radio.  The OnStar registration was rabidly pushed at the car dealer’s.  So much so that a man got into the truck with my husband, reached over his head and began the registration process without asking if it was even desired. 
Based on their website, Laird Technologies   is the world leader in automotive smart antennas.  They combine multiple radio frequency functions along with satellite tracking systems, telemetrics, available biometrics and audio interface by a discreetly-placed microphone somewhere in your car.  (http://www.lairdtech.com/) 
Once OnStar has your name and vehicle in their database, they can track your every move via satellite and cell phone tower.  With a tiny microphone in your car, they can also eavesdrop at the click of a computer mouse.  They can measure your body weight from the airbag device in the seats.  This and the timbre of your voice can be used as biometrics.
The convenient pretexts for all this privacy invasion are OnStar roadside assistance (they dial 911 for you , but you can dial it just as easily), BlueTooth (you can get a headset for your cell phone and talk hands-free without BlueTooth, however), GPS that may not even come with your car,  and Satellite radio.  
Telemetrics is a more scary thing.  It puts a computer in the driver’s seat and the driver at the mercy of a computer.  Your car doors can now be locked and unlocked remotely.  Via wireless interface, your car can speed up, slow down or be turned off.  This can be done in override mode per OnStar’s theft-protection plan. 
With Laird’s gadget on your roof, a car is wired for remote control.   

Addendum:  Neither http://www.acdelco.com/index.jsp nor the GM owner's manual address this gadget.  AC Delco lists it simply as an antenna.  No details about the part are given.   A  hush-hush device as an understatement.  I think the question "why" is answered squarely by my photography.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

The Oaks

According to the lore of Theosophy, the flagship of the New Age, they call it a ray. Each soul operates under the auspices of a ray that emanates down from the Logos -- they say. The Greek term Logos in this context, means a governing force from whence all existence originates.

The literal translation of Logos means word. You might recall John 1:1, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."

According to the books of New Age writers, there are seven rays that govern seven inherent dispositions. The one that concerns me here is the Blue Ray. The First Ray. That would be your coveted oak persona.

When you took that personality test in college (or at your corporate workplace during the "How to Be A Team-player" seminar), they categorized your disposition/worldview based on how you answered their questions. You were either a leader or a follower. Obsequious or dominant. Crisp or wishy-washy. Firm or malleable. Servile or regal. A herd beast or independent thinker.

This disposition is inborn/inherent/innate. They were ferreting out the George S. Pattons apparently, seeing as General Patton was used to describe the oak personality on the questionnaire that I filled out.

Oaks make the establishment nervous because they are charismatic. They can command an audience like John F. Kennedy or Adolf Hitler. They have the bearing, carriage and demeanor of a desert horse. Can hold an audience spellbound in the palm of their hand. Nobody looks away form a speaker who mesmerizes with eloquence and diaphragm. Oaks are natural leaders and dynamic public speakers.

At the end of the personality assessment, you probably learned that among you, there was one or less Patton types. And everybody's head snapped around to see who it was. Oaks are rare among men and unheard of among women.

All it takes is one to govern a province or command an army. Because two cooks in the kitchen is a recipe for disaster.

In my last entry on The Shockwave (http://shpearson.wordpress.com/2010/08/01/the-trees/) the concept of the "the oaks" is discussed from RUSH's song lyrics. Employing parable, I take my training from Jesus of Nazareth. He cast broad His pearls before a multitude so great -- that He had a boat pushed off from the shore so that His delivery could be farther spread and better heard. From the deck of a fishing boat the Lord issued the Word.

Despite the nullification of God's independent mind in the Buddhist sense, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_rays#Metaphysics_of_the_seven_rays), His Law seems to be all that makes life worth living down here and beyond the mortal coil. Without it, we are rudderless and purposeless. Cast adrift. Loveless. Homeless.

The seer, holy man, mystic, yogi, shaman, and swami have had a peek beyond organic physics. So has the sorcerer. What do they say?

"Like attracts like" is the universal law that governs the Ghost World which permeates all (Ephesians 6:12). You won't get an argument from mystics like Robert Bruce about it. Or any of the New Age gang. There is a corresponding look, smell and feel to all sentiment in the spirit. The witches know it. And so do the Saints.

When God forbids witchcraft He forbids manipulation of the spiritual places for one's own selfish gain or for working evil deeds. It is a simple concept, the Law of God. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." If you follow the Golden Rule we get a better world. Sweet and simple. Anyone can understand it. Anyone can follow this rule. But few people do.

That's where the oaks come in. Emanating from God comes an oak -- A king, leader or potentate. Some righteous Godly sovereign who is in deference to God. One who does nothing for his vainglory, but for the love of his people.

A good sovereign has nothing to prove among men. He is already king. His fealty is only to God. Which serves God's end. Not the oak's will, but God's be done. That is the design if things are working right.

If people could govern themselves there would be no need for oaks. But man's will is fallible.

The difference between Saints and witches is that a witch says, "my will be done." And the Saint says, "Thy will be done."

Charles Webster Leadbeater, Alice Bailey and their metaphysicians can park their astral bodies on the side of the road to Damascus. They can travel to that point in the road where Saul the Pharisee got zapped by the Light, was knocked to the ground, and Jesus said, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?" Charles and Alice can witness the moment where Saul became Paul. (Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 9). How 'bout them apples, Alice?

St. Paul, Moses, Mohammad, John the Baptist, Socrates and Isaiah were oaks. Generals Jackson, Lee and Patton were oaks. John F. Kennedy, George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were oaks. Martin Luther and Father Charles Coughlin were oaks. By their fruits you knew them. As currently Pakistan, besieged by intrigue, lies and weather, knows her beloved Syed Zaid Zaman Hamid by his fruit.

The words in Mein Kampf read like they were written by an oak. What "history" is on the books about the author was written by the maples, cranked from their publishing houses and is purveyed in all maple media. Keep this in mind when reading about Adolf Hitler.

The oaks always have the same enemies. For the sake of parable, we employ RUSH's song about the trees. The maples are the bad guys. Whose ugly heads have reared throughout history. They were the same bunch on the receiving end of Moses' chastisement after he came back and found them worshipping Moloch (their fabricated golden calf god) to whom they sacrificed their newborn babies by tossing them into the fire. They beat drums during this ritual to drown-out the screams of their infants. These are their fruits.

Today the maples join hands across all oceans. They have purchased corporations whose technologies run and control civilised infrastructure world-wide. They pay your salaries. Reward your fealty. Punish your resistance. Purchase your politicians. And write your laws.

The Law that maples seek to trample under foot is the Law of the Oaks -- The Law of God.

Full circle? I give you Saint Paul of Christendom. He wrote most of the Books in the New Testament (many from prison). And started out in the world as a worst-case maple. He was a Christian-persecuting Pharisee. After God confronted him on that road to Damascus, Saul turned from maple to oak on a dime. And rose from the road, a Saint of God. There Saul became Paul. He has my whole heart. As does any man who turns from his maple ways to embrace the Law of God.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


Someone asked, “If they can dive into the depths of thrashing North Atlantic and recover a flight data recorder, why have they failed to produce the ones from 9/11?”
Since the “neon-orange-red” flight data recorder is located in the tail section, built to withstand great impact and temperature, it should be recoverable.  In the case of the Pentagon, we need not look for one, but the Pennsylvania crash site should have one for us.  I believe Christopher Bollyn's journalism gleaned from the surrounding woods.  A man who lived there said that it was raining body parts.
Steel beams in the twin towers were rendered into lava by a chemical reaction.  You can see it oozing from the wounded building as people leapt to their deaths to escape the heat.  Thermite and thermate have been written as the compounds used to cut the steel girders by way of intense heat.  A blacksmith shapes white-hot metals similarly, but the heat used here was magnified many times beyond that.  
In the case of the World Trade Towers (1,2 and 7), thermate was used to melt the frames in a precise demolition.  Only Towers One and Two were hit by aircraft which had nothing to do with thermate.  
Since the clean-up crew was able to collect enough scrap metal to build a morale-boosting Navy ship (we are told), they may have been able to locate one or both of the flight data recorders.  This I say because thermate compounds were inside the girders, still chewing on steel on the way down.  Maybe the boxes survived, having been stout and heavy.  
Thermate was applied strategically for demolition purposes, the ignition of which was done in concert.  We all know what happened.  Only a knuckle-dragging, medicated churl would believe the 9/11 Commission Report.  That holds as much water as the schmutz they wrote about John Kennedy.
There is a field in Pennsylvania where they could not bury anything.  This flight data recorder has to exist.  Possibly there are people who saw what happened that were not foolhardy enough to report it.  Were “bombs bursting in air” with a "rocket’s red glare?”  
Did it give proof that our flag was involved?  What pale flag was that?  What colour is treason?  

What might we hear on that flight recorder?  What about the guys at the FAA?  The control towers?  Did somebody hear the pilots' desperate transmissions and do nothing?  Say nothing?  Report nothing?  And they hung Mary Surratt?  
What were those words?  Can you guess?  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.  All systems are on override.  I have no instrument control...”
There are words in a command language that can tell your computer “not to let you do something.”  As a programmer you can write code to disable all kinds of “functionality” for a user.  In the case of today’s commercial airliners, the user is a jet pilot.  He is flying a computer with wings and a tail.
Based on a recent experience, geeks can disable and override just about anything they want on a computer.  That is why the government’s computer security programs are frantic and front-burner.  
The time has come to pressure our government to cough up the flight data recorder for Pennsylvania 9/11.  You know they have it.  And you know that the only reason they have not released what’s on it to the public is because you will hear the truth.  There are few men staring death in the face who speak anything else.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Driveway Checkers

On the morning of 1 July 2010, I happened to be standing by my car, armed with a camera. Sure enough, right on time, here comes the daily driveway checker. A helicopter.

They have to check the driveway because my car is old enough not to have any tracking systems (GPS, OnStar, built-in-the-dash cell phone, etc.). If my car is in the driveway, there is a good chance that I am in the house. They know that I suffer an aversion to bugged vehicles (shark-finned, satellite-monitored, cell tower-triangulated, microphones in the rear-view mirror or BMW's "super-tech" on the steering column -- 007 big time, chalk up another one for German engineering, you get the idea..., etc.).

I think that Sprint Network has informed them how I seldom turn on my ancient cell phone. Today's cell phones are hand-held computers. They inform on you constantly. Like a pocket-spy. All of your text and voice messages are recorded by the network. The GPS provision tracks your every move. The days have arrived where sneaking around behind your wife's back is not something you want to arrange on your cell phone. For virtuous people, this is a boon. The rest of you playaaz can wing it. But if you ever run for public office, you'll be their ideal candidate.

The local police rookies that they have previously assigned to stake-out posts at the entrance/exit to my neighborhood, suffer from telephoto burns. I have close-ups of those guys that my photography professor would be proud of. So that arrangement didn't "fly" very long.

Based on the questions from their investigator, they are concerned about other people with whom I may consort. What concerns them are communications that are not digital, traceable, trackable, recordable or bug-able. Other cars in the driveway would therefore be of interest to them.

They never know where I will go, when or why. My travels and activities concern them. So they have me followed if I go somewhere. And nervously check my driveway every few hours if I don't.

The stage was set for this while my spouse was in Iraq. A federal investigator tried twice to enter my house for a chat. He left his calling card wedged in the door. I called back and opted to answer his questions over the phone. If I don't let Mormon missionaries into the house, why would I let him? Good rule of thumb. So he asked me what mode of communication my spouse and I employed and how often we used it per a given span of time. He asked if I belonged to any social clubs or a church. He wanted to know what my hobbies were.

I mentioned in past entries how if I felt annoyed enough I would start publishing my photographs of these jokers. Here's a Cessna registered to the Department of Justice. Click on the photo. Check the N-Number on: http://registry.faa.gov/aircraftinquiry/NNum_Inquiry.aspx You remember them? They honcho'ed the gassing and burning of all those babies at Waco. Great bunch of folks. Janet Reno lives down here somewhere now in retirement. I should look her up and ask for an interview. I would love to hear her justification for the "justice" served that day. Can't have a loose cannon preaching the Gospel now can we.

On this day, however, (1 July 2010) I noticed how the chopper pilot apparently saw my long lens and fled. Because he burst into speed, arcing counter-clockwise. I panned and the camera nailed him. You gotta love a Nikon. Mr. whirly-bird earned himself top spot. (see first photo above)

But he's in good company. Here you go. Have a look at some of his peerage. This is a chopper registered to the Department of Homeland Security (the American Cheka). They have a little hornet's nest near Homestead Air Force Base and fly up to check on me often. You can see the N-Number without even clicking on the photo. And the little DHS spy in the window?

The government, it appears, has even stricken deals with my neighbors to keep them informed of my travels, routines and activities. Most people have their price. Especially these days. You should see my photo collection of locals and neighbors who follow me around in their cars. Even a mail man. Too bad they didn't learn to drive on mountain roads. They are no match for my pursuit when I decide to chase them with my camera. I have photos of all their license plates. And many of their faces. In a word: busted. I'll publish those later if I get annoyed enough. Stand by...

Surveillance gnats on parade. Here is Monroe County's Jailer on the wing. They have a big prison out on Key West where they stash people. I looked at the rap sheets and was astounded to learn over what trivial charges some of them are rotting in jail. Minor infractions, some of them. Here they are in a windowless dungeon, surrounded by "lifestyles of the rich and famous." Yup. I even get driveway checkers from Key West Sheriff's Office. Note the N-Number near the tail. Click on photo for enlargement.

One day they even sent this thing over. What the heck is it? Only PAXNAVAIR knows for sure. And they ain't talkin'. It has a shark look about it. Referring back to what I said about marine predator design.

Note the snazzy paint on this little prop-job. One day I drove all the way to the Gulf Coast, got out in a hotel parking lot and looked up to a familiar noise. Dam if it wasn't the same plane or his identical twin. I didn't get the N-Number so I can't prove it. But the paint-scheme is flashy and easy to remember. Most of these boring little planes are just white.

I thought I'd do some fact-checking. So I called the chopper dispatch office to where Mr. Top Spot's registration number led me. Her name is Ann-Marie and their office is way up in West Palm Beach. The South Florida Water Management District has every reason to need aircraft. A given. But what was this guy doing flying around my house?

His timing was noteworthy. There was a sinister-looking little aerosol jet going at it hot and heavy over our house at the time. I have taken pictures of him before, spraying his long stream of discharge.

He had the tell-tale white coat. That is so they can hide in the sky. A similar effect is demonstrated on the ventral side of hawks and ospreys. Note the same colour scheme on sharks and other marine predators.

White works equally well at night to blend an owl into the sky, for example, from the perspective of prey on the ground. The same principle applies to a white jet, muted, flying the night spray shift. In previous posts, it is why I called them Boeing night owls.

You will note a tactical kinship between apex predators and war planes. Such aircraft are an expression of Abaddon's perversion. Birds of prey hunt to feed. Fighter planes do not have an ecological niche. They are from hell. Grumman F6F.

This aircraft was the size of a tactical NBCRE-delivery jet. Small. Fast. Swept-wing. They got nervous about him when I called Patuxent River Naval Air Station (Naval Air Systems Command). Not a word. They stay nervous over there these days. That's where the test pilots are who fly the latest war birds. The ones that matter.

* note: NBCRE has been removed from Google's search engine. Web sites that discuss the term have been changed to Oriental-looking fonts that serve as encryption. They don't want you to know what NBCRE means. So I will tell you. NBCRE is a military acronym for "nuclear, biological, chemical, radiological and explosive."

Since he is so small, this jet does not serve for what they spray around here. Last year they dehydrated the monsoon both here and in India. Big tankers. Big job. Maybe he is flying drills for future operations.

I say NBCRE because that's what I would use him for if I was planning the damage. He can easily catapult from carriers. Be somewhere fast and spray nerve gas, blood agents, poison flue dust or a wide variety of disease mists. He could also drop bombs that burst in the air and scatter depleted uranium powder/dust (what "ready.gov" calls a dirty bomb).

One of these little jets can rain hell from the sky. From his air-shows around here, I have seen demonstrations of his capabilities. He could hit and run before anybody knew what hit them.

Seeing as how they are trying to frame Pakistan for "acts of terrorism," a jet like this could dump his payload anywhere and have it pass for exactly that. Our lying media would scream Pakistan or some other Muslim country in Israel's cross-hairs. Just like they did with 9/11. Then of course the predictable reaction would be more American outrage and anger which only serves to fan the flames of "wars and rumours of wars."

Their express aim in the blame-game. Like their botched attempt to sink the USS LIBERTY in 1967 and blame it on Egypt. Same tack. Same m.o. False flag, America. Wake the flock up.

As for misty pathogens, the parade of CDC's petri dishes is a long one indeed. And you thought they were just about disease control and prevention? Based on my studies of their organisational charts, web sites and manuals -- they also have a dark side. They have apparently absorbed the biological warfare department. The CDC is where those dirty dogs are hiding out. Fort Detrick has earned a stigma, so they had to move their goodies elsewhere. They ought to rename the joint to "Center for Disease Cultivation."

Note: according to military training manuals for corpsmen and medics, 100% of biological warfare is ideally "delivered" via aerosols and kills in six days or less. As a side-note, they wrote, "Biological warfare agents have been delivered by covert injection." (Chapter 1, Section 1-2, Subparagraph e., Treatment of Biological Warfare Agent Casualties Field Manual, Army/Navy/Air Force/Marines, published 17 July 2000). This thing reads like a veritable "how-to." They go into great detail of exactly how this kind of dirt is done. http://www.med.navy.mil/directives/Pub/5042.pdf

In a nutshell, the government is nervous. And more nervous still are their wire-pullers. They are frantically trying to bribe their way into a position of control over an angering multitude. One that out-numbers them by the staggering millions. Put yourself in their place. What would you do?

There seems to be a need for disease. And this little jet is just the delivery tool. Let's call it a potential weapon of mass destruction. And your tax dollars at work -- for now. I just read in the news about plans to dip deeper into your retirement savings to fund their war machine. Much like what happened in the past when economies did what ours is doing now (1920's and 1930's).

I noticed how last year what appeared to be cloud dehydration over Pakistan. Since the Nasty Nexus works as a team, this would have served to help India in her campaign to dam-up rivers and withhold water from Pakistan. Part of our government's "disrupt and dismantle" campaign is to wreak all manner of havoc in Pakistan via every dirty trick in their bag (drone bombings, so-called terrorism, power cuts, economic sabotage, withholding water, convenient droughts... then massive flooding during the rainy season. Magnified of course by India opening the "flood" gates to all their dams in Kashmir--strategically built for that purpose). The war colleges have published mega-load white papers on the subject. I of course have read them. And know how they work it. From the "global" news, they appear to be working it now.

I knew they were nervous about this little jet, because they had a P3 Orion making the rounds at the same time. P3 got binked again. Smile for the camera. They sure have us on 24/7 web cam these days. The only place they don't have cameras rolling is during preacher killings, nursing home massacres and Muslim prison torture. How convenient.

The water management district's Anne-Marie firmly told me that all her pilots were accounted for that day and none of them had been in the area that I described. She explained that they all had GPS trackers on them and she could see them on her screen.

Surely the FAA would not post a bogus record. Would they?

When I asked Ann-Marie if some of her choppers were out on loan she firmly told me no. Oh for the unsolved mysteries. How deep and still is the water, Mr. Water Management District? Is it as deep as the records at the FAA? They were nervous enough about them to remove their N-Number Look-Up page for a while and then nervous enough to put it back on their web site. Can we call that waffling?

I know the flying schedule of the aerosol tankers and their surveillance teams. And ask questions like: Why would they need/want surveillance teams? Surveillance for what? Against whom? Why are they concerned about who sees them doing what they do?

This chopper was right on time for the usual daily surveillance fly-by's and buzz-jobs. That's only from my end. What Ann-Marie said supports my thoughts, however. Ones that are swayed by things that have happened in the past. Like the Department of Homeland Security's U.S. Coast Guard chopper spot-lighting our bedroom windows and checking the driveway at two in the morning. Positive I.D. on that one. I was wide awake under a tree in the back yard -- waiting for him. It's not like you couldn't hear him coming. Or see him coming, strobes illuminating danger-orange and white. Then there were the Cessna's circling our house for hours whose numbers registered to the Deptartment of Justice and Monroe County Sheriff's Office. Little things like that.

There is motive for bogus N-Numbers if you are flying DHS surveillance. Government snoop types seek to be covert. The idea is to watch people when they don't know they are being watched. No-name, no-speak, sunglasses and limo tint. A spy is secretive. He uses code words, encryption, feints, ruses and camouflage. Gives a left turn signal and then turns right.

Adding weight to my theory is that after I spoke to Ann-Marie and her media relations person, the driveway checkers went on stand-down. Haven't seen them since. What does it mean?

Note: Blogspot editing software has disabled my link-posting. So you will have to copy/paste addresses into your URL windows. URL is another acronym that means Uniform Resource Locator. More "inside-speak" from another industry who doesn't want you to know what they are talking about. Keep in mind that government and their industrial partners work very hard to make their language difficult for you to understand.

I gottum down. But they are workable. Everybody is.

Ever seen a man at the bitter end of his life? Under glaring fluorescent lights, hooked up to machines? He's in a disparaging gown tied at the back with strings. The medicals who administer to his "end of life" needs are detached, clinical, reptilian. They are a product of his design and steerage. Now he's tasting some of his own medicine. And getting the medical care that he so richly deserves.

You know this man? Among the richest in the world but nobody wants to know him now. They're afraid they might catch what he's got. This mortality for which he could purchase no cure. None of his fair-weather sycophants care to flatter him now. The food-taster has flown the coop. Digestion shut-down days ago. No more worrying about poisoned lobster bisque. No more energy to lord over a world of exploited mill horses. Now it's just you and the Great Wide Open. You ready?

There is nobody I hate. And nobody I'm giving up on. Inside every bad person there is a Scrooge on Christmas Eve. We all hit it sooner or later. Better sooner than later. And better late than never. http://shpearson.wordpress.com/