Errol Flynn

T h e   R e v i e w s

Supported by my investigations of available materials (text, celluloid film, video and audio interviews, web sites), I arrive at my review of this clunking canard. 

The autobiography supposedly written by Errol Flynn, *My Wicked, Wicked Ways,* is nauseating drivel that no man would write about himself. 

This text defames the memory of the dead in typical style.   I have read oceans of other such ghostwriters.  One thing a fiction writer cannot hide from is the signature stamp of his voice.  Every writer has a style that identifies him to his readers.   This book, as is the wont of other such fakes cranking from the same bullshit mill, reads like a patchwork of fiction writers.  Indeed too nice a word.  They are calumniators.  Literary sayanim.  Some of them read like newbies.  Writing is a craft.  It takes years of experience to hone your blade.  You corn balls.

In this bunko of a yarn, interestingly enough, the false accusation for which they jailed Dr. Fredrick Toben was for “defaming the memory of the dead.”  Bitch please.  Toben’s Galahad was barred from the courtroom.  Had he galloped in, he would have run them all through.  Truth is a lance, a burning sword.  And don’t you tares forget it.

Come I to write in defence of Errol Flynn. 

Flynn was killer good-looking.  Ouch.  Addressing Flynn’s false rape charge, his second wife said in an interview, “He doesn’t have to rape anybody.  Women instead are trying to rape him.”  Nora Eddington Flynn met and fell in love with her husband during his rape trial where she was employed by the court.  Go gettum tiger.

The tares of our wheat field hate Mr. Flynn for the same reason they hated John Fitzgerald Kennedy.  He was Celtic, well-bred, well-turned, bright, beautiful, talented, could navigate like a buccaneer, fetch anything he looked at and girls loved him.  Dang that smarts.  

In Flynn’s case, he came out smelling like a rose after a bit of meandering at risky jobs.  His formal education was that of a thespian amid London’s finest.  The tares cannot take this away from him.  Nor that his father was a brilliant professor of marine biology.  The boy didn’t come from white trash, you clunkers.

The ignorant average joe would think so, reading this tall tale.  A fetid forgery, it is full of contradictions to the public domain.  News releases, interviews, television programs, other books and articles have published opposite comments that are claimed by the book.  Any devoted fan of Flynn’s would know this.

Some of the sycophants and clingers on of Flynn’s day came out of the woodwork to smear him.  I infer this is because they were bribed and needed the money.  There is much truth to the adage “Every man has his price.”  Oh for the power of avarice.

One of the Nelson Twins is even on the smear wagon, calling the former owner of his boyhood home a pervert.  How much did they pay this Tiger Beat flash-in-the-pan?  I'm sure he can use the money.

Upon investigating the backgrounds of these back-stabbers, one finds that their acting and music careers never got off the ground.

But Errol’s did.  He took off like a rocket as Captain Blood.  Thence to plum role after plum role.  Headliner.  Blockbuster.  Sir Robin of Locksley.  Every woman’s dream. 

With not one bum-shot or trace of Hollywood sleaze.  A tidy, well-groomed gentleman to the last, if you please.

Despite the ridiculous, photo-shopped mustache and groucho marx eyebrows on the cover of this doozy.  The tie is suspect as having not existed in Flynn’s lifetime.  What movie star would pose for a portrait in a tie this ugly?  In Flynn’s day, clothes were a class act.  The tie in this photo bears the “tare signature” of modern art.  Which is no art.  Just insult.  A wire clothes hanger spray-painted orange and stuck in the ground.  Is their idea of art.

On a note of similitude, I recall how after Princess Diana was killed, the tares photo-shopped her visage for their magazines.  Yellow teeth, bloodshot eyes and a distorted nose.  To me it was glaring, but to others it may not have been.  They pick up the magazine and see a woman, whose beauty was besmirched with software, thinking “She ain’t that much.” The aim of the yellow press is to smear, defame, contort, ugly-up and calumniate the quick and the dead.

Note how Flynn's dead body has been published on the world wide web lying on a coroner's slab.  http://afewtastefulsnaps.net/?p=1118 You shall compare this indignity with a mirror outrage to President John F. Kennedy whose murdered body can be found there too.  http://www.celebritymorgue.com/jfk/jfk-autopsy.html

Who would have enough money and control enough industrial choke-points to release those kinds of photographs into the public domain?  Particularly in that we journalists were taught that decorum governing the dead is a strident affair.  If you want a litmus test of my premise, see how many other dead presidents you can find on a slab in the public domain.  Or how many other public figures for that matter.  Flynn and Kennedy had a common enemy.  And they are in good company. 

Ever heard of the band called "Dead Kennedys?"  How more obvious could they be.  They even have a song entitled "Kill the Poor."  About a bomb that wipes out unwanted people and leaves their material "wealth" unscathed.  Puts a clear stamp on who is behind everything from income tax to 9/11.

So why do tares hate Flynn beyond their predictable envy?  Perhaps because he beat the crap out of Jimmy Fidler of their yellow press.  A calumniator, Fidler smeared Flynn where it hurt after Flynn’s beloved dog fell overboard and drown.  Struck a nerve.  Flynn tracked the little weasel down to the Mocambo Club.  From the many accounts I read, it was a public pouncing.  Fidler was beaten unconscious.  This put Flynn in the General Patton category.  Albeit, Patton only meted out a slap by comparison.  It was the slapping a jewish guy that earned him top spot on their shit list.

One thing about the Irish, they know how to throw a punch.  They don’t call them the fighting Irish for nothing.  Ask the army on the receiving end of Patrick Cleburne’s steel at Chicamauga.

Flynn’s admirable filmography stretches from the mid-30’s to his death in 1959 with not one break in rhythm.  Despite the labels affixed to him by this book, Flynn was a working actor till the day he died.  He starred in three movies per year on the average.  Sometimes more.  He was a moneymaker.  And they stole from his earnings like they stole from Michael Jackson.  Managers are often tares.  As are the owners of music and movie industries.

If one swallows the satanic drivel of this book, Flynn was a juvenile delinquent, dropout quitter, petty thief, satyr, gambling fan of blood sports, slave trader, honourless pig and all around scumbag.  If you go one further and read the rubbish on the web, he was a keyhole-peeper too.

Given Flynn’s hard-working career of 25 years, three wives, four children and a 118-foot schooner, I doubt he had much time for keyholes.

Paladin Communications cranks out smear jobs on Flynn. They can be seen on YouTube if you can stomach the narration.  Their Mary Matzen quotes Gunnar Nelson in one of her smear pieces from their web site.  Then natters on about secret passageways and trick mirrors in a house that was demolished to make room for new construction.

It is interesting to note how at the bottom of Matzen's smear piece, one finds a link to a page of hebrew.  
http://www.errolflynnslepthere.com/

One could question Flynn's text quoted from a personal letter to his German friend, Hermann Erben.  But given the concerted storm of hatred swirling around Flynn's memory, it bears consideration. 

I tip my raven plume to Errol Flynn – along with JEB Stuart.  I tip it with Shakespeare to a thespian worthy of the Round.  I tip it on behalf of George Armstrong Custer and The Charge of the Light Brigade.  O’ Kipling, O’ Tennyson, death cannot brag that he wanders in the shade. 

To this day, who can touch him?

Phoenix

Holy Russia
Do not forget your Czar
Clear for take-off
Show them who you are

Ebola?

Today I got this headline and remembered an article from a few years ago.  Here's today's "news" which raises similar questions in my mind:
http://www.aol.com/article/2014/08/05/2nd-american-aid-worker-with-ebola-arrives-in-us/20942151/?icid=maing-grid7%7Cmain5%7Cdl1%7Csec1_lnk1%26pLid%3D511324


And here's my article about those questions:
http://shpearson.wordpress.com/2010/07/07/etiology/

Let's Have It

Whatever the truth is,

Let's have it.

Loving the Pope

When he is "right," there is nothing wrong with it.  The elect of God are of such as these.  Firm and forthright.  Forever recalcitrant against what ails us today.  Hold-outs to the last.  Blazing steadfast.  The righteous remnant.  In service to a Higher Power where money has no meaning.  Incorruptible.  Like Alfred the Great.

All hail Saint Pius the Tenth.












I love him.

I love him so.

Symbols

Driving through the backwoods, I see signs in front of churches.  They have the name of the church with a stylized, insulting version of the Cross. 

Tonight I saw the third of what I consider a not-so-subtle mockery. 

The first Cross was a cheaply painted sign in blue and red.  The Cross appeared to be falling over.  As if to say “we are toppling your Faith.”

The second sign looked like a dissolving Cross.  It seemed to be disappearing from the bottom-up.  As if dissipating like a mist or vapour.  As if to say “Your Faith is fading.”

The third sign looked like somebody dipped a towel in blood and smeared a sloppy Cross.  Exactly like the graffiti left on the walls of the Tate-LaBianca murders.  As if to say “We can kill anybody we want and you can’t do shit about it.” 

There is no way I believe doper hippies killed Sharon Tate. 

A telltale bit I remember from the tidal wave of “news” on the Tate murders was how the Manson girls had carved an “X” between their eyebrows.  The media reported it was because they want to X themselves from the world.  A few days later Charlie and the Manson girls had appended the “X” into a swastika.  Why do you think that might have been?  Think about it.  And ask yourself who was really running that show.

Why did they demolish the Tate murder house in the 90's?  Is it for the same reason they spirited away scrap metal from 9/11?  "People often lie.  But the evidence never does." http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=0d_VMleF5Jw

The third Cross got me to thinking about Terry Sedlacek.   How he came busting into a Sunday sermon and shot preacher Fred Winters to death – right through the Bible.  The news jews gloried to write how Winters impulsively held up the Bible to shield himself from the gunfire and it went up like confetti.  How the terrified congregation was “screaming and praying.”  http://shpearson.wordpress.com/2010/05/27/the-preacher-killers/

Food for thought.  Those stylized mockeries of Crosses.  They should be noted as the countryside is riddled with “cold case” murders. 

The kinds of killings that happen after women get hit on by rich, powerful, half drunk men – who get burnt when she says a sobering “no thanks.”  Now she’s got bragging rights about who just hit on her.  Maybe it was her boss.  Maybe it was a customer at a high visibility restaurant.  One of those hook-up joints called a “bar and grill.”  A speak-easy where men go to score.  But not every girl’s a whore.  So perhaps they get stalked and killed by the predators they rejected.  Some of these dead girls were just working a job.  Waitress.  Bar maid.  Typical young chick work. 

Nowadays it’s a free-for-all.  Any woman who takes a job serving booze and chicken wings should get danger pay.

I think that is what the towel-smear Cross means.  It’s a gloat about how many recreational murders happen around here.  With perfect impunity. 

Questions to ask in any town:  Who owns the judiciary?  Who owns the police?  Who owns the coroner?  Who owns the embalmer?  Who owns the mason’s lodge?  Who owns the newspaper?  Who owns the media world-wide?

Symbols can be not so subtle.  Recalling my studies in Egyptology, the tomb of King Tut contained a peculiar pair of sandals.  The boy king walked on his enemies with every step.  On his soles were engraved faces of other races that had gone to war with Egypt.  So that each time he put on his sandals, his foes were looking up at him, waiting to be stepped on.  I recently saw a video that illustrates the King Tut sandal message.  I do not think the wearer of this t-shirt was aware of it.  But see for yourself.  Starting at frame 3:17 of this video, have a look at the front of his t-shirt.  The American flag superimposed on the bottom of a lug-sole boot:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Q3hZPI_RFNY

In that vein, I recently walked past a hipster boutique at the mall.  In their display window, they had a peculiar pair of teen jeans.  On both ass-pockets there was an ornate rhinestone Cross.

Keep in mind that the number one enemy of the communist state is God Almighty.  Whether He comes from Islam or Christendom does not matter to the marxist.  The fear of God impedes the fear of tyranny.  That is what concerns the bolshevik.  Because God outranks a mortal tyrant.  Karl Marx, for example, is just as dead as any other jew under a tombstone.  The jews seem to not get that part.  (smiley face)  Isn’t that a hoot.  They go ‘round killing people as if their turn will never come.  Dude, whether you die of natural causes or with your boots on, what’s the bloody diff’?  Anton La -- great indulgence -- Vey sure knows what time it is.  He has learned that no amount of name changes can hide a jew from his Maker.  Smiley face number two.  Yaa punks.

Bible Belt News

Many people do not get the Word today.  That is because the Word is in print and their vicars are working for the enemy.

As a peerless orator once wrote, the masses seldom read, necessitating a speech-maker.  Hence the bent of plebeians toward a pastor, minister, parson, priest, chaplain, padre, man of the cloth, etc. 

Much is entrusted to these clergymen.  They supposedly deliver the Word of God to the humble, unlettered rustic -- from whose pure-hearted ranks have risen our great Saints.  Keep this in mind. 

It is not the purview of the rustic to write a magnum opus.  His craft is the goodly work of his hands.  As his wife’s is to “look well to the ways of her household.”  Together they are an empire of hearth and field.  A nurturing cradle for strapping sons from whose salubrious ranks have risen the Czar’s Cossack host, for example.  The sustenance and backbone of a nation are these people.  Today their empire is under siege.

The mouths of preachers have become the fount of falsehood.  Innocence is exploited in the pews.  Churches are now propaganda organs of the jews.

A windbag from the pulpit barked, “Muslims would kill you if they got the chance.”  His gullible flock drinking in the bombastic baloney as my stomach churned.  What a floorshow, this Hagee-wanna-be and his wife.  She had tears that turned off and on like a kitchen faucet.  

They were flimflammers.  Phonies.  A Sunday circus of anti-Muslim propaganda designed to cultivate fear and hatred among Bible Belt churches.  A wallop of lies to saddle up their sons and send them off to Middle Eastern wars for illegal squatters in Palestine – Eastern European jews who claim to be of the House of Jacob.  They even took up Hebrew over the centuries, these Yiddish-speaking Europeans. 

Bible Belt preachers are pitting Christian sons against righteous Islam who should instead be their brothers-in-God.  Shame on them for sacrificing Christian sons on the alter of imposters to the House of Jacob.  Shame on them for advancing the 9/11 bullshit story.  Israeli jews and their American cohorts did 9/11 – a sophisticated operation that took years to plan.

Sham wars are being waged for the benefit of bolsheviks in israel.  Beware of false prophets and purchased preachers.  Jesus of God warns you about them in * Matthew 24, Luke 21 and Mark 13 *.  Turn off your jew TV and crack the Word of God.  Your churchmen and statesmen have sold their souls to the synagogue of satan (Revelation 2:9, Revelation 3:9).