Everyone knew the conflict was at hand, and the open battle for the republic was about to begin. The dagger war has been raging for many, many years, with victories and defeats on both sides. Some had thought that Waco would be the boiling point, but it had not gone as any had foreseen. The 90's had its skirmishes, and the militias had performed well but restrained themselves in the hope that some other solution would present itself. It had not. With each passing day, the pressure continued to build. The globalist agenda had been based upon lies, and the people knew it. Some were still trying to formulate a peaceful solution, but the system had its own plan, and treachery was the centerpiece of that plan. With the first play drawn, and blood spilt, there would be no turning back. In a time of its own choosing, in a place no one expected, the dance of swords would begin.
["]
The bat f*ggots, combined with whatever Homeland Security bottom feeders, mostly mercenaries, are going to pick somebody ["] to use as an example. That action is going to be a face off, and it's gonna actually, you know, initially be casualties for those who are surprised. It's going to happen that way. They're going to get caught off guard a little bit, but not much, because everybody can sense it, feel it, taste it, touch it. What's going to happen is people are going to call on others, and there's a lot of people who are going to mobilize. The other side is going to do the same thing. They have all their technology, but, trust me, we're pulling out all the stops ["] At some point, there's going to be a column of goofs in black uniforms, idiots, mostly pea brains" In fact, 99.9% pea brains in their spiffy, little black uniforms, with all their spiffy, little alphabet letters on them, and that column [will meet] a column of militia, mechanized, or light mechanized, and armed up, already cocked, locked and ready to rock and roll. The bottom feeders in the black uniforms will be screaming their profanities, and they'll be screaming and screaming and screaming, and the other side won't be screaming a whole lot. Somebody's going to pull the trigger, and it's gonna be one hell of a popcorn exchange. From a distance, it's going to sound like somebody opened up the popcorn pan from hell.
Sounds like a national suicide or, rather, the climax to the ongoing national suicide.
A young woman said to me recently, "I want to shoot myself in the face, but have enough consciousness left to arrange my teeth and chunks of my flesh," so the need to give even the messiest order to one's predicament is constant, for anything that's captured is partially redeemed and dignified, while what's unarticulated is forever lost. In a country driven into the ditch, some compose.
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