They’re here. And it’s about time. Read.
To whom it may concern:
Please, help us. My planet’s being run by psychopaths bent on control and our destruction and the cancer of globalism is now at the microscopic, cellular level. My country’s being run by one bankster selected Manchurian candidate after another. My countrymen are nescient, illiterate, incurious and incapable of caring. Maybe there’s something in the water. Maybe it’s the chemtrails’ barium and aluminum all these folks keep screaming about. Or something in the water. Whatever the cause, we’re a country of geldings. Clueless and carefree. Scared and cowed. Moored to nonchalance by ennui and a double dose of incuriosity.
I look to every explanation that people laugh at because without fail when I move towards that which society prefers, I find it’s a dead end. When they scoff and refute, then I know I’m on to something. You only take flak when you’re over the target. I believe nothing the government says until it’s officially denied. If you’re not upset, you’re not paying attention. And my world, not just country, my world is headed for doom. Ron Paul suggests looking to the Constitution and he’s called crazy. Crazy, huh? But pray to an imaginary sky God and that’s fine.
So, whoever you are, wherever you are, get here quick. Again. Stay this time. Let’s chat. My species needs you. Hie!
And one more thing, this season. Give the gift of Lionel. A one month subscription for the cost of a latte. Come on, Sparky. Do the right thing.