It is happening again!
For the fourth time this year, I awakened to find the light switch in my kitchen was turned up. This means someone turned on the dining room chandelier during the night. I never use the chandelier. Ever.
As I walked over to the dining room switch, I turned this on and put the kitchen switch which controls the dining room chandelier off or down. The light is off.
Who could the nightly visitor be? It only happens late at night or early in the morning.
The phantom knows.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Last November
Nora sat at her computer. She couldn't believe they gave her Netflix. Netflix? A gift of more computer headaches. Of forty minutes on the phone with a young customer service rep only to be tossed to another to repeat the whole story."The card says I can get a DVD without my credit card," she told the representative.
"Well, let me speak with my supervisor."
Eight minutes lapsed.
"We can do streaming without your credit card, but not for a DVD service. It is our policy."
"Is it your policy to lie to customers? The card says you can do this."
"Not without your credit card on file."
"Lemme get this straight. the deal is you will balance bill me, correct?"
"Yes, that is correct. You will also need to go back onto your computer to cancel the service."
"Wait a minute. This is supposed to be a gift. The gift that apparently ties me to you," she said slamming down the phone.
Nora melted. She had had enough. A crappy birthday, a gift from someone who should know she didn't want Netflix as she had told them time and time again. If she had wanted it, she would have it. Simple? She was always appreciative of kindnesses done to her She let so much slide. But she wouldn't anymore. Couldn't
Netflix was the metaphor. This would be her last November. Not again.
"Thank you all for your friendship. It has been...um...interesting."
She didn't fit into this world. Not the world it was becoming.
"Well, let me speak with my supervisor."
Eight minutes lapsed.
"We can do streaming without your credit card, but not for a DVD service. It is our policy."
"Is it your policy to lie to customers? The card says you can do this."
"Not without your credit card on file."
"Lemme get this straight. the deal is you will balance bill me, correct?"
"Yes, that is correct. You will also need to go back onto your computer to cancel the service."
"Wait a minute. This is supposed to be a gift. The gift that apparently ties me to you," she said slamming down the phone.
Nora melted. She had had enough. A crappy birthday, a gift from someone who should know she didn't want Netflix as she had told them time and time again. If she had wanted it, she would have it. Simple? She was always appreciative of kindnesses done to her She let so much slide. But she wouldn't anymore. Couldn't
Netflix was the metaphor. This would be her last November. Not again.
"Thank you all for your friendship. It has been...um...interesting."
She didn't fit into this world. Not the world it was becoming.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Crimes In A Small Community
Sometime in the middle of the night, Julie and her boyfriend died. Right under the nose of the county sheriff's detective. McGirth wasn't the sharpest pencil in the drawer. Only last year he boasted of using his silencer to murder two coyotes in his yard.
"They could git my kids, " he justified.
The children are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But this writer forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. She and the detective are wide in statue so I suspect this vehicle fits them comfortably. Having said this, I wonder about the former's ability to protect the people in the county who pay him in such a wide condition.
Interestingly enough, the wife was on the board of this community homeowner's association with her next door neighbor and friend, the president. One would think a detective's wife would know better than to be a part of homeowner association funds going into the president's personal bank account. When community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's Department regarding this, they were told quietly, "to let this go." One could only wonder how a detective's salary affords a Lincoln SUV. We can use our imagination here. That and family money. Enough to buy into an upscale community.
Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie. To the right of him is the Pesty family. The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road. Has anyone thought to examine the footage?
The son and his mother have been at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year.
The deaths of Julie and her friend, were both naked at discovery. Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment? Could he have seized the opportunity to destroy both of them? Could he have been on drugs at the time? This incident was kept secretive for five days by the county Sheriff's Department. Until an investigative reporter decider to probe a bit further. Neighbors were suspicious from the get go. Both Julie, her son and her son's girlfriend has been in trouble with the law on numerous occasions.
Beth was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide," she said.
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the
But that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman a visit.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, how do you like the store now?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him. He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
Beth remember the black stake she found in her yard the day after the moving van damaged her hill
making indentations from the entrance to the community, around the log road encircling her home.
She thought about the documentary she tried to upload to her Mac yesterday. iMovie uploaded every photo in her computer. The documentary never uploaded.
Beth thought a minute.
Maybe all of this is a sign. Maybe it is time to drop the investigation, drop the Missing Time documentary on her extra terrestrial experience. Evil is brewing right there in Oakwood.
UPDATE: An informant mentioned this writer that the deceased woman was having an affair with a a family member's husband. The wife was never questioned.
"They could git my kids, " he justified.
The children are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But this writer forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. She and the detective are wide in statue so I suspect this vehicle fits them comfortably. Having said this, I wonder about the former's ability to protect the people in the county who pay him in such a wide condition.
Interestingly enough, the wife was on the board of this community homeowner's association with her next door neighbor and friend, the president. One would think a detective's wife would know better than to be a part of homeowner association funds going into the president's personal bank account. When community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's Department regarding this, they were told quietly, "to let this go." One could only wonder how a detective's salary affords a Lincoln SUV. We can use our imagination here. That and family money. Enough to buy into an upscale community.
Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie. To the right of him is the Pesty family. The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road. Has anyone thought to examine the footage?
The son and his mother have been at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year.
The deaths of Julie and her friend, were both naked at discovery. Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment? Could he have seized the opportunity to destroy both of them? Could he have been on drugs at the time? This incident was kept secretive for five days by the county Sheriff's Department. Until an investigative reporter decider to probe a bit further. Neighbors were suspicious from the get go. Both Julie, her son and her son's girlfriend has been in trouble with the law on numerous occasions.
Beth was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide," she said.
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the
But that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman a visit.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, how do you like the store now?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him. He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
Beth remember the black stake she found in her yard the day after the moving van damaged her hill
making indentations from the entrance to the community, around the log road encircling her home.
She thought about the documentary she tried to upload to her Mac yesterday. iMovie uploaded every photo in her computer. The documentary never uploaded.
Beth thought a minute.
Maybe all of this is a sign. Maybe it is time to drop the investigation, drop the Missing Time documentary on her extra terrestrial experience. Evil is brewing right there in Oakwood.
UPDATE: An informant mentioned this writer that the deceased woman was having an affair with a a family member's husband. The wife was never questioned.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Coldness Comes
An arctic cold front sent wind barreling out of the northwest spreading its abundance along the eastern United States. Again. Beth knew the snow would be a cover for so much that was happening. But what?
An early walk to the hill above revealed rabbit and fox had made their way across the land. She hadn't seen the fox in nearly four years. Wondered about them. Wondered if her gun toting cop neighbor with a silencer killed them. She noticed more crows around the homestead the past year. Perhaps they weren't confused by the global warming, but were awaiting carcass dinner.
Without her beloved dogs, she would never know. They had a way of communicating whatever was in the community. Racing from one end of the house to the other and looking up told the story. Now, she would have to develop those senses on her own.
Her senses were developing. Escalating. Between the downloads and exhausting winter chill, her body was resting more. Quieter. She loved being on the mountain. It is safe. Natural. Home.
So much of her landscape was changing. Even nightfall was changing. About an hour after sundown that the light in the sky seems to fade. It is as though someone is dimming a light bulb. A giant light bulb. It happens in an instant. Then gone.
Beth's bed is near a sliding glass door which leads to a sunroom. There is lots of light coming into the room. The bed is a clear tower from which to observe.
Soothsayers and prophets tell us that we may have a few days of total darkness. The academic mind can not fathom that because there has been no analysis leading to it. No formulas, no history, no models. But we know things happen that science can not explain. And I know enough to balance the academic with the realities of life.
It was Tuesday morning and Beth was driving down the eight degree grade. She couldn't hit the brakes fast enough. It was an arrow pointed down on the left side of my road.
"It has to be a surveyor marking," she thought.
Later that night, at the annual homeowner's association meeting, Beth asked her next door neighbor about it.
"Did you have your land surveyed?" she asked.
"No, we plan to do that next month," the neighbor said.
"Well, there is some kind of marker on my land. Will you ask your husband to take a look at it?"
A half hour later a text arrived.
"He says it is an a marker of some sort. "
"That is what we thought," she said.
"You know, Fred filed the legal papers against Mike?"
"I didn't know," Beth said.
"Yes, he would have gotten them a week ago," the neighbor said.
We both thought the same thing. Mike.
"But Mike was out of town, visiting Edisto Beach. He took the whole family" I said.
Something doesn't fit.
It was just about a month ago when family members discovered a murder-suicide down the street. Neighbors wondered if someone else did it. Maybe a burglary or something. The house went up for sale almost immediately.
But what about the marker. It was placed on the same line as her neighbor's house. While Beth felt safe enough, she worried about her neighbor.
Then Beth wrote her own letter about the barking dogs to the homeowner's association board. She had had enough.
Stand tall or get out of the way.
Without her beloved dogs, she would never know. They had a way of communicating whatever was in the community. Racing from one end of the house to the other and looking up told the story. Now, she would have to develop those senses on her own.
Her senses were developing. Escalating. Between the downloads and exhausting winter chill, her body was resting more. Quieter. She loved being on the mountain. It is safe. Natural. Home.
So much of her landscape was changing. Even nightfall was changing. About an hour after sundown that the light in the sky seems to fade. It is as though someone is dimming a light bulb. A giant light bulb. It happens in an instant. Then gone.
Beth's bed is near a sliding glass door which leads to a sunroom. There is lots of light coming into the room. The bed is a clear tower from which to observe.
Soothsayers and prophets tell us that we may have a few days of total darkness. The academic mind can not fathom that because there has been no analysis leading to it. No formulas, no history, no models. But we know things happen that science can not explain. And I know enough to balance the academic with the realities of life.
It was Tuesday morning and Beth was driving down the eight degree grade. She couldn't hit the brakes fast enough. It was an arrow pointed down on the left side of my road.
"It has to be a surveyor marking," she thought.
Later that night, at the annual homeowner's association meeting, Beth asked her next door neighbor about it.
"Did you have your land surveyed?" she asked.
"No, we plan to do that next month," the neighbor said.
"Well, there is some kind of marker on my land. Will you ask your husband to take a look at it?"
A half hour later a text arrived.
"He says it is an a marker of some sort. "
"That is what we thought," she said.
"You know, Fred filed the legal papers against Mike?"
"I didn't know," Beth said.
"Yes, he would have gotten them a week ago," the neighbor said.
We both thought the same thing. Mike.
"But Mike was out of town, visiting Edisto Beach. He took the whole family" I said.
Something doesn't fit.
It was just about a month ago when family members discovered a murder-suicide down the street. Neighbors wondered if someone else did it. Maybe a burglary or something. The house went up for sale almost immediately.
But what about the marker. It was placed on the same line as her neighbor's house. While Beth felt safe enough, she worried about her neighbor.
Then Beth wrote her own letter about the barking dogs to the homeowner's association board. She had had enough.
Stand tall or get out of the way.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Blue Man
Where do I begin to tell a story of my visit to the other side?
This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the Experiencer's Speak 2015 Conference. This was held in Portland, Maine, just fifteen minutes from the beautiful Casco Bay. At once, I was greeted by the cool, salt air and raised vibrational energy of the Portland, Maine area.
Almost immediately, when I entered the hotel the day before the conference was due to begin, one warm and friendly smile and wide, 'hello' after anoather welcomed me. One by one, one person after another as the attendees filtered in from California and from the United Kingdom. Their smiles were radiant; the vibrational frequency palpable.
One by one, the speakers told of feeling a presence, seeing a ship or alien once, twice or throughout their lives. Their credentials of each speaker were impeccable. Scientists, biologists, wilderness guides, writers, contractors, accountants, professors, young people, older folks. Some saw orbs, some had photos of space ships, some looked worn and distressed because of their abductions. Some like me, had animal totems come to them over the course of years. Some were screen savers, or what we affectionately refer to when alien and/orspace ship turn into knowable, less traumatic beings. Owls were one form of messenger.
One academic spoke about the importance of understanding neuroscience. That the right and left brain have separated functions. We know the left brain has long held a more esteemed presence since it is the analytical/storyteller portion. It tries to make sense of what the right brain, the oneness, non-judgmental and synchronious, connected portion of our brains tell us. We remote view in the right hemisphere where the NOW lives. We understand the great importance of the right brain and work hard to explain its value.
We also know we live in a patterned universe. Nothing is random. We've seen worms, segmented worms become complete bodies, trees and vegetation grow itself again, sometimes in the same space, sometimes in another. It is anything but meaningless. My right sided hemisphere remembers.
I was chosen. Chosen to see a spaceship. Chosen to tell a story. A mere messenger charged with the task of helping humans understand that their destruction active or passive of our environment is destroying the universe. Earth, the densest planet in our solar system is rich in metals. Unidentified foreign objects or UFOs are here to observe. They don't want anything more. They have what they need. The worry about our child-like emotions, our ability to soil the land we occupy, our incessant need and choice to acquire more.
At the end of the conference, when I had gone to bed, I was told about a man who entered just before the Travis Walton film and discussion ended. He had a hat pulled down close to his eyes. Long sleeved shirt. His head was down. An attendee noticed his skin was blue. Blue face, blue neck, blue hands. The rest of him was covered up. He stayed only a
This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the Experiencer's Speak 2015 Conference. This was held in Portland, Maine, just fifteen minutes from the beautiful Casco Bay. At once, I was greeted by the cool, salt air and raised vibrational energy of the Portland, Maine area.
Almost immediately, when I entered the hotel the day before the conference was due to begin, one warm and friendly smile and wide, 'hello' after anoather welcomed me. One by one, one person after another as the attendees filtered in from California and from the United Kingdom. Their smiles were radiant; the vibrational frequency palpable.
One by one, the speakers told of feeling a presence, seeing a ship or alien once, twice or throughout their lives. Their credentials of each speaker were impeccable. Scientists, biologists, wilderness guides, writers, contractors, accountants, professors, young people, older folks. Some saw orbs, some had photos of space ships, some looked worn and distressed because of their abductions. Some like me, had animal totems come to them over the course of years. Some were screen savers, or what we affectionately refer to when alien and/orspace ship turn into knowable, less traumatic beings. Owls were one form of messenger.
One academic spoke about the importance of understanding neuroscience. That the right and left brain have separated functions. We know the left brain has long held a more esteemed presence since it is the analytical/storyteller portion. It tries to make sense of what the right brain, the oneness, non-judgmental and synchronious, connected portion of our brains tell us. We remote view in the right hemisphere where the NOW lives. We understand the great importance of the right brain and work hard to explain its value.
We also know we live in a patterned universe. Nothing is random. We've seen worms, segmented worms become complete bodies, trees and vegetation grow itself again, sometimes in the same space, sometimes in another. It is anything but meaningless. My right sided hemisphere remembers.
I was chosen. Chosen to see a spaceship. Chosen to tell a story. A mere messenger charged with the task of helping humans understand that their destruction active or passive of our environment is destroying the universe. Earth, the densest planet in our solar system is rich in metals. Unidentified foreign objects or UFOs are here to observe. They don't want anything more. They have what they need. The worry about our child-like emotions, our ability to soil the land we occupy, our incessant need and choice to acquire more.
At the end of the conference, when I had gone to bed, I was told about a man who entered just before the Travis Walton film and discussion ended. He had a hat pulled down close to his eyes. Long sleeved shirt. His head was down. An attendee noticed his skin was blue. Blue face, blue neck, blue hands. The rest of him was covered up. He stayed only a
few minutes, as if to check up on the final evening and left.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Plastic Surprise
The animals are everywhere now. As I was sitting in the yard on the peach Adirondack chairs, I felt a presence nearby. At first I thought it was the asters I was looking for on the right side of the hill. You can imagine what joy it was to finally see them. Fall is nearly upon us. Even with heat in the low 90s. It is the foreshadowing for which those of us in the natural world search.
This plastic was part of a dish I used to bait the raccoon in early May. It was part of a dish which held a rotisserie chicken. What is odd is that it was ten feet away from where it was dropped. I thought I had found all the pieces. Curiously enough, one piece after another shows up when a friend of mine contacts me. It is an odd metaphor. He brought the dish and chicken here in early spring we could protect this bandit from itself. It was digging one foot holes in my garden making mowing quite dangerous. But for a month or so, I hadn't seen any of the chewed plastic. Until today. I also have not seen him.
With paint spotted blue crocs on, I climbed the steep hill and dug my feet in. I wasn't going to miss capturing these pretties. As soon as I snapped this photo, I could hear rustling of the bushes. Something was there.
So I slid, yes, slid, down the hill, this hill ten years ago was easy to climb and descend. Now I was just happy to get a close encounter with these wildflowers. Turning under the dogwood trees, the sense of the presence was stronger. Then it happened.
Something told me to look down.
This plastic was part of a dish I used to bait the raccoon in early May. It was part of a dish which held a rotisserie chicken. What is odd is that it was ten feet away from where it was dropped. I thought I had found all the pieces. Curiously enough, one piece after another shows up when a friend of mine contacts me. It is an odd metaphor. He brought the dish and chicken here in early spring we could protect this bandit from itself. It was digging one foot holes in my garden making mowing quite dangerous. But for a month or so, I hadn't seen any of the chewed plastic. Until today. I also have not seen him.
I still do not know what was in those woods beyond the white pines, mountain laurel and Canadian hemlocks. Whatever it was, I suspect it will come out soon.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Where Is The Justice?
The first time I met Matt, his glassy eyes and constant sniffle got my attention. He was a man on a mission but I didn't realize how far he was willing to go. Not then.
Jackie asked me to feed the horse while they were out of town and I was more than happy to split it with a joint friend who was covering the feeding on Friday. The friend asked if I could feed and water the horse on Saturday. I agreed.
A year later, I had been visiting his wife and child when Matt arrived home. He invited me to stay for dinner. I hadn't planned on it, it was just a quick stop to say hello on my way home from work.
Matt couldn't do enough for me. But he didn't eat a thing.
"C'mon, stay," he said as he prepared dinner.
"I'll be back late today and it is good that she is here," he said.
I couldn't put my lips together. I mean drive over to Gatlinburg with the boys when your second baby is due in three days? Give me a break! There was always something about his friends. Sleazy. By 6 p.m. he was gone.
Jackie assured me she would be alright and I stayed a few hours and left about nine o'clock in the evening after helping with the clean up from dinner. Matt still wasn't home.
Over the next year I would visit often. I was always invited to dinner. Sometimes I stayed, sometimes I had things to take care of at my own home and there just wasn't time. Besides, Matt made me uncomfortable. He always had sketchy men around the house.
Jackie called me early one morning.
"We were robbed. The pharmacy was. Can you come over to see the video?"
I was a bit hesitant. She insisted I meet her at the house and then drive over to the pharmacy which I did.
"There were two robbers. One taller and one definitely female. They descended into the pharmacy from the ceiling through the bathroom.
"It's an inside job," I told Jackie.
"No, couldn't be," she said.
Matt dropped his head and was silent. Clearly, not concerned. He was on the phone with the insurance company and had already informed the state agencies about the disappearance of major street drugs. The police were involved immediately.
Then there was the time Matt told Jackie there were in dire financial straits - ruin. She couldn't understand it since he was buying pharmacies at record speed. I recently learned one of the pharmacies with whom he had a partner, the pharmacy I used for a time, was also robbed.
Over the years, there were nine robberies. During this time, I learned that Matt had Jackie institutionalized. Drugged up. I learned about this from her mother. and then her.
Then he tried to convince everyone Jackie was schizophrenic. He had the boys taken away from her and an order in place where she could not visit them. It has been fourteen months since she has seen her children today. She has not been allowed in the family home.
To date, despite the divorce, she has received no alimony for the thirteen years of marriage, no marital assets from this millionaire man. He remarried the day after the divorce was final. His wife is twenty-one and pregnant with their daughter. She is due any day.
Thorough investigation by a private investigator has revealed he has several families, several homes, several social security numbers with names other than Jackie's on loans. All of this was done during the marriage.
On several occasions, Jackie has broken the restraining order to see her children. She has been in jail, is out now and is still appealing the felonies in North Carolina. What mother wouldn't do this to see her children, to ensure they are safe? It is said he has drug parties in the home, that the children are present and that he has had women in Jackie's bed.
This is the short version of this convoluted man's escapades. Where is the justice?
Jackie asked me to feed the horse while they were out of town and I was more than happy to split it with a joint friend who was covering the feeding on Friday. The friend asked if I could feed and water the horse on Saturday. I agreed.
A year later, I had been visiting his wife and child when Matt arrived home. He invited me to stay for dinner. I hadn't planned on it, it was just a quick stop to say hello on my way home from work.
Matt couldn't do enough for me. But he didn't eat a thing.
"C'mon, stay," he said as he prepared dinner.
"I'll be back late today and it is good that she is here," he said.
I couldn't put my lips together. I mean drive over to Gatlinburg with the boys when your second baby is due in three days? Give me a break! There was always something about his friends. Sleazy. By 6 p.m. he was gone.
Jackie assured me she would be alright and I stayed a few hours and left about nine o'clock in the evening after helping with the clean up from dinner. Matt still wasn't home.
Over the next year I would visit often. I was always invited to dinner. Sometimes I stayed, sometimes I had things to take care of at my own home and there just wasn't time. Besides, Matt made me uncomfortable. He always had sketchy men around the house.
Jackie called me early one morning.
"We were robbed. The pharmacy was. Can you come over to see the video?"
I was a bit hesitant. She insisted I meet her at the house and then drive over to the pharmacy which I did.
"There were two robbers. One taller and one definitely female. They descended into the pharmacy from the ceiling through the bathroom.
"It's an inside job," I told Jackie.
"No, couldn't be," she said.
Matt dropped his head and was silent. Clearly, not concerned. He was on the phone with the insurance company and had already informed the state agencies about the disappearance of major street drugs. The police were involved immediately.
Then there was the time Matt told Jackie there were in dire financial straits - ruin. She couldn't understand it since he was buying pharmacies at record speed. I recently learned one of the pharmacies with whom he had a partner, the pharmacy I used for a time, was also robbed.
Over the years, there were nine robberies. During this time, I learned that Matt had Jackie institutionalized. Drugged up. I learned about this from her mother. and then her.
Then he tried to convince everyone Jackie was schizophrenic. He had the boys taken away from her and an order in place where she could not visit them. It has been fourteen months since she has seen her children today. She has not been allowed in the family home.
To date, despite the divorce, she has received no alimony for the thirteen years of marriage, no marital assets from this millionaire man. He remarried the day after the divorce was final. His wife is twenty-one and pregnant with their daughter. She is due any day.
Thorough investigation by a private investigator has revealed he has several families, several homes, several social security numbers with names other than Jackie's on loans. All of this was done during the marriage.
On several occasions, Jackie has broken the restraining order to see her children. She has been in jail, is out now and is still appealing the felonies in North Carolina. What mother wouldn't do this to see her children, to ensure they are safe? It is said he has drug parties in the home, that the children are present and that he has had women in Jackie's bed.
This is the short version of this convoluted man's escapades. Where is the justice?
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Into The Woods
The county police arrived within ten minutes. I was glad I captured a photo of the untouched van before the woman from the woods got to it. To my surprise, she was also in the picture as she walked out from the wooded area in the foggy mist early that morning.
Before I sent the photos to the police, I was sure to send it my young friend and reporter, Hollywood. He would keep it safe in case it miraculously disappeared. Hollywood was born and raised in the southern Appalachians with a high profile position. He was admired and trusted by everyone.
As several police cars rushed to the area, I found a comfortable log upon which to sit. I knew I would be there quite a while answering questions.
The Detective Sargent in charge stepped out of his police cruiser and walked determinedly toward the van. Another officer had left the side door open. Slowly he pealed the plastic away from the woman laying in the van. She was face down with only socks on. I turned away as I wouldn't do well seeing a lifeless person. Especially in this uncanny situation.
I couldn't sleep that night. It was nearly midnight and one scenario after another kept playing in my head. I decided to get out of bed and reached for my cell phone. Somehow I recorded the woman walking into the woods and the camera continued recording her coming out of it a few seconds later. She opened the van door. I could see legs move under the heavy plastic. A live woman's legs. I do not believe either of them knew of the recording.
Immediately I texted Hollywood and sent him the video. He had the high tech equipment to zero in closely.
"Oh, no! he exclaimed.
"Hold on, I am coming over and I will bring my equipment," he said.
My heart was beating outside my chest at that point. On went every light inside and outside of the house. I wanted to know if anyone was around.
His white sports car pulled into the driveway and into the garage. I closed it after the car was safely inside.
"Know what I saw?" he said.
I was in shock from the events of the day and didn't respond. I think my face was as white as his car.
"She had a Glock in her right hand as she walked into the woods," he said.
"Which she?" I asked.
Before I sent the photos to the police, I was sure to send it my young friend and reporter, Hollywood. He would keep it safe in case it miraculously disappeared. Hollywood was born and raised in the southern Appalachians with a high profile position. He was admired and trusted by everyone.
As several police cars rushed to the area, I found a comfortable log upon which to sit. I knew I would be there quite a while answering questions.
The Detective Sargent in charge stepped out of his police cruiser and walked determinedly toward the van. Another officer had left the side door open. Slowly he pealed the plastic away from the woman laying in the van. She was face down with only socks on. I turned away as I wouldn't do well seeing a lifeless person. Especially in this uncanny situation.
I couldn't sleep that night. It was nearly midnight and one scenario after another kept playing in my head. I decided to get out of bed and reached for my cell phone. Somehow I recorded the woman walking into the woods and the camera continued recording her coming out of it a few seconds later. She opened the van door. I could see legs move under the heavy plastic. A live woman's legs. I do not believe either of them knew of the recording.
Immediately I texted Hollywood and sent him the video. He had the high tech equipment to zero in closely.
"Oh, no! he exclaimed.
"Hold on, I am coming over and I will bring my equipment," he said.
My heart was beating outside my chest at that point. On went every light inside and outside of the house. I wanted to know if anyone was around.
His white sports car pulled into the driveway and into the garage. I closed it after the car was safely inside.
"Know what I saw?" he said.
I was in shock from the events of the day and didn't respond. I think my face was as white as his car.
"She had a Glock in her right hand as she walked into the woods," he said.
"Which she?" I asked.
Before I knew it, I had rolled over to the other side of bed. Even bolted straight up. I had never had a dream like that before.
Friday, January 30, 2015
White Van
I I haven't walked to the summit since the dogs passed. But the winter had been a mild one and I wanted to honor them this way. In the early afternoon, the January temperatures reached into the high 50s. I knew it was time.The entire way up the steep eight plus grade hills, the dogs were in my mind. I even saw a yellow tennis ball looking very much like the one my older dog dropped many months before. A sign maybe. Yes, I was meant to see it.
A little out of breath, more from the lack of uphill walking than the temperature, I was happy to reach the summit. It was a good half mile or so down the dirt ridge road before I saw it. There is a log home at the end but it was curious to see this white van with opened doors and no one around. The owners of the house had been in Florida for the winter.
My eyes were drawn to the open doors inside the truck. I Immediately noticed the six mil plastic laid smooth on the left side of the floor, with the right side more than crumbled. Like it had been opened several times. Just then a woman appeared from the wooded area. I know the area fairly well having walked it. There is a path down the woods which neighbors traverse from time to time. Only the hardy ones for it is a steep climb.
The woman seemed on a mission as she walked toward the back of the van where the opened doors were.
"I don't think you want to see this," I called.
She didn't stop walking or even hesitate. She continued on reaching the back of the van. At that point, I had found a stick and was gently lifted the plastic moving the stick inside as I touched the two protrusions on the left side of the van.
I proceeded to move the stick to the right and the woman moved in. She tore back the heavy plastic and touched what appeared to be two legs. Slowly, a woman turned around mumbling as though in pain. As the plastic moved aside, I could see another set of legs on the left side of the floor of the truck. Man's legs.
Suddenly the woman stood up erect and climbed outside of the van. Then it occurred to me. She had been hiding in the van as though playing dead. Or injured. Or.
At this point, 911 had been called. Careful not to let the women hear I spoke in almost a whisper.
"There is something odd going on. I just found a white van with opened back doors. A woman was walking from the woods and proceeded to the car. It was like her friend had just climbed in but was pretending to be unconscious or something. I think you better come now."
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Maybe Not: Part 3
"My scarf...it's missing," shouted Beth.
5-4-3-2
"You see, it isn't just any scarf. It has a recording device inside, camera, too."
"Let's wait and see what happens to it. Maybe we will end up recording them," Arman chuckled.
Beth, Trent and Arman returned to their safe house immediately. It was something out of the film, Conspiracy Theory. An escape hatch on the roof and through a side wall with a door that was hidden. They had managed to wire the entire building which was never occupied except for some storefront offices where no one worked.
It was funded by Citizens For Truth (CFT), a group of non-artisan people all over the United States. There were some high profile members who worked in key places that provided non-stop 'intelligence' about what was really going on.
Arman scanned the building to ensure no one entered or left. When everything was secure, he called Trent and Beth; each entered through a separate entrance. Trent immediately opened his Mac and viewed the surveillance system. He brought up the the Burberry scarf Beth forget in the booth where they were sitting in the pub. It had an extremely tine camera tucked inside. Trent used his forensic speech analyst training to identify voices.
Beth and Arman gathered around the computer. A deep voice appeared just as the video played.
"We have cells everywhere, these nitwits believe everything our corporate government media dishes out to them. They have no clue about the music we play, either. They don't know it is designed to make them irritable, obedient, paranoid and scared," he said in a monotone.
"These dang UFOs are closing in. We don't have much time. Before long, everyone will know why they are here so we have to disrupt things wherever we can. They know what we are doing and they don't like it. They blame all the pollution, cancer and other diseases on us. We don't have much time before we are exposed."
"Anyway, trash the scarf unless any of your wives want it," he said.
Trent worked at breakneck speed to match the voice with the profiles they had on hand. There was simply no time to waste.
"Man, listen to the voice. It can't be. Oh no, all the way to the White House and beyond. They are all in this together," said Arman.
"Well, I am getting this video to a buddy at a news station. He will slip it in when no one is looking. He is ready to bolt at any time. We have space for him here."
That evening it happened.
"5-4-3-2-1."
"This just in."
"A Boston Globe reporter videotaped a UFO. This is the best documented UFO case ever recorded, the broadcaster said."
"But this isn't the half of it," he continued.
No one needed to be told who the voice was for what was to follow:
"We have cells everywhere, these nitwits believe everything our corporate government media dishes them. They have no clue about the music we play, either. They don't know it is designed to make them irritable, paranoid and scared."
The television faded to black. Just then, the news station tech walked through the door of our safehouse.
"We did it."
5-4-3-2
"You see, it isn't just any scarf. It has a recording device inside, camera, too."
"Let's wait and see what happens to it. Maybe we will end up recording them," Arman chuckled.
Beth, Trent and Arman returned to their safe house immediately. It was something out of the film, Conspiracy Theory. An escape hatch on the roof and through a side wall with a door that was hidden. They had managed to wire the entire building which was never occupied except for some storefront offices where no one worked.
It was funded by Citizens For Truth (CFT), a group of non-artisan people all over the United States. There were some high profile members who worked in key places that provided non-stop 'intelligence' about what was really going on.
Arman scanned the building to ensure no one entered or left. When everything was secure, he called Trent and Beth; each entered through a separate entrance. Trent immediately opened his Mac and viewed the surveillance system. He brought up the the Burberry scarf Beth forget in the booth where they were sitting in the pub. It had an extremely tine camera tucked inside. Trent used his forensic speech analyst training to identify voices.
Beth and Arman gathered around the computer. A deep voice appeared just as the video played.
"We have cells everywhere, these nitwits believe everything our corporate government media dishes out to them. They have no clue about the music we play, either. They don't know it is designed to make them irritable, obedient, paranoid and scared," he said in a monotone.
"These dang UFOs are closing in. We don't have much time. Before long, everyone will know why they are here so we have to disrupt things wherever we can. They know what we are doing and they don't like it. They blame all the pollution, cancer and other diseases on us. We don't have much time before we are exposed."
"Anyway, trash the scarf unless any of your wives want it," he said.
Trent worked at breakneck speed to match the voice with the profiles they had on hand. There was simply no time to waste.
"Man, listen to the voice. It can't be. Oh no, all the way to the White House and beyond. They are all in this together," said Arman.
"Well, I am getting this video to a buddy at a news station. He will slip it in when no one is looking. He is ready to bolt at any time. We have space for him here."
That evening it happened.
"5-4-3-2-1."
"This just in."
"A Boston Globe reporter videotaped a UFO. This is the best documented UFO case ever recorded, the broadcaster said."
"But this isn't the half of it," he continued.
No one needed to be told who the voice was for what was to follow:
"We have cells everywhere, these nitwits believe everything our corporate government media dishes them. They have no clue about the music we play, either. They don't know it is designed to make them irritable, paranoid and scared."
The television faded to black. Just then, the news station tech walked through the door of our safehouse.
"We did it."
Monday, January 12, 2015
Maybe Not: Part 2
It wasn't long ago that they visited the cabin at the beach. She remembered all too well about being followed.
About being terrified. But she knew too much now. Somehow between her and Trent and now Arman, the story would be disclosed. And the government's part in all of this.
Trent, Arman and Beth made their way to the BBC meeting, in the south end of Boston. A tiny pub known only to locals and a few savvy customers. It would be quiet and private enough inside. With lots of end. Boston winters can be brutal.
Arman and Trent ordered a Samuel Adams. Beth took a Beringers as she carefully placed her coat beside her in the booth. Her eyes were drawn to the dark mahogany woodwork throughout. Hurricane lamps provided ambient lighting.
"Lookit, it isn't what anyone thinks. Well, maybe I should clarify that. There has been too much military action on the part of this country for too long. So many things have been allowed that under a healthy government would never happen. The Wall Street designed-collapses, government turning their back to make them accountable, weapons of mass destruction, terrorist attacks that consume the media 24-7. And now Paris. It happened on the eve of the Russian reconciliation. Too much money would have been lost if some hasn't stopped it and diverted attention to a terrorist situation. Just look what goes on behind closed door when this happens," says Arman.
"Yes, I agree. And the public does nothing. Absolutely nothing," said Trent.
Almost immediately, the color washed down Beth's face. She faded to almost white. Not from shock but more from disgust at the public's apathy.
Trent leaned forward. Beth and Arman followed. Beth slid her hand under the table and felt a miniature box.
"OMG. We are being recorded," she whispered.
She gathered her coat as Trent and Arman moved toward the front door. A $20 bill was left on the table.
Just as Arman's hand turned the door knob, it wouldn't move. Four men in long dark cashmere coats stood outside the door.
Beth turned as Arman and Trent angled a couple of chairs to block the door. They fled out the back of the pub.
The only thing that remained was Beth's beige, black and red checked Burberry scarf.
To be continued...
Trent, Arman and Beth made their way to the BBC meeting, in the south end of Boston. A tiny pub known only to locals and a few savvy customers. It would be quiet and private enough inside. With lots of end. Boston winters can be brutal.
Arman and Trent ordered a Samuel Adams. Beth took a Beringers as she carefully placed her coat beside her in the booth. Her eyes were drawn to the dark mahogany woodwork throughout. Hurricane lamps provided ambient lighting."Lookit, it isn't what anyone thinks. Well, maybe I should clarify that. There has been too much military action on the part of this country for too long. So many things have been allowed that under a healthy government would never happen. The Wall Street designed-collapses, government turning their back to make them accountable, weapons of mass destruction, terrorist attacks that consume the media 24-7. And now Paris. It happened on the eve of the Russian reconciliation. Too much money would have been lost if some hasn't stopped it and diverted attention to a terrorist situation. Just look what goes on behind closed door when this happens," says Arman.
"Yes, I agree. And the public does nothing. Absolutely nothing," said Trent.
Almost immediately, the color washed down Beth's face. She faded to almost white. Not from shock but more from disgust at the public's apathy.
Trent leaned forward. Beth and Arman followed. Beth slid her hand under the table and felt a miniature box.
"OMG. We are being recorded," she whispered.
She gathered her coat as Trent and Arman moved toward the front door. A $20 bill was left on the table.
Just as Arman's hand turned the door knob, it wouldn't move. Four men in long dark cashmere coats stood outside the door.
Beth turned as Arman and Trent angled a couple of chairs to block the door. They fled out the back of the pub.
The only thing that remained was Beth's beige, black and red checked Burberry scarf.
To be continued...
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Maybe Not
Beth couldn't close her blog. There was still so much to say. So much to tell. She was tired of living under the Dome. Under the array of mis and disinformation the the corporate government shoves our way.
She didn't know it then, but she needed a respite. A long one. Time to let things sit a while. There were other things to be done. Like pay some attention to the conspiracy facts. Not conspiracy theories. Conspiracy facts. But she would. And did. Come back.
She's been knee high in theories for years. So many folks wanted the theories tested under the existing scientific testing mechanisms. Quantification. Reliability. Validity. None of those could muster to what was really going on.
Beth knew she had to trust her sources. There were not a whole lot of people she trusted. She did trust Trent.
Trent knew about UFOs. He had seen several himself. An investigative reporter for the Boston Globe, he wasn't one to put his job in jeopardy. He was also in line for promotion to editor. Promotions paid the bills and Trent had things he wanted to do.
Trent had just returned from a trip to the Amazon. He'd been studying shamans and the various cures they had for cancers, hypertension and cardiovascular heart disease. After all, earning a masters degree from the University of Hawaii in botany meant he was destined to study plants.
But something was bugging him. No pun intended. He wanted to know more. Sure, so many medicinal agents were out there and most of the information was suppressed by government with their ties to industry. Suppressed like so much important information is. We only know what they want us to do. But sometimes, some of it leaks out. Some blow the whistle. And some just happen upon things.
Such is the case with Trent. He was enjoying a weekend respite at his home on the cape, taking photos of the evening sky on one particular night. A massive structure moved quickly across the night sky. Descending at rapid speed, the structure, he concluded was a UFO. It stopped in front of him, hovering some fifty feet off the ground. Trent was mesmerized. Tilting his camera he was able to film it. The UFO hovered for ten minutes and zoomed off heading for the sky. Straight up. He knew he had to do something about it.
The following morning, he met with his team at the Globe. He told them what he saw. Even had photos. He was wrestling with what to do. Tell the story or suppress it like others before had done.
"You gotta do it, man," said his most trusted colleague.
Trent was the rising star there. The entire newsroom backed him on this story. The entire room wanted it told. The following day the story made the news stands.
"Globe Reporter Sees UFO"
The phone rang off the hook. News teams from across the world descended on his office. Everyone wanted an exclusive interview. He settled on the BBC because he liked their integrity.
Later that night, he biked to his apartment in the city. Waiting outside were a couple of burly men in black suits. He spotted them long before he got home. His neighbors called him alerting him to their presence. Then as he rounded the corner to his apartment he saw them.
Trent immediately turned his bike around ducking into a friend's van. It was large enough to hold his bike. Knight Rider would have been proud. His friend whisked him away and the two of them decided to complete the week at his cabin in the cape. At least, until things settled down a bit. The cabin belonged old friend who left it to him in his will months before. Trent knew he would be both safe and able to decide the next step. His friend was also a former special ops fellow.
Trent decided it would be better to come back into the city to hold an interview with the BBC than to meet them at the cape. Trent was careful to borrow a cell phone to set up the call about where to meet. Doing that would ensure no one would follow him or know about the interview beforehand. Meeting at a private area, Trent's friend Arman, came along.
To be continued...
She didn't know it then, but she needed a respite. A long one. Time to let things sit a while. There were other things to be done. Like pay some attention to the conspiracy facts. Not conspiracy theories. Conspiracy facts. But she would. And did. Come back.
She's been knee high in theories for years. So many folks wanted the theories tested under the existing scientific testing mechanisms. Quantification. Reliability. Validity. None of those could muster to what was really going on.
Beth knew she had to trust her sources. There were not a whole lot of people she trusted. She did trust Trent.
Trent knew about UFOs. He had seen several himself. An investigative reporter for the Boston Globe, he wasn't one to put his job in jeopardy. He was also in line for promotion to editor. Promotions paid the bills and Trent had things he wanted to do.
Trent had just returned from a trip to the Amazon. He'd been studying shamans and the various cures they had for cancers, hypertension and cardiovascular heart disease. After all, earning a masters degree from the University of Hawaii in botany meant he was destined to study plants.
But something was bugging him. No pun intended. He wanted to know more. Sure, so many medicinal agents were out there and most of the information was suppressed by government with their ties to industry. Suppressed like so much important information is. We only know what they want us to do. But sometimes, some of it leaks out. Some blow the whistle. And some just happen upon things.
Such is the case with Trent. He was enjoying a weekend respite at his home on the cape, taking photos of the evening sky on one particular night. A massive structure moved quickly across the night sky. Descending at rapid speed, the structure, he concluded was a UFO. It stopped in front of him, hovering some fifty feet off the ground. Trent was mesmerized. Tilting his camera he was able to film it. The UFO hovered for ten minutes and zoomed off heading for the sky. Straight up. He knew he had to do something about it.
The following morning, he met with his team at the Globe. He told them what he saw. Even had photos. He was wrestling with what to do. Tell the story or suppress it like others before had done.
"You gotta do it, man," said his most trusted colleague.
Trent was the rising star there. The entire newsroom backed him on this story. The entire room wanted it told. The following day the story made the news stands.
"Globe Reporter Sees UFO"
The phone rang off the hook. News teams from across the world descended on his office. Everyone wanted an exclusive interview. He settled on the BBC because he liked their integrity.
Later that night, he biked to his apartment in the city. Waiting outside were a couple of burly men in black suits. He spotted them long before he got home. His neighbors called him alerting him to their presence. Then as he rounded the corner to his apartment he saw them.
Trent immediately turned his bike around ducking into a friend's van. It was large enough to hold his bike. Knight Rider would have been proud. His friend whisked him away and the two of them decided to complete the week at his cabin in the cape. At least, until things settled down a bit. The cabin belonged old friend who left it to him in his will months before. Trent knew he would be both safe and able to decide the next step. His friend was also a former special ops fellow.
Trent decided it would be better to come back into the city to hold an interview with the BBC than to meet them at the cape. Trent was careful to borrow a cell phone to set up the call about where to meet. Doing that would ensure no one would follow him or know about the interview beforehand. Meeting at a private area, Trent's friend Arman, came along.
To be continued...
Paris Terror Attack: The Two Days Before
Paris Terror Attack: Unequivocal Warning To French President Hollande
President Hollande Had Expressed Strong Misgivings About The Sanction Regime Against Russia
France declares an end to the Russian sanctions just two days before the terror attacks
State of the Nation
France, more than any other nation in the European Union (EU), has been coming under increasing criticism and scrutiny from both within and outside of the EU. The Anglo-Amercian power structure has always been quick to reign in any ‘cavalier’ demonstrations of French independence. President Charles de Gaulle’s resistance to NATO membership is a perfect example of this historical pattern, as were the several assassination attempts on his life and subsequent isolation of France over many years.
French banking giant BNP Paribas was just hit with an $8.9 billion U.S. fine
Fast forward to 2015 and the recent terrorist attacks on the Charlie Hebdo newspaper offices. This staged attack was clearly executed with deliberate intent to produce specific outcomes within the European Union. The desired results of those who fabricated this event are becoming more clear with each passing day. Certainly, French President François Hollande will be re-thinking his commitment to ending the sanctions against Russia that he had expressed just 2 days before the ‘terror event’ in Paris.
BBC News – France seeks end to Russia sanctions over Ukraine
With each passing terror attack, the first two questions which must be asked are who loses, and who gains.
Cui bono?
That’s obvious, especially whenever the terrorists (along with their names and addresses, Facebook pages and hashtags) have been identified before the attacks even take place. The Clash of Civilizations was predicted, and planned, with the penning of Freemason Albert Pike’s letter about three successive world wars planned for the 20th century. But this is the 21st century! What happened?
“The Third World War must be fomented by taking advantage of the differences caused by the “agentur” of the “Illuminati” between the political Zionists and the leaders of Islamic World. The war must be conducted in such a way that Islam (the Moslem Arabic World) and political Zionism (the State of Israel) mutually destroy each other. Meanwhile the other nations, once more divided on this issue will be constrained to fight to the point of complete physical, moral, spiritual and economical exhaustion…We shall unleash the Nihilists and the atheists, and we shall provoke a formidable social cataclysm which in all its horror will show clearly to the nations the effect of absolute atheism, origin of savagery and of the most bloody turmoil. Then everywhere, the citizens, obliged to defend themselves against the world minority of revolutionaries, will exterminate those destroyers of civilization, and the multitude, disillusioned with Christianity, whose deistic spirits will from that moment be without compass or direction, anxious for an ideal, but without knowing where to render its adoration, will receive the true light through the universal manifestation of the pure doctrine of Lucifer, brought finally out in the public view. This manifestation will result from the general reactionary movement which will follow the destruction of Christianity and atheism, both conquered and exterminated at the same time.”[1]What happened is exactly what the world is experiencing throughout 2014 and now, 2015. That being extreme desperation on the part of the ruling cabal (aka the World Shadow Government) to start a World War III anyway they can.
Who really loses in the wake of these terror attacks on Charlie Hebdo?
France has always been the weakest link in NATO, the military backbone of the Anglo-American Axis (AAA) which is quite determined to initiate a third world war. The hostilities throughout the entire Middle East stand as a glaring testimony to the commitment to perpetual war by the AAA. However, France under a dyed-in-the-wool Socialist president, does not have the bellicose leanings that his predecessor had.
President Hollande was particularly disturbed by the heavy-handed US response to the French contract to deliver two Mistral-class ships to Russia. Not only has France lost many desperately needed jobs during the current recession, they have dishonorably breached a highly public international contract.
While waiting for France’s decision over the long-standing discussion, Russia urged France to fulfill a contract to deliver two Mistral helicopter carriers or return Moscow’s money. With the Russian ruble suffering from a currency crisis, the Russian deputy defense minister Antanoly Antonov stated that Russia would “gladly take back the money” it paid to France, according to Russian state-run news agency Itar-Tass. However, if France chooses to pay the price for the deal with possibly heavy fines, it would hurt its already-damaged economy.[2]Russia was, and is, not happy about this violation. And France has consequently lost Russia’s business for the foreseeable future. France has also had its pride injured after being pressured by NATO to fall into rank around the sanctions. This insult to French sovereignty is what has motivated Team Hollande to suggest a serious reconsideration of the sanction regime. So has the potential financial loss of $1.32 billion plus fines, should they return the Russian purchase price.
Editor of Britain’s Jewish Chronicle claims people are fleeing Paris
More than 700,000 rally in France after Islamist attacks
France Gripped By Fear After Paris Terror Attacks
Why was the Paris police commissioner killed right after these terror attacks?
Commissioner Helric Fredoun SRPJ Limoges has committed suicide last night in his office with his service weapon.[3]It appears that the Commissioner Fredoun, who was deputy director of the regional police service since 2012, may have discovered that the actual facts surrounding this bizarre Charlie Hebdo case were far different from those being reported by the press. Hence, there is now much speculation that he was suicided in order to keep his report from going public.
Conclusion
Terrorist attacks are now occurring with such frequency that it has become difficult to keep up with the facts of each one. It is also challenging to determine which ones are real and which ones are staged. Then there is the added challenge of determining the most likely cause of these shocking events, whether they are authentic acts of violence or fabricated hoaxes.
In any event it is clear that President Hollande was getting ready to leave the Anglo-Amercian Axis reservation … in a big way. The NATO leadership would never tolerate such a departure from their agenda to isolate Russia, once and for all. They have likewise proven that they will decisively react to the defiance of any nation in a most impressive and terrifying way.
Michael Thomas
January 10, 2015
State of the Nation
http://themillenniumreport.com/2015/01/first-president-hollande-demands-an-end-to-sanctions-then-paris-terror-attacks-occur-2-days-later/
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Lies My Government...
Do they really think we buy all of this middle eastern zealot terrorism? Really?
First, at least in contemporary times...there was the WTC - 9/11. There is so much to be disputed about who planned and participated in he attacks. This writer hardly believes a well trained military didn't see this coming. Nor, reacted in time. There are so many things that were awry that day. Nope, I'll look at our corporate government first.
Second, the Boston Marathon Bombings. Sandy Hook. Etc. Etc. And now Paris. Each time these atrocities occur, citizens lose more freedoms. Now why are we making these folks the bad guys? I am not saying they haven't done things but this? Really? Oh, right, I remember the weapons of mass destruction lies. Let's add these to the list.
For a second, let's think about who is alleged to do these murders. Do they by chance, have anything we want? Oil maybe? Bingo.
And finally, it just isn't nice to be mean. Nasty political cartoons do nothing to elevate the human condition. Nor does bullying on either side. Or torture. Or...
If it doesn't bring people together for the highest good, maybe we need to rethink how we behave.
Comment from JK:
On the eve of the French reconciliation, they suffer a punitive attack. (This) Has the earmarks of fascist destabilization threatening the longevity of French values and governance.
First, at least in contemporary times...there was the WTC - 9/11. There is so much to be disputed about who planned and participated in he attacks. This writer hardly believes a well trained military didn't see this coming. Nor, reacted in time. There are so many things that were awry that day. Nope, I'll look at our corporate government first.
Second, the Boston Marathon Bombings. Sandy Hook. Etc. Etc. And now Paris. Each time these atrocities occur, citizens lose more freedoms. Now why are we making these folks the bad guys? I am not saying they haven't done things but this? Really? Oh, right, I remember the weapons of mass destruction lies. Let's add these to the list.
For a second, let's think about who is alleged to do these murders. Do they by chance, have anything we want? Oil maybe? Bingo.
And finally, it just isn't nice to be mean. Nasty political cartoons do nothing to elevate the human condition. Nor does bullying on either side. Or torture. Or...
If it doesn't bring people together for the highest good, maybe we need to rethink how we behave.
Comment from JK:
On the eve of the French reconciliation, they suffer a punitive attack. (This) Has the earmarks of fascist destabilization threatening the longevity of French values and governance.
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