Divided

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There I was, you guessed it, knee-high in entrails after a very powerful explosion as I smell the C4 filling my nostrils still fresh in the air above me as I walked into what was left of a gutted building. I then fasten my oxygen mask to my helmet array. The blast leveled 6 city block vaporizing everything in that radius. Good thing in a way that I wasn’t any closer to the blast and falling debris, you would be using an Ouija Board to talk to me.


You, see, it wasn’t me that did the detonation, but those I have been tracking down like a bloodhound. The ones responsible for this hideous act of terrorism is nothing more than a couple of CIA and MASAD agents posing as ISIL/ISIS in a false-flag psych-ops. I am shocked that the Corporation Cabal didn’t try to persuade the Federal Government that has failed us all so miserably that this act was planned and carried out directly by us.


Just be a remarkable chance earlier this morning, my facial recognition confirmed two out of a possible four to six cell

team is definitely in the area. This might be my lucky day, I thought. Unfortunately, too fucking late for all the untold folks killed in the blast. Seems that I have been a step behind them. I have my new orders now, and these sons of bitches ain’t getting away. Once again, the world will know the truth about this mass killing of the public.


My Helmet’s HUD Display came online through my black facemask — Non-reflected of course. Green lights told me from within that the live stream is in sync with the world wide web via satellites. I want every soul to know what is going on as more people across America are driven to our cause after Los Angeles was leveled by a nuclear missile from an American Boomer running silent and not so deep. Truth managed to get out and this false-flag disaster killing millions of people and maybe more kicked off the new civil war. I must admit, looking back, the Corporation Cabal is doing a fantastic job of getting people off their asses and forcing them, us all, to make a choice.

evils


Yeah, the same old shit that fools every American to this very day is losing its grip making all question everything and finally stopped listening to the Cabal – The Federalists, aka the Fascist Regime. A few bad presidents later, I mean, quite a few since Woodrow “Sell-Out” Wilson. Personally, I would not call this rebellion against the establishment a “Civil War” but to overthrow the Nemesis of the U.S. Constitution.


Hence, the name was given to us all who have a dog in the fight, “The Constitutionalists.” For myself, I never believed in either the Democrats or the Republican Parties. To me, those slack-jawed motherfuckers were all one of the same. Man, I am the dog in this fight, and I am far from being the only one.


Here in the now. I am all dressed up for the occasion as I knew high over my head was a Predator Drone with a Hellfire II Missile with my name on it. So, I have to stay focus because of this slight issue of being a new crater with my DNA all over it. Meanwhile, the fires, the smoke, and debris still in the air would give me enough cover to at least track these twinkled-toed motherfuckers down.

 
Nevertheless, today, today is different and in this dream, I was in my element  — My training never left me, never faltered, never failed. Moreover, that was a completely different time and a different government that I faithfully served. Now, right now is a completely different geopolitical world. New alliances made. The Corporation Cabal attempted to buy the Russians into the mix. I reckon the Cabal thought the Russians are brain-dead or something. Since the millions lost in Los Angeles, Seattle, San Francisco, and Portland, Oregon, the Russians stuck it to Washington D.C. not to mention, Maryland in quite the surprise. The Russians never launched a nuke, and would never stoop to such levels as the Cabal – But any government and or regime has its own corruption. The Russians are far from being halo-wearing self-righteousness like the Federalists.

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The Russians hacked into the NSA using a variant of the NSA code, yeah, these fuckers are more of a help than an opposing force. The incompetence of the NSA is our best friend, this is what I am saying. Anyways, with all these hacks, we got control of a few satellites and complete control of all the nukes still sitting all along our territories west of the Mississippi.This, nothing short of a full-blown miracle. A few SUK-57s later and Andrews, what was left who didn’t jump sides knowing who really is the enemy was pounded into the historical archives along with Langley and of course, the CIA Headquarters. Obviously, that the CIA caught wind of this just before the air-strike by our Russian “comrades.”

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As I maneuvered through the outer region of the blast, I manage to get back on track in hunting these dogs down. I thought, how in the hell am

I going to get through the vaporized zone. Then realizing that I am moving through some very hot spots would wipe out any tracking by infrared and such. Besides, there is enough shit in the air to cloak me enough.


Soon, I found them all above a nearby highway bypass high-fiving each other as I got Facial IDs showing who they are and who they are really working for. However, I find it shameful to have to say that these assholes are CIA as I zipped two perfect headshots. Closed caskets for those lads and now for the remaining four assholes. The clock is ticking and until air support comes in, I am at the mercy of this damned situation. I needed a fast way to get up there and get those ducking their fucking demise. Then with all the shit around to include the very same on-ramp they must have used to get up there.


I can’t stay where I am at. I know any moment that Hellfire II would pick up my signature as I could see the remaining guys yelling and crying into the radio in English of course. My heart pumping enough adrenaline through my system, I have only one thing on my mind and that’s to get these four remaining zipper heads some lethal booster shots.


I went into a really dark place into the depths of my soul. It is my primary objective to wipe these ass-clowns off the face of the planet. I have not failed a mission and I wasn’t going to break my winning now.


I manage to make it up to the highway’s on-ramp and up to the bypass. Odd, that the remaining four would actually stay low and now attempting to fire back at me. Obviously, mistake number three for them as returned fire as flashes from my weapon chopped them up double-quick time as those standard bullets didn’t have any effect on my outerwear. I quickly reloaded as I grabbed the radio and then I turned, jumping off the overpass, drop, roll, and found cover in the nick of time as the Hellfire II struck the area I was just at a couple of seconds ago. I didn’t have time to watch the last guy die as he was choking up some dark blood.

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The explosion is intense as I am now ground level behind a huge chunk of concrete. I can’t believe this wonderful armor suit. I smiled as the fireball is going around engulfing me. Naturally, without the suit, I would have been fried a long time ago. Man, I have to going to have to send DARPA a goddamned “Thank You” card. Yeah, a good thing for the latest body armor from DARPA. I don’t think any of those assholes would mind. You know, their stuff being used for good…


For a change…


Now, in the all-clear, double-checking my weapon and suit to include all my systems in the green, yeah, I find myself very impressed with all this new technology that didn’t quite make it to the Federalist since we tracked down the shipments being hauled by train across New Mexico. Special Forces, my gang, we got ours first, and right away, anyone fighting on the front lines got theirs. Once the technology of this suit was jacked, we went into full production by the time Texas fell to our control. It didn’t take much for Texas to see things our way. I mean for fuck sakes, it’s Texas after all, and most already saw things on the same channel, sort of speak.


When the Federalists tried their damnedest to send in their Army and Air Force remaining to kill their own families, well, another great mistake by the Pentagon now laying in waste. Not even a scratch on good ole’ Abe. I cannot say that for the rest of D.C.


My com still silent and I had my orders accomplished. I changed direction to the east. My communication equipment is working fine. Combat Operations for this mission is just east of the Indiana border. My ass needs to get to the landing zone or it’s going to be a long walk to Indiana.

 
I have some time to reflect a bit on this morning’s events leading up to this moment. The only thing I am sorry about as my ears are still ringing from the new blast is the fact, “Too bad I couldn’t get to these motherfuckers earlier…” In the dream, I sure was contrite about that fact. So many families wiped out.

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An indicator is flashing letting me know that I am running low on my oxygen tank feeding into my helmeted mask. My head’s up display and digital readouts were still working great and as I hid there under the ruins of concrete, I could not believe my luck as fortune does favor the foolish. The CIA drone dropped altitude in hopes of finding whatever that remained would give them one of the glowing warm-hearted feelings back at, “Lost in the Fucking Woods, Maryland. Oh, the damned look in their faces as they would think they snuffed out all the loose ends of this slaughter only to find out the public fall out once again adding to a very long list of reasons for people joining up with us, the Constitutionalists.


My auto-tracking picked up another target quickly approaching from the air from the easterly direction coming in fast.


It’s the damned drone that is banking sharply into my favor as I had the bird all locked in via my HUD display and synchronizing my weapon in nanoseconds. “Come to papa, bitch!”


I honestly don’t know if the good folks at the new CIA Digs got to see the end of my weapon pissing out lead sending the craft into a fireball. I avoided another death sentence and I quickly moved away and heading to my L.Z.


Man, I am indeed fortunate today and just imagining the long and shocked faces at looking at their large HD 4k displays going abruptly dark. That brought a smile to my otherwise, melancholy stone face.


Moving quickly to a ravaged bus, I hid there for a few seconds as I heard a cloud of voices coming over that handheld radio asking if, “The team” is okay. They were demanding a SitRep. Oh, I had one for them, it is gonna break their fucking hearts as I told them their bad news.


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“All is lost and I am streaming this shit live to all the good people of the world in real time. You are not getting away with another 9/11 today, bitches.” Anymore, they or my forces would lock into this signal and today, I just didn’t feel like being blown to bits.


As for the streaming of all that I am doing, I just figured out there amongst the sea of dancing eyeballs would be some people cheering me on. I also know that Google is NSA and Google owns YouTube. They could shut down the feeds but organizations seeing things our way already are sending all this shit across the Internet. The NSA and the CIA can’t block out everything.


I ditched it among the smoldering bodies all over the bus. I made a run through all the shit just as my tank of air was exhausted. Still, I had my filtration that would remove some ninety-five or more percent of the toxic smoke.


I have to make it to the extraction point where those like me from the same military background of whatever we saw, did, hear, or told never happened. Nothing we could put on a resume — Bet that – would wait to get the hell out of here.


Chicago’s north side and western regions fell into our control and it is a matter of time before the east would fall as well. As far as the rest of my home state is concerned, we’re all as one. This, all of this right here, does my heart good saying that. It really does.


Then a Cobra Helo crossed over the cluttered street of burning cars and those inside. There is nothing I could do for any of them. My HUD said, it is one of ours as a sigh of relief came over me. I could see they had a lock on me and via the technology; they had me pegged as one of our own.

 
I know the gunship is giving us cover now. Yeah, there was more than just I alone as the others would be heading to the extraction point. As to the cold fact of how many of us were left?


I had no idea and again, something I couldn’t do about it anyway.

 
Shit, as I am double quick timing it I can see the Blackhawks coming in and the rotary cannons firing at some nearby trajectory as the Cobra fired two righteous missiles down on the location further ahead. Apparently, the CIA had more than just one team of “terrorists” for us to cherry pick them off at wholesale.

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As I am catching my breath and keeping from getting too brutal in my mind as it is literally racing with images from Desert Storm up to the present moment, the rest of the northern states like Wisconsin and their militia would sack anything in their way in opposition. Indiana is in flames as most of Indianapolis has fallen into positive control. I kind of feeling some remorse at any of the possible Federalist controlled strongholds face all those pissed off farmers – Not really.


My heart felt as it is at the top of my throat. Fuck, I remember my crisis mode. Go into crisis after neutralizing the primary and secondary objectives later. Yeah, that’s me. Now, I am not quite out of danger’s way but I am out of another danger close situation as more traffic from my own coms came alive. Thank god, I was getting close – Oh, I have to remind myself that I am, after all, an atheist.


The body suit of mine and all those like the one that I have acquired, has its own environmental built right in and this is a very good thing. My bio reading showed a core body temperature of 101 degrees. I know personally, I am good for 107 degrees. Yeah, that’s my personal best by the way. Even with the robotic type assist in the interior shell and with everything, I would not have been able to do anything close like I am able to do along with every other old-timer such as myself. This suit gave us old timers the strength of ten men. Now, the Federalists are keeping things interesting as they are sending several thousand of their best droids are way. Droids have a fault and soon, we would have positive control over them too. These droids, heavily armed and nearly unstoppable by ordinary civilians are about the equivalent to a speed bump to the A-10s that are already on the situation in Indiana’s Eastern region.

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Combat Ops had me pegged and broke through signaling me for a complete SitRep, I have a good enough signal as I sent the heavily encrypted data their way. They would all have what I saw and done thus far. Yeah, just like the net was seeing except my name, rank, social, and bio information.


I continued at a slower pace as others were sending their SitReps into Command. By the sounds of it, we lost half of the teams but in spite of this shit, we still came up on top as two F-15 Silent Eagles ripped the sky apart over my head coming from the west – They are our birds. You see, let me tell you, good folks, something. The F-15s never lost in a firefight since the first making way back in 1973.


The American Government didn’t know what they had in a fourth generation bird modified a good many times to be fifth-gen at best. Still, we now own the skies – F-35s and those fucked up F-22s left were like shooting fish in the barrel so I was told. The Federalists and their Military Industrial Complex spent hundreds of billions of dollars on such bullshit that is desperately falling short in their propagandized media blitz. By the time the Federalists tried to order the squadrons of B-2’s, well it was too late for them as we broke their hearts by blowing every one of that two-hundred-billion a pop went up in flames. Kind of ironic though, I mean seeing our acquired B-1 bombers doing the destroying from Ellsworth, Air Force Base just outside Rapid City, South Dakota.


There are many drones still up in the air in the east and no matter what they throw at us, we’re going to take down. You see, the Federal Neocons fucked up and put too much faith into technology rather than the human mind. Most of the Generals and Admirals bailed from the Corporate-Controlled Government and are now leading our side both strategically as well as tactical operations like the mission I am on. Those that didn’t make have got ass-fucked at the fall of the Pentagon and assault on D.C.


Keeping our cool and all moving east here in South Chicago can see another episode of swatting the drones out of the sky above us. The proof is in the sky above us and check out our F-16s now way above us with their cannons locking in. Hey, those little dark spots you are seeing up there are drones coming to an abrupt end.

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No matter the Feds say in their propaganda, the reality is the fact we Constitutionalists have the civilian supported majority and the military on our side all focused on bringing down the corrupted powers that remain. Oh yeah, we definitely have the upper hand.


South Chicago suffered enough and with this latest False-Flag thrown at the good folks here, well, once again, more and more people are seeing things, waking up to things our way.


Maneuvering through the streets, I can see a few civilians coming forth onto the streets and cheering me on. Just about the time, I thought I am coming a hero and celebrity came up a heavily armored transport vehicle to pick me up moving slowly through the cheering crowd.


Tits, this is the end of the show right here for me. You can roll the fucking credits on the mission it’s a wrap. Now the sad thing apart of the Feds setting off the bomb and succeeding killing an untold amount of people about all of this is the fact that it’s my last mission. As I am loading myself into the vehicle and can see some familiar smiling faces as I too took off my helmet. Yeah, all of us look like we have had one hell of a day. Some of the remaining looked like the sorry end of a short stick. I fared better as I took a seat.


Before I know it, I will be back with my family in the Black Hills of South Dakota as more troops and those younger come in filling our big shoes. I know a couple of things, these kids are on the fast track in their military career, and the fall of the Feds is indeed coming soon.


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A Taste from; The Many Unnatural Lives of Scott Solomon Dean

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“We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow.”
Ted Bundy



    “There are real monsters in this life but they are not out there in the darkness somewhere just out of eyesight. The real monsters are sitting right next to you smiling and laughing the whole time they are thinking on how many ways they wish to kill you. The real monsters are entwined in the society of humanity since the dawn of time.”
Raven Blackstone



    “I knew there was something odd with me when I was a small child. Other kids would not have nothing to do with me. It would come to me in just a short few years that I thought I had a monster within me. Then at true revelation struck me, damn, I’m the demon within. I accepted, embraced, and loved my bloodthirsty insatiable appetites upon all I would cross without care or reason.”
Brandon “The Worm” Reed



    “I lost my virginity while inside a woman and then immediately starting killing her. As I was doing so, I realized there are far greater pleasures than sex could ever offer me. I simply followed my strong urges. I became a god over who lives and who dies.”
Johnathan Knepp



Introduction

Standing upon Mount Moriah are two men, both wearing their white hard hats and their matching Corp of Engineers shirts. The oldest in silver hair and sharp blue eyes is rolling up the overall plans of a major project. Behind them a small surveying crew doing their work just out of earshot of the two.
    

“So, you’re on board with the plan or what?” The older said snidely.
    

The younger man looking rather pale from this immoral plan. “Yeah, you actually want me to go with that? You want to only move the headstones and leave the rotted bones right where they’re at?”
    

The older man turned to face the younger, “Listen slick, it isn’t like your goddamned grandmother is among the dead buried down there with all the other whores. Mount Moriah Cemetery is just some fucking forgotten place in the annals of local history, superstition, and any other redneck beliefs. The goddamned rotting bodies stay right where they’re at and we’ll move the stones to the new location.”

The older man paused only for a second. “If you can’t be a part of this, then you’re off the team. Besides, you like being married to my daughter, don’t you?” It is nothing less than a viable threat.


“Frenchy, what are you gonna do, take my wife way from me if I don’t agree to this unspeakable bullshit of yours?”
    

“Taking away? No, I was thinking more along the lines of her being a widow. Accidents happen all the fucking time, Bob.  This is a huge project, you may find yourself prone to one such fatality or something.” Frenchy paused with a determined grin froth with rage painted upon his otherwise, white face.

“Look, I brought you on so that it would help you both financially and making a goddamned man out of you. This would be the first big project you have ever been on. I won’t allow you to fuck things up here – too much riding on this – too much money to be had wasting it on bullshit. The getting is good, so for god sakes, pull your head out of your ass and join the team or you can be lying face down with those there at Mount Moriah Cemetery in an unmarked grave all covered by three feet of crushed rock and gravel with another two feet of reinforced concrete. Go along with my plans or simply be a result of an accident. Hell, I’ll even dig the grave with the traditional six feet of earth for you Bob. Now how would that be?” Frenchy’s eyes looked like two slits of rage.
    

“So, what’s it gonna be, Bob? I don’t have all fucking day goddamn it. Make up your mind now you fucking cocksucker.”
    

Bob Weber browbeat and threatened by his own father-in-law wiped the sweat off of his own brow with his white handkerchief. “Okay, all right, I’m in.” Bob looked up to his father-in-law shaking his head affirmatively.
    

“Well alright then…” Frenchy then put his hand on Weber’s shoulder and whispered in Bob’s ear. “And if I catch your prick in another woman or that boyfriend of yours, I’ll kill you myself and I’ll put your body down a hole that no one shall ever find – not even God could find you.”
    

Weber stunned in the realization that Frenchy is already well aware of his two affairs also shook his head affirmatively in both overwhelming shame and wonderment.
    

“Good then, I won’t have to bury them next to your grave down there where the new outer parking lot will be,” Frenchy smiled ever so coldly as he removed his firm grip on Weber’s shoulder.
    

“Fly right, son, and we’ll both be fucking rich. You’ll see.” Frenchy turned away and walked up to his white air-conditioned pickup truck then driving away from the scene.  

Weber watched him go and realizing that no matter what and how he personally felt, his father-in-law had him under Frenchy’s thumb, and there would be no way of getting out from under it.

Then like a bolt of lightning, a though entered his mind, “Accidents happen all the time on major worksites. My fucking father-in-law could easily be an accidental casualty.” A smile broke across Weber’s face.

The massive construction of the Whispering Pines Sanitarium with its own super-max facility will begin shortly after the transfer of the headstones and all things above ground belonging to the Mount Moriah Cemetery. These opportunities will afford Weber the chance to not only get out from under Frenchy’s thumb, but to shatter it completely.


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Grimstalker

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In these woods, I am the boss. Least, this is what my fellow brothers and sisters say. Most days I am pretty easy going and you really have to go out of your way to really piss me off. When you do, well, let’s just say you opened up a frosty keg of Old Testament Retribution. Naturally, I’m not religious, and make no mistake, all religions say there is no room for my kind in any heaven. I will say look at the big picture of things, I can’t see my sorry ass sitting on some cloud playing a goddamned harp and that would be a living hell. Nevertheless, something about the unforgiving vengeful god that just gives me some righteous wood. You know what I am saying and if you don’t best mind your own business.

I love rolling with my kind like thunder through these beautiful black hills sporting our colors, our tribal colors that is. Ours is like no other and those fucking sissies that say they are some outlaw biker don’t know the meaning of, “The 1%.” Sure, just because we look human, act human, and on any other day, have empathy of a human, well, there is just more than just leather jackets, high octane, and the crack of an opening throttle. After all, happiness is a flick of the right wrist away. However, you see, there is more than what you can normally see about my kind. There is so very much more beneath the skin as they may say.

Human shell on the outside and our truer selves on the inside. Believe whatever makes you sleep better at nights thinking you know there is no such things as ghosts, phantoms, vampires, monsters, and my kind, the werewolf. Yeah, that’s fucking right, there’s all kinds of creatures walking day or night. We are your doctors, nurses, service men and women, the police, the fire fighters, and shit. But one goddamned thing you got to understand is that we are indeed only human on the outside. Inside of my kind is a blizzard of wrath that no man can contain though many have tried — tried and died. There’s a whole goddamned nation of a cemetery full of them. More scattered to the four winds in the form of shallow graves and rotting remains hidden away. Up here in the hills, there are more old mine shafts than people, and in the bottom of these are hills of bones who thought once upon a time that humans were at the top of the food chain.

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Listen, the moon does not hold its sway over my kind. Piss me off and have me in a corner, and I will show you the animal within from zero to spilling your guts in less than a couple of seconds. Not to worry, you’ll be plenty alive when your small and large intestines splash its payload on those new boots of yours. Also, let me clue you in on something else, religious relicts, crosses and such, spells and incantations don’t do jack shit either. Once upon a time long before you or I were a pup and then some, we overcame the silver bullet thing. I mean, in the spite of what you’ve seen in the shows, Hollywood, and shit like that, you’re in for one hell of a shocker when your silver hallow-points has no effect on us other than messing up our clothing. Not to mention, pissing any of us off.

Like I said earlier, I am a pretty easy going guy. I’d rather smile, laugh, smoke weed, and hang out at the Gallows talking shit, and meeting other members of packs from out of state sorts.

We all have specialties, I mean, you know, what we do in our more natural, or perceived in your eyes as, “Unnatural” we have our own names, handles, and skill sets. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking and you’re already wrong.
When we are in our natural state, we are cunning, fast as lightening and the weakest among us is as strong as any ten men you may want to chose. The brothers and sisters of my pack and those of my kind call me the, “Grimstalker.”

Trust me, every since I was a pup, I made it a profession in tracking down the free-range rubes that tend to get a little too close to things of ours, our business, our way of life, our land. Oh, for the fuck of Christ, trespassing on my land really raises the fucking hackles on the back of my neck.

Sitting up at my cabin here in the Black Hills you have to go off the beaten path, the roadway, and follow an old mining road and then turns to a path and a bridge over a small creek just to get to my land. I have no use for “visitors” of the human kind let alone uninvited assholes. Trust me in saying, I can hear a real dumbass walking up from the road far below. If the wind is blowing right, I’ll pick up the scent of the poor son of a bitch. Then your goddamned ass is all mine.

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This is where I turn from a guy catching some porn on the tube to my namesake. I jump up and already I can feel the change come on. I keep it in my pants if you know what I mean. Then on my way out, I grab my stainless mattock. It’s a custom job like a stainless tomahawk or one hell of a bitching hatchet with one unfucking-forgiving business end. You’ll never see it coming, you might hear it buzzing through the air and maybe, just maybe the sun will dance ever so briefly just before I take the top of your fucking skull clean off.

Again, you’ll be still alive when my gifting separates some of that grey matter of yours. Then as you slide down next to a tree, you’ll be sure to see me. Though because of the missing portions of your fucking brains, you’ll be not doing much else except look up at me as blood flows from your mouth and ears while shitting and pissing yourself in doing so. It usually happens to most people and I don’t hold that against anyone just so you know.

Then with my claws I dig into your exposed brain for a fucking taste and that is when you fade away right when I got a good paw full of your brains as your body has its fits, seizures, and shit. I’ll let you die as I eat and fetch my mattock right above your body pulling it from the tree along with the top of your skull and scalp. The scent of fresh blood in the air — your blood that is. You won’t know it, but very soon, day or night, we’ll be feasting upon your remains.

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Werewolves of Deadwood; The Legend of Connolly Pettimore

Blackened

Introduction and Shit Like That

Since the beginning of my works of, “Tales From Under the Concrete” that shatters the normalcy of compliance in the macabre and horror genre, the “Werewolves of Deadwood” has appeared as short stories. This includes segments and side stories that I love to do as it adds to the ambience of not only the tale itself but that of Deadwood itself.  Now on to the next thing I would like to bring to bare and that is the fact that DarcWorX and myself, Douglas S. Taylor are one of the same. With so much written and the energy that I put into this blog over the long haul, anyone who isn’t deaf, dumb, and blind should get more than enough proof in becoming exposed to my talents without excuse.

Yes, I know that I am not for everyone in the adult horror, thriller, suspense, dark fantasy to say nothing of the macabre genres I write – I can also assure with equal measure that everyone out here isn’t for me either. Having said this, I am who I am, I write in a unique sort of way, a style of my own, and an International fanbase that expects nothing less from me. Though, this fanbase is small, means everything to me to include my loyalties with each and everyone of them. Yes, I even regard most of these people as friends. Oh, dare I even say that (enters sarcasm). For those who are just becoming writers, authors who are entering the world of the Internet along with the social media I would like to welcome you and warn you. You shall find friends and fans who are anything of what they seem to be. They are anything but positive influences and most you shall find out are envious and are cruel shadowy reflections of humanity.

Be warned.

More importantly, you continue being yourself and constantly strive to perfect your gifts and talents. Rise above and beyond the shit-eating trolls, imposters of those called friends, fans, and critics. Critics, real critics will always point out the good with those things that needs work on through a constructive atmosphere – Thank them, take their comments and opinions in heart. With all else, fuck them, press on, and give no more thought to these posers.

With the advent of the Internet, the creation of Social Media via the web, everyone has a voice. I would concede that for most, they don’t need a voice and remaining silent would be the best choice they can make. Alas, the genie as it were, is out of the bottle.

Over time, I have been accused of many crimes against humanity as suggested by this particular article of a man who disguises himself as a woman and another pretending to be a human whose interests are into exploiting Asian underage girls.

Nevertheless, if you strive to be the best you can be, you will run into parasites like these. Put the dogs in the ditch with plenty of lime and bury these and move on. I have been accused of being a racist because of the dialogs of characters and what they have said in the course of a particular story. This is utterly shameful and a pathetic of poising the well and reputation of the author.

How fucking lame is that? 

How fucking ignorant is that?

I hear it all the time about others who are more well-known. “Oh they must be pedophiles because they write or create monsters like these…” Disturbing albeit. Nevertheless, horror based upon the cruel realities in this world. Still, these hypocrites say anything to bring another down so they, these spineless fucks would make them look brighter and better – It shows how lame, it shows you stunted fucking minds is what it does.

Evils

I think there are some comments made on Amazon that I allowed to leave there about some pretty ignorant fucks who gave it their best shots. There are other comments that are good and reflect an accurate opinion. There are also some negative comments that has absolutely nothing to do with the particular book or story – What the fuck?

It is what it is…

I wanted to add this material and things said to set the stage with some of my own angst to share. I also have the need to share some sage advice to those beginning their literary journey in these realms I have made mention. Do not give into the hubris and the gut-shot howling of these lesser primates. Live your dream and perfect your endeavors.


Now let me move on with the second half of this article; “The Werewolves of Deadwood.”

I wrote in some detail a few years ago while I was still a slave to the W-2 indentured to the Game. I remember it was a terribly dark and dreary night in the month of November. Walking in the mist and patches of fog dressed head to toe in black I moved through the night unseen as my mind wondered. I will admit that my imagination became ablaze with visions of supernatural monsters like vampires, phantom specters, psychotic killers, the criminally insane on the prowl, and then like a bolt of lightening electrifying my spine, werewolves!

Yes, werewolves indeed. Right then in the absolute darkness, I could almost hear the howls of such beasts. I imagine that I was one or vicariously traveling within one following the further shore of Elk Creek hidden in the forest and brush line. I could almost feel its blazing red eyes gazing upon me as I walked alone. I remember smiling from ear to ear at the thought that I may be pray. Yes, the hunted as the werewolf hidden watched me with such contempt. Finding myself smiling even more where others may be frightening themselves with their own scary thoughts I walked on thinking about the imaginary creature that wanted the end of my life and the taste of my flesh and blood in his mouth.

I did not have the time or energy to divert to some self-induced fear. No, my mind now totally in flames of creativity. As I walked on this dreary lonely road, the world of, “The Werewolves of Deadwood” began its infancy socially secretive world. You know, the beginning of the particulars, some of the main characters came into mind, and with them, their names, where they were from, what they do in human form in Deadwood. I also thought or entertained the possibility of Deadwood having its own clan or tribe of werewolves.

Moreover as my mind burned with brilliant visions and a budding storyline, the walk home concluded as I found myself on my front porch. I was already home least physically but not mentally.

How in the hell could I be?

My mind was spinning up a new darker world. Already the world of Deadwood, my Deadwood I was creating and sharing through short stories such as the Whispering Pines Sanitarium, Blackstone Rising, and others were already in print. Yes, I was then at that time tying all these persons, places, and events though totally fiction into my world. The story of these werewolves would become part of it. With these werewolf clan would be a need of history behind them, events that happened in the past, cause and effects, ant-heroes, villains, and an age-old rival, the vampire coven. Moreover, a vampire coven unlike that of the baneful romantic glowing bullshit mythology of young teen vampires. Instead, a blood-thirsty parasitical group or coven who were akin to the idea of the destruction of the werewolf clan in some Underworld sort of way. No, I wanted to add to what I have created on my own. So, the vampire coven based upon an insurgence of a biker gang that recently moved into the area in reality and with it, a level of crime not seen since the late 19th century.

The biker gang would later be all rounded up by the DEA and FBI for the manufacturing and distribution of Crystal Meth in the Lawrence, Meade, and nearby counties. Yes, this would be something that I shall use in the story line. I had it. The vampire coven would take the place of the biker gang, but not only take the place, but to kill off the biker rat-bastards themselves. No love loss, and all overnight. This would be excellent. The Vampire coven needed a name, a leader, a few of their own meth cooks with their own brand of crimson meth. These vampires would also come to the knowledge of how to keep a shifter, (werewolf) from changing from human into their animalistic powerful supernatural selves.

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Oh, the fucking gears in my mind were grinding. First, I made mention of these things in some rendition of “Morbidity News” on here, on this blog a long time ago. Some people picked up on it and actually enjoyed the piece of fiction. However, most of those that lived in Deadwood, Lawrence County, and as far as Wyoming thought of it as some sort of fabrication, fake news being passed off as real news.

Now, how fucked up and simple-minded is that?

I then needed a dumb-like character that is a werewolf. In human form, eye-candy for the women. A tall and powerful man of the usual average intelligence from the back woods of Louisiana near the Mississippi boarder swamps. A man came to mind, his description of a dark skinned brown eyed and matching hair that is shoulder-lengthen tattooed fellow that goes by the name of Connolly Pettimore. Basically a good natured and fair man attached to a ruthless bitch for a mate also from the same region who came up here after a conflict of a clan in New Mexico. I shared a bit of history of Connolly and the troubles his mate got themselves into. I think I may even shared a measure of personal regret on his part for keeping her. Though, she blames every ill-deed on him. She is nothing less than a sociopath and quick to anger. Any other emotion is nothing but a conjuring effect on her part. Now enters the drama aspect.

As I said earlier, I wrote several very short stories of, “The Werewolves of Deadwood” that appears in the Tales Series. Nevertheless, I believe that this particular story needs to be its own novel in paperback and eBook formats.

As for Connolly and his henpecking, he will end the latter abruptly. A man can only stand so much insanity from a stunted mind. This woman, sure, she is based upon a sociopath I once had the most unfortunate time then in my most miserable life. I don’t care if man or woman, you all can see faces being painted across your mind’s eyes right about now – no doubt.

So, the story, the original piece was told through a character who is the owner of the Gallows Saloon in which was an actual place here in the historical Deadwood. I was offered an opportunity to visit this place by the late owners. Fascinating this adventure was and it was, at that time, all that I could imagine and then some. Now, some ex-FBI agent turned it into a pistol shooting range and bar – Yeah a fucking bar with drunks with loaded weapons.

How fucking stupid is that?

I couldn’t have made that shit up.

Again, the story, or the history is told by a werewolf in human form that describes John Joseph “Jack” Nicholson to a fucking “T.”

Character names withheld; the story starts with the introduction of the werewolf clan and how it fits into a dark history just before and during General Armstrong Custer’s infamous 7th Calvary’s 1st and 2nd Expedition into the Indian Reservation of the Black Hills from Fort Meade, South Dakota. Fort Meade is now a Veteran’s Hospital Facility east of Sturgis in Meade County – You never know, the question could come up in Jeopardy or something and this information may be priceless to you all.  

Yeah, the historical portion, a portion in a draft format is fascinating on its own merits though will be re-done from the ground up with a good many things in a novel format. The history speaks of actual events along with the accounts with the views of the speaker. This history laced with both facts, truths, and my license of fiction will certainly blur the lines much like the pseudo-history told as actual history in today’s classes of education, the Museum of Deadwood that has about as much truth as a few grains of Fool’s Gold.

Not to get a head of myself in the least. Connolly Pettimore hears through the elders of the Deadwood clan that resides up in Roubaix, South Dakota of the current treaties they have with the neighboring vampire coven not to mention, the manufacturing of the crystal meth operations. These facts, this alliance is something that Connolly can’t even conceive since the history of Vampire and Werewolf is more of a story of master and slave. Pettimore’s personal dealings in the south with the vampire covens there has proven only one thing of certainty; vampires cannot be trusted in the least.

For Connolly, he harbors only contempt and seething hatred since both of his parents were killed by the order of some elders of a vampire coven. Again, he would be faced with another deadly alliance in New Mexico that his woman helped greatly in exacerbating the tension placing the clan there in peril. Truce was only achieved by excommunicating Pettimore and his mate from the region. Yeah, there is far more to the story or I mean, more to it when I write it.

Nevertheless, Pettimore finds the secret location of the Vampire Coven’s Elders. He manages to ditch the warnings from his own elders and enters the secret grounds hidden in the ancient Roubaix Graveyard. There he waits in hiding for mid day. Then he executes his plan. In basic, a shallow but effective plan. He is to break in and being undetected by the surveillance system short-circuited by a huge solar flare he knew nothing about. Otherwise, he would have been out-numbered and killed by his own kind protecting the Elders. A betrayal made by a pact with his own elders and kept secret. He opens all the window protection mechanisms after quietly opening the caskets. The Elders turn to dust, screaming, flames, the whole bit.

Pettimore realizing that the guardians are coming upon him, he bolts out of the den of elders and blocking the only door behind him with some sort of old railroad tie. He watches the place burn and all those that die inside. This obviously includes his own species.

With this knowledge gained and the betrayal of his own Elders he goes to back into Deadwood where those there in power have a very hard time believing Pettimore. Proof is presented as a small band of werewolves investigate and report back. The coupe ensues with the demise of the treacherous werewolf Elders. This swift and bloody action raises issues with the Custer, South Dakota and Wyoming Clans. A Blood War is immanent as sacred laws seemed broken because of the deaths of the werewolf elders. This will have to wait as the more powerful covens of North Dakota, Montana, and Minnesota along with Nebraska demands retribution of the near total destruction of the meth-making, hence, money-making coven in Lawrence County.

Free

One thing is for certain, Connolly Pettimore may be a hero to some in the region, a hero to those immediately around him but has a death bounty on his head along with those who help conceal him from a twisted form of vampire justice and then, if he survives, he may have to face the wrath of his neighboring clans.

Well that about does it here for me with this subject. It would be considered kind indeed if you would let me know of your thoughts. I know I have exposed some intriguing plots within plots and a high-powered overall synopsis.

I will also say, don’t get any fancy ideas of using any of this matter and subject as your own. Though, you may kid yourself into thinking of taking this work as your own and that would be a fucking grave mistake since all this, everything is copyright protected to include all within.

This brings me to the finality, the conclusion of this article, this post on WordPress. Unlike many other bloggers that have posted some sort of Anti-Plagiarism banner. You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. This is proprietary work owned by DarcWorX. I have seen my work on other blogs. I have seen my stories and literary material on other blogs and stories. Yet, these same dullards say my work is poorly written as to discourage me. They take the entire story and the only thing that is changed is their name pinned to it.

These egregious actions do reveal themselves and those phony fucks pay dearly and more often than not, much more than they can afford.

For all those new talented writers, authors, and such. Protect your work. Learn what is, “Fair Use,” “Public Use,” “Non-Copyright” and “Stock Images.” I recommend the following, “Adobe Photo Libraries,” “ShutterShack,” and a vast array of online catalogs of additional images you can graft into your own, make it your own like any other business online and traditional magazines do.

Please make a safe and secure contribution via PayPal and thank you.
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DeathofaGod

The Sheriff

Sheriff

Today I find myself out checking the higher trails on my usual routine as the sun was at its zenith, in which says so little in these parts. One thing is the fact that the sun sits lower and rides along the hills, just above actually. Secondly, the sky, seems to be a storm, a bad winter’s storm brewing up in the north as the low-pressure front is just coming upon us.

Listen to me, I sound like a fucking weatherman. I crack myself up sometimes at the shit I say to be quite honest. The new snow, the heavy snow anticipated is the whole reason I am out here today and making, well, a full day of it. You see, world renowned snowboarders, skiers, and the likes will be swarming down from all over the world.
Even in the spite of the time of the season means very little up here. One could always say, “It’s so damned gloomy all the time…” They’d be right in saying that while they’re constantly bellyaching about their trivial shit.

Nevertheless, this portion of the Black Hills is a very secluded, and some might say, “With trails less traveled upon.” In that would be the truth. Though, once upon a damned time, this area all around me was bustling with active gold mining, a railroad, a small town just up the side of the eastern slope here that included a brothel and a school for all the whore’s children. Mining isn’t much of a family life, was it?

It isn’t much of a life period as history would tell us. That is if you were some piss-ant working for the owners of these old mines now in utter ruin. Sure, there are a few openings but you have to know where to look and hope to god you don’t fall into some old air shaft leading a couple of thousand feet down. Most are about a couple of hundred or so into utter darkness. Regardless, it’s more than enough to fuck up your whole day if you fell into one. No one would know, no one would find you. Out of the entire history of this area, there has never been made mention of anyone that fell, and saved, or for that matter, ever recovered.

This area, yeah, it’s not for kids and idiot adults to go off this beaten path. Most of the folks, those even from out of state don’t come up here. They don’t visit the old graveyard now overgrown by the woods reclaiming the scarred land. They don’t even know about the wretched ruins of the old Miller’s Place that looks like an old castle made of crumbling stone. Shit, it’s all cordoned off and there are trees, squirrels, ravens, and whatnot that holds residence there. The state was going to restore that some time ago since the Millers were so filthy rich and powerful. They ate up and owned most of the mines eventually. I don’t really know anything more about those kinds of people or the history, which is not all too flattering according to the local historians. Still, that old place, all dilapidated and all, yeah, that’s on my rounds too. I’ll be seeing that soon enough. You see, it sits up along that ridge east of me. One will see it if you keep on walking south along the trail. Comes into view now and then. That is if it isn’t covered by the low clouds, fog, and the likes.

Regardless, no one has any business leaving the trail and heading up there to look around or explore. Never a good outcome.

Skulls

You see, the Northern Black Forest remains shrouded in heavy mist and the kind of darkness that plays upon the weaker minds out here. I mean, just the gloom in the area, and pick whatever season, it don’t matter and it just throws up one hell of an “Unwelcomed” sign to anyone with some wits about them.

Out here miles from nowhere is not for the frail of heart. In fact, you must cultivate a strong mental attitude if you’re out here. People lingering around these parts especially in the winter has one hell of a death wish. You see, they just don’t last long and if these fools are lucky enough maybe by late spring or mid-summer, their mortal remains may be found. But that’s the exception to the rule in these parts. Out here, most of the time, it’s the wildlife, the environment that gets you in the end. And trust me I know all too well.

It’s my job, it’s what I do as sheriff and all.

Do you want to hear something that will raise the small prickly hairs on the back of your goddamned neck?

Last week before all the people from out of state for all the snowboarding fiasco would be showing up, I was out here like I am now. The only thing different is I’m carrying this rifle. I didn’t need anything like this out here before. That in the past. I saw something that gives me more than enough cause to carry such a cannon. Better to be safe than sorry – better to be alive than dead, I say. That is, if you’re carrying special ammunition like I have. I won’t bore you with the details.

Back to the story of my adventure up here from last week…

I guess I was up by Murderer’s Creek along the old Iron bridge, the “Hanging Bridge” aptly named for the executions of some gold miners gone wrong along with some of the other social “Shames,” Interesting name for the despicable who found a noose around their condemned necks. You’ll find all this just south around that bend in front of us.

That bridge and most of the old events are now two full centuries ago and whatever ghost town it later becomes fell to the insurmountable grip of these woods. These very haunted woods. Just before noticing the sun dipping lower across the hills is when I saw the bloody unmistakable tracks of an adult Silverback Werewolf. The tracks left off to the right side of the bridge, breaking through the thin ice as it stomped through the shallow creek to the freshly laid maiden snow on the other side and disappearing into the tree line.

I reached down resting on my feet for a closer examination when I took into the account the size of an animal, a paranormal creature that some professor says doesn’t exist. I put the creature about three hundred plus pounds and nearly seven feet tall by its gate. I suppose some village idiot would think its Bigfoot or some Bullshit like that – I would leave it right at that. No need for anyone really discover the brutal truth otherwise. I took off my heavy glove from my right hand as the frost built up on my beard. With my index finger, I dipped it carefully into the small freezing pool of blood in the right paw print and tasted it. I found my eyes widen as the blood began telling me the story. You see, I have a secret to tell; He is not the only changing out here in these woods.

Adult

And before you go off half-cocked and say something you’ll soon regret, I for one was born this way just like a few of my kind in the region. You might say, “We’re as old as the hills.” You wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

Listen, you’ve been around my kind, my kind are your doctors, your teachers, bartenders, friends, in-laws, and the like to include police and law enforcement. Moreover, I got this problem and it’s bigger than you or I.

The blood I tasted wasn’t his at all. The blood belonged to the victim, a woman that would be found brutally raped while he was still in human form. How do I know this?

The blood never lies…

The blood doesn’t hide anything…

All is revealed through the blood…

I can see through my mind’s eye of what her blood was telling me. I saw that he began to change into his normal self-reaching into her stomach and pulling out her backbone. My ears rang with the snap of her spine. Damn, she was very much alive at the time. The Werewolf barely knew of her and under his false pretenses of being quite the charmer and lover boy. The bastard, he brought her along this otherwise beautiful winter’s day. Oh yeah, a right down gorgeous day all things considering.
Yeah, after he finished with her, sexually, and otherwise, he dumped her remains under the ice of the creek about a mile further up. The blood also shows me his identity in human form and of course, again in his more natural form.

There just isn’t any way I can cover up this hideous crime this time with the people involved. The victim is a resident and much loved in the region. I know the woman killed, her father in which is a good man, and his wife, Betty that I’ve been banging for at least a full decade now. For those of you pretending to hold the higher moral ground, you can hold that against me too. But remember, when you slip, you fall a long ways down and I hope it hurts. Judge if you must, but Betty and I are more than a thing.

Now, this awful news was going to hit the family the hardest. The community will panic as it did before, and even before that as I can remember as for the last full century clearly.

Snowboarders and the like will be flocking to this region and I can’t hide this one. No nothing like the other ones.

I rose up and reaching for my radio, I called it in. I’ll lead my deputies to a haphazard roundabout to the woman’s mangled body. When the dust settles, I’ll square things up with this new idiot stranger in town…

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“There are always those that say hindsight is twenty-twenty. In my life this is not true in the least. My hindsight is in all truth, a bit fuzzy, distorted, and, at times, based upon actual events. Fortunate for you that this account is in all things, grimly true. The story yet to unfold is contritely factual, and for me, it is crystal clear. For those that cannot stomach strong adult content – Exit doors are on the left and let us who are adults continue unabated and uninterrupted. I, we, thank you in advance…

It is strange on how a broken mind such as my own works. I can certainly remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, cannot remember names of people for shit, and some memories well, should be better off left alone in the boggy swamp of my mind. Some memories are so clear to me that it really does seem like it recently happened – like yesterday so it were.”  Excerpt from “Cracked Actor.”

The United States of Shame

 

I would like to say a few things here. Normally, “Morbidity News” is all about some really dark humor such as, Extraterrestrial Copyright Infringements that the United States Government stolen to all kinds of creatures, mayhem, and the usual political spoofs. All the time, someone, somewhere takes the category and the articles or posts seriously. Most of which are those people who fall inline with the “Flat Earth,” “Planet X,” and “9/11 Commission’s Version of What Really Happened.” Moreover, heaven forbid that I buck the system with a thing called, “Facts,” “Truth,” and call “Bullshit” on the “official” stories by the corporate news of America. I am not a conspiracy theorist. Nevertheless, conspiracies are for real and more of the once called theories are proven to be true with each passing day.

While America is in a fluoride coma living in the “American Dream” are taking it dry right up their asses. You can sell a good line of happy horseshit right down their throats and they’ll believe that it’s just fucking good for you because every motherfucking moron around them are doing it also. Yes, and that is suppose to make things right?

The United States of Shame, an empire run by psychopaths in a fascist regime who are the same asshole-corporations who own the government and their masters, the banking cartels who are the ones at the top of the pyramid. You see, the Federal Government is not even close to the top of the pyramid scheme. I know, I know, most of you may not even hazard a guess on what in the fuck I am talking about. I can’t help you and you’re too far gone in this coma I illustrated earlier. Nevertheless, you’re doomed, and the blame is not on the government, but each of you wonderfully diluted citizens that will be left holding the check with your precious panties wrapped around your ankles.

Let’s take a look at the current Presidential Race. We have on one side, a homicidal killer, liar, extortionist, sociopath, and the worst goddamned Secretary of State in America, Hillary Clinton. Her bloody crime trail goes all the way back to at least, the run for the Arkansas’ State Attorney General by Bill Clinton. His list of crimes are equally matched to his wife and they couldn’t tell or afford you the truth about anything at any time about any event.

Is America’s memory is as long as a newborn baby’s dick?

Seems this is the obvious case. I can see via outside the control of US Corporate Media that there is a division of who is siding for whom in this election such as CNN, also known as the Clinton National News, MSNBC, and a couple of others. It’s all too appalling and once again, stretches the boundaries of absurdity. All of this as seen throughout the globe as a very bad joke no matter how you cut it. So far we have all seen the proven electronic voter election fraud(s) going on. We have seen Bernie Sanders 1 million votes mysteriously sided to Hillary’s count. We have seen things far worse than Watergate ever was and it does make Tricky Dick Nixon look like a Patron Saint of the Wayward Politicians. We have seen Clinton cheating on the last Presidential Debate with her signaling, her earpiece, and the fraudulent commentator, mediator of this event that makes the sinking of the Titanic like a Loony Tunes Melodrama. Even caught red-handed, the idiot in on the conspiracy of the debate still has a fucking job according to news sources.

Then Wikileaks a bit slow with the October promises of the new batch of emails with the following excerpts of one hell of a horror movie;

These fun facts and action-packed internal emails are flagged as “CLINTON SUGGESTS WALL STREET INSIDERS ARE WHAT IS NEEDED TO FIX WALL STREET, *CLINTON ADMITS NEEDING WALL STREET FUNDING”, “CLINTON TOUTS HER RELATIONSHIP TO WALL STREET AS A SENATOR”, “CLINTON TALKS ABOUT THE CHALLENGES RUNNING FOR OFFICE”, “CLINTON IS AWARE OF SECURITY CONCERNS AROUND BLACKBERRIES”, “CLINTON REMARKS ARE PRO KEYSTONE AND PRO TRADE”, “CLINTON IS MORE FAVORABLE TO CANADIAN HEALTH CARE AND SINGLE PAYER”

The moderator, Lester Holt, well, he should be sent to prison holding hands with Hillary and everyone responsible to include all the rat bastards in the DNC Fraud. Oh wait, remember the lawyer responsible for the heavy Class Action Suit?

Yeah, he woke up one morning and found himself dead Tony Soprano style. Boy, the motherfucking death-toll under the Clinton’s Regime has continued to climb unabated by most everyone sleeping behind the wheel of the Department of Justice. The Corleone Family would be green with envy.

Right now in the US News people are blaming Russia for the fucking computer hack when months ago, Russia was cleared by these very same people that are now blaming this country. I strongly suspect and hold the US Government, the DNC, and the Clintons in my highest contempt right along with the Bush Family.

No fucking wonder Vladimir Putin is so frustrated with the West let alone with the United States of Shame these days. Now there are millions, tens, perhaps even a hundred million or more that actually believe in their hearts that the democratic processes such as their vote actually counts — Another painful myth exposed. I cannot keep a straight face at these village idiots that believe in this “patriotic epidemic.” There is no voting that counts on a federal level, the game is rigged, and has been for a very long time. There is just too much to risk for the power-elite to leave this important stuff for chance by a mindlessly Walmart-Shopping fluoride-numbed brains of the general American public. Now, let’s say that everything is fair to you even if the powerfully-elites were out of the picture (this would qualify as a supernatural event of biblical proportions). The voting processes itself is broken and been broken, outdated, and utterly useless — It would never comes close of being fair and that’s without cheating. It was built over 238 years ago and never evolved since, never took into account the expanse of equality and left to rot on the vine.

Then there is the Republican Party as if it is suppose to be a different party all together…

All together?

Not so!

The DNC and Republicans are only comprised of one central party we’ll call the Fascist Corporate Party or FCP for short. The deception perpetrated by the FCP having mainly a two-party system is just a facade. Both candidates, (in the past) may differ on the little things like abortion, right to life, and alternative energy. But the big issue items such as the military industrial complex, the Federal Reserve, Wall Street, and the secret societies in government — No fucking way is that left to chance and the FCP makes damn sure that shit don’t happen.

Meanwhile, across town in an empty warehouse these candidates are drawn from the left and right to the middle zone of politics catering to those who are actually in control in which you are not a single part of or a matter of interest. You are, after all, in a game where you have lost any freedoms you may think you have. After all, you have been bred and manipulated to be always in the middle of the road — This is where they want you, this is where you get smacked by the Semi of deceit. Just keep standing right there.

I am going to forego the Republican’s best contender, the clown of Manhattan, Donald Trump that obviously lost his Frontal Lobe a long time ago. Yes, you can bet the bank I hate him too.

Moving on…

Do you have a W-2 Statement?

Then you’re a slave. Leave color and ethnicity out of it. You all are active and complacent slaves paying, and some of you, enjoying paying your illegal taxes by an illegal agency that is not apart of the United States Constitution or any of its Amendments.The IRS is the only non-congressional, non-constitutional entity given the right to steal your wages, your earnings, and has the power to leave you homeless or worse, in prison.

What did the public do before 1933? 

Public programs voted in to include public schools, public libraries, roads, rails, the government both local, regional, and federal were running just fine. The entire public infrastructure was doing and according to the Constitution of fair taxes levied would continue to do so up to present day. Real taxes both state and federal are instantly taken out of all kinds of legal things, groceries, sales tax, gas tax, road and vehicle tax, state property tax, federal property tax, business sales and such. The list goes on and on. Yet, most of you are so numb, you don’t realize that the IRS has no authority to make you pay a third of your yearly salary every fucking year.

In the Court of Law, there are precedencies of causes where common ordinary people charged with IRS Federal Tax Evasions won their cases by never filing in the first place. To make it easy, if you file, and you lied, or owe, you’re fucked. Don’t file ever again, and fix that goddamned W-2 while you’re at it.

Need proof?

Use the goddamned Internet!

There are, for your viewing enjoyment, entire documentaries on YouTube, Netflix, and other resources. If anything I have written here in this particular post you find in revelation and challenging your ideas to include what your fellow sheeple think, then perhaps you need to step off the Fluoride Train and continue to wake the fuck up. Oh, I forgot to say, the use of adult language is used throughout this blog in the use of dialog, character dialog, and in my very own words are prolific. This is an adult blog for, wait for it, adults. So, if you find anything offensive, pissing you off, and have a need make a formal complaint, do it here.

We have staff that cares…

“So Doug, when did the United States Government sell us all out?”

I am so glad you have asked and the answer is straight forward as it is poignant; Woodrow “Sell-Out” Wilson back in 1913 with the Federal Reserve Act of, you guessed it, January, 1913.

Let me go a couple three years earlier when JP Morgan and his banking buddies were all got together in the same room in a resort located on Jekyll Island, Georgia. These Goons then drafted up a mean spirited contract that would be used to form the Federal Reserve. Yes, most people believe that the Federal Reserve is a part of Government, of Federal Government, but this is not true either and I know that may sting some peoples’ numbed minds. Not to worry, you’re not alone. The corporate-controlled media gets it all wrong all the time too. So, JP Morgan and crew, see the Federal Reserve Act for a list of those who he ran along side with him. Oh, and I bet you don’t even know this, but Grandpa Bush was even a Nazi-Owned President of the Reserve before he got his hands caught embezzling money, you know, stealing cash from said bank of robbers?

The fucking irony…

So, from 1910 up unto the act became an act, JP Morgan made goddamned sure of the so-called stability of the idea of a Federal Reserve by creating several schemes of panic to cause a run on the local banks throughout America. Morgan would tell you, “These assholes never saw it coming…” caressing his hands together. This act of sedition not only fooled the public, but gave cause for some horse’s ass to be bought and paid by the newly forming and soon to be, the Federal Reserve Banking Cartel a presidential runner — Hence Wilson. Yes, Woodrow was their man. Again, not your man.

Now again for the inept, Woodrow in his run for power comes into a cascade of political funds he never would imagine to help him in his quest to pass gas in the Oval Office came from his new bosses, those of the fractured banking cartel, the Federal Reserve Bank.

What about the other guy that ran, what ever happened to him?

Listen, nobody wants to hear or try to remember who came in second, third, and finally, last place in anything.

The Federal Reserve had their man and again, the first act as President was the Federal Reserve Act in January, 1913.

Then came the times of 1929 when the stock market crashed and a serious run on the mom and pop banks throughout the nation, just like before by the personal actions of JP Morgan did, happened all over again. Now according to the Federal Reserve’s promises, some shit like the Great Depression was not suppose to happen at all, hence the reason of the Federal Reserve’s Financial Stability good bullshit Policies. No, instead, JP Morgan and crew literally paid pennies on the dollar buying up all the small banks as fast as they could in a bum’s rush.

This ploy, again the American Public took it all straight up the ass. It worked in the beginning, it worked then, and guess what?

It still works today!

The American People are still without blemish or shame, taking right up the ass continuously since and, for a few generations of slavery yet to come. This game will never change, it’s just too little too late for the American Dope as the sun begins to set yet on another fading empire. “But Doug, whatta ’bout the ‘Too Big to Fail?'” America should have said, “Go fuck Yourselves!” Then these charlatans would have died out or figured out another scheme to hoodwink the American Public. There would be blood in the water for sure and the strongest would have eaten the rest.

Is it me, or did I miss something on the latest American Bail-Out?

If we financial forgave these fucking sharks then these same financial predators should have forgiven the home owners and debtors as well, right?

This of course didn’t happen, couldn’t happen, and is against everything in the American Psychopath’s Corporate Handbook. Instead, a lot of empty foreclosed homes left in decaying ruin. Now there happens to be just as many as all the homeless veterans and homeless people living out in the remote regions just outside of the lenses of the Corporate News that can move in securely and mortgage free —

Nice Pipe Dream, I know.

Thanks for reading,
Douglas S. Taylor