It Has Been A While…

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A young woman fresh out of collage fastens up her undergarments and looks into the mirror in the Men’s Room for any signs of cocaine residue on her pretty face as the one behind her helps her get dressed, a skinny male twice her age that just did a few lines of the drug and bending her over the toilet in one of the stalls just moments ago.

She smiles back at him while she touches up her lipstick, the very same shade that is smeared slightly on his still erect penis. After all, his Viagra is still flowing through his racing heart fueled by the cocaine and exercise in the stall.

“Do you think that anyone heard us?” She smiled as she put on her her blouse and skirt still looking at themselves in the mirror.

“It doesn’t matter. If they want to keep their fucking jobs, they’ll keep their goddamned mouths shut.”  He smiled back combing his comb-over of his greasy peppered hair. “I just wish my ole’ lady’s pussy was half as tight as yours.” He smiled once more as she put on her skirt.

“Thanks babe. If anyone does say anything to you, you will let me know?” She smiled once more in the mirror and walked out of the Men’s Room only after just opening the door enough to make sure the small hallway between the Men’s and Women’s room was clear of any witnesses before she heads out to the main door of both the facilities intro an office. There she could see large windows and below them, the vast cubical. The large windows shown a blue sky almost free of chemical trails and the New York City Skyline.

If anyone realized what might have happened, they didn’t seem to care in the least. A few gophers from these cubicles have far better things to do and gossip about. An older woman walks passed her without so much as a glance. Under the influence of her cocaine and mid-morning sexcapades with her boss that is like clockwork on every Wednesday for about an hour between 10:00 AM up around to 11:00 AM. She realizes that she may be standing too long and moves off in her paranoia. This is not her floor. Her office is three floors down.

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Walking along in her fashionable dark navy blue business suite and white blouse she makes it out of the large office area into another hallway leading to the door on the right marked, “Stairs.” She walks passed this door as she almost hears a cold whisper, “Don’t take the elevator.” She stops halfway in her quick New York pace on the short maroon carpet. “What? Who are you and what did you just say?” She looks around quickly to see if their is anyone there. There she finds no one and no more was said.

She then continues to turn into a larger hallway with a waiting room, chairs, small tables, and a desk where the silhouette of the woman that just passed her moments ago was now sitting under a high decorative style window where the sun was beaming in causing the younger woman to not see clearly enough. There in this end of the larger hallway, the younger woman could see several younger and more beautiful women waiting to be interviewed. Her mind flashes back no more than two years earlier when she was sitting their texting on her phone waiting to be seen next for an opportunity to work here. She glanced at them closely and thought as she pushed a button on the elevator, maybe they’re the newer models to come in and replace me as the new Office Pumps…

The elevator opens with a bell-like signal and the doors opening as the young woman walked in noticing the younger ladies were far too busy texting to even look up at her. She turns and walks in as the doors closed as she felt the air within the elevator begin to get cold.

In her pride and arrogance with the sudden pre-occupation of being replaced as the Office Pump she realizes that she is not alone in the elevator. Of course, there are security cameras, open microphones, and even an emergency phone. The dark figure startles her as she begins to realize once more about the warning moments before.

The young lady becomes terrified as she realizes the phantom shadowy figure takes shape into a powerful-looking man-like entity. “Scream if you must I can assure you that no one will hear you.” His voice deeply mysterious giving cause to her petite body shaking.

“Who the fuck are you and if this is a joke then go fuck yourself!” She yells at the cloaked and hooded man. She cannot see his face, only his powerful chest and some sort of black leather and silver buckled fasteners on his inner clothing. She can then smell the odd odor of sulfur and something else that caused her slender nose to wrinkle up as her right slender trembling hand tries to cover the smell.

The phantom figure takes notice, “I am indeed sorry about the odor that surrounds me. It has been a long day for me already and yet it is not even noon. Again, I apologize. The sulfur scent will go away quickly, but as for the iron, the iron in the blood you smell, well, that’s like my calling card, that and the scent of old death, I’m afraid. Once more, my apologies.”

As he spoke, the elevator began to slow down as she turned in her controlled fear up to one of the security cameras and yelled, “Are you seeing this? Are you bastards seeing this?” She points with her left arm outstretched to the figure.

“Hey assholes, are you even watching?” Her voice raises and greeted by only silence.

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“Quite the shame. You know, with all this security…” He said slowly looking up at the cameras and yet the hood covered his face from her as he continued, “False sense of security actually. You know, like a prophylactic worn by a man. Seems safe for you to suck and fuck it until the damn thing breaks and then you don’t know what you might catch…” He pauses only for another moment as she drops her left arm slowly still trembling.

“All the while the poor bastard as you so eloquently put it in regards to the security team that cannot see or hear me. You see, I am here for you, Amanda.”

She is completely engulfed in her own fear as she realizes that this is not an hallucination unless something was put into the cocaine, laced by some mind-alternating drug that turns reality into a living nightmare. Then, her boss would have digested the same thing as she attempts to reason this encounter off as just that, a hallucination.

The hood tilts a bit as if he is straining to hear or read her mind. The answer comes quickly and most shockingly as him calling her by her first name. “Oh, this isn’t a hallucination by any means. No, there wasn’t anything as some sort of element added to the already fatal toxins you took earlier. If it is any comfort at all, your boss is lying flat on his back gazing up at the dim lights of the Men’s Room. You see, he’s glaring up into the lights through the cloudy lenses of death. They’ll write it off as a drug overdose of cocaine, mixed with his Viagra leading to his sudden heart attack.”

She gasps and then screams.

“Shut the fuck up!” He reaches out with his leathered black hand and formed a tight fist that chokes her from across the room without physically putting his hand on her throat and windpipe. Yet she can feel the cold death-grip as the temperature in the elevator drops enough to see her own heavy breath.

He lifts her off of her feet by raising his left tightly fisted hand and arm up. Her body rises as she begins to kick her feet as one of her high heel shoes falls aimlessly to the elevator’s floor.

“Why is it that the security have not yet responded. This must be a burning question in your mind, right?” He drops his release as she falls to the floor gasping for air.

“I am the Black Reaper, the Devil’s own Reaper. I come to collect all that it is his and none other. I never guise myself like some old dear friend or relative to come to collect those that are marked, those that are already damned to hell.”

Amanda looks up at him still standing their in the corner. She has no strength to lift her shaking body up from the floor. Her thoughts turn to only these final moments.

“Wondering what you may have done so wrong? Maybe you’re wondering if you made some deal with the Devil you don’t or can’t remember?” He pauses for a response but gets nothing as her eyes struggle on the floor darting back and forth as he, the Black Reaper is already in her head.

“No, it’s not the hump and dump weekly games that brought you here to me, but it helps. Your shitty rat-fucking drug inducing games every Wednesday did not call in your marker sort of speak. No, it was something you’ve said when you were alone some time ago in your car after you killed your fiancé. Yeah, that rat-bastard always sneaking around and thinking he always had the upper hand to everyone and everything. What was it Amanda that drove you to brutally murder him some thirty-six times with that hunting knife you stolen from your friend? Surely it had to be something that brought you over the edge and consequently, threw him over the edge in South Dakota.” She can almost make out the Black Reaper’s voice becoming saturated by this egregious act of cold-blooded murder as these events were being played back in her mind. These thoughts buried so deep that she practically would forget now and then.

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So, you chucked poor ole’ Toby off into the sweet bye and bye  down an old air shaft to an ancient mine far below. You waited until you heard his limp body break up on the old mine’s floor, didn’t you? I do know it has been a while.”

She was replaying everything in her mind. The Black Reaper is right and deeply in her head. “You then thrown the murder weapon, his computer, the one that he replaced you with while you were still with him. Shame that he grew to love that more than he ever loved you. Though, Toby always had a problem with emotions, human emotions, real feelings that lead you, that driven you to off his ass as soon as you could safely do it.” He didn’t wait for her to respond.

“So you stolen a hunting knife from that former friend of yours. What did you call him? Oh yeah, ‘that esoterical asshole.’ Yeah, I can feel the contempt in your heart to this very day. The same name you shouted out while having sex with your former fiancé in those bitch in the heat moments. That neighbor loved you only as a friend. He knew you were delusional from the start but he enjoyed your companionship as you began to use his knowledge and wisdom in things you were grasping to yet to fully understand. Then he began to work on a very dark project that caught our attention over our own sort of evil souls in government. From presidents to congressmen, to judges, and all that was connected to these child pornography and snuff sites. Oh, raping little boys and girls were not enough for these men, they had to kill them and others too. We have so many like those among us, working for us, and dulling out suffering that makes all hell weep with envy.” The Black Reaper chuckled.

“You never took into account the suffering this neighbor had to relive in his own demons, and all you wanted to do is rub it in his face by saying, ‘you take things too seriously. Really? The Black Web and the ring of hellfire around it all and that is all you can say as you desperately tried to pry into his work in helping what little good was left in government. You lifted his blade and you never felt the curse on that knife not to mention, our growing curiosity into your private life..”

Bitter tears were flowing down her face and slowly turning to ice as the elevator stopped completely. Her eyes were filled with the memories, the burning memories of it all.

“You were told by this person that when you look into evil, evil will look back into you. Yet, you paid no heed, after all, you don’t beleive in Hell, Satan, and shit like me standing before you. Yet Satan and I never stopped believing in you, Amanda…” His voice grew serious and somewhat melancholy as she felt a cold bite of metal cutting deeply through her throat from ear to ear as he dropped the very same hunting knife she stolen and used on her beloved Toby.

Choking on her own dark blood and looking horrified at the hideous sight of the weapon and her last few moments flashing before her. Amanda could hear but not see the Black Reaper as death was setting in. “Your suffering Amanda is just starting to begin. There is a whole universe of our special ones that will enjoy violating every orifice in your tight little body as like that of a well-oiled peace-pipe being passed around from one creature to another. You’ll be robbed not only of your life and soul, but driven into complete madness. As, I stated earlier in the beginning that the day is yet young but I have done and continue to do all the tasks that begs my immediate attention.

The doors quickly open up as the first responders rush in only to find Amanda lying on the floor in a dark pool of blood. They look up and around at the arches of arterial spray that looks more like grim angelic wings. A security guard just outside the elevator door exclaims, “We have her on video, we have her confession of a murder she committed and her entire suicide!”

The detectives push the overly excited security guard back just enough to give room to the medics to load her tiny and frail body on the stretcher to cover her with a white blanket already beginning to saturate with blood.

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As the body of Amanda is pushed from the elevator now being controlled by the New York Homicide CSI Team, the young women that were sitting there in the waiting room screamed and were frighten by the gory sight. As one spoke ever so froth with emotion, “She just got on the elevator and closed the doors. We could all hear mumbling and then her talking about killing someone and she couldn’t live like this anymore or something.”

The older woman still behind her desk was answering questions to the detectives, “I don’t know anything much about Bonnie Bryant other than she was having a weekly affair with her boss usually in the men’s room and that is were you found Mister Mobley at? Oh, dear, Joe’s wife is going to need years of therapy over this one!”

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Dogs

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You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you’re on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking


And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You’ll get the chance to put the knife in


You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
You know it’s going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older
And in the end you’ll pack up and fly down south
Hide your head in the sand,
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer

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And when you loose control, you’ll reap the harvest you have sown
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone
And it’s too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone
Dragged down by the stone (stone, stone, stone, stone, stone)


I gotta admit that I’m a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me as if I’m just being used
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise
If I don’t stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?


Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone’s expendable and no-one has a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And everything’s done under the sun
And you believe at heart, everyone’s a killer


Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel

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Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home


Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone

SONGWRITERS
DAVID JON GILMOUR, ROGER WATERS


PUBLISHED BY
LYRICS © WARNER/CHAPPELL MUSIC, INC.

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March 2012 Magazine Cover and a Whole Lot More!

Copyright Protected © 2016 By DarcWorX

Copyright Protected © 2016 By DarcWorX

Hello and thanks again for visiting. First off, I apologize in the email notifications being sent out stating these posts are temporary, and the like. I have been working with WordPress to bolster up on security and browser smart-devices the world over. Much of this heavily-lifting was done by the magnificent WordPress Team. Many thanks are in order – Great job, Gang!


As many of you good people and dedicated fans of DarcWorX aka, myself. I want to thank everyone of you with a special darc satyr I first wrote on Facebook to include a friend called, Heidi Heartbreaker.

Also included in this post is a darc humor and a darc political story. I strongly suggest that you folks be warned that this is a parody based on actual events ripe with the conspiracies from past to present.

Now for those who really love this stuff as much as I love writing it, this piece is akin to the award-winning post, “Morbidity News Special Report; ETEATIG is Suing U.S. Government!” I realize that the mentioned post went over a metric ton of heads out here. Those that got it, really got it good. Least those folks that are into the Independent Authors, and well, the Independent Genre entirely.

I will also furnish within the post links to my other site, Black Reign Operations which is an Investigative Journalism site of mine. The information there is not a “Conspiracy Theory Site” but one of  actual conspiracies that the site diligently proves. Needlessly to say, the information there and the sources listed are secrets that the government doesn’t want you to know.

Women

The Unknown Man in the Darc

Listen, we have worked decades, and I literally mean decades of dummying down America. How fucking dare, you Heidi to attempt to wake up the good saps of America with your contrite “Conspiracy Theories” on things. You’ll never complete your plans. I can assure you, Mrs. Heartbreaker, all duckies get got in the end! 

Let me enlighten your sweet ass on a few things first before you get involved in some tragic accident, plane crash, or suicided for your troubles. We have created False Flags since the Spanish-American war. I’ve personally been instrumental in assassinating a president in broad daylight and corrupting heads of state in other countries so they would play ball with my regime or be buried face down in a jungle somewhere in some banana . It’s my elite cartels I represent that controls every aspect of government. I am a faction in the CIA and NSA as well. Just so you know who you’re fucking with. We spent a shitload of time scheming in the dark, tons of cash, and adding fluoride to the public water system. Heidi, this kind of work costs mega-money and serious lethal time invested. I suggest you start drinking some if you want to see tomorrow.

We don’t need you to exacerbate the situation here, Heidi.

Allow me to further enlighten you and for God Sakes, we own the Pentagon, the Department of Justice, the FBI, the DEA, all the way down to the BSA as well as the USPS too!

We’re behind the scenes in commercials, news, radio, the net. Oh, I bet you’re watching TV right now. You can partake in our mind-numbing tactics. We tell the saps how to think, what to say, and what they do. We got this shit down solid, Heidi.

Let me do you a real service of how this shit started…

Shit, it was us who created fractured banking in the United States in the first goddamned place. Fractured Banking is solely based upon debt. It generates perpetual debt that the taxpayers and thus the government can never pay off. You see, when we were pulling strings on “Jew-Hating” Nixon to get us off the gold standard we had completion of the Banking Cartel.

Survive

Now it’s time for a deeper and clearer look into how far the rabbit hole really goes.

We’ll go back to the days of Woodrow “Sell-Out” Wilson about the Federal Reserve Act. My people were writing up the Fed’s Constitution on Jackal Island way back in 1910. You must understand, we owned Wilson, we guaranteed his campaign – Check that; our campaign to get a stooge into the Oval Office. There would be many more we would elect in such a high position and Heidi, we never leave anything to chance. Yeah, we owned the whole entire Electoral Processes faster than a Methhead all jacked up.

Example: We didn’t want Al Gore to ruin things. His wife is a total fuck-up to boot. So, we called in George W. Bush’s little brother to smooth things out in our favor with the Florida issue. I was there in the shadows to insure things went our way.

I know what you’re thinking and you can keep your thoughts to yourself if you like breathing Contrail laced air. You see, we give the good saps in America the illusion that they have a say in the voting processes – They don’t!

They don’t even know that they are in the game – our game where the house, that’s me and my kind always wins!

Talking about the good little lemmings. More like coked out hamsters on a wheel sort of thing. Look what we did to Compton, Watts, Harlem, and other places that the CIA flown in crack cocaine so we would have even more money to buy weapons for the good little terrorist groups in the Mideast. Real terrorist groups, Heidi.

CRACK IN AMERICA is CIA ALL THE WAY, BABY!!!

DOUBLE BOOYAH!!!

Flash to the past…

Yeah, GP Morgan was the man back then baby girl along with others such as Rockefeller, the Rothschild’s, and so forth. GP Morgan, now there was a man with true decisive vision. You see, GP fostered rumors and promoted runs on the little banks just to show to the rubes that with the Federal Reserve, shit like the times of 29 could be avoided. But we still fucked over America anyways and no body alive ever knew what we were doing. We bought up the competition for pennies on the dollar. We live for this shit and we’ll fuck over anyone who gets in the goddamned way!

I got to tell you that the glory days of the Bush Family was instrumental except for that fuck, Granddaddy Bush who was on our board was caught red-handed in skimming from the top in which we fired his shagging ass. I told everyone that he was a fucking thief amongst thieves – a real gold-bricking opportunist. I told everyone, “Look you motherfuckers, Granddaddy Bush was a Tire Repair Man – Yeah, a fucking tire repair stooge.” Alas, they didn’t listen evidently.

Then comes his son. Now what I’m about to tell you is pretty much unknown and on the down-low. Father Bush fought in WWII. He was stranded on a remote island with 14 others. By the time the Navy finally found them — Daddy Bush was the only man alive and the others were victims of cannibalism.

Well with that kind of fortitude and dedication, we placed his ass eventually as the head of the CIA. Now I want to be straight here with you all. Daddy Bush wasn’t all that creative or imaginary. He had trouble making up names. This fact is shown in the names of his two fighter aircraft and again using the name of “Al-Qaeda” a name of a database in which has all the CIA assets in Afghanistan when the Mujahedeen, aka, the freedom fighters, aka, the Taliban during the invasion of the Soviets.

Yeah, that’s right, the same name given during the 9/11 Conspiracy that I was very, very instrumental in the beginnings – Bush Daddy suggested we call the imaginary Terrorists by the same fucking name.

How lame…

Point man back in those days then was a rich Arab by the name of Osama Bin Laden. Oh, he was a fully paid valuable asset. A few decades later, Osama Bin Patsy also known as the Primary Camel Jockey that Papa Bush wanted to use as the “Middle Eastern” boogieman.

Lack of imagination and a reflection of a very shallow gene pool. A one-handed golf clap in the dark would be appropriate for Team Bush!

Disturbing


I just slapped my forehead in despair and told the group that this is so absurd and no one would buy into this good bullshit.

Boy oh boy, was I wrong or what?!?!?

To this very day, the average rube still believes 9/11 was an outside job masterminded by the Arab Poster Child, Bin Laden. Oh, the media slaves, and marionette did their magic in the spite of the absurdly of a rushed plan into making the saps believe it was the not so lucky lad from the fucking dunes, Osama Bin Laden. You see, Baby Bush, or Little W wanted you all to know that Bin Laden was the arm-chair quarterbacking this whole affair hiding in a cave armed with a Cell Phone, Laptop, and Satellite Phone?

Fuck me, please already!

I was asked to resign from the program actually called, “Operation Goodin-Tighte.” When you have very imaginative skills in dark creativity, you need a man like me as Papa Bush said to me once when he was president passing gas at the Oval Office, “Wish I had ten more just like you…” How quickly he has forgotten.

I wished to hell he would have opened a fucking window first!

Clinton, Bill Clinton said the very same thing when he was throwing an Arkansas Orgy at the very same room that Papa Bush first told me. Yeah, the sex was great, the job as the Late Warren Zevon stated ever so aptly in his 1982 album, “The Envoy.” I have all his albums since by the way. Warren was also in the inner sanctum and I bet you didn’t know that. You see, where there ever is a problem, like Zevon said, “…Wherever there is a problem in the world, the President(s) sends his Envoy – They send me…”

I was that man that fixed things if you know what I mean. Speaking about fixing things, I began fixing the Superbowl Games since 1981. Why else is the scores always lopsided?

Now you know…

I am kind of retired these days on most things.

Still, the NSA and CIA has me to cap a few heads of state and taking care of some twit that is able to connect the dots in the grand scheme of things. I enjoy killing, it’s better than therapy, drugs, whores, and medication any day of the week. Though, I’ll tell you this much about my assassinations. I wish I could kill a motherfucker more than once. Now I would be a very excitable boy as Warren puts it, god rest his fucking soul. I got a picture of him and I back in Egypt shaking bloody hands. He had a cool way of laying things out.

Anyways…

Yeah, Obama is nothing new. In fact, he’s a total fuck-up. However, I have my own fleet of drones at my disposal. I have the fucking Joystick to prove it!

Technologies of the most heinous I have at my disposal. Cruise Missiles at six-million a pop too. Shit, I may be spying on you right now through various insidious means necessary. If not, allow me to make up a sweet air-tight case on you. If you’re using Windows 95 RC2 and above, we’ll be in your computer, smart phones, and all kinds of goodies if we’re not already monitoring you. There isn’t any operating system we can’t get into.

I also want you to carefully consider, Heidi that I will re-task a satellite if you even think about going off the grid.

Shit, let me tell you something more. If this religious shit about a hippie named Jesus was actually true, you can bet the house that we had boots on the ground in Jerusalem when he was under Intensive Investigations by my predecessors. Then of course, the powers that be had the motherfucker crucified. Hey it was all kosher with the Israelis at the time – I mean if it were all real and shit.

Women

Here is something more you might want to think about, Heidi.

Looking back on things back at the golden age of taking over the government here in America I had a couple of problems with the Bush Family fucking up the game plan. I reminded Daddy Bush, “Who capped that rat-bastard president and his brother?

Not to mention, who pulled the fucking trigger on Martin Luther King?

Yeah, I have the rifle to prove it. I liked King, but he said the wrong things and needed to be slightly adjusted via a bullet through his skull. Yeah, he had a dream, motherfucker! So get back to the game plans and read the fucking scripts before another assassination should accidently happen, old man!”

The look on his face was priceless!

I also reminded Daddy Bush that we owned, President Ronald “I don’t Recall” Reagan and that we own the entire political shit and the fact we always owned the Bush Family. Yeah, those were the days. Do you remember, the “Contra-Aid” scandal?

Yes, indeed, the CIA got caught in the South American Cookie Jar. So, the CIA got slapped as the Agency goes. I was tasked to kill off certain CIA members and the handlers, the middlemen, and those countrymen involved.

Henry Kissinger would be green with envy at the body count I racked up. Of course, if you want to ask Kissinger about the whole affair, you’re gonna need an Ouija Board to fucking do it with!

AT&T won’t get you there. Besides, we own AT&T and like a good little trite they are for the NSA and the FBI, their always too busy spying on you.

Again, looking on back in the day. One job I hated to do was capping King. I really hated that job. I just hope he’ll never take it personally; it was just business.

As for Obama, that’s when I decided to go into semi-retirement. I mean, I had to draw the line in the sand on total absurdity. What a delusional double-minded nightmare he must be to manage. He’s crazy as a bagful of cats!

I will also go on record with you, Heidi that the fact that Obama encourages our world enemies imaginary or not.

Oh yeah, I was never officially here or otherwise…

BD
The Many Unnatural Lives of Scott Solomon Dean
FBI

The Myth

Darc_The_Myth

 

1. In the beginning was Man, and the superstitious mind of Man created God, and the Man is God.
2. Man was in the creation of one omnipotent God greater than all the rest that came and went before Him.
3. All things were made through Man, and without Man nothing was made that was made.
4. In Mankind was life, and the life was the light of all men.
5. And the light shines of deception and lies for in the darkness gazing from the light we see truth in the lies
6. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John the Deceiver.
7. Then a wretched man came to bare false-witness, to bare and deceive the simple-minded and superstitious called, “The Children of the Light,” that all through this false-witness that all might believe and follow the myth stolen yet from older myths.
8. For Mankind has made so many Gods before to be built upon one myth, one lie, onto another until all the lies were agreed, bound, and to be believed.
9. He was of the Light of Lies sent to deceive and fleece the Meek caught in this Light.
10. This new God created of the likeness of Man would blind the souls of all aimlessly follow.
11. For mankind blinded by this Light which gives generously to every man a web of deceit.
12. Man was in the world, and the world was deceived by His creation called, “God,” and mankind would suffer throughout all time as they have done so in all the former religions before.
13. Through these lies, Man came to His own, and those who did not receive His God created would be killed, murdered, and rape in the name of this new God.
14. But as many as would received this God created by Man, to them that believes, Man gave the right to become “Children of God,” to those who believe in God’s name given by Man:
15. who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of mankind, but of Man’s God.
16. And the Lies and Myths became Flesh and dwelt among mankind, and Man beheld His own glory of His New God and the Greatest Story Ever Sold.
17. The masses of mankind flocked together and would attack the innocence in the many disguises and facades of Love to all that would who resisted upon pain of death.
18. Wars unimaginable would spring forth the bitter fruit of Man’s God and the Holy Church carrying forth the insurmountable grotesqueries through all generations to come.
19. No living soul would be free from the cold and heavy embrace of this foreboding yoke created by Man to be suffered upon in this new God’s Commandments of Treacheries.
20. Yet all those who resisted perished then as they will continue to do from one generation to the next. It would be far better to never have come to know of this God of Man.
21. For God was created by the mind of Man fallible, quick to rage, sociopathic, schizophrenic, and deceitfully disguised in a robe of Love and Understanding.
22. For this God that knows of no peace, a jealous, and inciteful God corrupted to the core whose very name razes kingdoms, countries, armies, and the innocence to the ground.
23. Edicts from Rome to Mecca make martyrs of burning alive men, women, and children.
24. Unification of Theism of Man now straps children with explosives for the promise of a heaven that never existed only in the mind of Man.
25. Man growing wise to His own religion has found many ways for children to do the hideous work of God,
26. and His Prophets bestowed upon the graces of the Creator, Man for the furtherance of their faith, as well as their undying iniquities.

UnPl
FBI