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
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
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
DAVID JON GILMOUR, ROGER WATERS
LYRICS © WARNER/CHAPPELL MUSIC, INC.
“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.”
For Annette Vecellio, Joseph Mobley, Kelly Forward, and Laura J. Taylor
And to all who have been bitterly abused but has chosen not to become the monsters in a maddening world shunned by society.
We are more than survivors but as warriors.
Another man walks into the den of such devastating violence that just took place some time before his arrival as he folded up his Deadwood Police ID to be allowed just moments ago by two peeked cops on the front porch of the residence and steps ever so carefully towards the opus of unmentionable vehemence.
There across the other side of what would have been a deco kitchen is a mountain of a man wearing his long coat with huge shoulders that one may describe as being in two time zones belonging to a man sculpted by the very hand of god with the most hardened granite ever known to mankind looking at the smaller man.
“Be of great care when you come in here. There are so much goddamned blood and shit in here.” To the smaller detective, all of what he is seeing looks like a savage animal, perhaps a Grizzly Bear or an African Lion came literally in an unfathomable rage.
The younger detective took his care fighting off the shock and awe of the crime scene unfolding before him while missing the splatters, pools of coagulating blood in the obvious arduous process.
The older and bigger detective began to talk as his voice drowned out other below the kitchen and from those behind him. “You know that little boy that has been locked away in a fucking box in a locked closet down there in that damp basement. Looks and smells like fifty shades of hell. He’s been in his own mess for days on end. However, he got a hold of a steak knife and cut a new doorway through what remains his mother’s underage boyfriend.” The large and powerful man by the name of, Special Detective Stone Phillips stated in a voice that sounds more akin to five miles of a crushed gravel road.
Stone rubbed the bottom of his freshly shaven square chin of his rugged face His dark blue eyes smoldering then flashed about the kitchen as he lit up a cigarette.
“Feels like I need a little something stronger than this, wouldn’t you say?” Stone flicked his stainless zippo and put it back in his pocket as he exhaled watching his smoke cloud up around the single ceiling light above.
“I can see you ain’t quite used to the smell of all this fucking blood, are you?” He looked down at a much smaller man wearing wire titanium bifocals also dressed as sharply as Stone stood looming over him.
“So much fucking blood you can smell the goddamn iron, the metal in it all. When you begin to get used to all of this shit, then it’s time to get the fuck out of this cursed job and maybe find something in retail or something.” Phillips drew in another deep hit off of his cigarette and chuckled at his own comment.
The two standing there with the cellar door open and the Deadwood CSI Team hard at work as two street officers bent over the front porch splashing vomit on the cold concrete driveway from what they saw.
“Can’t really blame them. The two cops on the porch.” Stone reached into his long tan coat and pulled out a small jar of Vic’s and opened the lid from the jar.
“Just a dab under the nose will help you. Go ahead.” The other detective, a detective known as Joseph Mobley who is the very same that headlined most of South Dakota’s newspapers started out as a beat cop until the night that the entire world would turn for him.
Mobley working off a vague at best, caller of the possible address of Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez, the notorious rapist, and on occasion, a Meth Cooker, not to mention, a real low-life scumbag. Geronimo was someone that was protected in many ways by the feds since he became a snitch for them. Ratting out those involved in the meth trafficking in the region by the Banditos in order to keep his stinking hide from doing a life sentence at Yankton. The local and regional law enforcement in the past were persuaded by the FBI that the scumbag was off limits.
In Officer’s Joseph Mobley’s mind, this new information on an otherwise thwarted case by the protection of the FBI kept the local law guessing on these rapes and murders that led the public citizenry in the discovery first hand who were finding the mutilated and mangled underage female bodies all over town in dumpsters, just off of park trails, and belly up along Elk Creek.
In the minds of a few to include, at the time, police officer Joe Mobley, this “Hump, and Dump Killer” as the locals dubbed. A murderous pedophile that needed to be brought down like the rabid animal this predator desperately demanded.
With the new information given, Officer Mobley came upon the house in the middle of the night knowing that this is indeed the home of what they bikers called this monster as, “Harley.” More like Harley the fucking Snitch Rat Bastard. Joseph caught some noise from inside as some young girl was begging Geronimo to stop raping her as she cried.
In this fact alone, gave Joseph more than enough cause to bust down the front door with his weapon and light above the aim of the barrel, Mobley continued in a pitch-dark living room. It would be in Geronimo’s wretched bedroom that Mobley would find the scum raping the naked blonde girl. Probably just another typical girl that may have run away from home and made it into the grip of the biker gang to prostitute in drugs and money. Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez would end up getting new trim in trade for his trafficking deals, Besides, all the girls murdered were not from around Lawrence County. The scene with her spread eagle and pinned down by this monster was more than Joseph Mobley could stand even if it meant his job.
Geronimo turned up looking into the blinding light as he pulled out of the young girl. That was enough for Officer Mobley. Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez flinched in saying that whoever was on the other end of the flashlight blinding him in the act. Rodriguez yelled that he is a “…protected man.”
Joseph only answered back with his standard issue semi-automatic by emptying his firearm, a standard Glock-9 that didn’t do too much good at first Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez was jacked on Meth. Though every shot Mobley made was fatal in its own right to the heart, chest, throat, and finally a double-tap brought this insane animal down. An entire clip and in a flash, Mobley loaded up a fresh magazine and took a filthy blanket off the bed so the girl can cover up herself as he instructed her to go outside and asked her is there were any others like her among them in the house. Mobley would find three additional underage girls ranging from about nine to fourteen in age naked and shivering in the cold left to piss and shit in a goddamned bucket up in the attic. They were understandably terrified.
Everything else became a blur to him, the “Hump, and Dump Killer” was brought to a deserving end. On Mobley’s way back down with the children holding hands in a human chain. Mobley radioed for an ambulance and backup to come at once. The neighbors around the low-life awoke and two women brought coving for the naked and heavily abused girls. Joseph seeing that the girls were momentarily being looked after went back into the house alone and carefully entered the bedroom where Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez’s limp body rested. Joseph dumped two more shots in the back of good old, Geronimo for good measure.
As for Officer Mobley, he was promoted to detective first class and would be working on cases now and again with Special Detective Stone Phillips. As for Joseph, he didn’t mind at all working alongside Stone with years of street knowledge from his days in Chicago’s notorious South Side.
“Sure, Mobley, not a problem. But…” With Stone’s right hand holding the burning cigarette in between his fingers, “Look on the wall there behind you and notice that strange carving?”
Joseph turned and noticed a bloody patch running down the carnation pink wall drawing closer to it.
“What the fuck is that?!?” Mobley nearly shrieked and realizing it is made of bone turned to face Stone Phillips.
“The little boy is a fucking Michael Angelo with knives. Who knew? Not with a steak knife, mind you. The paring knife, a butcher’s blade, and the fucking very steak knife itself that he used in freeing his escape is all there in the sink filled with bleach and water.”
“But what in the fuck is that?” Mobley asked drawing for his own cigarette.
“The sculpture is of human bone from what we can tell is from his mother’s missing sternum. Oh, she’s gutted in the bath tube over there in the only bathroom in this house.” Stone pointed in the direction.
Mobley can clearly see that there is a CSI personnel in the bathroom as their shadows danced off the yellow door and the white wall of the room itself.
“I think I’ll skip that part.”
“Quite a masterpiece the boy did on her. I can tell you that Mobley. That up there, so I’m told by Doctor Annette Vecellio, she says it is some kind of tribal design of a devil or some kind of demon. She told me that the young boy says it is his friend? Yeah, I know, right?”
Detective Mobley just shook his head in stricken awe as a police photographer is a shade south of pale as his eyes wide open to this oeuvre of murderous mania played out through the illustrations of smeared blood made by the boy’s small hands.
Mobley is trying desperately to get his mind around the fact that this, all this malevolence was created by the hands of a young child.
“Hey, Jimbo…” Stone snapped.
The police photographer turned to Phillips, “Yeah, Chief?”
“Take a good photo of that up there on the wall for me, would you?”
“Certainly…” The police photography took the shot as Stone and Joseph standing there noticing that Jimbo is heading for the front door for some much needed fresh air.
“Tell me Stone. How did this all go down?” Mobley asked.
“Well…” There is a spark of light cutting across Stone’s dark eyes and pointing down the cellar, “CSI will fucking confirm what I already know. The little seven-year-old –” Stone is cut off by Mobley.
“Seven? Just seven did all of this shit? Fucking seven?”
“I know, right? Besides the kid is standing about so high…” Stone motioned the height with his left hand. “Yeah, about that high and weight about 65 pounds soaking wet in his mess. Doctor Vecellio made him change his clothing and helped to clean up the entrails and saturated encrusted shit and piss for days he was wearing. God fucking insane. Let me tell you something, my friend. This shit is what makes good people wonder if there is even a fucking god in the first goddamned place…” Stone’s voice lowered as he continued.
“You know, Joe, there are places for the likes of the good doctor in some sort of a pleasant afterlife…” Stone’s voice faded once more.
Detective Mobley nodded in agreement as he took in the entire crime scene of the kitchen area as Stone went on.
“The child, Dougray Scott was obviously tormented for god knows how fucking long, managed to stash a knife, that steak knife in the sink in fact. He used the weapon he concealed on him knowing his fucking bitch mother and her stunted boyfriend would go and lock him up – What they didn’t know, it would be the fucking last time as you can see.”
“How in the fuck did these monsters get away with it all along in this day and age?” Joe glared up at Stone.
“That is a question that I can easily answer. To cover up the screaming and such, they would turn that radio down there loud to cover up the hell going on in that fucking trunk.” Stone paused.
“God knows how long he would be confined like that with no answers to his screams and sufferings.” Stone growing a bit angry as anyone would then continued.
“Then the boy must have picked the lock and with all of his might, snapped the latches, picked the closet door, and threw that radio against the wall in pieces. That is what brought the fucking idiot down the stairs, turned on the light below to find Dougray wielding a knife and gutted on Michael Anthony Glenn.”
“You mean to say, this Dougray Scott did all that I’m seeing with a single fucking steak knife?”
“Yeah for the most part downstairs, and by the looks of things, a few years of pent up seething rage with about a gallon of pure adrenaline and a demand for a pound of flesh and then some. I cannot fucking blame the little lad one fucking second for…” Stone grew quiet for another moment as Mobley hung on to every word.
“Retribution, retaliation, revenge, all wrapped up in such a tiny malnourished boy. His mother…” Stone took a moment.
“As you can see by the bloody footprints of the young lad came right up the steps and kicked the door ajar nearly shattering it off the hinges as you can see.”
“My god…” Mobley’s mind is playing out the scene that happened over the course of a couple of hours earlier.
“Seems mother on her meth-binge came running right into a buzz saw of sheer animalistic rage. Dougray Scott snapped under all this hideous shit. Now Dougray had the element of surprise totally on his side as he began with a killing blow and slashing effect upon his mother’s stinking neck. You can see there on the floor of her choking spasms of blood. The boy seeing this monster now lying nearly naked jumped over her body for something a little bit heavier to use on dear old mom. She was alive to see it coming and that there, my friend, is a fact.”
“Horrifying…” Joseph could see ever swing, every action being played out before them by the blood evidence alone.
“I don’t know if there is a word out there somewhere that aptly describes all of this…” Stone lit up another cigarette as he did before.
“He jumped over his moms?” Detective Mobley asked.
Stone in deep thought in a very dark place inside him if only for a moment and then turns around to face Mobley looking up at him. “Yeah, yes, he jumps over his mother and grabs the butcher’s blade because it is heavy. He knows he must have, must need something more brutal to get the job done. Dougray, he begins to dismember her arms and legs hacking away…” Stone shows with his right hand holding the cigarette up to the further wall and ceiling opposing the two detectives.
Stone went on breaking it all down, “She is bleeding out as you can see and the effects of his unrelenting chopping and hacking. The floor here really tells the fucking story and make note of the arterial spray that looks more like morbid wings of some kind of hellish angel or something.” Stone allows Mobley to take it all in as he points to the morbidity of this inhumanity.
“Treat a boy, any person like this and you create a goddamned monster in your own right. Though this monster might be a seven-year-old boy, but you know the deal Mobley; it’s not how big the monster is, but how big the monster within that counts at the end of the day, and I am afraid based upon this blatant evidence that whatever carved a new doorway through that asshole down there is something much more of a monster that was running to meet him. And that too, my friend, is a fact” Stone grew silent once more.
“Goddamn…” Mobley nearly whispered.
“Now, Dougray takes the Butcher’s blade and cloven his mother’s skull as you can see some of the gray matter all over the floor and the goddamned ceiling above over there. Hacking away he then began putting body parts in the bathtub. Really, she’s all kinds of fucked up. Quite the jigsaw if you ask me.” Stone barely grinned.
Detective Mobley just stood there as his eyes dancing as the entire gore played out in his mind.
“I know you’re seeing this in your mind, Joe. I just needed to point the way. Shit, you would have figured it out all on your lonesome given the facts as I did earlier from the CSI guys.” Stone takes another heavy drag.
“How did we come to know about all of this about the radio bit?” Mobley quipped.
“So glad you’ve asked, Joe. The next door neighbor by the name of, Kelly Forward said she heard screams and what sounded like a ‘rabid dog’ — her words. She came up to the kitchen window there and peeked in. What she saw would sear her mind like a white hot iron into her memory. It will never leave her what she saw. In this too is a natural fucking fact.”
“I fucking bet,” Joseph added.
“Misses Kelly Forward is down at the hospital being treated for shock. She said in her brief statement that sometimes these people play the radio downstairs now and then a little too loud. She has no knowledge of the boy other than she would see little Dougray Scott that would smile at her on seldom occasion.”
“What is going to happen to the kid?” Mobley asked again.
“Like what happens to most monsters his age. He’ll become a ward of the Whispering Pines Sanitarium, hence, the state up until he becomes of age. He’s got a long and bumpy road ahead of him with the so-called rehabilitation processes no doubt.”
“Damn…” Mobley looked down at his feet.
“I had enough of this hell myself this evening. I got what I need and tomorrow I’ll get with Doctor Vecellio over some of that preliminary stuff. You can come along if you like. But, I think I hear the police chief coming up and all’s we need is another asshole in this stew. Besides, we did all we are going to do here. Let’s go have that fucking drink, Joe.”
The two walked out before the flashing red and blue lights and the shadows dancing in the reflections off the walls of the houses as the entire neighborhood is cluttering the street after allowing the two undercover cars leaving into the chilling night air.
Tomorrow is another day of a media blitz as the horrors come to light right under the very noses of the folks of Deadwood.
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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.
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.
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!!!
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.
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!
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.
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.
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…
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.