Tis' the season to be wary

I write this to you my reader, during a brief lull in the shelling…   

After being abducted by a Swedish separatist group and held for controlling shares in a lucrative fast growing business of my own design, BBQ favored Lutefisk and after countless months of torture.  I was freed by a crack all Female Libyan Commando team (former bodyguards to Col. Muammar Gaddafi) under contract to my chief investor Halliburton (truthfully it was a subcontract, the original contact was held by ex-Rhodesian hog farmers) Even after countless hours of debriefing and therapy, I still wet myself every time a Abba song comes on the radio.  But that’s a story for another time.

What I wanted to share with you, dear reader, is the foreboding I feel.  A foreboding I know you share, or you wouldn’t be reading this.  There are no accidents.  I have spent a great deal of time these past few years with members of underground movements, revolutionaries, capital investors, religious leaders and musicians.  During that time I have picked up a few things (fortunately most could be treated but a strong dose of antibiotics) some could not, thus is the price of knowledge.  

 First, the war for the soul of America is over and we the people lost (we now know that it happened the day Ford was ordered to pardon Nixon, (under threat of becoming a piñata, ala Jack Kennedy.  The turning point in this war however was actually when they killed Bobby, but that’s something you the reader already know) 

Second, we have all been bred and trained to be foot soldiers in this Brave New World, the beauty of which is that the majority of the population of the “free-world” do not even realize this undisguised fact, a fact hiding in painfully plain site, a fact as common as a 30 second TV spot for a personal injury lawyer late at night, or as obvious as the tracking chip implanted at the base of your spinal cord. 

Third, the embers of an older more devastating war were fanned to life once more, a war that burns with the blue flame of lust.  This war slipped from public awareness, through careful scrubbing of history and tailor made public education, but there are still some of us, dear reader, who shudder at the recall of its last battle…the Dutch Tulip Crash. 

 It is a war commanded by shareholders and Boards of Directors, as bloody and devastating as any war humanity has known.  A war in which members of your own family are highly trained sleeper agents, agent provocateurs and deadly assassins.  Today, this day, this Black Friday, is their annual training day, in this God Blessed Nation.  They are tracked, scored and evaluated, GPS coordinates triangulated with their point of purchase impulse buys, all secured with 30% interest rates (did you ever wonder why they call it “Target”).  This dear reader is their new Waffen SS, an elite in training.  A group willing to kill for a 32 inch digital television, made by underfed children chained to machines in North Korean labor camp, today for only 199.95.  All with big smiles and dead eyes.

Dressed in matching Christmas sweaters, cold hearted foot soldiers, using skills easily transferred from the retail outlets to the cold and silent cinder block rooms of hidden FEMA camps.   Some of you might at this point ask for proof.  “How can you, JQP say such a thing?”  To those of you who doubt these words I say: You need look no further than the bloodlust gleaming in Grandmas eyes, or hear the insensate rantings of a child who has been forced to watch “children’s programming” these chants of “I Want, I Want, I want”, or just look at the recent Chinese engineered crash of the Alpaca market here in the US, that dear friends was just a flexing of the muscles.  You have been warned dear reader…come give Ma-Maw a big hug.

 

I remain, the shadow that falls on your heart:

 

JQP, esq.