. . .I live in Maryland, in the
Washington, D.C. Metro area. On Sunday, September 8th, the weather
was great. The temperature was about 80 and there was no wind.
I took a walk in the park about noon, and when I looked up, the
sky looked like something from the Book of Revelations.
. . .The entire dome of the sky was
crisscrossed with dozens of chemtrails, I would estimate there
were at least fifty. About half were thin like normal contrails,
and the rest were the spreading type. There was a pattern to the
chemtrails. About three-fourths seemed to radiate out of a point
on the horizon to the East, and then they spread out over the
sky, and then they merged together again at a point on the horizon
to the West. At both points on the horizon where the trails merged,
they formed a huge cloud or hazy area. Other chemtrails crisscrossed
the sky at random. All the chemtrails stretched from horizon to
horizon unbroken, which I suppose means that there was no wind
at their altitude.
. . .There were only a few normal
clouds in the sky, maybe a dozen or so medium-sized ones. About
half of the sky was covered with chemtrails, and this condition
persisted for hours. The sky looked very much like the pictures
in this link,
which an anonymous area resident took of an another Chemtrail
day earlier this year.
. . .There was no mention of this
amazing ariel display on the evening news or weather reports,
and likewise no coverage in the next day's newspapers. I know
next to nothing about these chemtrails, but I'm going to do some
digging, for sure. I'm also going to watch for similar outbreaks
in the future, and report on them, and I advise others to do the
same.
. . .I finally found an official
Glorious Imperial Department of Defense website that mentioned
depleted uranium. The site's name is "Army
Medicine: Caring Beyond the Call of Duty." The stuff
is harmless, case closed, and if you don't believe me just check
out one of the referenced links proving the safety of depleted
uranium, one of which is a report by the infamous Bland Corporation.
And be sure to check out the blurb at the bottom of the link,
which informs us that the Bland Corporation is: "a nonprofit
institution that helps improve policy and decisionmaking through
research and analysis."
. . .Fancy that! The Bland Corporation
has been writing the script for all the bombing and looting of
this planet for decades, and the simpletons still haven't figured
out how to make any money on the deal.
. . .If there is one thing Sgt. Skull
cannot abide it's mutinous dogs. And of all the mutinous dogs,
the lowest scum scraped off the kennel floor are the sniveling
little cowards who run off to sick call. Sgt. Skull can still
remember his beloved role model back in 1964, at boot camp in
Fort Lostinthewoods, Missouri (AKA Ft. Leonard Wood.) Every morning,
our beloved first sergeant would stand in front of the company
and bellow, "All right, all you sick, lame and lazy, blind,
cripple and crazy, fall out for sick call." If any simpleton
actually stepped forward, our first sergeant would explode into
an obscenity-laced tirade about the offender's family tree, including
graphic details about every hooker, barn-yard animal, retarded
mutant and incestuous pervert therein. That was the way the Glorious
Imperial Legions kept the troops healthy in my day, and let me
tell you, I was in perfect health all during boot camp.
. . .Unfortunately, my old first
sergeant must have retired, because a certain commie pinko website
is reporting that "Thousands
of US Troops are Being Evacuated From Iraq for Unexplained Medical
Reasons." Included among these traitors, cowards, wimps
and whiners are "thousands who became physically or mentally
ill." I wouldn't bring up the subject of these disgusting
goldbricks, except that I'm curious about what the Pentagon is
going to do with them. The last I heard, the military no longer
court-martials deserters and ships them off to the stockade for
an attitude makeover like they did in my day. [Previous web link
here in this article broken]. These days the military just gives
deserters a bad-paper discharge and a bus ticket home. In other
words, you can just quit the military by going AWOL for thirty
days or more, and then turn yourself in for a quickie discharge.
So what is the military doing with quitters in Iraq? They're obviously
declaring these Refuseniks mentally ill, and shipping them back
to the States to avoid any embarrassing court-martial for mutiny.
This can go on only for so long. If the sitting ducks find out
they can get a ticket out of the shooting gallery, they'll be
deserting by the flock.
. . .On August 31st, I was watching
"Meet the Press," and Tim Russert's guest was Senator
Kerry of Massachusetts . Near the end of the program, the camera
zoomed back and the viewer could see Russert glancing down at
a notepad on his desk. I am suspicious that the notepad was a
checklist of questions.
. . .The transcript of their conversation
follows.
Russert: "You [and President Bush] were
both members of Skull and Bones, a secret society at Yale. What
does this tell us?"
Kerry (giggling and smiling): "Not much
because it's a secret."
Russert: "Is there a secret handshake,
or a secret code?"
Kerry (again, giggling and smiling): "I
wish there were something secret I could manifest."
Russert: "322, secret number?"
Kerry (now with a sober attitude): "There
are all kinds of secrets, but there is one thing that is not a
secret. I disagree with this President's direction that he's taking
the country. We can do a better job, and I intend to do it."
Russert: "And we'll be watching your progress
on the campaign, John Kerry."
And that was the end of the Skull and Bones, dog yummy spin biscuit
that the establishment tossed to us peasants for reasons unknown.
The entire transcript can be found at this website, Zogby
International.
I recently made a trip to Baghdad where I had the honor of assisting
His Eminence, Proconsul Bremer. A transcript of our meeting and
activities follows.
Me: "Sgt. Skull of GoonCorp reporting for
duty, me Lord."
Bremer: "Ah, Sgt. Skull. You're just in
time. I have to read a proclamation to the aborigines. I will
drive my humvee to the central market square, and you will ride
shotgun with the fifty-caliber machinegun."
Me: "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy! I always wanted
to fire a Maw Duce. Let's roll."
Varoom! Off we go.
Me: "BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... Me Lord,
I just wasted a terrorist with an RPG. Darn, I didn't know many
Iraqis had blonde hair and blue eyes."
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull, that was not an Iraqi.
That was an embedded Swedish journalist representing the United
Nations Provisions for Peasants Program. And that wasn't an RPG,
it was a video camera. He was making a documentary on sustainable
development for aborigines sponsored by the Soylent Green Foundation."
Me: "Uh ... sorry 'bout that, me Lord.
Hey! Look at that dude running away. I bet he's going to snitch
us out to all his puppydog strangling buddies. BLAM BLAM BLAM
BLAM BLAM BLAM ... Yee Haw! These towelheads explode just like
chickens. Hey, there's some more. They're all running now. BLAM
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... Eat lead, you warped paranoid
psychos."
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull, are you aware that
the latest research in neurology has proven that the brain disorder
that identifies psychopaths relates to a region that coordinates
reaction to shocking stimulus? A psychopath doesn't react to shocking
images and is able to kill without remorse because his brain is
wired differently from the rest of us."
Me: "BAWK! A Psycho? Where, me Lord? ...
OK, I see him now - the one trying to gallop away on that camel,
right? BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... Got him! No, missed. A little
more lead. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... shot the
varmint clean out of the saddle ... adios, Abdullah. Hmmm. I need
a little something to steady my aim. Glug glug glug glug glug.
Wow! Care for a snort of this Mescal, me Lord."
Bremer: "No thank you, Sgt. Skull. And
I wasn't referring to that guy on the camel. I was ..."
Me: "BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... and the
camel you rode in on, Abdullah. Gosh, that was just like shooting
a gigantic chicken. Glug glug glug."
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull, I wasn't referring
to that guy on the camel. I was ..."
Me: "Oh! You meant that two-headed Chinaman
over there. No problem, me Lord. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
BLAM ... adios you freak."
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull, what on earth are
you talking about? You just shot up some Iraqi in a stalled car
with his flashers on."
Me: "I thought it must have been a two-headed
Chinaman who left both of his turn signals on. Whatever. Glug
glug glug. Are you sure you wouldn't care for a snort, me Lord?"
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull. A mob of shouting
aborigines approaches. Disperse them with warning shots."
Me: "Roger, me Lord. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... "
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull. I told you to fire
warning shots, but you shot them all to pieces. They're all dead
except for that one trying to ..."
Me: "BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... Now they're
all dead. I did fire warning shots, me Lord ... into their legs."
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull, henceforth you are
not to shot anybody under any circumstances without a direct order."
Me: "Yes, me Lord. Glug glug glug. See
that weird looking dog over there? He's barking in Morse code.
I bet he's communicating with flying saucers. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
BLAM. And hey, there's a Mecca Cola stand right next to a melon
stall. Jack freaking pot! BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
BLAM BLAM ... Almost as good as brain jam, yes sir. Glub glub
glub. And there's a flight of pigeons, too. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
BLAM BLAM. And there's the full moon. Aaarrroooooo yip yip yip
aaarrroooooo. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM ... Glub glub glub.
I wonder if there are people on the moon. Glub glub glub. I bet
all that green cheese stuff is just a cover story. I bet they
got some oil or something up there, the sneaks."
Bremer: "Sgt. Skull, you will stop shooting
that damn fifty-caliber machinegun altogether. Cease fire at once.
In the future you will restrict your reflective moments to matters
of military significance. Now read this proclamation."
Me: "But me Lord, all the local yokels
are like dead. There's nobody to hear me."
Bremer: "Shut up and read the proclamation."
Me, unrolling the scroll: "Hear Ye! Hear
Ye! His Eminence Lord Bremer - Conquering Lion of Babylon; High
Mucky Muck of the Carpetbagger Provisional Authority; loyal bagman
of Beloved Emperor Bonehead; Emissary of Her Majesty, Queen Whatsherface
of England and some other stuff; and with the full credit of His
Grace, Lord Rothschild - does hereby declare that henceforth,
aborigines shall freely and safely gather in this public square
every day at noon to submit grievances. There will be two lines
- one line for grievances and another for food ration coupons.
You may stand in one line or the other, but not both. Now shut
up and go away. Yours truly, Proconsul Bremer."
Bremer: "Thank you very much, Sgt. Skull.
I think we had better get out of here. There are dead bodies all
over the place, and your tracer bullets have set everything within
blocks on fire. On the other hand, the proclamation seems to have
worked. Here comes a bunch of aborigines right now. "
Me: "BAWK! Me Lord Bremer, those aren't
the housebroken variety. That's a skirmish line of Mujahideen
with AK47s and RPGs. Put this mother in gear and burn rubber or
we're as stuffed as a Florida ballot box. BAWK! BAWK! BAWK! BAWK!
BAWK! BAWK! BAWK! BAWK! BAWK!"
at
the Battle of Cowpens, S. Carolina, 1781