Dear Friends,
It seems the world’s mad, but that’s not quite true, it’s the elite that made it bad, and their target is you. The press is a cheater, as normal people know, the news is only theater, and the elite run the show. They censor the truth, and lie through their teeth, showing one tooth, as they rule from beneath. White knuckles curled, they abandoned the myth, now wander the world, licking at spit. We are manipulated to harm, by those not sage, to save the planet, and usher in a new age. Results don’t lie, is what pragmatism dares, and the disasters that arrive, are the stuff of nightmares. The elite are egoistic, when they hear a truth told, they throw a conniption fit… which exposes them as toads.
Our elite have now fell, as if under a great spell, of witches and warlocks, as post modernists tell. They poop where they eat, then feast on our rights, writhing in heat, then throw up all night. Like a drunk who can’t quit, binging on unjust rule, while staggeringly unfit, they treat us as fools. Breaking all that they touch, hearts calloused from power, a greedy little bunch, above us they glower. They think themselves our betters, without a single clue, and see themselves go getters, while they steal from us too. That spell is so strong, those under it have no sway, it is such a tight bond, they will never get away. Until they hit rock bottom and then realize, even crashing into the sod, they will stay mesmerized… until they find God.
As oppression goes up and wages go low, a tsunami of illegal immigration looms, and justice is slow, no one can’t see… that nation is doomed. Law is a joke, used only to harm, it acts as a cloak, for the elite without charm. Debacles are foreign policy, while we are censored and distracted, losing wars with alacrity, and the past is redacted. 1984 was a prophecy that, not a warning, caution or vaccine, a manual for autocrats, and so we are living that dream. The dream of the woke, where only the elect have wealth, the rest of us broke, in person, body and health. Kids sterilized by the school nurse, how else could they know, told they are trans from birth, never to have kids of their own. The great wheel stops with us, killed in the womb, and tossed in the dust, inscribed on our tomb, is a bust of Camus.
We had been warned of this thrice, by Kipling, Mises and Kant, yet we ignored their good advice, now flounder in want. No matter how often it fails, the elite will never give in, because true zealots avail, of lies, fraud and sin. Logic will not abet, the elite cannot hear, their hearts are set, and their eye’s lack tears. We see what they are, we know what to do, but fear holds us apart, and trapped we feel too. Voting did fail, they had it in hand, protesting the fraud landed many in jail, and mail in voting was their master plan. Nailed to the floor, without succor or reprieve, we can’t get to the door, or so we believe. So why struggle against chains, that we ourselves forged, that hold us in pain, in our minds and no more. Our bonds made of ether, cruel and unkind, not of iron or steel neither, only in our mind.
Free men are not robotic, nor held in thrall, by expert, bureaucrat or mystic, not even by Baal. We are sovereign human beings, with hearts minds and souls, we know what we are seeing, so we need not go it alone. Our power is manifest, against the darkness that smothers us, our power back we must wrest, else we fall to the dust. Stand up to the insanity, break with the lies, call out stupidity, and rupture the tide. Together we stand, divided we fall, the future is at hand, are we men after all? The elite tremble at the thought, of us seeking our good, because the power they bought, becomes flotsam made of wood. Carried by the tide, of history manifest, and then cast aside, so mankind can beget. Unlimited potential, wealth and success, by limiting the elite, and allowing our greatness.
Sincerely,
John Pepin
