In the chapel at Valley Forge|
7th September 2010
Running from the red sky
put out on the highway
left to find my own way
guided by a lie
Like a hard rock song, the events of the world played a constant drumbeat in my head throughout the summer as reports ranging from apocalyptic to indifferent spewed out of the suddenly dangerous Gulf of Mexico. I felt the significance of that event too deeply, in retrospect, although what I once regarded as a short term catastrophe might yet turn out to be a long term epidemic of environmental poisoning.
Epidemiology is the study of epidemics, and the Gulf oil disaster is only one in a panoply of calculated aggressions meant to cloud the human speciesí peace of mind as it poisons their bodies. How many of these media disaster spectacles do you have to hear before you pick up the thread of the same tune being played over and over?
It was by chance that I walked through that front arch of George Washingtonís chapel at Valley Forge one gray day in May, shortly after driving a thousand miles thinking a tsunami, or at least a poison cocktail cloud of bad things, would float over Florida and permanently diminish my health. (Yes, they have found Corexit in a swimming pool near Tampa.)
The national monument near Philadelphia was tended by a smattering of volunteers selling patriotic trinkets, the carillon chimed overhead in a stately belfry, and the names of the great patriots who gave their all to drive the British tyrants away from the freedom they found in those green Pennsylvania hills were etched into the granite walls of the church. Hale, Randolph, Jefferson, even Eisenhower had a stone there, but by and large, they were the names of men who remain forever unknown to us, driven by fear of their lives being stolen, who stood up and fought back against the royal puppetmasters who sought to enslave them.
As I was already oppressed by seriously alarming feelings about the environmental condition of the world, and also worried about the financial soundness of the thousand mile trip Iíd just taken, my emotions were understandably churning. But when I walked into the chapel, it hit me that here were the names of all these men ó real people with wives and families and friends and neighbors ó who had given their best efforts toward saving something that was worthwhile.
With the world about to be engulfed in a poison cloud, here it was all ruined by hypocrites in expensive suits pretending to be something they arenít.
Walking into the chapel, it being of the Episcopal variety, with high ornate mahogany stalls for the choir, brought me back to my days as first soprano in my own episcopal choir, before my voice changed in the seventh grade, and memories of those high hopes for life that long since have been considerably diminished.
The heritage, the resemblance to a childhood memory, and the currently tumultuous condition of the world as I saw it at that moment were simply more than I could bear, and if I wasnít the residual reserve I still possess from my macho male conditioning, I would have burst into tears right on the spot.
What a waste! That all these menís sacrifices ó many of the signers of the Declaration of Independence wound up broke or in jail or worse ó because of what is happening now with a government that cares nothing for individual American people, but only for rich Jewish fatcats who run everything ó all these menís sacrifices have been for nothing! And that, in my humble opinion, is worth crying about.
Whatever pretense may still be maintained that America is an actual nation crumbles in the notion of the relationship between our current leaders and the ones who founded this country on the principles of truth, justice and honesty. We see in a more penetrating way that America was crafted as a deception from the outset, that the European banks ó owned by Rothschild ó have waged constant war against the U.S. throughout our history. Those puppets who are publicly assigned to serve as our presidents do nothing more than implement the orders they are given from the central group of folks who determine what is to be done with the world. The ones with the real power are all Jewish, and theyíve already stolen everything America has of value, including our minds.
Public debate still prattles on about this war and that new weapon, but the reality is that the enemy is always invented to serve as the rationale for the overconsumption of goods, especially weapons, from which much money is made. Itís funny to contemplate how our own defense budget would be the weapon that would kill us.
But those names on the walls at Valley Forge, where Washington spent a grueling and momentous winter during the Revolutionary War, were real men, who gave us something wonderful, something to be proud of, that now is lost, and that too is worth crying about. Because that thing we have lost is the obvious anchor to rediscovering a sufficient sanity for the world, one in which different elements can at least deal with each other, realizing the karmic penalty that is always assessed by nature for doing anything strictly to make a profit.
In thinking about all the wars and all the losses, I recall the anomalistic reports of American soldiers in World War II failing to shoot at their targets because your typical Iowa farmboy didnít really want to hurt anyone. And I think now that countries, nations, races could actually get along if there were not this constant, ubiquitous agency, now firmly ensconced throughout the world, that reduces everything to the bottom line until it was either all worth nothing or beyond the reach of most of the world.
Businessmen complain that itís too dangerous to let politicians run the world, and they may be right, but real people know that itís too dangerous to let businessmen run the world, because, unregulated, the businessmen will destroy everything in the pursuit of profit, because thatís the only thing that matters to them. Their lives depend on it. But so do ours, and they canít be trusted with them.
Both the businessmen and politicians vie for the supernatural sanction of their particular neighborhood, and your friendly rabbi is the most profitable contact for you. Youíll get all the support you can handle if you just look the other way.
So the men who spoke the noble words have gone to dust, and the men who purport to emulate them in our present utter only the words of their masters, the Jewish hegemons in every industry but especially in banking, where the wheels of the world are oiled by the blood of the innocent, and the American dream of freedom is just another plastic flag novelty for sale at the local Chinese discount store.
What has your sacrifice been for, and what has it accomplished?
Once upon a time the battle was for freedom of speech and the right to bear arms. Today, our government works daily to limit these. As government grows larger, our liberty grows smaller.
The pivotal issue in the American revolution was when King George refused to accept American currency. Today, King Georgeís successors, ensconced in London and New York, have deliberately destroyed the American currency, and taken our future with it.
More than two centuries ago, a few brave Americans knew what do do, did their best, and achieved what they set out to do, mostly. Itís time to do it the same way, and fix the flaws they missed the first time around about the central bank.
John Kaminski is a writer who lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida who recently returned there after a long vacation and found that other than a barely discernible haze at times, conditions south of St. Pete are pretty much what they were before the oil disaster. www.johnkaminski.info
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