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2 Great Rants

October 14, 2012

*Bill “Kill ’em All” Maher: Smirky Avatar of West’s DeathCult

(excerpt)

This quintessentially-American death-denial is what makes us frenetically export death to the rest of the world. Maybe we think if we export it, we can get rid of it.

And make no mistake, death is our #1 export. It’s becoming pretty much our ONLY export.

It isn’t just the millions of innocent people we murder in Iraq and Palestine and Afghanistan and Yemen and Somalia and Columbia and elsewhere with our cowardly drones and missiles and bombs.

We also export death in the form of GMO-tainted food. It’s killing off everyone who eats it, slowly but surely. And our GMO scientists are celebrating the massacre. Ain’t population-reduction wonderful?

We’ve exported almost 30 million deaths via laboratory-manufactured AIDS.

And don’t get me started about US bio-war-manufactured Lyme disease. (If each of us whose life has been made living hell by Lyme disease could kill just ONE biowar scientist, we could easily take them all out, and leave an infinitely nicer planet for our kids…though naturally I’m not advocating that – death is far too kind a fate for a bio-war scientist.)

We’re also spreading death around the planet by forcing everyone to take our dead presidents, printed on worthless green paper, which the hungry slaves in countries shipping us their stuff can’t eat. If we put dead presidents on toilet paper, at least they’d be good for something.

The dead presidents, at least the post-1913 ones, have been slaves to the real planetary death machine behind it all: The Rothschild bankster syndicate. Roughly 40% of the cost we pay for everything we buy goes for interest…usury…riba. In the West, most of that gets funneled into the Rothschild-and-friends criminal syndicate: the deep state, the government-behind-the-government.

You can buy a lot of social control, a lot of propaganda, a lot of hit men, a lot of universities, a lot of black ops specialists, a lot of TV stations and newspapers and Hollywood studios, if you’re collecting forty cents from every dollar ever spent on anything.

And once you’ve got all that control, all that power, why not use it? Why not develop weather weapons, earthquake weapons, mass-disease weapons? Why not buy a surveillance and control system to enslave the whole world?

Why not kill off all the “useless eaters,” the seven billion people currently inhabiting the planet, and just save a few million microchipped zombies to serve as slaves on your planetary plantation?

So that’s where we stand: Cogs in a gigantic planetary-scale death machine, waiting for our New World Order overlords to pull the switch and start the die-off. They’ll be able to smell the pile of six billion rotting corpses all the way to Alpha Centauri.

Hey, as long as Bill Maher goes first, I’m down with it.

By Kevin Barrett

*Eaten by Ouroboros and Buggered by Cthulhu, in a Wal-Mart Wonderland

(excerpt)

This is the world of U2 but Me first. “They never hunger, never thirst …but eat and drink until they burst. There are other brigands but these are the worst, of all the highway’s harms (thank you Lao Tzu)”. This is the world of the Bill Mahers and their insidious snares. This is the world of ‘suck me fuck me, until I forget me’. This is the world of sinking into the mire, until we expire; swallowed by quicksand and eaten by Ouroboros, buggered by Cthulhu and left unrecognizable in an alley, like The Truth, beaten, bloody and alone. This is the world of never was, in The Time of Never Shall be. This is the Hornet Empire and The Scorpion Kingdom, burned to a husk by febrile desires, stinging ourselves to death, with frogs riding on our backs; those that aren’t in the slow heating cook-pot. This is the world where they seek to drop down on all fours in the space of a single generation. This is the world that has refined “Don’t give a fuck” into low art. This is the world whose epitaph, is written on the toilet stall walls, with an attending phone number; “call anytime”. This is the world of empty promises and bankrupt bacchanals, humping the empty air, where the invisible demons, posture and drink; have an open air picnic on the wasted body fluids of this generation of vipers. This is the iPod isolation tank that shuts out the world around it because Fear is their master. This is the world of look but don’t touch, until the necessary perversions are in place, via the weakest link in the chain. That’s how The Catholic Church got into their smorgasbord of pedophilia. We know who sits on the throne of Rome, don’t we?

By Les Visible

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