OBITUARY

OBITUARY

America -- May She Rest In Peace

My America died in 1913 from cancer that metastasized in 1860. In her brief lifetime, she’d been a beacon of light to the world, a beacon of hope that future generations of mankind might not be crushed on the jagged rocks of despotism.

But the cancer of centralized totalitarianism was embedded in her Constitution from the start. It had been held in check by the Bill of Rights, but the denial of all States of their right to secede was the beginning of their destruction and hers. The cancer grew rapidly over the next half century.

The immediate cause of death was the invasion of the tumor into three vital areas. The creation of the Federal Reserve placed the pernicious leukemia of private bank control (many of those foreign) into her money supply, her life blood. That, coupled with the parasitic Income Tax, drained away her strength and allowed the cancer of artificially created debt to feed itself from her life force. Finally, the taking of the Senate from the control of the States destroyed the last vestige of her immune system of checks against the cancerous tyranny of a massive, centralized government.

Some struggled in hope of a miraculous revival, but those hopes were all but destroyed in 1933 as the “New Deal” embalming fluids flowed into her veins. She was finally buried in 1950 and a virtual dictatorship solidified by Harry Truman when he claimed the right, as Commander-In-Chief, to commit this country and the people to war on his whim. This same “right” has been claimed by every president since, regardless of party.

For decades, one president after the other stomped on her grave while proclaiming his love and devotion to her, but in 1992, with the election of a Rhodes Scholar to the White House, her body was exhumed and cremated. For those who aren’t aware, Rhodes Scholars are the protégés of Cecil John Rhodes. Rhodes was a British diamond magnate, virulent racist, and British Imperialist. He sought the reunification of the colonies (that’s us) with the Mutha Land (that’s England). He also dreamed of a world federation under Anglo-American domination. His scholarships were set up to train promising young men whose philosophies were in sympathy with his to help bring about fulfillment of his dreams.

Still, some of us held onto a desperate hope that, even though she could not now be resurrected, maybe an exact copy of her could be cloned from the ashes. That hope vanished early in the Bush administration when her spirit was entombed in the rubble of the False Flag Towers of 9/11 and sealed in with the provisions of the NDAA. Her ashes were then scattered over the sands of Afghanistan and Iraq.

The beacon is gone forever. Whether a new light will be kindled sometime in the future, I don’t know. I doubt it. Certainly, it will not be in my lifetime. The Black Hole that has engulfed us draws all light of truth into itself. It can’t escape.

America, my America, the America whose fundamental principles I believe in, is long dead. May her spirit rest undisturbed by the hollow invocations of the Republicans and Democrats, liberals and conservatives alike.


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