Just rattliing on my own time.

Now that you know me what is the game you would like to undertake? Everyone is excellent at something and that is your game. Everyone plays apart whether they like it or not. We, or rather you are most likely just a pawn in their game. The game the powerful play. I have no idea their names but you can see their decoys parade around as world leaders. Death is death no matter how it comes upon one. There are no rules to the game of life, the Master game. Those that play it earnestly play it the best and know the secrets pity to deal in death, they deal in power and we are the current. We are the ones that suppose that killing is unavoidable.
I do not agree. Killing is a choice that we make. But that we could never make had not it been demonstrated for us as part of the game. Killing is better than the fear of being killed. Fear is demoralizing, embarrassing and shameful.
We are current, we are herd, mob and mobs, maybe soon again fighting our own civil war. It is there right in front of you. Fear of the blacks that will always hate you and me. Whether this idea, this seemingly racist idea is supported can be experienced on any TV program featuring hip hop or Rap as I knew it. Tasteless aboriginal lusts, the flaunting of riches, the emotionless jabber or the passionate ravings of ignorant bastards is in a place of prominence and legitimacy that scares the shit out of me. All I can wish is the worst for them. What a waste of chemicals.
There is no excuse but fear for permitting vermin of of such limited consciousness to exist. I am ready to defend myself, and hope to perform well when targeted.

My how time and one gigantic moron infects all. What ever happened to the twin towers and all the sanctity that surrounded it. Now there are even attempts to joke about it. Does anyone remember the outrage we had for one bearded mountain man of considerable wealth. What was his name? Saddam, no, nailed him, even when he was hiding in a spider hole in some peasant's backyard, in the middle of nowhere......we found him. Then after months of humiliation, justly deserved, he was hustled away and grossly hung with derision and a base, animal, primitive conclusion....then given air time. And who was that other guy the one that brought down the towers? He must be that little dinky guy from Iraq's neighbor Iran. Little fuckers' got the bomb and a clear slate. He has permission to lie and absorb the world in his melodrama. He knows his God loves him for this, and he is made gloriously aware of the fact every time he draws the attention of President FUBAR, the world leader through righteous salvation, with the knowledge that his God has his back too.
I still believe that President FUBAR has a plan to stay the imploder in-chief. He has given himself the power to remain such through a series of presidential letters that have all but shredded the constitution in favor of continuing the same administration in the event of a national emergency or an imminent terrorist threat of a magnitude significant enough to stay the elections. The magnitude needed for such an action to be determined by FUBAR and his surrounding BLACKNESS, his closest Administration members.
Rattle, rattle, rattle, yeah I know I rattle. There are so many interconnections in the reactionary world matrix that have us by the ass, claws deep into the part of our mind THAT WE USE. That is all of it, for most.
Some though still remember that trip they took in the sixties or seventies, that changed their lives forever. It made them question everything. It permitted them a third person view of the matrix, for just a nano second. For a longer period of time it allowed them the concept of God, to interpret to their own needs and preconceptions, delivered to them during their own particular brand of parental or period type scholarly view brain washings, prevalent during the post WWII era when we trippers wee growing up. There was lots of chrome, lots of God, and no sex. There was no sex, and it was strange when one intimated that there was. I remember my first orgasm. Afterward I must surely have been consumed with the idea that something that felt so good could be so bad in the eyes of my parents and their God. I am sure that I buried that quandary in my subconsciousness to there after rot until I took that trip.
That's the way it looks from here in the path of Fay. Yep Fay was right over my house for awhile yesterday. I've only received only over a little over 6.5 inches so far. This storm was so good for Florida, not necessarily for all the folks living here. But for the State and it's freshwater lakes... WOW!