It’s not all that it is cracked up to be. Being right. Oh, sure…if you are picking horses, it can come in handy. But that seldom happens on a regular basis. Cassandra comes into play many times when it comes to being right about the bad things you see lurking just around the corner. We all have this second-sight. We that decry the jewish influence in all that is being brought to bear upon us. But is it real?
I wish someone competent…a rabbi perhaps…would explain to me why I see kosher fingers stirring the pot of every deadly stew. Why do I look for, and usually find, those curly-headed bastards always at the bottom of everything underhanded and unwholesome? Is it my warped imagination? Is it that thing of which we are all familiar…you go your whole life without hearing a word…then you hear it 4 times in one day? That thing. Coincidence. A super-heightened awareness of things that were always there, you just didn’t notice? Or is it a treatable mental illness? Can I be cured? Or is it my lot in life? To either see things that aren’t really there…or see things that are there; and of which most other people remain unaware?
Questions. No answers. Life is full of those damned things.
Several people over the years, in an attempt to temper my leanings, have said that all these jewish connections I make to evil, can just as easily be made for Catholics, or Jesuits for instance. And I have tried. Truly. I have traced and read. Plotted and connected dots. And all this leads me to no conclusions. Amorphous shapes with no pattern, rhyme or reason. Of course this Gentile or that one in history seems to have had notably inhuman motives for this or that deed they did. But none of it makes human sense until the talmud and its unholy followers appear on the graph. And they always do. I try to ignore. But I really can‘t. I need help.
If anything bad happens that is caused by the hand of man, the yiddish culprit behind it all presents himself to me. I can barely even be accused of looking for the connection anymore…it’s just there. For all to see. Or for all to ignore.
So I am probably not right. And even if I am…it won’t matter next week. Right?
Anyway, I have seen this disease infect people of, well…lower intelligence. White Supremacists, for instance. To them, all trouble in the world is caused by skin pigmentation. They see their precious Caucasian influence withering in the face of our rapidly globalizing world. And they are afraid that they are right. Afraid and proud. I can identify with the fear part. Pride usually proceeds a fall, as they say, so I take no pride in being right about what I deem ‘right’. I really wish I wasn’t so damned sure of myself, though. That I could take a pill and see things differently. There probably are such drugs on the market. But like smoking…I refuse to take the cure. I nod dutifully when my physician tells me that I HAVE to quit. I have for many years. But something in me says ‘bullshit‘.
Stubbornness. Or I don’t want the cure. Maybe I like the way I am. Smoking and thinking I am right about everything. Well, most things. Definitely smoking. But neither will that matter next week.
So the gist of this missive, I guess, is that I’m willing in a way. Willing to listen to a well-argued contrary view. Willing in principle anyway. Someone out there, please prove that I am wrong. As I would be glad to prove to the less mentally capable that they are wrong about all their racist hatred. As I am glad to point out for the zealot that the myth of religion does more harm than good in this stage of our evolution.
I will do more than nod dutifully to your arguments. I will sit still and not fidget and pay attention. I will keep my feet on the floor and my hands to myself. I promise. Show me on a map where I am. Explain how I am wrong about the fearful position I have taken up about ‘being right’.
Because I don’t want to be right. I don’t really want the world to end next week, or any time soon. I want the world to grow up. Along with my children and grandchildren. I want there to be more sense to it all. I don’t want to be lied to any more. I want to enjoy Christmas. I don’t want to take part…no matter how remote…in any more black-ops or false-flags. I don’t want to have to endure attempts at emotional manipulation…no matter who is behind it. I don’t want to have to point out the jew behind every tattered dark curtain. I’m tired of it all.