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[COLUMN]: An Update on a Real Pandemic

03 Wednesday Nov 2021

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An Update on a Real Pandemic

 

For whatever reason, I’ve been attending “functions” lately. At one, just a week or so ago, someone asked me if I had received my hoax booster. Happily, I replied, “friend, I never even wore the mask!” And I won’t, my part in this pitiful affair being two-fold: 1) ridiculing the damned thing mercilessly, and 2) participating, if I’m ever possible, in the justice phase (which is slowly taking shape). 

My dear and wonderful Prepper Post News listeners and watchers, whom I love, know that on January 1, 2022, we will transition from “hoax” reporting to strict war and crimes against humanity coverage.

However, even as the Corona bullshit utterly falls apart, as we know and have known, there is a real affliction upon humanity, driven by the same hellish forces behind the late hoax. This real pandemic has a real and terrible death toll. 

At another recent event, I had the privilege of speaking with a good Priest about the Wrath of God upon unworthy, fallen America. He summed the situation up as paraphrase: “You can’t murder seventy million babies and expect to escape Judgement.” He was correct about the inescapable and the deserved; his number was off a little. And only just a little…

A recent look at the most horrifying clock in the world:

Screenshot around Noon on November 1, 2021; it is worse now.

In the USSA alone, this year, we’ve already wantonly killed more victims than those who have allegedly died from the damned hoax that never ends (again, being alleged based on obvious lies). We’re on track for a 2021 death toll of approximately 865,000. Your smug, retarded, wicked friends who push the “vaccine” and the masks haven’t murmured a word about this toll, have they?

His side is mildly alarmed, his silence aside. Texas has done a number on the Religion of Roe and has thus far prevailed legally. Satan’s tiny servants have plotted a “what if” scenario in the event the useless Nine uphold the law and human dignity. As shown by their map, little will change if Roe is stricken as it should be outside of a little travel inconvenience. 

That’s just in the fallen US. Worldwide, the problem is an order of magnitude worse as Jon Rappoport explained recently. 125,000 murders every day is how the 1.633 Billion number, above, came about.

Back in the former America, is it not a little odd or telling that the 63 million murdered babies over the past 50 years, 45 million of them Heritage Americans, just happens to be very similar to the number of incompatible not-Americans brought in during the same period? The Great Replacement and the Great Reset are nothing new. They’ve been operational, in the US and across the globe, for decades and decades. They both are the products of the same supernatural evil. They both cry out to Heaven for justice and vengeance.

Whatever economic, political, or societal ill one concentrates on at the moment, please remember that it is most likely a part of that deserved vengeance. This is a real pandemic. It was preventable. It has casualties. It will be answered for.

FICTION: Night of the Living Vaxxed!

31 Sunday Oct 2021

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*Tonight, friends, thrill and shiver to a tale of the macabre from that ever-popular genre of Vaxxploitation…

Night of the Living Vaxxed!

The 2021 [TPC] Halloween Spooktacular

by Perrin “Maskless” Lovett

*Brought to you by Diet LIME CHIP! Soda – Now in Grape!!!*

 

The Old Covington Cemetery, Halloween…

As the weary sun fell behind a line of ragged pine trees, somewhere a cat yowled ominously. Two somber figures moved among the tombstones of the beloved, the dearly departed, and old what’s his name.

‘Isn’t it a little strange these Halloween stories are always set on Halloween?’ Ann asked as MB kicked ants and confetti off of a low headstone. ‘I mean, it’s not even a little original.’

‘This marker epitaph is original enough: At least he was vaccinated!’ MB said with a grunt. ‘And he was. Good thing. He died of the Detrick-Harvard Variant just last week. Like with Colin Powell, if he hadn’t been fully vaccinated something really bad might have happened.’

‘Alldead?’ Ann asked, arching her eyebrows. ‘What kind of name is that?’

 ‘Paul Alldead. Just got the stone on for him. Another happy customer who will never complain or bounce a check or leave a bad review or ever bother me again,’ MB said while admiring a chip in the granite above a misspelling. ‘Really nice fellow. Hey! There he is now! Let’s say hello.’

Ann looked and saw a stiff, partially-decayed shell of a man limping and shuffling towards them. ‘Why is he out of the grave?!’ she asked with plausibly understandable alarm.

‘Paul!’ MB unwisely called out. ‘Good to see you up and— OH. MY. GOD! He’s a zombie!’

‘Yeah, duh,’ Ann mocked.

‘RUN!!’ they both yelled. And away they did run, just as fast as their feet would take them, or as fast as one needs to run to outrun a zombie that can barely limp and shuffle. Okay, it was more of a jog. It was… C’mon, man. You know the thing.

‘Wait,’ the corpse-like character mumbled after them. ‘Sorry to bother. I’m Ned Halfdead. Paul’s cousin. I came to apologize for the bounced check. Aaand, you’re gone. Oh, my, yummy ants!’

Ned was just bending down to dine like an apologetic, half-dead aardvark when he noticed a shadow. Looking up, he saw a tattered, pale, all-dead-looking man staggering forward out of the gloom. Half in fear, half delighted, Halfdead, and half Formicidae famished, he called out: ‘Paul! I thought you were de—’

*****

In the car, as MB drove madly if nonchalantly towards town, trying to dodge all of the raccoons, missing most of them, Ann scanned the radio. Pausing on NPR, she heard a voice of calm, reason, reassurance, and constant hair-flipping. They both listened to Jen Psaki’s hasty press conference, already in progress:

… all a little concerned. But, no. The president certainly is real, he’s really the president, and he really is not a dead robot. I mean, just because he short-circuited and caught on fire while the greenscreen program crashed… It, uh, it. We’ll circle back to that.

As for the national emergency, there is nothing to be concerned about. Not much. Much at all. Maybe a little. Okay, shit, look! All the recently deceased fully vaccinated thralls are reanimating as brain-eating zombies. They say it is the ultimate ADE or VEI effect, Case Nightmare Zombie, or something. Just, um, just trust science. Maybe the sixteenth booster and those hourly pills can do something? 

Yes. I mean, no. The military is not on it – all service members themselves being lately-deceased fully vaccinated zombies who now eat brains. 

Now, I’d like to point to the success of the recent evacuation. Thanks to Empress Harr-, er, Joe Biden’s very real and legitimate and totally not fake administration, several dozen American refugees were just today airlifted into Afghanistan with the help of our Taliban partners. You, hey you! Non-binary thing from CNN! Why are you drooling like that?! My what? My brain?! Eeeeeeeeeeek!!!

As a faraway production engineer cried, ‘Oh, God,’ or possibly, ‘Mo’ sod(?),’ the signal abruptly ended. Ann turned off the radio and bowed her head. ‘Greenscreen has fallen,’ she whispered sorrowfully. 

‘Best fake president we ever had,’ MB hacked, gagging on a Tic-Tac.

*****

Around the old downtown square, a line of double-masked, plastic-wrapped, CRT-indoctrinated, futureless children stumped along. One to another, they sang cautiously, ‘One, two, Fauci’s coming for you. Three, four, lock the bathhouse door…’

Once again this year, they missed him, as he hid in the dark, fingering his sledgehammer. ‘Imma get that statue tonight,’ the Chairman growled to himself.

Kayla looked down from the balcony of TPC Headquarters, perplexed. ‘What a sad fool,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t he know they already changed the statue? What’s he gonna do? Knock down the new Bankroll Fresh Memorial?’

‘Shhhh, woman,’ Da shushed. ‘Was that another ambulance?’

‘I don’t know about you, but I’d love a gurney full of some Halloween candy! It’s a shame MB lost the petty cash box,’ Kayla mused.

‘I mean, what is there to stop these white militias from getting nuclear weapons?’ Da asked the evening air.

‘Sir, any given day, it’s about twelve Marines and a chain-link fence,’ said a pleasant if unknown voice. Da didn’t notice.

‘Who the hell are you?!’ Kayla asked in candy-starved fright.

‘Hello, ma’am,’ the pleasant, unknown young man said. ‘I’m Abner Snickdowl. The filler character that Mr. Lovett added. You know, with Bess and Ryan and Fred being a little scarce these days.’

Though Da still strained his ear for a siren that never called, Abner and Kayla nearly jumped out of their skin. The shrill, screaming, crying, wailing, greatly-alarmed, desperate-to-flee screaming wail of a cry from the Chairman echoed around the square: ‘Great Lawd Yemaya, SAVE US!!!!!’ They turned in time to see him bolt as if the very foul spirits of the recently be-vaxxed were after him. Down the street he fled, screaming, and never to be seen again. Until sometime later, of course. And, of course, when he did reappear, he was re-elected. His sledgehammer clattered to rest in a pothole he’d promised several times to fix but predictably never got around to.

The moans and groans then drew their attention to the other side of the square. Around the corner, came a slow-moving legion of Vaxx Zombies!™ Now and again, as they inched forward, they let forth the nearly-indecipherable cant, ‘brains.’ Or, honestly, it could have been ‘veins’ or ‘lanes.’ It was maybe just a little south of nearly indecipherable. 

‘Now I’ll never review that candy for the Corner,’ Kayla said, fighting back tears. ‘ZOMBIES!!!’

‘Trust science,’ Da mumbled as he leaned over the railing in his vain search of auditory ambulatory greeting.

‘I have a horrible feeling that I know how this ends,’ Abner muttered dejectedly.

‘Hey!’ Kayla said, completely over her zombie scare. ‘Why do your hands stick out of your shoulders like that? Not to be rude, it’s just…’

‘It’s okay, ma’am,’ Abner said sweetly, flapping his little hands, ‘Mama was a good lady. She trusted science, Thalidomide, and all. Pa trusted science too. The Vioxx got him. My uncle in England trusted science. He died trying to kill bugs with Amiton. Shucks, I trust that science myself! Who wouldn’t, with such a great track record?’

‘Yeah, I didn’t need the whole life story,’ Kayla said dismissively.

Just then, Ann and MB sped into sight. They dodged a few of the foremost zombies, hit the sledgehammer-holding pothole, careened violently, and came to a stop below the balcony. In a moment, they huffed up the stairs and out to join the oddly-paired trio.

‘Some politician needs to promise to fix that damned pothole!’ MB bellowed. 

‘Well, looks like the zombies are here!’ Ann said with surprising and rather misplaced cheer.

‘They just came out of nowhere,’ Abner said, waving one small hand from beneath his sloppily-cut sleeve.

‘Who in the blue blazes are you?’ Ann and MB asked at the same time.

‘I’m Abner Sni—’

‘He’s some dolt ringer or something,’ Kayla said. ‘DO NOT ask about his little hands.’

‘More ambulances by the day,’ Da said with a shrug.

‘What a weird night,’ MB said, holding his lighter between his teeth and poking it with a cigarette. ‘First zombies. Now, this pleasant but unknown character. And all those oversized anthropomorphic raccoons on the streets!’

‘Raccoons?’ Da asked as if coming out of a trance.

‘Yeah, big, man-sized raccoons, a lot of them wearing saggy pants and basketball jerseys,’ Ann explained. ‘All over the place, coming out of all these new apartments. Making odd gestures and signs with their hands, paws. They’re all headed west, it seems. All of them talking about how DAT Raccoon tha Kang! Or, something similar they were saying, maybe.’

‘What’s up with that? Where were all the raccoons going?’ Kayla asked, happy some other strangeness had momentarily displaced the terror of the be-jabbed dead. Everyone shrugged their shoulders. Everyone except Abner. Because, uh…

‘I know,’ he said helpfully; ‘They must be headed to Atlanta to cheer for that giant raccoon that escaped and climbed up the Georgia-Pacific Tower. Took some woman hostage. Y’all hear about that?’

Ignoring Abner – a scenario to which he was well accustomed – they all looked down to the lurching, moaning pack of zombies. The reanimated fully-vaxxed had congregated in the street beneath the balcony. Pathetically, they all extended their hands and arms upward (and one can imagine Abner’s resentment) as if to climb the air itself to dine upon the brains of our beloved TPC staff (and Abner, poor thing). Fortunately for the gang, the particular mRNA poison at issue did not grant the deceased the power of levitation or flight. Still, they were trapped. As more and more victims of the worst hoax and war crime in history stumbled and staggered into the square, the stranded group grew nervous. But then, they heard a sound. It grew louder by the second, a great roaring, grinding noise mixed with notes of modified techno-rock parody music.

And, around the corner and into the square came the racket: speeding along, crushing everything in its path, an Abrams tank roared into full view. Over the whine of the engine and the grumble of the tracks, from two speakers poorly rigged on the turret, “It’s Time To Go” by Boomer Patrol blasted away. The great weapon of war rolled over the back end of MB’s car and proceeded to crush the leading ranks of the zombies. Slowing to a crawl, it abruptly turned and did a short series of donuts in the street. Zombie heads and zombie limbs and zombie bodies and an assortment of ill-fitting clothing that sleepy next of kin had thought appropriate for burial shredded and flew about.

The mechanical beast came to rest, its turbine idling. The music stopped, time paused, and the balcony brigade looked on with interest. After a few moments, the turret began to rotate from the rear-facing position. With a whir, it swung around towards the new memorial. The main gun rose. And, in a deafening flash, Bankroll Fresh’s image joined Robert E. Lee, Jesus Christ, Christopher Columbus, Sacagawea, Hiawatha, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, The Old Pioneer Woman, Abraham Lincoln, Frank Rizzo, Mahatma Gandhi, Winston Churchill, Frederick Douglass, The Bird Girl, and all the other lately-deposed “racist” Confederate Generals in the dustbin of dystopia. As chunks of obliterated statue rained down among the mindless zombies (the vaxx victims, not the voters), the top hatch opened, a fragrant column of smoke arose, and a voice sarcastically called out from inside, ‘there’s your social justice, bastards. Big guns matter.’

And then, from out the hatch, there emerged, like a knight in cigar-reeking armor, the hero!

‘Perrin, old man!’ MB called out exuberantly.

‘You’ve come to save us!’ Kayla called.

‘Could have warned us about our ears,’ Ann said.

‘Abner on duty, sir!’

‘Did you pass many ambulances?’

‘Yeah, great and whatever,’ Perrin said as he sat up straight in the commander’s perch and jimmied the machine gun. ‘Gimme a second. Ears? Yeah, most uncomfortable vehicle ever.’ 

While the balcony birds lamented not covering their ears and while more zombies shuffled over the remnants of their crushed comrades, flattened like the curve of those two weeks that never ended, Perrin checked the feed on the Ma Deuce. Then, he proceeded to sweep the street, cutting zombies into pieces while cackling like a crackpot conspiracy theorist at play in the all-too-common position of being dead right all along while spraying zombies with .50-caliber BMG rounds from a tank in one of those patented run-on sentences that really does and, yes, on a Halloween evening, as cliche as that might be, or something, etc; and I’ll just stop this one right here, and now, the end. After a hundred or so rounds, or maybe a few more, he stopped, fully climbed out, stood still, and addressed the team.

‘I’m going to enjoy a delicious, cold Diet Lime Chip® soda! It’s better because it’s now available in this great GRAPE flava, er, flavor,’ he said as if delivering a cheap advertising pitch and while unscrewing the bottle top. He paused and read, mostly to himself, the side label: ‘Grape! Purpa Drank! *Skittahz and sizzurp “sold” separately. Big Floyd’s ghost, these idiots pander harder than the cucks in the GOP.’ With that, he took a healthy swallow. And … he immediately began spitting and spewing, hacking and gasping. Throwing the bottle, which hit one of the masked, miserable kids who had hung around and who you’d probably forgotten all about, he staggered to the edge of the turret and vomited all over a zombie below. Still wheezing and spluttering, he leaned down and grabbed the towel-like turban off the head of another zombie, who in life, had been much more American than you, and wiped his mouth – all the while uttering curses too vile to print here.

‘Horrible!’ he yelled in a blind rage. ‘Almost as bad as the original!’ As he continued to rant and pant angrily, he dropped down to the gun again and blasted a few more we’re all in WHAT NOW?! together walking corpses. Finally, he once more stood up and turned to face the bewildered crowd who were still on the balcony, still stranded, and still suffering from painful ringing ears.

‘Nice night, huh?’ Perrin asked with a smirk.

‘Where did you get the tank?’ Ann asked.

‘Well, with the Army all gone and turned into ghouls, the stuff is free for the taking. Of course, it never was that difficult to appropriate their equipment anyway. Armories wide open, coast to coast. Hell, even libertarians did it,’ Perrin said with a gleam in his eye.

‘Oh, no!’ Da cried. ‘I hope nobody gets any assault rifles!!!’

At that, Perrin laughed out loud. ‘Yeah, can’t have that!’ he said while glancing down at the 65-ton main battle tank that he’d just strolled up to, cranked, and driven away in. ‘Anyway, with those dozen Marines out of the way, I’ve got my boys down at Kings Bay picking up the good stuff!’ He leaned down and casually fired off a few more rounds without bothering to aim or look or think – just like Alec Baldwin.

‘Liberty!’ MB said with pride; ‘Legalize Columbia! Democrats racist like tomatoes.’

‘Damn right,’ Da huffed. Perrin fired one last shot while cocking a mildly concerned eyebrow at the balcony.

‘Why’s that bloody rope trailing behind the tow hitch,’ Kayla asked.

‘The whu?’ Perrin mumbled as he looked at incoming Trident II launch system codes on his phone. ‘Oh, crap! That was Laughing Albert from the drug company.’

‘The CEO of—’ Marshall started to ask.

‘Former CEO. And war criminal. I wanted to interrogate him so I tied him up. Forgot about him like the family dog in the vacation movie. Ah well, one torture’s as good as another,’ Perrin said. He suddenly laughed nonstop, just the way Albert had always laughed on television whenever he was asked if he took the death jab his evil company developed in conjunction with the other luciferians. Whereas he had been able to eventually cough out a rough “no,” Perrin concluded his fit, saying, ‘hey, at least he’s in hell with his father, the devil. Good riddance! Now to hunt down the rest…’

‘Why are all the zombies still under the balcony and not gathering around you?’ Kayla inquired smartly.

‘Why? Because they only eat their own. I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for a specialized military operation and take poison from people who have openly stated they want everyone dead, and that the inventor said no human should ever take, and which had a 100% fatality rate in all animal trials, all because of overinflated numbers in a hoax based around weaponized perceptions of the common cold and flu designed to cover up the world economic collapse, at best, and at worst to usher in a new age of international globalist satanic slavery. I mean, really, who could be that retarded?’ Perrin said somewhat smugly, absolutely correctly, and to the chagrin of at least one member of his audience.

‘Wait. Then why do you keep shooting them?’ Ann asked.

‘I mean, why not?’ he answered. The crowd found great wisdom in his simple logic.

‘So, they’re just after us?’ Kayla sought to clarify.

 ‘Oh, yeah,’ Perrin rejoined. ‘One of you must be vaxxed. They can smell it.’

‘I knew it!’ screamed Da, suddenly coming to life. ‘It’s this Abner! He’s come to lead us all to our brain-devoured deaths!’ With that and with a surprising show of strength, Da seized the pleasant, previously unknown, armless character and hoisted him overhead.

While Abner begged for mercy and Perrin retouched the foot of his cigar, the others chanted, ‘Vaxx he azz! Vaxx he azz!’ Then, as one might expect, Da hurled Abner from the balcony. The doomed filler character landed in a heap among the zombies. 

‘My legs! I can’t feel my legs!’ Abner screamed before fading away just as he had feared, having previously read the script, unlike the others. But, interestingly, he neither reanimated nor was of any interest to the science-trusting former TV news watchers. All dead (uh, of the lively deceased, not Mr. Alldead) arms again raised and pawed towards the balcony.

‘Well, crud,’ Da said, slouching guiltily. 

‘Whadda kill my ringer fer?! Whadda kill my ringer fer?!’ Perrin yelled.

‘You mean it’s one of us?’ MB said with a shutter.

‘Looks like it, you Abner-cidal maniacs,’ Perrin said as he lowered back into the turret. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a new Christian monarchy to govern. Enjoy the mess you made. You’re on your own!’

‘Wait!’ they all called, as the zombies bobbed and belched below. ‘Save us!’

As he closed the hatch, he called, ‘Read the Constitution to them! Better yet, vote! Vote hard.’

Finally realizing the political futility of their predicament, they sobbed and cursed. But it was too late. They watched sadly as the turret returned to the transport configuration. Then the tank, now sans the Day of the Pillow(!) justice tunes, turned about and drove away down the street. They watched it as it reached an intersection. And, then… They all jumped as an enormous clawed white reptilian foot stomped down with enough force to completely crush the pavement several feet into the ground. Perrin deftly swerved aside just in time. The Piedmonteers looked on in sheer terror as he overcorrected and drove straight through the local CBD store, utterly destroying it. A grievous injury! But their collective gasps and wails were silenced, drowned in a sea of noise from the clouds. Those silly kids had thought the boom of the old 120 was loud. Now, smashing down from above, there came a rolling, undulating roar of defiance and rage. Ears split, windows shattered, and the earth itself shook. Most unexpectedly, several out-of-sequence Japanese people ran around among the zombies, screaming, ‘Ritezilla! Ritezilla!’

Over them loomed a ridiculously tall white lizard, likely a giant albino Iguana or some other very large white lizard. Except this one was beyond very large. Enormous? Gargantuan? L-A-R-G-E. And white. With another roar, the beast picked up a bus and threw it back down. Then it waded through the buildings, moving generally towards A-town.

Having forgotten the now trivial zombies below, the gang stood rooted in fear. At last, MB broke the silence: ‘I wonder if that thing is going after the giant raccoon in Atlanta? That’d be a heck of a fight. Clash of the titans, so to speak. Battle of the monsters: Kang Koo—’ His words temporarily ended when, in a final parting lash, the monster’s tail reduced TPC headquarters to rubble. As the hapless gang dug themselves to safety, far away, carrying on the wind, they thought they heard a tune…

*Now, you’re probably thinking the tune they heard was one of Perrin’s pitiful parodies, perhaps a cheap takeoff on “Godzilla” by BOC. You’d be wrong (for once in a Halloween). They might have heard THIS.

**As originally written for (and about) TPC – where they can no longer be bothered to publish such things. This is, in fact, the final edition. Deo Vindice

COLUMN: Now and Then: A Fair Affair

27 Wednesday Oct 2021

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Now and Then: A Fair Affair

 

We will not get, for now, the final word on the assassination of John F. Kennedy, perhaps the last Chief Executive that really acted like one. The truth about the demise of a real President is blocked by a fake one. After 58 years, some vague need remains to “protect against an identifiable harm to the military defense, intelligence operations, law enforcement, or the conduct of foreign relations that is of such gravity that it outweighs the public interest in disclosure.” That literally means and states that the satanic cult masquerading as a government in Washington owes its allegiance to the Dark State and not to the American People. We all knew that anyway.

There’s a lot we know and that we suspect. None of it, this week, is too concerning to me. So, I decided to move on with something else. 

I saw a duo of pitiful stories in the pitiful newspaper of a pitiful Southern city about the goings-on at the local fall fair. Those used to be fun, back when America still was. These stories, the kind of which have become usual across much of the former nation, revealed a new truth.

The first one featured a pictorial presentation of all the “fun.” Patrons gain admission only via metal detectors. This fair boasted a new policy that requires clear bags, purses, and packs. It was obvious they were trying to keep certain things out. Once inside, the people waddle around in search of fried lard and sugar in order to increase their existing gross obesity. I have not been to one of these things in years or decades. It’s just as well, I suppose.

Over the weekend, despite all the metal scanning and tote translucence, an “incident” occurred which necessitated clearing the place out early. The second story didn’t say as much, but it was fairly clear that “teens” must have been at work. Going forward, all “teens” must be accompanied by an adult if they want to terrorize the tubbies. Again, from stories coast to coast, we pretty much know who and what that means. 

In other words, it was a post-modern USian affair, with debased Americans suffering mightily at the hands of not-Americans. I hazard to guess that not one in ten of the former group would admit as much. So it goes. And they can have it. I have my memories of a better era. 

Forty years ago, things were different. I’ve written before about my time at a private school in Mississippi, home to the great Friday night football shotgun raffle! Around this time every year, the same school hosted its annual Halloween Carnival. This is the kind of thing that became known as a “Fall Festival” and then “Trunk or Treat” or what-have-you.

Back then, in another age and nation, the culture was much purer and a bit more innocent. Many knew about the very dark origins of the titular day, but most simply put it aside in an effort perhaps best described as co-option. As, now, they steal everything from us, I suppose that back then Christians took something away from the devil! For a little while.

The main theme of the evening was fun. Real, all-American fun. Kids wore costumes and circulated around the school gym playing a variety of corny games. I can remember several of these events – and fondly. I do not recall a single problem ever.

No “teens” were present. Homogeneity, as we know, provides true blessings. Thus, there was no need for metal detectors, police officers, clear bags, or any other bullshit that has become the mainstay of the dead anti-culture. Not one of these carnivals was ever, to my knowledge, canceled early for safety reasons.

It was a K-12 school. One thing, of many, that would never fly today was the kissing booth. Varsity cheerleaders offered simple cheek pecks for a dollar. One can see how this would all be described by today’s low priests of destruction as sexist, racist, homophobic, fun, possibly anti-semitic, and maybe some other damn fool words they throw around to beat cuckservatives into fear and silence. Again, for us, it wasn’t a problem.

No, wait! There were a few little hiccups, as it turns out. We boys of the K-8 variety had the dollars. But there was, as one can imagine, a shortage of patience and line space. A little shoving might have broken out. Still, I don’t think anyone ever mentioned a need for teen detectors. 

Ah, America.

Here, only mildly related, please find the beginning portion of a poem. It’s part – the ending part – of something I started about a year ago and then forgot about. Look for the rest, attached to a short story, real or fictional, when or if you see it.

“Thus Missed Granny”

Why whip poor Will, he did not say,

This feathered country squire.

Yet, day and night, we heard the call,

From tree or roof or spire.

Whip! poor Will! Whip! poor Will!

-whip him good and more.

After dinner, dark and tired, 

staring out the door.

Quiet, herald! Leave him alone!

Peace we all would like.

Came,

Whip! poor Will! Whip! poor Will!

Bespoke the nightly shrike.

…

COLUMN: One Afternoon in America

20 Wednesday Oct 2021

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One Afternoon in America

 

This is a shorter column. It starts with Pink Floyd lyrics.

When I was a child,

I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye.

I turned to look but it was gone.

When I was a child, thanks to timing, geography, and demographic anomaly, I caught more than a glimpse. I was one of the last to live in the final semblance, beyond a false facade, of America as it was. I’m now grown and the Nation is gone. However, unlike some accursed Boomer, I am not comfortably numb.

Rather, I usually balance on the edge between crushing numbness of a kind most uncomfortable and blinding rage. So balanced, I can generally function somewhat intelligently. So it was last weekend.

One doesn’t expect to find signs of life at a funeral. I did. Call it Divine intervention or, perhaps, a tribute to the powerful, lingering nature of the deceased, but we had quite the cast of characters present. A presence.

This week, I was supposed to write something about scheduled the October 26th declassification of the CIA’s records concerning the murder of JFK. That won’t happen, even after nearly sixty years have passed. With so much left to hide from an insouciant public, they’ve already moved for an extension. They’ll get it. It really does not matter. 

When Kennedy was in Office, Heritage Americans were some 88% of the US population. Soon, we’ll be half that. As I’ve written before, it was America.

Saturday, I found myself home once again, if only for a few hours.

There were approximately 150 people in attendance. After the service, a smaller crowd, yours truly included, retreated to a farm for a private function. It was much more a celebration of a life worth celebrating than an inhumation. 

Of all those in attendance, I would conservatively estimate that 100% were White European Christians. Honestly, there could have been an Asian woman, though I cannot recall exactly. Regardless, it was a gathering of the Posterity stronger than that of JFK’s day.

The men were all strong, intelligent, civilized, and stoic. Manly gentlemen.

The women, all of similar character, were uniformly beautiful, feminine.

It was an intellectual population, in my estimation a full standard deviation or more above the average. 

The service was presided over by a Pastor best described as a Christian Fundamentalist. He meant what he said and believed the Power behind his proper, valiant words.

A grieving family mixed with familial extensions and friends. I say “grieving” though I don’t really think any of us have yet processed the loss. As I eulogized, impromptu, each of us is, as the subject character of Apollinaire’s poem, only beginning to realize that we stand on one side of a broken bridge.

In an age of psychotic breakdown, I think I only saw two masks. They were worn, for whatever reason, by two people who did not and would not dream of suggesting anyone else don similar attire. No one mentioned, possibly outside of a joke, the Great Hoax. There was no fear in this crowd.

There were writers and poets, editors, and publishers. There were educators of the literal kind. There were veterans. And farmers. And laborers. Crafters of many kinds. There were smart students of multiple ages. There was an actor. There were state and federal elected officials, all of whom naturally or deliberately left politics far away. There were more. We were one.

Most appropriately, while the pipes played inside the Chapel, outside in the hall, a line of George Meredith books stood guard – in the company of those by our departed friend and brother.

Owing to our composition, Lord Jesus Christ attended, giving strength and calm to all hearts and minds. His Father attuned the climate towards perfection. Cool breeze-borne air circulated under a bright blue fall sky. 

Symbolic of the future, of the mandate to stand and persevere, a little girl with bright blue eyes delighted in toddling barefoot through the grass. 

Memory upon memory and blessing upon blessing. Something more than a remembrance. For an afternoon, it was America.

COLUMN: No Gifts Or Talents

13 Wednesday Oct 2021

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No Gifts Or Talents

 

It’s another education column! This one deals with demographics, evil, and the terminal decline of Ciudad Nueva Yorko (formerly “New York City”). And, due to scheduling, I happened to draft it out on Columbus Day 2021. And, due to the collapse of the American Nation and the righteous judgment of Almighty God, on that day, I learned that US Rep. Nydia Velázquez (D-NY) babbled via the Twitz: “Today should just be #IndigenousPeopleDay. And yet this day is still shared with a genocidal maniac.” Your author, for one, salutes this paperwork Amerikan for again proving herself to be a double curse. Really, thanks.

Interestingly enough, with this being an ed column about an attack by the system against the people, we also have, around the same time, yet another Not-American, fake AG Merrick Garland, directing his stolen Department of Justice [SIC] to attack American parents for daring to notice the attacks on them by the satanic system(s). Cozy, no? By directing the DOJ’s National Security Division (another lasting Greek gift of the PATRIOT Act) to persecute the people, he’s admitting something – these foul beings know their work is evil and they fear the people almost as much as they hate them. So, embrace your domestic terrorist designation and read on!

Back in April, I wrote about the tribulations of “Gifted and Talented” education in the fading US:

The sane alternative is relatively simple. Don’t expect smart children to succeed and do not “help” them. Rather, let them succeed. Give them the necessary tools and encouragement and then let them build. What is rightly seen as vulnerability, if properly channeled, can become great strength, beneficial both to the children and to the greater society. A system designed by and for 90 IQ simpletons cannot and will not help. This is up to us. They are our children, after all. Make them invulnerable.

Before I get to Bill de Blasio and his gang of 90 IQ simpletons not taking my advice, I’d like to post the Word of the Day! It’s “deracination.” In Nuevo Yorko, I think that translates to “desarraigo,” or possibly “اجتثاث.” Or, maybe it’s “滅絕.” Come to think of it, it could be a grunting click sound made while pointing. Anyway, Dr. Paul Craig Roberts explains what it means for English-speaking Heritage Americans. It’s real and it ain’t good. In the Big Rotten Apple, it’s a done deal.

New York City has, for a very short while longer, a G&T program in its over-funded, underperforming government schools. I suspect though I’m not entirely certain, that it is as dysfunctional as the extreme majority of such schemes. Regardless, like civilization in that area between Mexico and Canada, it’s about to become a thing of the past. The City has decided that it’s “racist” and must go. 

No, they haven’t declared learning itself to be “racist.” Well, maybe they have. In this case, the luciferians are concerned about the inevitable disparity of abilities and outcomes demonstrated by this last vestige of intelligence in the Five Boroughs. 

Until around one hundred years ago, the City was virtually 100% White. Then, pursuant to a plan, the diversity warfare began. As the schools demonstrate, a people can have excellence, or they can have diversity. They necessarily must pick one, not both. Today, the City schools hold over 1 million children in captivity. In a place where Whites still account for about 30% of the overall population, White children only comprise 14.8% of the studentry. Asian children (of all ethnicities and nationalities) account for 16.5%. Yes, Whites are, in a formerly all-White City, the smallest plurality group, not accounting for “mixed” children (who should also numerically displace Whites soon). It’s hard to tell definitively, but together, Whites and East Asians are likely less than a quarter of the total school population. Yet, together they account for three-quarters of the G&T participants. 

Again, you get to pick one.

*Notes: There are almost as many ESOL children (13.3%) as there are Whites. There are more students (20.8%) with disabilities (and this is per strict DOE definition; it’s most likely that potentially “special ed” entitled students are the majority). Also, in this financial capital of the world, 73% of the students are “economically disadvantaged.”

New York picked sacred diversity. Thus, G&T and any form of academic excellence are incompatible with the choice. 

Children tested into the doomed program and were admitted, not based on systemic racism or any other hobgoblin, but based on demonstrated ability. The fact that one-quarter of the entrants were Black and Hispanic speaks very well of those populations. But, in totality, I suppose the overall pattern did not speak in a way to satisfy those who are actively destroying our society. No gifts or talents will be tolerated. Genetic ability = White supremacy. Etc.

By their psychotic decision, these debased morons have violated Dr. John Carroll’s five factors of learning.

… Carroll (1962, 1963) identified five factors which play a part in learning tasks: 1) aptitude, the amount of time needed by a student to master a set of material under optimal conditions of instruction and understanding; 2) ability to understand instruction; 3) perseverance, the amount of time the student is willing to engage actively in learning; 4) opportunity, time allowed for learning; and 5) quality of instruction. …

-A Model of School Learning, J.B. Carroll, Teachers College Record, 1963 (-64), at 723-733, as summarized in The Effects of Various Degrees of Knowledge of Instructional Objectives and Two Levels of Feedback from Formative Evaluation of Student Achievement, H.T. Lovett, University of Georgia, 1971,  at 14. 

Whether they defined G&T as above-average intelligence, very high intelligence, ultra-high intelligence, or in some other way, the defining was an admission of the first (and most important) factor, ability. Deracination, malicious and intentional, has seen that prong generally eliminated from the available population-based data. As a replacement for what might have been a worthy endeavor, de Blasio and his fools promise to beef up the fifth and least important factor, quality of instruction – as vaguely applied to all students in all (dumbed-down) schools. Right off the bat, he and they will provide more training for teachers regarding STEM, robots, and other ridiculous make-work nonsense. This will, of course, mean more money spent and more useless credentials conferred. Little to none of it will have any positive impact in the classrooms or in terms of students learning anything. 

Given the radical shift away from the demographic base that made the city possible in the first place, all of this may be just as well. One wonders how long the toilets will continue to flush.

Rep. Velázquez, who might have once been described by someone at Saint Clare’s Hospital, Manhattan, as a “suicidal maniac,” may have a point about the Posterity of men like Columbus, especially those descended from the nation’s founding stock. There is still a kind of genocidal mania running through them. However, as I’ve previously written, and as the story of NYC the past seventy years makes clear, it is an auto-genocide. Give it another decade or two, and there might literally be no one left to object to renaming Columbus Day anything the interlopers demand.

If you were wondering, then know that this trend is national. It’s far worse, for now, in giant cities, which is why it makes sense to abandon them whenever possible. It makes even more sense, knowing that even private schools are embracing the decline, to educate children at home, in small community settings, or in any other independent manner. 

As I wrote six months ago, they are – assuming we still have them – our children. We can and should make them as invulnerable as possible to the ills of the fallen world. We should at least make them as anti-fragile as possible. This, initially, involves education. That involves dispensing with the failed schools. Even at this hour, there are still gifts and talents. It is a retarded evil to squander them.

COLUMN: The Trillion Dollar Coin

06 Wednesday Oct 2021

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The Trillion Dollar Coin

 

*A “real” column returns today!

The past many years, I have written again and again and again about the debt and the destruction it has wrought. Here we go yet again. A broken record on perpetual autoplay.

Not too long ago, on the PPN (I think), I told of the financial horrors plaguing the lowly-paid workers at Disneyland. I mentioned something about the absolute lack of enough money anywhere to properly compensate them. They’ve been joined this week by the members of the IATSE. This is the entertainment world edition of the national quest for $15(!). As I have explained previously, that is approximately half of what the bare minimum hourly wage should be (and won’t/can’t be). 

Here’s wishing all those good people well. But what they are up against is the hard wall of total financialization of the US economy. Debt, coupled with demographics, destroyed the American Nation and now dissolves the US as a polity. 

Once again, the base criminal morons in DC are playing the old fiscal cliff-debt ceiling game. Is there any doubt in anyone’s mind that the pointless limit will be raised? No. Our beloved Fed Chair Secretary of Treasury, Janet Yellen, who according to the Wiki “Early Life” was, in fact, born to “a family,” has publicly lobbied for Congress to give up control of the debt limit and get back to full-time Brahma worship. I mean, why not?

Her illegal private bank federal department even has an emergency plan to ensure full faith and credit and rainbow unicorns in the utterly impossible event that Kongress fails to act in time to further bury future Amerikans under a mountain of unpayable fake debts. They plan to mint – and this IS NOT A JOKE – a US Treasury $1 TRILLION platinum coin. One ounce of metal worth the entirety of LBJ’s 1969 economy. I could stop here. Even the assertion that this plan exists is definitive proof that this thing is wrecked beyond repair. However, in the interest of a full column, I’d like to poke around the old US Debt Clock for a little fun.

Note: I looked at the following figures on Tuesday afternoon; they’re worse now (whenever “now” is). In an attempt to stay slightly ahead of the extreme pace of our decline, I’ve rounded all the numbers upwards.

The total federal government debt (on books) that the popular press is having a meltdown over is $29 Trillion. Years ago, I predicted we’d be at $40 Trillion by 2024. I think we’ll make it. As-is, it’s roughly $87,000 per citizen and $229,000 per taxpayer. It’s also $54 Billion per Congress Critter, but they don’t count it that way.

This year, 2021, the dead empire has already expended about $7 Trillion, about half of it via new debts. The debt to GDP ratio is about 125%. All of this is “bad,” though we’re just getting started.

Total USSA unfunded liabilities total approximately $158 Trillion. We need that amount of cash on hand now to meet future requirements. We have approximately 0.0%.

The state and local governments are indebted to the tune of $3-4 Trillion. Ho-hum. Ma and Pa Amerika also carry serious obligations. Total personal debt is around $22 Trillion. That works out to something like $65,000 in debt per citizen. On average, Amerikan families have around $22,000 in assets. In other words, on average, Amerikan citizens and families, just like their governments, are bankrupt. This is why the loans – home, credit card, education, automobile, etc. – cannot and will not be repaid. 

Another way to look at the gross imbalance is through the lens of interest paid by and to the banks. The people have lately received about $66 Billion from the banks. However, they’ve paid the somewhat ominous number of $666 Billion to the banks. See how that works, mathematically and maybe Biblically?

Here’s the big intersection of the foregoing, my previous statements, and Janet’s new coin: There is NO MONEY in the US economy. I say that with confidence and based on the date. The Treasury currently has around $785,000,000 in hard dollars available. Some are transfer notes, some are old bills in circulation, some are accounting errors. They don’t matter and they statistically amount to zero. The Yellen Coin (which I hear might feature a portrait of Moloch) would technically increase the actual legal money supply. It would also debase the supply by the same amount of “emergency value” it adds. That doesn’t matter either. Why?

Because the total of the fake, nonexistent “money” floating around is so ridiculously high that it completely eclipses the rest. The bad money has totally driven out and murdered the good. The Clock goes with the most conservative estimate available: a total fake money supply of $600 Trillion! (The more liberal estimates range into the multiple Quadrillion$).

The ratio of fake, nonexistent money (it’s not even fiat currency) to real (eclipsed) legal money is roughly 765,000:1. Add in the Great Platinum Coin of 2021, and the ratio pitifully improves to 600:1. Lord Gibbons wrote something about a similar program a long, long time ago. There are examples from Weimar Germany and Zimbabwe. Ho. Hum.

The solution is to nullify ALL OF the debt and abolish the system that created it. A gold or other hard standard could be reimposed. All dealings in fake or fiat currency along with all forms of usury (in any amount) could be made illegal – capital felonies if we’re serious. And, all of this could be done legally and quickly. It is or could be, a great reset, though, of course, not The Great Reset. This plan, being beneficial to the 99.99%, won’t happen in the dying US. However, once the empire is gone and new nations form from the ashes, it will happen. It has to. And it is the right, good, true, beautiful, and Holy thing to do.

Maybe the grandkids…

Back to the Clock, there’s more!

They note that this Century, even as the total population increased, the workforce shrank. We have as many eligible adults, not in the workforce, and people working part-time as we do taxpayers. We have more people dependent on one or more types of welfare than we have total workers or taxpayers. We have almost as many government employees as we do union members and factory workers. We have far fewer manufacturing jobs than we did in 2000. Despite all the fake money sloshing everywhere, we have more people in poverty than ever. And, despite (or thanks to?) Obamacare, we have about as many “uninsured” people as we’ve ever had.

Forget my old 1952 comparison and the loss of purchasing power. We can just run with numbers from the distant year of 2000. Remember waaay back then? Neither can I. Then, the average salary was $31K and the average home price was $167K. Now, the numbers are $35K and $370K. Congratulations on that $4,000 raise!

They also post some commodities to paper dollar comparisons from 1913 to 2021. Those are so fantastically laughable that I’ll just let you wander into them. Also, note the rise in the value of the scam known as “cryptos.” 

The servants of satan tell us, with a smirk, that we’ll own nothing and we’ll be happy. We already own nothing. Happiness is what one makes of it. In closing, consider that, as for the masses, if or when the electricity, booze, and dope finally run out, being happy may well become synonymous with burning, lethal rage.

Just like at Disney, this ride is going to be wild!

COLUMN: Plotting to Murder Julian, Journalism, and the Truth

29 Wednesday Sep 2021

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Plotting to Murder Julian, Journalism, and the Truth

 

Here follows another rather short column. I had high hopes which have obviously fizzled. I’m not sure if we’re lacking heat or water, but there is a temporary shortage of steam. To make up for it, I won’t charge for this one.

Years ago, and it might as well have happened in another age, Julian Assange earned his place among the paragons of investigative journalism. He exposed US government activities for exactly what they are – pure war crime evil. You know the reward he got for his efforts. He’s been a prisoner for almost a decade, the Amerikan people are as stupid and wicked as ever, and nothing has changed in Washington (aside from a hopeful and noticeable weakening of imperial power – there’s that!). 

Know too that the CIA laid plans, thankfully never acted on, to murder Assange in London. This news is what faithless retards might call a “conspiracy theory.” There is no theory to it. It is a conspiracy fact. Read more about this insane evil HERE. The cult’s solution to the exposing of their crimes was, of course, more crimes. What else is new?

Readers of my blog with better memories will recall that I speculated about this plot, without knowing any details, almost exactly five years ago. That was less prophecy and more seventh-order logical ability. I’d add, “you’re welcome,” but what’s the point? Nothing, absolutely nothing positive has come out of any knowledge about any of this. In fact, things are considerably worse today than they were then.

I predicted other developments which have come to pass. The empire’s idiotic war in Afghanistan is now resulting in the further invasion of the USSA. The invaders, our “helpers” and such, are already busy – even while still in military custody – committing violent felonies against women and children. A majority of Haiti may be moving to a town near you. The White majority won’t exist for much longer. And, inexplicably, people keep falling for, promoting, and worshipping the most foolish hoax possibly ever hatched. 

One of these weeks, after I finish squaring some things away, we need a little weaponized fiction! Or, happy, innocent fiction. Something happy. Sometimes I feel like these columns are less about current, national, or international affairs, and more about tales from the national insane asylum. Well, this one is done. 

COLUMN: Sense of the Senseless (With Rerun!)

22 Wednesday Sep 2021

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Sense of the Senseless

 

It’s 2021 and, as I edge closer to Fifty, I still grapple with the hard fact that I live in a collapsed society, a decimated culture, and a dying country, the base nation of which is already deceased or subsumed. If you’re a real American over Forty (and, yeah, I’ll have to raise the age soon), then you probably know what I’m getting at. It’s okay; you don’t have to even admit it, just so long as you know.

I find it fascinating how many people still haven’t come around to reality. Many who do, God bless them, still can’t break some of the old habits. Here’s to hoping that they just need a little more time – and that there’s a little more time left. 

This is a column that never really got any drafting traction. After so many years of relentless drum-beating, I suppose I’m a little tired. As I told someone on the phone this morning, everything that is happening to Americans and the West is the just and deserved Wrath of God visiting, as promised, upon so much wickedness. For my part, I am optimistically grateful for all that has come and is coming of the total collapse. 

Remember:

“In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18 (KJV).

That passage is rather easy when the things that pass are pleasant. But, it’s just as important, maybe more important, to be grateful for the “bad” things too. If the past two years have done nothing else, then they have at least made clear who we are, where we are, exactly what we are up against, and exactly Who is with us – the will of God in Jesus Christ concerning us. 

We’ll be back, hard and heavy, next week. This is enough for now, but I have thought of a happy bonus: a rerun!

Here, without any updates (which I could easily append), is my most popular article of the year. And, yes, I am aware of the stupid new “Family Guy” cartoon. Still,

Gal Gadot: Good, True, and Beautiful

If the old canard is true, that the sultry Jewess is deployed to beguile the Goyim, then Gal Gadot is Judaism’s ultimate weapon. I don’t think the ancient rumor is necessarily correct, but if it is, then in this case I’m okay with it. Heck, I like it. The ranting, raving, sub-literate mental cases of the social media world do not. Wonder Woman triggered the depraved, the wicked, and the stupid. With this:

Gal Gadot, Twitter/Instagram.

Pray for peace, incur the wrath. You likely know what the socials and the gekaufte journalisten say. Gadot’s simple, heartfelt, easy-to-read, and easy-to-understand message of peace was met by a fusillade of vitriol from the darkest depths of the underworld. For the sake of positive redirect, I’ve decided to reframe the attacks in terms of reasons why every sane, decent person should love Gal Gadot. First, I’d like to get a few things out of the way. 

They say they want to “cancel” Mrs. Gadot and have everyone “unfollow” her. They failed. She’s Gal Gadot. She’s not getting canceled. She’s only gained followers since last week. Regardless of extremely poor media coverage, there is no backlash from her fans. They love her. Period. 

The fools mocked about “ratio-ing” her after she blocked moronic comments on her sweet note. (The devil’s tools then shifted their focus to older, unrelated posts). Ratio-ing means they wanted to drive the number of Retweets (against her) above the simple “Likes” in her favor. A ratio, and I don’t expect the average hater to understand this, is a mathematical concept. Using the numbers in the above capture, from May 16, 2021, we see that the total aggregate of Retweets and Tweet Quotes is 138,500. Assuming that all of them are negative – and they’re not – then they are still outnumbered by the 145,000 Likes. Her message has over one million Likes on Instagram. People love her. People stand with her.

The relative few who don’t like her, sad cases, for the most part, call her a variety of names like Zionist, Nazi, murderer, baby-killer, Hasbara agent, oppressor, and, yes, racist. She’s a high-value celebrity, so she catches it from all sides. Israeli/Jewish loons and hardcore pan-Zionists say she betrayed her nation and people by staying neutral or by curing favor with the Gentiles and Arabs. Mean people say a lot of things. Too Jewish or not Jewish enough.

A few detractors may sincerely have valid points. Leaving a legitimate plea about the war on one of Gadot’s National Geographic IMPACT episodes might be misplaced, but it is somewhat understandable. I suspect she is sympathetic to all licit parties.

There is the legion of jackasses who just want to abuse her, her family, and anyone/thing she might care about. These sorts were leaving idiotic, derogatory remarks long before any of the recent events commenced. Some admit they hated her from day one. Last week just gave them an excuse to really crank up their pitiful garbage. 

Many Gadot-bashers are, I deduce, robots and paid shills. There’s just too much homogeneity and synchronization across many of the comments on multiple platforms. That made me realize something; this isn’t really about Gaza and it’s certainly not about Gal Gadot. It has the signature of the Unrestricted Warfare described by PLA Cols. Liang and Xiangsui in 1999. There are multiple fifth-generation conflicts being waged around the world by multiple parties for multiple reasons. Some of them concern Israel, the Arab-Muslim Middle East, and the United States. Who and why? I have no definitive idea. However, a popular movie star provides an attractive vehicle for spreading the overwhelming chatter. Strange things do happen – more frequently than one imagines. 

Has there been any effect on our beloved actress? In the long run, she’ll be just fine. As more than a few tabloids report, she’s gone Romeo Siera on the social front. She did an interview with National Geographic though it may have been recorded earlier. The world press has been as useless as ever. I briefly searched Israel outlets for information. All I found was a rehashing of generic wire nonsense at the Times and JPost. They are, as might be expected, preoccupied at the moment. 

We’ve learned another great thing about Gal Gadot! She is not a Republican. She may be quiet but she’s not backing down or apologizing. Bots and shills aside, she’s dealing with SJWs. All they do is lie, double down on the lies, and use the lies to project what’s really wrong with them. It’s their sad burden to bear. Let them. Gadot was in the IDF and she works in Hollywood. She has thick skin. Still, at some level, the unjustified acidity hurled at her has to burn. It’s problematic trying to help soothe a terrible situation not of one’s making only to be stabbed in the back for the trouble. Something tells me she will gather whatever pain she feels and channel it into something else bigger, better, and more productive. 

She’s a sweetie, they have an agenda. She’s pretty, they’re jealous. She’s successful, they’re ignorant. She’s good, they are wicked. To celebrate her and to contrast her with them, here are my seven reasons Gal Gadot is the best export Israel ever sent to the unworthy world.

One. She’s Jewish. 

Proudly, openly, and from what I gather from fast yet reliable research, faithfully. In terms of non-ethnic affiliation, my guess would be Reform, but I’m not in the know. Were she a Christian, she’d strike me as a Methodist. The plain fact is that the SJWs and other evil-doers hate God and Gal Gadot is His good servant. אלוהים יברך אותך, אישה מתוקה.

Two. She’s Israeli. 

Proudly, openly, and defiantly. Whether she considers herself one, she is a nationalist to one degree or another. Per her very plain words, she’s concerned for everyone – through the lens of her people first. Israel is her nation! This bold, kind defense is right, being in accordance with the actions, instructions, and predictions of the Almighty.

Three. She’s Family-Oriented.

Based on my research, she’s a mother of two with one on the way. (Congratulations!) [Easy update – Three Daughters, now!] She’s been married to the same man for over a decade – in Hollywood. Loyal fans joke that he, Yaron Varsano, is the luckiest man alive. He might be though his fortune is only one-half of the happy equation. She’s also lucky if that’s the right word. She’s a wonderful mother, wife, daughter, relative, and friend. Some of the trolls have stooped so low as to wish her children harm, which really tells one everything about the trolls. Gadot obviously loves children and not just her own. I saw some videos of her posing with fans at conventions. While she was kind to everyone, from the way she treats the kids, one would think she was the one there to see them. One will also note from these interactions the mother in her: effortless, natural positioning of children for photos; hugging, picking up, and cooing over toddlers; and straightening clothes without looking. 

This is a Zionist Nazi Oppressor?

She went to a children’s hospital in the full, theatrical Wonder Woman costume and visited with the kids and their families until, as it sounds, they got tired of her. CDAN, which has nothing negative to report about Gadot (that says something), praised her kindness towards the young even when they interrupted her at restaurants. Again, from the encounters, it’s more like she’s the children’s fan than the other way around.

Four. She’s Painfully Beautiful.

This one goes without saying – yet it’s perfectly fitting. We speak of the good and the true. Sometimes beauty is literal. There’s a reason why the wicked hate beautiful things and people.

Five. That Accent.

The sound matches the sight. Listen to anything she’s ever said.

Six. She’s a Legitimately Gifted Actress.

Her most famous role is performing as a comic book character. Yet she does something beyond bringing a fanciful fictitious persona to life. There are, in the films I’ve seen, numerous scenes with necessary cliche dialogue. Wonder Gal still makes them work, makes them believable. One doesn’t see Gal Gadot acting, one sees the character. It’s enough to almost suspend my near-impenetrable disbelief.  

I have no idea whether she had formal training, or if she’s a natural, or both. She has a gift. I watched a few of her home videos, social media shorts, and interviews and she just has a way of melding speech, movement, intensity, and keen intellect into something instantly convincing and marvelous. Whatever it is, it works. She does too. The hours and effort involved in her business are insane. Before the Twitter storm, she was criticized for being, surprise, surprise, a rich elitist living in a magic castle in the clouds. If so, then she earned it. Be inspired, not jealous. Be thankful.

Seven. She Uses Her Celebrity for the Greater Good.

She doesn’t have to and still, she does. With scores of millions of fans worldwide, she has the platform to make a difference. Her missive last week was an attempt along those lines in addition to her knowledgeable opinion about something very close to home. Using her very intimate remarks, she tried to help everyone. The dull scorn of an angry world notwithstanding, she did. 

She does that frequently and intentionally. For anyone unsatisfied with her substantial philanthropic work, I ask, “What have you done?” We all know the answer. 

Gadot knows people listen to her. They listen because she’s a wonderful woman and because there is a greater Power in and behind her. Ironically, all the baseless attacks of late only reinforce that truth. Proof of evil often leads to proof of goodness and, ultimately, of God. The wicked attack the good and the just because they are good and just. Gal Gadot was given her talents for a reason. Her use of them for our benefit is a miracle. Good, True, and Beautiful. 

Thank you, Wonder Woman.