CONFIRMATION~!

pcAT LAST

I’m not the only dog barking at the skunks up the tree. And yes, so long as it’s a free country (sort of) I’m allowed to hold my opinions, and even better … state them.

So: in my opinion the Islamic floods inundating modern Europe with their savagery and cave-age ‘thinking’ are no accident.

This tsunami of ‘refugees’ is finally being recognised as warfare, and now by folks other than me—

Screen Shot 2016-11-05 at 13.06.38.png

—and although I haven’t visited that link yet, I can guess what it might say. (2008? I guess things haven’t changed too much: plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose.)

Screen Shot 2016-11-05 at 13.07.16.pngMORE AND MORE OFTEN

this one name (Soros) keeps popping up. Originally in the ‘crank’ literature but now more and more often in the mainstream. Not good.

The nice altruistic Mr Soros is quoted as saying to the effect that he wants Europe to be all just one big happy family, living in a cosy house with no doors.

He doesn’t want France to be a nation, he wants the French to be provincials in a large country called ‘Europe’. Likewise Germany, Britain, Spain, Poland, Hungary and every other bugger. Why?

Don’t ask me—I’m just a dum’ old dog. A dumb dog who also happens to be a Conspiracy Theorist of the First Order, who sees patterns in events and mysterious hands pulling the strings of so-called ‘independent’ national leaders.

Perhaps in the nice Mr Soros we have identified one of the string pullers?

AND NOW

to not change the subject, have a nice cheery poem—

 

The Dying Gladiator

by George Gordon, Lord Byron

I see before me the Gladiator lie:

He leans upon his hand–his manly brow

Consents to death, but conquers agony,

And his drooped head sinks gradually low–

And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow

From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,

Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now

The arena swims around him–he is gone,

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.

He heard it, but he heeded not–his eyes

Were with his heart and that was far away;

He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,

But where his rude but by the Danube lay,

There were his young-barbarians all at play,

There was their Dacian mother–he, their sire,

Butchered to make a Roman holiday–

All this rushed with his blood–Shall he expire

And unavenged?

–Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!

 

FROM MEMORY

I think that at the Teutoburg Forest they did just that … and stayed pretty well glutted and gladiator free for a long time. (Precedent set?)

CAN WE DO THE SAME

and throw the invaders back out?

Yes.

Will we throw the invaders back out, into the arms of George Soros and his ilk?

No.

— Roll over, ye Goths, stick all four paws up in the air and say after me—

 

“Take me — I’m yours!”

 

Cerberus & Hydra

 

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