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Fuck Obama!

The generation of the sixties protested the war in Vietnam.  Now they sit idly by listening to this Kenyan usurper lecture us on how he has answers to our problems and it’s all going to come from government.  Where are the d@mn pitchforks and torches when you need them?!


Don't Be Fooled

I have seen the future, and it’s ugly.  The liberal media now stands ready to label anyone dissenting with the status quo of our ‘political’ system a ‘terrorist.’   Then that’s a label I may have to get used to and become proud of.  I have come to the unsettling position, there is nothing I can do at the ballot box, there is nothing I can do from this my soap box.  There are few boxes remaining from which to peacefully seek to have the federal monster STOP SPENDING MONEY.  Neither party represents the average American.  They both serve globalist masters intent on fucking the average citizen and throwing them out wet into the cold.  With masters like them, who needs foreign enemies.  We have our own enemies of state here, and they run the show!  The silver-spoon bastards in office stand in their ivory towers and preach to a populace whose values they disdain and whose pockets they only know how to pick.  I’m fed up with them.

Yessa Massa

Stalag America

What we have all been witnessing since the collapse of Bear Stearns, the demise of Lehman Brothers, AIG, GM, and the collapse in confidence in our ‘markets’ through outright manipulation was punctuated with an exclamation point by the hands of a crazed lone gunman.  The threads of American social fabric have been exposed, frayed, and finally torn.  All that is left is for political extremists to wage war on the final vestiges of our freedom to completely incarcerate us into the hell of socialism.  And this lunatic lone gunman has bought them the handcuffs they have needed.  All the gun victories wracked up in the last half decade are certain to be lost under the jackboot of legislation.  Welcome to Stalag America.

Fight the Fed Bull and Get Gored

Our country was founded on the principles of liberty and freedom.  These liberties were never derived from government.  They are God-given. If anything, they are protected from governmental abuse by the 1st Amendment to the US Constitution.  But, what do they care, they’ve been wiping their asses with that for more than 12 years now.  The Government has zero say in how we can critique their actions.

So, when the senate (full of liars) deliberates on a bill to “define” journalist, I say BULLSHIT.   I will not comply.  I will work to expose all the fraud, all the lies, all the disinformation, and propaganda they continue to spew in their unbridled theft of the wealth of the average American.

If you have information that exposes the corruption of banks, congress, or their agencies.  Make contact to me through commenting.  I will be in touch and these crooks will be exposed.  May God have mercy on our Nation.

Once4All Blog is pleased to announce that it will serve as a conduit of justice.  I hereby call upon anyone in the banking industry who wants to leak incriminating documents on the lending practices of banks to email or snail mail the documents.  If you have something to share, please post a comment on the blog and I will get in touch with you to expose the crimes of the banksters.

Time to Hang the Banksters

The Federal Reserve has openly admitted in their latest data dump of  violating Section 14 of the Federal Reserve Act of 1913, their only charter for existence granted by the people.  That makes them a criminal organization.   It is time to demand JUSTICE.  It is time for these criminals to be cuffed and hauled to courts and tried for violating the public trust.   To save their sorry asses, they have conspired with the people’s Treasury to saddle the people with a tax debt to bail out their elitist friends and bondholders.  I call upon the Attorney General of the United States of America to investigate these criminal acts and to bring justice to WE THE PEOPLE.

A Homecoming

It was an exhausting whirlwind tour of 9 countries in 14 full days of high level meetings. I was reinvigorated by the fact that within 9 hours, I’d be home with my family again. I was sitting at my departure gate when a sight caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. Engulfed in my own little world, I only barely noticed the pony-tailed, old biker arise and stand at attention peering out the window. I could have sworn I saw a tear form and quickly run down his cheek.

I usually mind my own business, but it isn’t everyday you see a grown sixty-something biker standing at attention, emotional. I thought about getting back into the magazine I had open, but curiosity held a firm grip on me. I looked around. The departure area was now completely full. Meaningless conversations on various topics flared up all around me. I put the magazine on the seat next to me, stood, and walked over to investigate.

When I arrived, he was still entranced, still teared up, looking intensely out the window, down to the tarmac. I asked him, “sir, are you OK? Is there something, somebody I can get to help you?” He looked at me. Shook his head no. He said, “I’m just paying my respects. I don’t know if you’d understand.” Then he turned his head and looked back intently down to the window. At first, I thought, what a weird thing to say. It would have been easy to be offended or put off by his reply. But he said it with such a dignity, I had to see what he meant.

As I looked out to the tarmac, I saw an amazing site. Old Glory was draping the coffin of a young soldier taking his final trip home, down the baggage ramp to an awaiting honor guard. As quickly as I could with a military reflex, snapped to attention and gave a salute. It must have been a weird site to the people in the departure lounge that afternoon, seeing an old biker and business man standing at attention by the window because soon a crowd came over. We were quickly joined by other veterans, standing in solemnity, saluting. They had just about cleared our sight when I overheard a young boy ask his dad, “What is it Daddy?” The father replied, “I don’t know son, but I think we should stand quietly until they are done.” For that one moment, the entire gate in Houston stood silent and united.

The hours ticked by quickly as I made my way home. I was thrilled to see my family at the airport and gave them a big hug. In the back of my mind I carried the memory that I enjoyed the luxury of a homecoming paid for by an unbroken line of patriots who had dared to die that freedom may live, and by the knowledge that another family’s reunion would be far less joyful than mine.

As a veteran, I salute all of you who have lost a loved one in service to this nation. I sincerely hope that one day we, as a nation, have the courage to deserve the sacrifice they have made for the freedoms we allow this government to steal every day. I pray that we have the courage of our forefathers to preserve, protect and defend that which was entrusted to us for the benefit of future generations of Americans. I fear that if we don’t, we will not only dishonor the memory and the sacrifices of those fallen heroes, we also dishonor ourselves. May God have mercy on our nation.