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  • SCREAMING YOU’RE NOT DEAD YET

    Like a tearful infant, the World watches as Peace, its favourite toy, is carried away by terrorists and fanatics who state, like malicious parents, “This is for your own good.”

    Blood Brings Clarity in Pakistan

    Some still sit wide-eyed and naïve, unsure what it is their eyes see.

    Some confidently chuckle at the game.

    Some will eventually behave like the proverbial parrot, Polly, but that is a matter we will deal with another day.

    Today, on the day Pakistan rocks to another militant explosion, this time a strike against the pleasant and plausible passtime of International Cricket, the government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain arrested Geert Wilders and sent him packing on the basis of his being an extremist. Wilders short film FITNA offends their chubby little fingers with its hard edges and blunt message.

    We watch.

    The accepted message continues to be, nothing can be done against murderes that might offend the sensibilities of a gentle population throughout this sweet and purposeless world.

    As this slide continues we will look closely at the faces of those descending into the abyss. Presently we see barely a hint of recognition of their fate. Like cricket players lying on the floor of their buses, they obviously never thought until this moment that Global Reality extended even to their personal sphere.

    We look as their confidence carries them away, never to return.

    Eventually the vacant seats and empty gestures will betray the facts. Once the steady unravelling of security becomes apparent, in suburban streets, in domestic politics and in International Events, panic will begin to appear upon their faces and yet, to their dismay, the bus will continue. Shocked and horrified they will gaze out at a retreating happiness. Carried onward headlong into the maw of Trouble, they will see how unstoppable their approaching death has become.

    They will wonder at their shared fate. Those around them, fellow passengers in their descending miasma, will utter the usual mewing and senseless sounds of fear. There is no way back. Trapped. Already beyond the lip of the waterfall, Mankind will see how completely the fairground ride has changed into the Ghost Train.

    Those approaching the Falls, hearing the rising crescendo of screams before them will at last take all the necessary steps to ensure that some survive.

    We know.

    Went

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