Patrica Spork Update – September 8, 2020
Hope everyone had a safe and happy Labor Day.
Whoo-ee, got a new puppy! He’s half Akita and half English Bull Mastiff, and dark brown with black edgings, and black mask. Light tan lines outline all his toes, and half his tail is dull brown, then ends in black. Adorable pudgy fella! He’ll be six-weeks-old tomorrow. What did I name this pee-bucket bucket-head? Well, Bucket, of course. LOL! Good ‘ol Bucket Boy!
Sunday, hubby made a trip to my mother’s and cleared her yard of downed tree limbs from Hurricane Laura damage. Worked his arse off, while I stayed home with pup and did less strenuous, but important things. At least, I thought they were important. LOL!
Dear friend’s birthday is today. Yesterday, our family and his celebrated Labor Day with grilled hamburgers, homemade chili beans, roasted corn-on-the-cob, and chips and dip. Banana pudding was dessert. Simple, but grand meal. Gifted him a water bath pot and case of small canning jars, with lids and bands, so he and his wife can learn to can produce at home. Canning is a great skill to learn, one I should have taken up seriously years ago. Talking serious, let’s move on to serious content:
Somewhere in the world, in a portion of some continent, on some scenic estate, residing in a building best-suited to be a huge museum instead of a home, relaxes a man of devious intelligence pondering the next move against his enemies…those endangering his family’s generational reign by unraveling the web of power positions and persons involved in his attempt for global domination. He is only one of several men diligently working together for control of all perceived wealth, be the wealth fiat or digital currency, natural resources or earth’s inhabitants.
These psychotic, deviant men, along with some women, have a taste for the young, and depending on age, they’re workers, slaves, sexual play things, unwilling organ suppliers, or subjects of torture and death in satanic rituals. Even healthy babies still in the womb are subject to organ harvesting for profiteering purposes. But there is no use for the aged, especially the infirm, unless as compost or cannibalistic sustenance in sci-fi form. Nor is there use for any person of any age physically or mentally handicapped, unless for something mentioned previously or as experimental subjects for degenerate doctors or scientists.
The too-powerful want a dream-world with persons in healthy, fit state, body-wise, yet devoid of advanced logical thinking and reasoning abilities. The less educated the better as long as deemed controllable by ones in power. The more dependent attitude is desirable and pliable; whereas, an independent thinker is a dangerous commodity. And if it takes technology to mold a brain or body for specific end results, so be it.
If it takes censorship, propaganda, political correctness and critical race theory to change ways of traditional thinking to start culture wars and race wars, so be it.
If it takes implementing a world-wide pandemic to slow economies and control peoples movements via lock-downs, and declare mandatory vaccines that can change DNA for further control of people, so be it.
If it takes vicious riots, looting, burning and bombings to destroy businesses, residencies or important infrastructures to further bring down economies and to start a civil war so be it.
If it takes de-funding police, releasing multitudes of prisoners, and random and planned killings to increase crime rates, injuries and deaths, all for hastening progress of a civil war, so be it.
If it takes ballot rigging and voter manipulation to delay presidential election results or install a communistic-ingrained president in a coup attempt, so be it.
If it takes criminal activity, wars, diseases’ release, food hyperinflation or shortages resulting in famines, or destructive water or weather manipulation to reduce populations, so be it.
Other than puppy, hubby’s trip, or friend gathering and friend’s birthday stuff, did I write some serious fiction?
Maybe so. But now it’s time for a serious coffee warm-up and to avoid getting my toes gnawed on by a serious Bucket when I seriously head for the kitchen. Oh, yah!
May the Lord comfort you through good times and bad.