by T. C. Driver
We destroyed our own economy on purpose! We shut down our own power plants, coal mines and oil fields for no good reason. This government policy and raising taxes was based on the false religion of humanism. These nut jobs believe in global warming, anti-growth, anti-God and are socialist who are in truth mentally ill. “The good of the many outweighs the rights of the few” is their sick testament. In redneck back home talk; if you’re gonna be dumb (without God) then you’ve gotta be tough. Modern America was not on a solid foundation so all of her efforts have been totally meaningless. Life is not all about us boys and girls; it’s all about the cross and the one who gave us his life. The values of a false religion will always bring the strange fruit of death. God will not be mocked by a man or a nation the same. We will reap just what we have sown. The blood of innocence cries out to an all powerful God as does the blood of many Africans.
Africa will be much more valuable as an international park and wilderness preserve. A few primitive black tribes will be allowed to live (and be studied), but without interference from Western Christian mother Earth killing polluting civilizations. For the last eighty years caring environmentalist from Europe and America have tried to save (kill) Africa. But it would take a black man named Osoma to get the bloody job done. What heart, what leadership, what courage, what great intellect? A man like this comes around in history only once every two hundred years. Praise Al Gory and Harry Reed, but long live Osoma. These men together have tamed American arrogance and aggression, influence and power, and now they have saved Africa from human development and pollution. These men are now working together to bring peace to the Middle East and jobs to America. Who did we believe and trust in these matters. Did America trust these proven great men or God almighty’s own Holy Bible? America decided in 2012 to vote against God. Making Osoma art and saving Africa is now the latest and biggest jobs program in history. Who needs oil gas and electricity anyway? You know friends it does gets pretty damn cold in The Windy City when that North wind blows across the lake. Can you tell me again why oil from Canada is a bad idea and why we can’t build new power plants and need to shut down our old power plants? We had brown outs last year with all the old ones burning. Are you Democrats sure that God is dead, and that the Bible does not talk about Israel, Hell or these end times? Hello operator I was calling the DNC and keep getting cut off. No I don’t want a DNC clinic I want to talk to the DNC. Hello, Hello! Damn it!
The Great Arks flight deck was busy once again. That second tower below Joe Coe was back in business. Our flight schedule was faster paced than at Taco Station but not as fast as on the East Coast of Africa. Sorties of drones were often of longer range off this coast so we were less effective at killing Africans. We found out that some very long distant drone bombing attacks were being carried out directly from our base in Brazil. A robot refueling bridge had been maintained for months. This new refueling bridge was much talked about by our younger pilots. All of our pilots were kept busy during these days. We had the gloves off while flying ship protection patrols. Captain Joe Coe was looking for something or somebody who could hit back. We stayed on high alert sinking anything and every thing in sight. My favorite Country Gospel music was still at the ships Gospel Café and of course I held court as the “anti-professor” every chance I could. My new young students continued to call me “old School” or “Rush.” Rush was an Old AM radio talk show host who was now in civil commitment. The truth was my students needed a wise old fat fool like me to “round out” their brain washed education. Their real professors were mostly idiotic sissy narcissistic wimps like Paul Goldwater. The “PDBDKS” syndrome had taken over the world. (Poor-dumb-bastards-don’t-know-shit).Conventional liberal wisdom was always one hundred percent wrong or ass backwards. My young students were completely without adult Holy Bible teaching. They were completely without wisdom. This night students were talking about the long distant bombing of Africa and the robot refueling of drones. Professor Lou Goodliar and his sidekick Tommy Mute stopped by and the coffee was flowing heavy around my big round corner booth table. I asked the students and my Christian professor friends a very simple question. Which was faster? Was it ships or planes? That is in a military logistics system. What was the break even point in cost between bombing from our beautiful base in Brazil and bombing Africa from the Great Ark? We discussed the merits of each and bounced around this silly light topic because the students seemed interested. My point in the end was that ships are faster than planes in many but not all military logistic equations. What matters most in military supply lines is not meaningless feet per second measurements but rather the all important “foot lbs per second.” The Ark carried more payload to the battle than ten thousand drones could carry and was very many more times foot lbs per second fuel cost efficient than drones in moving “stuff” to the battle. To make and maintain thousands of drones based in Brazil would cost more money in fuel. In other words we can kill off more poor dumb bastards in Africa cheaper by using the Ark than by refueling. This of course is the name of the game (Money). Yes, killing off Africans and saving the world at least cost; getting rid of the lowest producers and the most worthless and sick. How many “Made in Africa” stickers have you seen in your life? My point exactly, I rest my case. Africans don’t account for much, or matter to anybody or the economy, and many of them now have AIDS. Just like the old people back home, they must be killed off to save the rest of us.
Of course world leaders of the Humanist Democratic Environmentalist Elites have much bigger killing tools than the Great Ark. These other killing tools are more effective, faster, more efficient, and much more cost effective than our bombs. These proven killers are dirty water, taking away DDT, AIDS, the Islamic sword, ethnic warfare, the closing of farmland, government controlled education, and Planned Parenthood abortion mills and pills. American Democrats would soon have their international park. Africa would be a people free zone where the religion of “Mother Earth Worship” would reign supreme. This false religion has many priests and high officials. They are recognized, respected and obeyed the world over. This false religion makes claims of knowledge and scientific truth, but nothing is further from the truth.
These elite ruling class modern day witch doctors call themselves Doctors and Psychiatrists. They are truly false ungodly priests, and medicine men; no different from any ancient pagan tribe. Throughout all of human history this fact always stays true and cuts across all types of societies and governments. The official “High Priest” of that particular group is the one that the civil authorities use to test charges or prisoners in life and death questions. This is the Kings highest law, and the official God of his reign. In Virginia Humanism is the official state religion and Psychiatrist, and environmentalists, have set themselves up as humanist false priests. Counseling by the government priest is (always) the answer to any problem, and is always part of the sentence of most crimes. Mother Earth and saving her is always the trump card while God and his Holy word is laughed at and hated. Who tests the charges, the prisoners, and who can put them into civil commitment (life in prison) with out offense, without jury, without charge in your state. Do you know? Do you care? Will they ever come after you? Will you ever be forced to go to counseling for not believing correctly?
During this “drive by” of Africa we dropped many of our new Beetle Bombs now combined into a one drop or one bomb package. We still had no approval for our poison water products from environmentalist groups. No point spoiling Africa while trying to save it from humans.
We lingered off the West coast of Africa all the while killing as many unwanted, unneeded, surplus humans as we could. Stopping or slowing all over production just like the guardians of Mother Earth at Berkley talked about in the South Seas. At least I didn’t have to hear that irritating voice, or put up with that wimp “Cup Cake!”
I had hoped the ship might stop by the water desert of Brazil but alas we did not. My old girl Josie had probably dumped me by now anyway and found another sailo
r boy. I guess I could have maybe called her by now and I did forget her damn Christmas card. Oh well, thoughts of buzzing around those sand dunes did bring back great memories of Brazil. That watery desert landscape was beautiful yet eerie and amazing; and straight across the pond from the great desert sands of Africa.
Be careful what you wish for, I would get my sand dunes alright, not in Brazil but in the great Sahara Desert. Mostly our manned planes worked ship protection patrols. The defense of the ships air space was our prime responsibility. We did “bomb up” a half dozen or so times during this second African campaign, each time using our new B48s to good effect. One bombing run was a one hundred percent feet wet attack on a large marina. Three others were also mostly in the coastal area or feet wet targets, only two went deep into the mainland like most drone attacks did. Only these two could be called real feet dry bombing runs. At the first marina attack two gun boat military like looking craft were parked in a marina containing fifty or sixty sailboats and motor sports boats. Six B48’s made short work of the whole mess. Fiber glass sailing boats fly apart like confetti when hit by modern military shock wave producing munitions. Every thing was gone, docks outbuildings even part of the shore line. Tony sent me some extra pictures. One village or town destroyed by manned bombers was a Y in the river spread out over a wide area it reminded me of Pittsburg back home. By switching to crude cluster fire bombs instead on high punch weapons we were able to take out many “Non-Sambo” targets. This is called “rooting.” These non-Sambo’s or “Women” pay double price a bonus just started this year. We pilots finally got a small little piece of the action. Elite environmentalist priests were now swimming in blood money. Al Gory announced the largest public land expansion in the history of the planet in Africa. He was funding the non-Sambo’s bonus, or (save Africa man boy only strike). Joe was getting bonus after bonus from the Beetle Bomb Company owned by George Soretoes who was some Greek- American campaign supporter of Osama. The other major bombing hit by manned planes was a long feet dry attack by only three planes. This one bombing run would blight my flying career and bring me professional embarrassment. This long lonely sortie was the beginning of the end of my fly boy days. On this bombing run we did not have to refuel. We put on drop tanks and lighted our bomb load. This was for sure not a massive target in size. We hung one mini bunker buster on each plane. These are for cracking and breaking not burning. We three pilots took off before dawn. Two top student pilots who were about to turn pro and myself.
I keyed in the target zone on my personal computer as we sped in low across the desert sand. This use of the World Wide Web is highly against our rules and pilot protocol. I had never done this before in my life. Air defense was not a concern and briefing on the target had been short and vague. I wanted to know just who or what I was hitting. We flew in low over endless miles of sand now in bright daylight sunshine. Satellite web photos showed three Fuller (not the dome) but Mushroom houses. Three spaceship looking mushroom houses on thick center pole stems, with cables from the top to hold them in place. These three houses were set all by themselves just outside a very small oasis green spot in the middle of the vast desert waves of sand. My heart and spirit was not into bombing these beautiful homes. I wondered who it was that lived there and I had always respected Dr. Fuller. A war raged in my soul as we approached the target; as team leader and center plane I called out the signals. Just a split second before the target computer lock tone I manually jogged my plane to the left which caused the students plane on my left’s anti-collision system to override his controls and forced him left also. Both of our seven hundred pound bombs hit left of target and did little or no damage. The plane on my right, “Mark Howard” stayed true to programming and took out the house on the right and slightly damaging the center house. The house on left was left standing (no joke) with no damage. Calvin Young the student on left was raising hell and justly so. Mark Howard the student on my right said not a word neither did I; as flight leader I gave commands over the computer. After giving Young time to vent I ordered radio silence by keying it in. My report would not be a fun one to write. I had failed to do my job. I had let the Young pilots down (ha-ha) (still no joke); as a teacher and a highly trained well paid professional that’s just not accepted. I wondered though, had this foolishness saved a life? Would the cost to me on this one be worth it? I lost some respect and ranking in the tight group of my pilot peers. These elite fly boys who lived a privileged life on ship, even when compared to other officers. A man has to do what a man has to do. He must be true to himself and God and then face the consequences. Not Joe Coe or any other official briefed me or scolded me, or took me to task about “My Miss.” I was sure Friday was happy to investigate the big miss and put nasty notes in my personnel file. The miss was the topic of gossip throughout the ships crew and a deep embarrassment to me around my colleagues. Sambo Station was coming to a close. I was glad to be rid of it. I told myself never again. I was washed up, no longer a warrior no longer did I have the heart for it. “Thank you Lord” I said for allowing me to work in your church; “thank you Lord” for not giving up on me when I was chief among all sinners.
End of Chapter
Chapter ten: Docked in Portugal
Two weeks later we pulled near the Azores. The Great Ark took on a load of aviation fuel, the old expensive stuff; and then parked outside of a Harbor in Portugal while waiting on a dock that was way behind. We were on hold, just taking life easy. The whole ship needed a brake after a season of war, this bloody killing field of Africa called “Sambo Station.”
One particular end of shift cycle evening during this time Lou Goodliar the radio tower expert and Tommy Mute joined my table with some very disturbing information. Both men were professors at the ships college yet both still oddly and officially Christian. Sometimes I get up to twelve students packed into my big round corner booth but this evening Lou Goodliar, Tommy Mute and a drummer named Rodney seemed to fill it up. They’re all big spread out types like me. Goodliar opened up conversation after eating with,
“Some say you missed that target on purpose Cornelius! Is there anything to that talk?”
“Why would I do something stupid like that Goodliar?” No students were around. Lou looked at Tommy Mute then Rodney as if to say, should we do this? After a pause Goodliar started up again. “Cornelius, I watched you come aboard ship back at Pearl Harbor with a group of elderly passengers? Do you remember that day?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Cornelius, have you ever seen passengers or elderly people get on the Ark before?”
“Yes I believe so, in Brazil,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, Cornelius, have you ever seen any elderly passengers get off this ship?”
“No Lou…I haven’t noticed!”
“Let me ask you Cornelius, have you ever seen any elderly passengers on ship during a cruise, or at any time while at sea?”
“Well no, I haven’t Lou,” I said. “ These old people stay to themselves. I’m not sure they’re even allowed on the main deck or flight deck. I don’t believe that they are!”
“Wake up, Cornelius!” stuttered Lou in a rough whisper shout! “Open your eyes man! You haven’t seen them on walk-ways, cat-walks, snack bar, medical, balconies or pharmacy because they’re not here. You have shut your eyes to the obvious truth. You have looked the other way and lived your own little pathetic life in your own little protected world. You, Cornelius, are just like the retard Osoma voters you like to rail on and on about. Many people are apolitical and do not cast wise informed votes but you also have been selfish close minded and unwilling to face the obvious ugly truth. Truth is painful, it hurts and you would rather not look at your own failings.”
Lou sat down his coffee and hung his head in silence. “The truth is this ship is a death camp a concentration camp. Those old people are fish food soon after we put to sea! One half of them are Jewish Cornelius, you and I are both of German families, we have become our gr
andfathers, we have become who and we hated.”
“Goodliar things just can’t be that bad, cheer up,” I smiled. “You must be mistaken. This whole death camp story sounds crazy. Why would they get on ship if this story was true? Who puts them on board ship and why?”
“They are picked out by computers in the personnel dept Cornelius. Many world governments pay bounty per head for each one eliminated. These people are killed and their property stolen,” cried out Tommy Mute in a coarse whisper. Lou laid his hand on Tommy’s arm interrupting;
“Cornelius, they are picked out by computers in the personnel dept. Democratic socialist and communist governments pay per head. They are required by the simple laws of mathematics to kill off their most costly citizens and their least productive. Elite leaders must do this constant killing to keep their slow, crude inefficient government planned economic systems alive. This or go to work and or do without themselves. This of course is not even considered. They simply have no choice, Cornelius. To be a socialist is to be a murderer, for there is no new wealth to pull from. Osoma is not a terrible, evil man, he does mean well on a simple level, but he is ungodly and without the wisdom of Gods teaching. You know all of this is true.”
“Let me put it this way,” said Lou. These old people are just not worth having around in a country with socialized medicine and social security payments. Also, these old geezers vote the “wrong way” and are often strong in their faith and independent in their personal opinions. Often they are Christian or Jewish and use older out-law hate speech terms to describe modern day perverts.