The Great Ark

by T. C. Driver

  The sad truth is a free republic can not tax the people of New York and spend the money in Germany. Then tax New York again and spend it in Japan. Many client states since World War II have tried to work with us and become great allies but the sad truth is our world wide military Pax-Americana empire cost must be paid with printed money because we do not tax them. We have today the same problem that our mother country Great Briton had with us. The cost of empire is only the beginning. Our trade deficit and budget deficit is a one two punch adding to our dizzy counterfeiting madness. We are paying most Americans not to work or to work at worthless government jobs as councilors, and advisors. Our department of education is a joke and all departments need to be cut by at least 50% but that’s another matter for another day.

  The model America is presently following based on printing money is not stable and is against the laws of God, his Holy Bible and simple math. The “ship of state” is not on a strong Godly Foundation and will not survive history. The pressure of our demise and fall will lead us toward a one world government and a lost of all our liberty.”

  The students left my table that evening, each one still calling for higher taxes. Each one still wanted to soak the rich, and each one hoped to work for the government and have full retirement after twenty five years of long coffee breaks, longer vacations from doing little or nothing.

  End of Chapter

  Chapter Twelve: The Gathering

  We on board the Great Ark believed that we were heading towards the Big Apple. We were steaming the usual Atlantic crossing route as liners have done for years. Unknown to us yet the ship had turned southeast that night instead of southwest.

  A tall lanky older black Gospel singer named Mike Russell had flown from his home in Brooklyn to catch the Ark in Iceland. Mike came aboard the evening we departed and was there early waiting for me that night at the ships Gospel Café. This visit was now one of an old friend. Mr. Russell was not on the music schedule for another five days or so. Mike had pulled up a chair and turned it around backwards as was his custom or maybe it was to match his hat (Ha-ha). Tonight Mike was down hearted. Worry showed heavy on his face. I greeted my old friend with Number six (24-26) you may know it by heart.

  The Lord bless thee, and keep thee, the lord make his face shine upon thee and keep thee , the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace!

  After our hugs, hellos, and a bowl of hot chili, Mike got straight to the point!

  “Cornelius some friends in Brooklyn have come to me for help. Things are very bad! Yes, very bad. My friends believe that because of my hit songs twenty-five years ago and the little bit of TV I do, that I’m someone who can help them (a leader a strong man). Truth is I’m none of these things.”

  “Come on Russell give this a rest, you started out as a boxer remember? Sing us one of your old songs, singing will cheer you up. How about singing “Operator” I’ve always liked.”

  (Mike-interrupts) “Now listen up, Cornelius! That’s not my song anyway, now just listen! Snuffers, Cornelius; in Brooklyn every night, they call them “snuffers.” (Mike having a breakdown crying)

  “Don’t sit out there on that chair brother Mike slide yo` black ass in this booth so we can talk”

  Brother Mike leaned over the table giving me three quick lightning fast left jabs to my face with sound effects for comic relief. He mumbled something about “hillbilly cracker.” Mike and I have always played around with each other, we are both old fighters but he doesn’t know about my wife’s Cracker family, at least I thought not (ha-ha). I held up two fingers and volunteer worker Kathy Daily knew what to bring, she could see me clearly across the near empty Gospel Café! Kathy sent Julie with two full pots of strong French Roast Coffee. Both pots would be dry twice before Mike and I stopped talking that night. (So would my personal container of Irish flavoring).

  “Cornelius, I know first hand of four “Snuffer” vehicles in operation. I have seen them myself and I know one place where they go with the bodies. My friends took me and showed me! I would not have believed them otherwise. We took pictures inside and out. There is another one in New Jersey I’ve only heard of. Politicians brag about the crime rate and drug use going down year after year but my God, Cornelius, what’s this world coming to? I heard this stuff started to stop sex offenders and then grew over time.

  “Slow down Mike, stay calm and start at the beginning” He nodded.

  “Ok,” Mike said taking a knuckle breaking stretch.

  “A “Snuffer” is a police paddy wagon. It looks like any other Paddy wagon, but it never has any unit numbers on it, just the word, “Police.” It holds up to fifteen or twenty people. Police scan your face then they know which Paddy wagon to put you in. Many honest police think they are relocation wagons. Cornelius the truth is these people are never seen again. Police pick up street people, drunks, bums, anyone without papers, prostitutes, punks, drug dealers, just about anybody. The streets are cleaned up quick. Police are looking for members of different families often only part Jewish, often from western European background. My Preacher said they are looking to kill the one hundred and forty-four thousand before the advance team leaders get here.”

  “What did you say, Mike? Did you say advance team leaders? Do you mean angels?

  “No, Cornelius,” said Mike. Two flesh and blood men, two witnesses, two men who come here and are working for Jesus! These “Snuffers” are trying to stop the people of the book, trying to stop the Bible prophecy from coming true. These young male babies and their mothers are targeted. They are looking for tribes and families scanning and then DNA is how this is done. Cornelius, my preacher could explain it much better but he’s gone. He disappeared. Yes, we fear the worst. He said finding the right mothers to kill was equal in difficulty as a math and computer problem, to counting the sands on the beach, or stars in the heavens, many colleges are helping.

  “This is how “Snuffers” work, Cornelius,” said Mike continuing. “As the wagon travels the exhaust fumes are pumped into the back of the paddy wagon. No arrest, no judge, no trail, just a computer face scan. The good of the many out weighs the rights of the few. They kill all of them, Cornelius, just as Pastor Thomas they are simply never seen again. The paddy wagon pulls through two automatic doors and parks on a tipper. The wheels are grabbed by the machine and the paddy wagon tilts 90% like, a drawbridge. Then a big hose is hooked to the backend and the doors come open for an automatic wash cycle with hundreds of gallons of steaming scalding hot water. The bodies` dead or alive, all slide down a big fiberglass tube to a garbage grinder the size of a city bus. I know you don’t believe me Cornelius but I’ve been off drugs for years”

  “Stop Mike, I do believe you! In fact did the large fiberglass tubes have clear plastic high pressure hot water lines wrapped around them to add more water to the flush?”

  “Yes,” said Mike Russell

  “They are made in Germany, Mike, old traditions die hard, so do many modern day Jews it seems. History does repeat itself! Those people are fish food right?

  “We believe so, Cornelius. Yes, we believe so.”

  “My friends asked me to help them also, Brother Mike! People refuse to believe that Osoma is just as bad as the entire Democratic Socialist Humanist, known ungodly killers throughout history. Truth is they all grow from the same plant and the same seed, the same weed. We all know what it looks like when it grows up, and it’s not pretty. This evil is not just the godless leaders fault. The public itself is half to blame. These voters want to be taken care of forever, and willingly hand themselves over to earthly kings forsaking the ways and blessings of God. Only your family loves you enough to be a care giver for long. Young or old, God’s way works every time and man’s way leads to blood and killing every time. This is always true. As corn has tassels, the Socialist Humanist weed has class and race envy, hate, warfare and always kills, kills and kills. God will not be mocked, not by Osoma or by America.

  Look at this old article from the fo
rmer Hill and Dale College before taxes shut them down and Osoma turned it into a federal prison. They say some of the professors never left and now never will (Ha-ha). Just like Osoma closed that big school in Lynchburg Virginia, and the Heritage Foundation. They were on Osoma’s hate speech hit list early in his second term as president.”

  “Cornelius, you can’t blame Osoma for everything! He does care about us brothers, yes including you fool. Yes, I know you’re family, just look at your hands Nigger! That was not Osoma! That was the Department of Education that Czar Barnie something. Government had to keep standards. Hill and Dale was an old “Cracker school” with divisive hate speech! They taught stuff like the civil war was not about slavery. Osoma’s leadership is the only thing good about America. He’s even got the Islamic brothers helping out the black communities.”

  “Oh Mike,” I said, “Where do I begin?”

  “Mike, with all due respect both of those schools were shut down by Osoma to control information and education per the Communist Manifesto Handbook for ruling Socialist Elites. Just like old Karl Marks taught them to. Remember much of what you have been taught is a lie and is backwards from truth, just like a reflection in a mirror. For example, do you think Osoma cares about homeless people? You just told me about the snuffers. Remember back when conservatives were in power? Every day you saw a story about poor, dumb, homeless people and the economy was booming. Now with the second great depression and the serious bankruptcy of America how many stories about homeless people have you seen on the TV news? … Why not? .... It’s like they don’t exist! They are lying to you Brother Mike!

  Now listen to this article, in this old newsletter. It says that 78% of the residents of New York City get some type of check from the City, State, Port Authority, or Federal government, or they are students, minors or non-citizens. These are people on Social Security, retired teachers, cops, and firemen, or those working now and people on welfare in jail, the list is endless. There’s simply not enough left to be taxed to pay all the people getting checks. Government raised taxes and then borrowed and now every level of government is broke. What else can they do but thin out the ranks of the most costly, the most useless, the least wanted, the ugly ones, the stupid ones even the black ones, or the Jewish ones. We have to decide some way of picking out which ones to kill. That old saying is completely true. When they came for the (fill in the blank) I did nothing when they came for the next and so on. That old saying is not a joke. This is truly how socialism works and that is just what people voted for in your boy Osoma! Mike, it matters not what color our leader is but rather what his relationship with God is. We fight not against flesh and blood, but against powers and municipalities in high places and spiritual wickedness. Osoma is simply against the Holy Bible and the ways of almighty God.” Mike and I talked a few more times during the cruise but when he left for Dublin he was still paranoid, fearing for his life and still supporting Osoma.

  Three days cruise from Iceland, Lou Goodliar and myself were both standing on the high deck railing outside our cabins. It was obvious to both of us that we would not be going to the Big Apple. The Ark was moving south by southeast. Lou was pointing franticly at the sun and waving at me from down port deck. The ship was moving very slowly, very much not in a hurry, making only about four knots. This was just enough to keep us stable in the water. As an old sailor I knew we were tuning our ETA to meet or miss somebody or something, and by the looks of things it must be somebody important.

  Our ship’s paint crew was always staffed by about eighteen men, all on daylight shift. Every day of every voyage they were painting in at least two places around the ship. On the bottom of the ship and up to just past the water line were round robot painter scrubbers. These amazing little robots are called “crabs.” Every twelve hours or so, the “crabs” would move around to a new location. At this time the ship would slow down to below four knots for about six minutes. This slow down was called “crabbing” We had now been in a long term crabbing mode for some reason. 400 plus seamen were added to our paint crew, and the cleaning crew was doubled. The whole ship was cleaning and polishing every thing in sight. The ole’ gal was putting on makeup and eye shadow for somebody, but who I wondered? Dress white inspections were held by all departments. We also practiced very difficult military stuff, (ha-ha), like standing still in a straight line for the first time for most students.

  We pilots and officers always dressed for dinner. Each man had his “best” coat and pants (or two) and our more worn everyday pair. We officers also had inspections and practiced our spit shine and brass polish. Yes, we were all getting ship shape. Groups of student flyers practiced formation flying at slow, low to ground, salute speeds. Many younger pilots had to be passed off on three major formation flying skills. We pilots drilled the squads of beginner, pro, near pro, and student flyers. Everyone was working hard long extra shifts as the Ark sailed at crabbing speed, while killing time to make ourselves look pretty. When we approached the rock of Gibraltar all flight operations stopped. The Great Ark slowly and majestically steamed into the Mediterranean Sea. All activity on ship was soon radically different from normal. A wave of excitement filled the ship. No flights, no destination on computer, nothing on our phones, no briefings. Rumors ran wild. The crew didn’t know what to believe. More drill, more painting was ordered. Our work pace drew to a high fever pitch. The main deck “where planes are stored” shone like new money. Another carrier was behind us, another was south of us. We continued moving, painting and polishing nonstop. Three weeks after Gibraltar, the ship ran into the Island of Cyprus. I mean we “ran into” the Island of Cyprus. This is crazy I thought to myself. Just ahead of us was a rock face full of sea birds with waves breaking against the cliffs. We were just right of center from a volcano shaped mountain and parked much too close for a ship this size. I had never seen anything like this before. Our crew came out on deck to have a “look see.” The old US Navy never did anything like this. We anchored down hard with extra lines like I’d never seen a battle carrier do. All of the ships older model B44s (sixteen of them) had flown off two days before to a land base and were practicing for “The Gathering.” Old guard pilots like me were sitting this one out. “Praise God!” Our remaining aircraft were parked on the flight deck or crammed into garage space. Our planes looked good, but we could not fly. On our left and on our right was parked other Ark type carriers. Each one pulled in close to us and anchored down hard. Three ships in a row with the Great Ark at center. We were very close together. Flags, banners, grand-stands decorated our flight deck. On the left or north side of this Volcano were three more old American carriers parked just as ourselves. Three in a row close up to the rock face. In the center was open water. At the center front face of the volcano were parked still another three carriers. These three were set back from the cliffs a little bit more than the length of a carrier. Nine Air craft carriers were parked around the open water at the center of this high rock face mountain. High up on the cliff was an overhanging stage and podium. Above that was a long white column building or hotel stretching across the side of the mountain. We sailors were so close to the cliffs that an echo formed as men shouted. Pyramid shaped laser boxes containing powerful speakers were placed on deck. One could hear clearly from any place on ship. High on the cliffs in front of the long white buildings grand stands were being constructed. Flags and lights were everywhere. Excitement was building as people formed this big party called “The Gathering.” I remembered now what Franklin A Donner had said. He and Wendy were going to “The Gathering” and they were so proud to have been invited. This was a big deal this Gathering, but nothing was on the news about it at all, nothing on the radio. I watched the file that Ralph from the Space Port sent me and it chilled me to the bone! How could a party of this size be secret?

  There were many private yachts covering the sea like lilies on a pond. Security was handed over to four destroyers (that I could see). These ships stayed on the distant horizon. No plan
es or helicopters flew inside of this “no fly zone” inside of the destroyers except for show planes. After six days of preparation and practice “The Gathering” came to life that Friday evening. At mid afternoon people started boarding the Great Ark by ferry. Each ferry docked into the large sea door at stern. The main deck (below) was now a large dinning room with white tablecloths. The flight deck was now grandstands. Porta-Johns were everywhere, so were beer gardens and snack bars. Casual business is what they called the dress for ticket holders; dress whites were the order of the day for crew. Bridges or walkways were placed between ships that were parked side by side. Fifteen thousand people (at least) came onto the Ark that day. There was to have been over three hundred thousand people at “The Gathering.” Tickets to this affair started at twenty thousand dollars a piece and went up. Just before dusk our student flyers that had been practicing for days started circling overhead sixteen from each of the nine carriers for 144 planes in total. They flew slowly with wings stretched out straight like sea birds. On the belly center hard point of each plane was a large fuel tank and a laser box. These laser light boxes were being were being controlled by computer. Laser light and sound would blast between the boxes on the ships and shore and planes. Like soaring Eagles the planes flew circling above us. The laser show was very impressive. Not even choppers flew inside the destroyer ring “show” planes only! Some of the crew said that “The Gathering” was a show to out do “Al-Quds Day” (the further most Mosque) or Jerusalem Day put on by the Islamic World. We would outdo the Moslems big time (we had bathrooms Ha–ha). Yes, the Islamic World is “Quadded” alright! Islam got the notion that Mohammad flew away to heaven on a winged horse from the spot of the dome of the Rock! This notion was just the Devil himself day dreaming of course. Big stupid lies are always fun to make up in any in any culture. The bigger the lie the better and then repeat it often. I guess that one is just as good as those 72 virgins. We (the West) are just as stupid with our classic “National Debt” lie. It is very hard to beat a really good “big lie.” Ask Satan he is the father of them all.