“THE RATTLESNAKE WILL STRIKE”
by OPOVV, ©2016
(Jun. 29, 2016) — Oh, mouse, what are you doing? Don’t you know you’re supposed to act like a mouse; do mouse things; think mouse thoughts; lay your head exposed for the Rattlesnake to feast upon your corpse after he has tortured you endlessly?
Oh, mice, the snake has entered your cage and the mice of the other cages look at you as if you lost your minds – which you have – for you are going blissfully and blindly about your daily affairs as if nothing is amiss; as if life is one hunky-dory of a ride on the Freedom Train.
And those of you who are riding the “just another train,” you must think Paradise is Free: all one has to do is to buy into the hype: buy the ticket. But Freedom isn’t free to garner nor to hold: the young soldier lying on the ground over there (while his life’s blood is fertilizing the grounds of the Jihad of the snakes) knows this now: the fantasy of “changing anyone’s mind about anything” is but a scam perpetuated by the Puppetmasters that send young men off to war while the investments of the arms manufacturers soar to ever-new astronomical heights: face it, war, any war, is good for the economy.
And look! We’ve the same old Ringmaster, the same that welcomed the troops crossing the Rubicon; the same that controlled the manufacturing of the poisonous gas canisters but not yet the wind. It is the same! He must be old beyond comprehension; the oldest profession in the world: the Tax Man.
Not a mouse, you say? Playing the snake? Controlling the outcome by bringing the catastrophe to the precipitous and then yanking back on the yoke? Methinks the Tax Man giveth himself a little too much credit. Methinks the greed for gold, the worship of power and the fantasy of “legacy” is just another dream dreamt-up by the dream-makers – screenwriters – of Tinseltown, anywhere, from India to the USA.
Oh, mouse, mouse of lowly status, mouse of no account, why do you climb to the highest point? Can’t you see the ground that once was free of deadly serpents is now crawling with them? Forest mice shaping tree limbs as arrows, spears and lances; mountain mice collecting stones for slings and catapults; city mice hoarding rocks to throw at thine sworn enemy: the deadly serpent that oozes past your door; slithers behind the grocery cart; slides down your sidewalk, making notes and taking pictures: spies of the upcoming invading army.
Oh, mouse, what are you doing? Mice are supposed to swallow the lies spewing from the forked tongues of the White House, Department of State and from the collective traitorous minds of the Joint Chiefs of Staff: people who took the Oath to “honor and defend the Constitution” but somehow lost their way.
Oh, mouse, pray tell, what happened for you to vote Britain away from the yoke of the coming of the Sharia? Oh, American mouse – yes, I’m speaking to you – clean your weapons, for the serpent is at your door; can’t you see it? They’re everywhere, you know, where they should be nowhere. They should be out of here. They shouldn’t even be here.
Oh, mouse, are you a brave mouse or are you a foolish mouse? Do you realize that all of the laws and all of the law enforcement officers cannot save you and your loved ones? Do you now realize they never even could? Have you figured it out? Do you wait for the Rattlesnake to strike first or do you protect yourself before the onslaught of the inevitable? And if you do – become “proactive” – it would be foolish, would it not, not to include the Puppetmasters, Ringmasters and the Tax Man along with the Rattlesnakes. Wouldn’t that be prudent?
But before the fighting in the streets for Freedom begins, we’ve one last chapter to play out: the overwhelming vote for Trump. So go ahead, mouse, arm yourself to the teeth; exponentially increase your hoard of ammo and food, because none of us can foretell the future, except to say that the Rattlesnake WILL strike. The question is: will you be ready?