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Shut Up, Conspiracy Theorist!!!




SOURCES AND NOTES: http://www.corbettreport.com/?p=12502

Everything you wanted to know about shutting up a pesky conspiracy theorist in 5 minutes.

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G. Edward Griffin: The Collectivist Conspiracy

Quite a sobering lecture explaining how the right and the left are just the two wings of the same bird.... We don't agree with the solutions he presents however as the only solution that works is The Plan. He also says he doesn't believe in man-made global warming...

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The Secret Life of Timothy McVeigh



TRANSCRIPT AND SOURCES: https://www.corbettreport.com/?p=14714

Timothy McVeigh. We've been told so much about him, the Oklahoma City bombing, and what it meant for America. But what if it's all a lie? Join us today for this special Corbett Report podcastumentary as we examine the multiple trucks, multiple bombs, government informants, faked executions and other pieces of information suggesting that McVeigh was not a "lone wolf bomber" at all but a sheepdipped special forces operative working for the government, exactly as he claimed.

Eddie Barzoon

Warning - this video contains obscene language.



Eddie Barzoon, Eddie Barzoon. Hah!

Oh, I nursed him through two divorces, a cocaine rehab, and a pregnant receptionist.

Heh. God's creature, right? God's special creature? Hah! And I've warned him Kevin, I've warned him every step of the way. Watching him bounce around like a fucking game, like a windup toy! Like 250 pounds of self serving greed on wheels. The next thousand years is right around the corner, Kevin, and Eddie Barzoon-take a good look, because he's the poster child for the next millennium!

These people, it's no mystery where they come from. You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire, you build egos the size of cathedrals, fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse, grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green, gold plated fantasies until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own god, and where can you go from there?

And as we're scrambling from one deal to the next, who's got his eye on the planet? As the air thickens, the water sours, and even the bees honey takes on the metallic taste of radioactivity. And it just keeps coming, faster and faster.

There's no chance to think, to prepare. It's buy futures, sell futures, when there is no future!

We got a runaway train boy, we got a billion Eddie Barzoons all jogging into the future. Every one of 'em getting ready to fist-fuck god's ex-planet, lick their fingers clean as they reach out toward their pristine, cybernetic keyboards to total up their billable hours. And then it hits home! You gotta pay your own way, Eddie. It's a little late in the game to buy out now!

Your belly's too full, your dick is sore, your eyes are bloodshot, and you're screaming for someone to help! But guess what? There's no one there! You're all alone, Eddie. You're god's special little creature. Maybe it's true, maybe god threw the dice once too often. Maybe he let us all down.

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Hillary Clinton admits that the CFR runs the Government



"We get a lot of advice from the Council, so this will mean I won't have as far to go to be told what we should be doing and how we should think about the future."

Why Shouldn't I Work for the NSA? (Good Will Hunting)




written by Matt Damon & Ben Affleck

Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people that I never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the schrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorroids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure, fuck it, while I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

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