Seasons greeting from your old friend Santa! My, my,
Christmas is just two short weeks away, and everyone here at the North
Pole can't wait to deliver presents to all you nice boys and girls this
year. Yes, Jolly ol' St. Nicholas hopes you're all being as good as can
be!
But today, Santa would like to tell you all about something very
naughty, something very, very naughty indeed. Dear children, have you
not heard? Why, 9/11 was an inside job! Oh, ho, ho, my, yes it was!
I mean, look at the facts, boys and girls! We already know the Bush
administration was itching to go to war in Iraq, now, don't we? Yes,
indeed we do, my darling ones! The Downing Street memo proves that
beyond a shadow of a doubt. Then you look at the Presidential Daily
Briefing of Aug. 6, 2001, the one headlined "Bin Laden Determined to
Strike in U.S." Ignored! Why, children, they threw that briefing aside
like used wrapping paper on Christmas morning, didn't they?
And remember, sweet little ones, Bin Laden never claimed
responsibility for the attacks until 2004. Do you know how many years
that is, boys and girls? Something was up the government's sleeve, and
I'll let you in on a little secret: It wasn't sugar plums, oh, no! No,
it was the ties between the bin Laden and Bush families. They've been
under the mistletoe for decades, if you catch your old pal Kris
Kringle's meaning! I've checked my list twice, and it seems Arbusto
Energy, a Bush business, had financial connections to Salem bin Laden,
half-brother of Osama. The CIA actually helped create and fund al-Qaeda
right around the time Bush Senior was the agency’s director—ho, ho, ho,
ol' H.W. stuffed their pockets as fat as a Christmas goose!
Now, as for the towers themselves: The type of steel they used melts
at a temperature of about 2,700 degrees Fahrenheit, and as I'm sure all
you smart little boys and girls know, jet fuel burns at 1,500 degrees,
tops. My darlings, you'd need quite a Yule log to create that extra
1,200 degrees, wouldn't you? Oh, what a glorious sight it would be!
Of course, you do know what they found in the Ground Zero debris,
don't you? Would you like St. Nicholas to tell you? Well, then, hop up
on his lap and I'll whisper it in your ear: traces of nano-thermite.
Does that jingle any bells upstairs? Nano-thermite is an explosive
compound, children, capable of making the biggest Christmas cracker you
ever saw! So what in the name of Donner and Blitzen was it doing in the
world's largest banking complex? Was Lehman Brothers or one of the
insurance companies stockpiling explosives? No, children. You find
nano-thermite where there's been a
controlled demolition. Ever
see a controlled demolition, little ones? That's where the whole
building plummets straight downward like a plumb bob and every floor is
destroyed. Even if the building is
struck in the middle.
Oh, dear, perhaps ol' Santa has just gone a little nutty in the head,
like dear Mrs. Claus repeatedly likes to claim! Perhaps, much like Mrs.
Claus, Santa would be better off pretending the facts don't exist. But
you believe, don't you, children? You believe in Santa's theory.
Now, I'm not saying the hijackers weren't naughty. They were very, very naughty indeed. But if you want to
really
talk naughty, there's not enough coal in Santa's sack for a government
that throws its own citizens under the sleigh just to gain political
power.
Ho, ho, ho, so many questions dance through Santa's head! What about
the six eyewitnesses who saw a low-flying jet immediately after Flight
93 crashed in Shanksville, children? Why was debris from the flight
found miles away from the crash site? And why did the BBC incorrectly
report that 7 World Trade Center had collapsed
moments before it actually did? Talk about a snow job, eh, young ones? Why, it's a veritable winter wonderland!
Perhaps this Christmas, Santa will bring some of you very
well-behaved—and discreet—young children some nice, shiny new computers
to play with, so you can go to 911truth.org, watch "Loose Change" on
YouTube, and see for yourselves. Because if you ask Santa, the truth
needs to come out in order to properly honor the memory of the victims
and awaken a duped populace, slumbering away in their cozy beds, living
in dreamland. We can close our eyes and drink the government eggnog, or
we can raise our voices and demand to know what really happened. Isn't
that right, boys and girls?
Well, I've still got a lot of toys to build before Christmas Eve, my
little ones, but I'll be visiting you all very soon—ho, ho, ho, that is
if I'm not jailed as an enemy combatant for asking simple questions!
Because that's what they fucking do, you know.
s it too early to talk about 2016?
Of course it is. It's preposterous. So I'm not talking about 2016.
Instead, I'm talking about something much bigger: I'm talking, let us
say, about the great march of history, the ineluctable links of
causality, the tempora and the mores, the old mole working both
underground and above. And in this context, this context of keeping
history moving forward, Hillary Clinton
has not just the chance to run in 2016. She has the obligation to do
so. Her party, and her country, will need her then, to consolidate gains
and prevent the backsliding that the backsliders just can't wait to
commence. In other words, if the next four years go the way I suspect
they might, it will be of the most fundamental importance that the
Democrats hold the White House thereafter, and the burden of so ensuring
falls squarely on the shoulders of Hugh Rodham's rebellious daughter.
