Breeding Stock - she could not afford to live without giving her body to powerful men ... she was told that Bill Clinton was petered out.. but nobody told his peter.

Breeding Stock - she could not afford to live without giving her body to powerful men ... she was told that Bill Clinton was petered out.. but nobody told his peter.

Mexican Border Control,

They took her down the road in a CBP van

The cabin was dark on the inside, but she saw the naked man

Crying aloud she would run across the floor almost fully naked as Deadeye Dick Clinton, proudly showed her his little fellow, making it jump in anticipation of breeding with the brown illegal.

Deadeye exhibited his strong little fellow as he chased Emily around until he got the Mexican cornered, she was weeping but Clinton could of cared less, savagely he turned her round and whipped his uplifted fellow to her mouth and ordered her to stop her crying and start her jacking with the frowns...

She sniveled and he stroked her mouth and unless he could finish in a few seconds Hillary could walk in and catch him breeding this little bitxh and other sexual nonsense..

she was begging him to stop which was just a green light to Bill.. like rain she was crying but again and again he thrust inside making her body obedient...

he was the worst but he had no intentions of ever closing the American and Mexican border..

breeders simply crossed over every day...

demoralizing to the woman but he was at last done..

boastfully he asked her about how great he was..

she would allow him a smile but his revolting cum was all over her breasts, she struggled to her feet, certain that he would slap her again..

then she herd the door open.. it was Hillary.. the extremest wife would beat her for tempting her husband, and then she would be forced to have sex with her too, fanatic sex addicts..

the Clintons..

Voting in America Today, bring the fish home, constant pressure, The creation of you and your masters

The New York Times, doesn't even understand the outer appearance, as the people move to vote today.. and the Democrats try their best to herd their sheep into the voting booths..America was great when you woke up this morning, and the eagle fly's for all of us, America is a magnificent creation by man for man, enjoy this voting day, Voting is a special occasion, its the time we can choose vs. some politician choosing for us, our choice is of course the reflection of our own principles, values, goals and ambitions, our vote is our everything, like on a canvas.

In Pennsylvania we have that rainy day feeling, that hazy atmosphere where you can only see the clouds and not that wonderful blue sky, just out of reach.

Most adults realize that we vote about the same problems all the time, year after year, over and over again.

In temptation, maybe the lazy way, we tend to follow the party line and just keep pounding the tribal drums. Even then we cannot grasp why things never change, we never consider our own limited thinking is the real problem.

We each have our experiences, education, emotional controls but the political masters exploit our evolutionary traits. They like it when we call names, point fingers, and in general start trouble for the other side.

Have you really ever faced a direct threat?

Do you owe your life to a police officer?

Has your faith been persecuted in America?

Have you a burning cross in your front yard?

Remind yourself, on this special day of voting, 99.9 percent of us are not afraid. We would call the police for help, help a friend up if someone dared to kick them and would always be prepared to help our family and neighbors.

Our culture is only paper thin, it covers the natural evolutionary traits that live inside us..

Don't let people pull your chain.

Don't let people tell you who to vote for.

Many of your friends and family might be lost, helpless and feel powerless during these changing times.

Help them.

Have a great voting day.

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It's your day to shine

Secrets that I teach, lessons that you must learn, Like darkness makes us marvel at the light, like rest makes us feel better so we can work, the evolutionary drivers inside you keep you safe, sharp and warm.. and the masters know this..Experts know how to change you, make you say and do things... learn about God's creative hand, a gift from God lives inside you, a glorious gift,

George Scott Pennsylvania PA 10 - Gun Charges - Images - Draw you bastard, John Wayne turned and pulled his six shooter... that's context George.. but you...

Draw you bastard, John Wayne turned and pulled his six shooter... that's context George.. but you...

George Scott the DNC Democrat, backed up by Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer pulled out a real life gun and put it to the head of another Army soldier.. George Scott - Democratic Socialist insists when you put the picture of him holding a real pistol against the head of a living person in context, it's no big deal..

Well, George Scott,

this picture of you holding a gun to a persons head is enough context and your total lack of good judgment -

we all were trained that empty guns kill people, but of course you know best George Scott -

With Barack Obama telling folks to bring a gun if they bring a knife,

Joe Biden saying pack your shotgun and clear the streets of crime,

Eric Holder saying kick them when they go low...

hell George Scott even Stacey Abrams says people in Georgia will .. have to give up their guns..

the Black Panthers are with you guys because they like radical socialists with guns like you..

even Hillary Clinton leaves bullets around as warnings..

wow George Scott,

nut cases like you with guns and the citizens not armed.. no thanks George Scott,

you keep your dumb ass ideas to yourself,

put your little pistol back into your pants and dash to the nearest rock and get under it.

You look like a dumb ass drunk with that pistol, Army life too tough... George .. maybe a preacher.. that faith in Jesus you have is hard to pick up while your holding a gun.

In the Spirit of America, go away.

He pulled down his pants and he was no longer trapped, her behavior and his habits were made for each other... like a Roman, he would take pleasure before he did his political work, for the masters across the river.

It was time, he pulled down his pants and he was no longer trapped, her behavior and his habits were made for each other... like a Roman, he would take pleasure before he did his political work, for the masters across the river.

He would offer suggestions, then put down his glass, waiting for the girl to fill it again. Everybody knows about this guy but nobody knows his name, his muddy background was made complete by the C.I.A. way back during Vietnam, but hes not done yet, the boys across the Delaware needed another favor, before the vote Tuesday.

Just the night before he made the arrangements and now it was Saturday, some booze and pussy, a little down time was in order, he could afford it again.

It was a strange feeling, he suddenly felt in charge again like he felt doing work for the C.I.A. all over the world. He was compelled to help these people, these politicians, these public criminals, those sons-of-bitches that talked to poor people like they were giving a sermon in fucking church...

He reached into his faded jeans and pulled out another hundred dollar bill and tossed it across the table at the topless waitress, bouncing her way to prosperity.

"Thanks Dad!" that's all the black chick said, everybody always called him Dad, it was his short military grade haircut that gave him a tough look.

He took a cigarette out of his well worn t-shirt and used the old fashioned wooden matches he always carried around, they were waterproof and it mattered to him.

He had unlaced his high top tennis shoes about an hour ago before he drove across town for his pleasures.

His descendants were Negro slaves from Africa and as GOD as his witness he would always offer a blessing for the poor white son-of-a-bitch he was about to kill.

He learned it in Vietnam, Army training was good but it was a Marine that taught him how and what to pray before you killed some bastard for money, it was better that way, GOD understood that some men belonged in hell so he would pray that GOD let his victim in heaven, maybe avoiding hell's fire, deserving or not he would say... and then send him along.

His faded t-shirt revealed two words in small black letters on the old shirt "faded pride" as that was the name of his motor boat, seventy five feet of freedom, docked less than eight miles away on the Delaware River, fueled and ready, enough food for three months, medical supplies, modern technology for navigation and communications with weapons and ammunition galore. He was ready.

He glanced at his watch, tapped it on the fake glass to make sure it was ticking, his military watch was wind up, never needing a battery, it kept perfect time, it was jungle green, dark African green.

From his waist down he was still naked as his lady friend bounced up in the wooden chair across from him trying to wipe his puddle off her tit's and trying to slip her shift back on as other people watched.

She was overwhelming, and was worth the hundred bucks he tossed her for the job, suffering no change was worth it.

He didn't say a word to her, he just stood up with his manly Johnson still hanging strong and pulled up his jeans, it was time to go, because his watch said so, it was military time.

Like a chapter in a book, he turned the page, drunk from a dozen beers, he stood straight for a second gaining his balance when she began to speak.

He slapped the bitch.

"Don't speak to me bitch"

He did not believe in comforting a whore.

He did not believe in suffering with them.

He believed in saying grace before every meal but not over a whore that just sucked him off.

It was a strange world the old colored man lived in, he would chuckle going out the door, it was two in the morning with a little cold rain, it was the perfect time to kill again and just like the apostle Paul, he would thank GOD for this endeavor and that it would be done in his glory, in the name of Jesus Christ, with gratefulness the old man mumbled "Amen" before he got on this bicycle and peddled toward the river.

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Say Grace with me,

Ask for peace before you meet the maker,

and be thankful that the time is allowed,

honor the lord before you die.

Indian - Savage Indians - hundreds of people had gathered to watch the carving of Elizabeth Warren

Indian - Savage Indians - hundreds of people had gathered to watch the carving of Elizabeth Warren

"I no like this redskin" the old Indian whiffed up his nose on a hunch.

"This white man game of wanting to be red, smells bad"

The two Indians sat there and watched this Elizabeth Warren claim to a big newspaperman that she was a real Indian. It made both old Indians mad that this white woman said she was an Indian.  They decided to cut down a pine tree and carve her image and let the GODS in the sky decide who she really was when not pretending.

"It's like the merry-go-round and round game the White's play - she is suspended from a string and upstairs somebody is pulling, she has greased lips so they can move faster than most, the newspaperman is squeaking now, telling her to slow down."

His friend starting chopping the pine tree, the more she talked the more he chopped with his ax and as the chips flew he quickly noticed there was no Elizabeth Warren inside the tree, the chips flew more and more, no woman was formed, not even an Indian girl.  The pine tree would reveal the real Elizabeth Warren, the forest of the GODS could not lie so he continued to carve with his ax and then his knife.

The newspaperman turned and told the Indian to stop chopping on the tree.  But the newspaperman asked the old Indian, "why are you carving a life sized figure of Hillary Clinton" and had his camera man take a picture.

The carver and sculptor continued to carve and concentrated seriously when the downtown shop owner offered him $400 for his new carving of Barack Obama.

Elizabeth Warren stopped talking, because the newspaperman had turned away, the cameras moved to the sculptor that was now using a small carving knife working on his pine wood redskin.

The Indian carver put an old handkerchief over the face of his wooden carving, to hide the face as the GODS had revealed the true Elizabeth Warren, America fake Indian wanting to be a chief fake Indian.

A White man walked up and offered him $15,000 for his carving, on the spot.

The White man from the museum wanted the wooden Indian, the night club owner wanted the nude statue, the curio antique dealer wanted it and oddly enough Elizabeth Warren had sat of the grass with her white legs crossed and was watching the old Indian carve for hours.

It was an odd bigger than life sized figure, old and new all mixed up, odd looking but beautiful, kind of modern western outlaw at least 15 feet high so people started guessing.

It was Hillary Clinton or maybe Wild Bill Clinton.  It was for sure a half-breed that had been on the warpath as white people lay dead at the statues feet.

The statue had been killing settlers with his hatchet and mallet and as the carver continued with his work a drawknife came into view and it looked like the real thing.

The pine log held the form of the real Elizabeth Warren, felled by the old Indian and then the GODS guided his hands and tools, mentally he was done, tired and hungry the old Indian carver tossed his double axe to the ground and sat down.

His friend

"Remove the cloth off her face, let's see if the GODS know her story."

It was the face of Elizabeth Warren with an Eagle on her head holding the flag pole with the Confederate Battle Flag of the South blowing in the wind.

"You see the truth being told, she talks one side, but dreams of another side, her mind has been soaked with turpentine, and she is drunk with power."

"She has the sharp nose of a hunter, she smells opportunity like a mountain lion and will rampage and cause trouble to all travelers that may cross her path."

Then the old Indian notice the holes in the side of her head, she was no Princess, she had been poisoned by the worms and gnawers that has killed her mind.  With great interest hundreds of people had gathered to watch the carving of Elizabeth Warren and now the truck had arrived and a great wooden crate was placed next to the carving.

The police had arrived to guard the huge crate and the great creation was placed inside this DNC Storage Truck and would be taken to the railroad yard.

The DNC Storage Truck would travel to Washington D.C.

Gradually the crowd went away, and only the two Indians and Elizabeth Warren remained at the carving site.

"An Indian, a Wooden Indian will outlast any live Indian."

With his hatchet in his  hand the old redskin got up and walked by the side of Elizabeth Warren sitting on the grass, he poured linseed oil over the top of her head, and liberally doused her with red stain and called her redskin and turned away.

Shading his eyes from the dozens of camera lights Donald Trump walked away.

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