Is this where we are headed, again?

When we fail to learn from history we repeat it.

The following is a story modeled after true events in our history. It is about racism and is worth your read, and you sharing it.

Comments are welcome.

History is rife with example after example of what happens when you devalue a race of people.  Blaming ‘white people’ is a cruel joke on society, and the mark of a racist worthy of the KKK.

I wanted to post pictures of naked dead people from a real event in our history that was so horrific; those pictures gave me nightmares to this current day. I am a humanist.  While I acknowledge that evil exists, I happen to believe that humankind is inherently good. 

Mob mentality is catchy.  More horse thieves met their death at the end of a rope, without the benefit of a trial by their peers.   Vigilante justice is not justice at all; it is the opposite of justice.  It is, in fact, murder.

There is a lengthy history of such actions.  Google genocides through history. 

I see pundits tossing around the race card much like a match in a fireworks factory.  In 2012 the race card was played nightly when we first heard of a game called the ‘polar bear hunt.’

Inciting violence against an entire race is easy to do when you shout hate from a megaphone like the Main Stream Media is doing every day.  The individual who attempts to knock out an elderly white person with one punch is responsible for playing the game; the person who yelled fire in the theatre is to blame for those who get trampled.

I researched this for a story I was working on.  It breaks my heart to see those with megaphones yelling fire in the auditorium of life.  By their actions, they are dehumanizing white people.  Now before you say, oh boo hoo, I want you to read this story below.  I could have put tons of pictures here, but in all consciousness, I cannot.  They are far too graphic. 

If the news is reporting any event regarding race, I want you to take out the word white, and insert the word black, and see if it is still ‘ok.’  The odds are great it will not be ok so it is, NOT OK!

Not all that long ago, a group of people tore down statues.  They banned free speech. They blamed the economic hardships on a particular group of people.  They then instituted gun control.  They made fun of those who hung on to their guns and their God.  Indeed, you were to put your country or your government ahead of God.  They then nationalized health care regulating the industry with an iron fist.

With runaway inflation, printing money was the beginning to the end. The government needed to find ways to reward the faithful.  Since money was worthless, they came up with a plan.

To give to those that were patriots or loyal to the cause, they took the possessions, businesses, and personal property of this group deemed responsible, and re-distributed it to the good loyal followers.

This group of people were taken from their homes and moved into the ghettoes. They were forced to wear identification as to who they were. Everyday citizens spat upon them.  They heard about the camps and knew they were suffering, but they didn’t care.  They were to blame for the state of affairs, weren’t they?  All the news stations said they were to blame.  As the rape gangs brutalized women and children, they again looked the other way. This group was to get no sympathy from the good citezens.

You watch as your children are stripped naked in the streets, beaten and raped by gangs of roving ‘elites.’ The law is on their side, not yours.

The proper people ignore their screams while fussing at their kids; they might catch something by having sex with a dog, you or your child were now worse than rabid dogs.

Imagine your husbands are taken away, leaving you and your family defenseless after losing your home, your business, and being forced to live on the streets. 

Your customers who used to greet you when entering your shop now look down their noses at you and spit on your naked body as those that still want to rape you do so at will. Gang rape is in fashion, and you are defenseless. Nobody cares about you or your spawn.

You and your kind caused this whole mess and you don’t disserve to live.  That is what the media reports night after night, so it must be true.

The proper women complain that their boys might catch something, so the government stirs to action to protect the good citizens from street people’s scourge. The several year plan is complete, you and your kind are officially vermin. Never mind that your kids played with their kids, that is over.  How could they have been so blind as to not see that you are the spawn of Satan?

Imagine soldiers are rounding you up to save you from the rape gangs.  You and your children are loaded into boxcars with the promise of taking you and your children away from this dangerous place. If your boys can labor for the war effort, they go one way.  If you and your daughters are of no value to the war effort, you go another way.

Some find that their next destination is a concentration camp, or worse. In this place, if you go there, you will most certainly starve to death.

Some will not make it to a camp, they are filling up. They have to invent new ways to offload the refugee population faster.  They need to become more efficient at what they do.  While the scientists work on better ways to manage population control, many will be managed the old-fashioned way.  You and your daughter are on that train.

With the train’s chugging through the mountain pass, you are packed so tightly; you jostle into each other with every motion.  The smell of the smoke from the locomotive passes over as an occasional cinder lands in someone’s hair or on their clothing.    The top of the car is off, exposing you and everyone to the elements. Air from the mountain pass occasionally wafts in, causing the black smoke to blow to the side instead of over you.

A whistle blows before it comes out of the mountains echoing off the hills.  You hear it, but you have no clue it is to alert the men ahead that they soon will be busy.

The train lurches to a stop in the middle of nowhere.  The sounds of the clacking steel brace on the side of the car give way to the sliding door as it opens, allowing the cool air to circle among you.  You grab your child close as you witness officers brandishing machine guns.  The mood is dark as their orders are stern. You and your children line up as you leave the train cars, looking for evidence of your new home away from the rape gangs, you see none. 

Thankful to stretch your legs, your relief soon leaves as you catch a whiff of the odor you remember from a dead animal or worse.  On top of the foul smell, there are no buildings, tents, or anything that resembles a bathroom.

There is heavy equipment sitting idle and freshly piled mounds of dirt block your view of what lies past it.

The cool air in the middle of the field soon feels a little too cool. Orders are given to remove your clothing and put them into a pile.  You and others begin to sob, knowing that you have not escaped the rape gangs. 

There are too few soldiers to rape all the women, however.

One of your friends argues with the officer and is shot on the spot.  The sound of the gunshot shocks you as you watch her drop to the ground with blood staining  her white dress as she drops.

This is no longer about rape, and you realize in your heart what is about to happen.  You look for a way to hide your child to protect her from what is to come.

The children are too scared to cry as coats, dresses, and soon underclothes are placed into a pile.  Several of the other women are ordered to pick up the dead woman and carry her to a pile of dirt twenty or so feet tall.

As the rest of you approach the area, watching them carry your friend, blood drips from her dangling hands as the odor of death fills your nostrils.

The grass and cold dirt on your bare feet are a stark reminder that you and your children are naked as you walk closer and closer to what will surely be your last moments on earth. You make eye contact with a young man carrying a machine gun.  He orders you to stop looking at him.

Crossing the field there is a haze in front of the mounds of earth that you don’t quite recognize.

Reaching the precipice, there is an audible gasp from your peers. You glance into the ravine carved into the earth like a deep crimson scar.  Bodies, still letting out steam from their last moments on earth are piled on top of bodies that have been there for much longer.

The sound of your friend tumbling down the side of the ravine landing on top of naked dead bodies shocks you back to reality.  Like sheep, you do as your told, waiting for God to rescue you.

Her white dress is now crimson with brown spots where the mud has clung to her.  What was blond hair is also crimson with brown soil on her face.  Shuddering, you look at your daughter who is in shock.  She is not moving or talking your ear off as she normally would.

Flies and flesh-eating birds hover over and around the bodies as you peer at them until you see someone that you once knew. The shock of what you see silences your thoughts, causing you to go numb inside.  Stella, a good friend lies lifeless with her eyes still open as if she is gazing into the heavens. Her face is contorted oddly as her body lies unnaturally on the top of mountains of flesh.  You knew more women who are face-up, with gaping wounds where the bullets exited their body.

Those face down had small holes ranging from their legs to their backs.  Many had let loose their bowels after they died.  The odor was almost toxic.

Children cry as you pick yours up, holding her close.  You call out to your God to save you from what will surely be the sting of death. A warm liquid leaves your arms as your daughter has lost control of her bladder.  You hold her close, kissing her as the soldiers bark out more orders to the end of the line.

Ordered to face the ravine, the last few of your friends and colleagues are lined up, all facing the rising sun.  Steam from the gorge causes an eerie fog to obscure it. The call of angry crows catches your attention as they fly by, distracting you for a second, as they chase after an owl that stayed out too late.  For a moment, you wish you were the owl only having to confront the murder of crows.  Were the crows much different from the rape gangs you wonder.

You hear mechanical sounds of metal on metal.  That is the arming of machine guns, and you have heard them before. A shock of sorts goes through your body from your toes to your head with the last click of the guns closest to you. You squeeze your daughter tight to your breasts, knowing the bullet that kills you, will kill her too.

Orders are barked as you hear the first of many pop pop pops.  Screams, grunts, and the sounds of people collapsing, falling forward, and landing on those that died before you, fill the air.  As the bullets get closer, you hear the shot’s splat, as they tear through the flesh of a friend. You see red vapor explode from your closest friend’s chest.  You close your eyes as you hear your friend tumble away from you down into the ravine.

The sting in your back and butt and leg causes your vision to flash a bright white before you see the vapor of red escaping out of you and of your child.  Time seems to slow to a crawl as you slowly fall to your knees. Your legs no longer can hold you as you see shattered bone just below your knee poking out through your skin. Frame by frame you watch as the world turns upside down before you realize it is you looking up to the sky through your blood soaked legs. Light glints off the broken bone as blood spatters around you and in your face.  Headfirst you fall into the pit, still grasping your child who is gasping for air. Your body slides down the mountain of flesh, coming to rest close to your friend who still has a vacant stair.

For just a flash of a second, it is you peering at your friend, before you realize that Elizabeth is crying in agony. A bullet went through your mid-section and pierced your daughter’s chest. Reaching for your daughter, you can’t help but close your friends’ eyes as your last gesture of humanity, before more bodies land around you.  

You hear another fall and still more dirt accompanies those that tumble down into the ravine. The rat a tat tat of the guns are now but an echo far above you as more naked women tumble down onto the mountain of flesh.

You witness strange white shadows leaving the pit from those around you. The smell of death no longer bothers you as you listen to your child try to cry, gasping for air through the gurgling blood pouring from her gaping mouth.  Pulling her close you try to comfort her to no avail.

“We going to see grandma Elizabeth, just let go!” you whisper…

Your tears mix with blood that is now dripping from your own lips. You pray that god will be merciful and take her quickly, not even thinking about your own pain.  The sight of Elizabeth suffering is much worse than anything these bastards could do to you.

The sounds of moaning, crying, accompany an unsettling silence which fills the air. You can still hear the sounds of the men talking above you. The ache in your hip is nothing compared to the burning, searing pain in your side. Your daughter is gasping up more blood as you pray for God to take her. Her blue eyes are not as bright as they were a few days ago before the rape gangs had their way with her.  She watched as they had their way with you and many of your friends. Closing your eyes, you cannot look.  Reaching for her you hear the soldiers walking the precipice above.

Bang! You hear the first of many single shots from handguns finishing the job of the executioners.

The soldiers, looking for signs of life, pull out their sidearms and send bullets tearing into the bodies of those still clinging to life.  You watch as your daughter’s head splits open as a bullet rips through the flesh that was her brain. 

Time once again stops as you see a curious vaporous like ghost, leave from her diminutive body. It rises above the dead becoming part of the mist you noticed earlier.

You thank God for his aim. 

Pow! Another bullet rips through your neck, missing your head. A flash of another bright light as you notice that breathing is all but impossible. You no longer feel the rest of your body as the sounds of gunshots fade.  Another bullet finds your back but you don’t feel it.

Rising above the death and misery you see the face of the man who just killed you.  He watches for a second before moving on to the next target.  Your shopkeeper who stocked the shelves and watched  Elizabeth after school is the next to get a bullet in the back of her head.

Susan joins you as do others as you rise above the crimson river caused by evil racist animals who are truly the subhuman life forms that they have accused you of being.

Elizabeth waits as you reach up for her leaving the world behind. ‘Foolish imbecilic creatures.” One of your friends imparts to you through thought.

The coppery odor of blood mixed with the stench of rotting flesh causes the men carrying machine guns to light up cigarettes to mask the odor.

Some take time to reload their hand guns while ordering the lower ranking among them to load the pile of clothes and shoes into the back of a trailer. An occasional gunshot from one soldier ends the life of those who are still trying to live.

Larger birds return in the silence, as the train that brought the hundreds of Jews, leaves to pick up more from up north.  The fragrance of tobacco does not manage to mask the odor of death.  There are jokes passed between those that executed the hundreds of women and children; some are crude and off-color but, that is ok; those people in the pit were not human’s; they were Jews. Oh, and they were ‘White People.’

As the last of the shoes, underclothes and other garments are collected they hear an echo in the mountain pass.  The conductor is giving them fair warning that they need to reload the machine guns and get ready for more refugees.

Politicians, the media, and the Elite are playing a perilous game.

I cannot begin to quantify the number of people I know and consider friends.  If any of them value or devalue anyone by the color of their skin, it is a secret to me. Racism has no place in a world where we are all tied together by the mutual bonds of our DNA.

If we are to be judged, it is by who we are and what we might have done in life.  Where we were born or what color our skin happens to be, is irrelevant.  Who we love in our lives or bedrooms is nobody’s business. 

However, some are so ignorant that they light matches, tossing them down irrespective of where they land or on what.  If they start a fire, they move on and watch the destruction they caused with their carelessness.  The destruction is news, and news brings ratings.

The pictures I found, and the research I have done are much worse than what I have depicted in this story.

The Jewish people were never responsible for what happened to their economy.  They needed a scapegoat, and it is easy to hate an entire race when you have state-run media spewing out lies, dehumanizing a race as a whole.

Asians are not responsible for the virus.

Nobody alive today had anything to do with slavery.

Hate is a poison you take in hopes it will affect someone else.

Those espousing equity and critical race theory are the racists.  They are dangerous and most certainly ignorant of history.

If the holocaust was not enough to convince the dullest among the elite to stop playing with fire, look up Mao or Stalin.  If that is still not enough, try searching for Vlad the Impaler, he was probably your kind of guy.

It is imperative we teach our kids history.  It is not always pretty but necessary to avoid making those same mistakes again and again.

We are capable of such great things, and we are capable of so much evil.

Unlike sheep, we can choose. 

Much Love  -TW