U.S. Marines and quiet professionals, please see my analysis of how ISIS uses social media to recruit suicide bombers, soldiers, media sympathy, influence, power and success. Also see ISIS Use of Social Media as a Force Multiplier. This analysis was widely used back when your senior leadership actually cared about your lives more than their careers. I provided this analysis free to them at a CBRNE convention in Virginia.Not one Pentagon general has resigned...or even threatened to resign, after our "allies the Taliban" Biden's words, not mine, killed hundreds of American Christians and over a dozen Marine's. The truth will come out about this debacle one day.We must save each other as our leaders have told us clearly... we are on our own. We must give 110% (see my poems at the end of this analysis) to save each other as our political and military leadership is craven and compromised. I dedicate this to the U.S. Marines and the quiet professionals. Was anyone really surprised when the Mohammedians hit our Marines at the Kabul airport with a suicide bomber or hit the Americans at the hotel nearby? One of the greatest impacts of the Taliban victory in Afghanistan is that state-sponsored terrorism is back. The difference now is that they will not have 30-year old Soviet Union equipment. They will have 21st century mission critical state-of-the-art American arms. The first thing the Taliban did when they took over, besides killing hundreds of Christians, is they seized the weapons of anyone outside their death cult. Just like the gun grabbers here, they want to disarm you so they can enslave you. If you want to know how we lost the war in Afghanistan, see the links below. Captain Matthew Lohmeir's removal from Space Command for his courage opposing Marxism in the USAF offers valuable lessons. With so many of my family who served in the Air Force, and one who died over the South Pacific in WWII, it breaks my heart to read Captain Lohmeir's story. The weather genius who runs MSE Enterprises and wrote the book Warnings Mike Smith has a post about manhood that offers more reasons. His book Irresistible Revolution: Marxism's Goal of Conquest and the Unmasking of the American Military details the deconstruction of our military via Marxist ideology to ruin it as a fighting force.Dinesh D'Soua does a great job describing how the careerocrats who now run the military are one of the primary reasons we now have an Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. And most importantly, to get their 30 pieces of silver, the Roman Catholic cardinals and bishops who aid and abet the child sex trafficking's at the border. Yes, there are many Americans working hard in the background to save this Republic, but time is running out. The Cardinals and Bishops Church of Nice is destroying the Church Militant so there may soon be no Christian warriors left to defend this nation.Let us not forget the military industrial complex is owned by the same investors who own the Big Media.
Warrior Poet gives 5 effects of the monumental failure of the Biden Administration globalists here.
Here in the War Zone are true SITREP reports and analysis of the the horror the current administrations greed, cowardice and incompetence has visited on Afghanistan, the U.S. and the world. So much so that much of the world now believes the CCP model works.
I gave this same analysis to a background influencer and agree completely with what this analysis says.
You will be able to see the video of what is happening at that airport without the lying legacy corporate media and CCP filter.
Is this a Repeat of Saigon 1975
I know that was their motive because when I returned to the University of Pennsylvania for my junior year I tutored a Vietnamese family that fled and they told me how and why. There were 16 of them packed into broken down row house in a high crime West Philadelphia neighborhood.
The 7 N. Vietnamese divisions that occupied Saigon allowed the Americans to exit.
The Fallout of the Afghanistan Defeat
Especially powerful, but unknown to most, is that the Imperial Japanese officer's were eating the body parts of American flyers (see pages 222 -236). I kid you not. The U.S. Government at the time and until today has kept it quiet.
And they have ordered that each village, town and city provide lists of female residents from 14 to 45.
My Background with Jihadi's
Soft Feet Walk the Wet Green Grass at Arlington
Soft feet walk the wet green grass at Arlington,
Where a young mother cradles her baby and sons
Weeping softly in death-caused grief and pain
As her warrior husband is interred and remembered.
Many sing praises of his courage, bravery and strength
Under enemy fire in fierce battles in foreign lands.
She feels the baby move at her neck and cry out,
Hungry for food but unaware of the greater hunger.
The mother hears more words of praise from the chaplain,
She tries to maintain, but the knot of grief grabs her
throat.
She sees the two boys fidgeting and looking about
And wonders how she will explain their father to them one
day.
Her pain is now to a degree she knows as few do
The sword that has pierced her heart can never be
removed
In this lifetime, and will stay with her until her own
death:
Until then there are three children who must be raised.
As Christ hung on a Cross and Mary saw her son taken
So the Holy Spirit could be revealed to the human
race,
This mother must protect, nourish, love and kindle
The spirit of these children co-created with her
husband.
The wind blows and she looks up to see a man and a
flag
Telling her how grateful the nation is for her
husband’s sacrifice.
She knows now what every warrior’s widow must know,
The truth of his life work that became his mission:
His love for her was the reason he was willing to die,
That sacrificial love the reason these children live.
She cradles the baby and flag, takes the boys hands,
Stands and walks, despite the grief, to her destiny
and duty.
November 14, 2017
Arlington, VA
The Female Imperative
And this I know
And wanted to say to you
Before I die.
Please hear me out
My Dear, Sweet Wife,
Mother of my seven children.
This is my final testimony.
With death calling
More times than I can recall or count
I saw your face, your image, your spirit
Before me briefly before each terror
And found then the strength,
The courage, sometimes the very breath
To strike back at the evil, the terror,
That came from the desert.
I took up my cross, saddled my horse,
Sharpened my sword and dagger
Reinforced my shield
And joined my soldiers
In the Holy Christian Crusade.
Through all the heat, bones, and disease
I saw our flag raised above Jerusalem.
Back now in the land of water and crops,
I know I have done my duty with honor
And thought you should know:
It is the female imperative that saved us,
That the enemy never knew.
Carrying Stones
One by one
Day after day after day
These stones must be carried
Until a wall is built
Against the hordes of jihadists
Beyond the deep sea
And now in the neighboring
village.
Just as my ancestors carried stone
To secure a few acres to grow
Wheat, barley, vegetables,
potatoes
Because everyday life continues
Even when the invasions
And mid-night massacres happen
More frequently
Than God would allow
In a just world.
But here,
There is no justice,
Only fanatical jihadists,
And stones must be carried
And walls must be built.
We Have a New Life Now
We are 9/11
But we are more than 9/11.
We had a physical and spiritual life
Before that day.
And we have a New Life now.
As with the innocent 9/11 civilians,
We were murdered that day
By Jihadi’s who sucker-punched
Us with flesh melting jet fuel
And granite stone projectiles
That many think ended our lives.
But Americans leave no Americans behind.
Not their wounded or dead bodies,
Nor their memories, nor their stories.
This is why, children, we honor
Chief Army Warrant Officer William Ruth
And Navy Lt. Commander Ronald J. Vauk
And all who went to work on 9/11
Only to be taken from us due to
Vicious, cunning, murdering Jihadi’s
Who know well their 1400-year legacy
Killing Christians, Jews, Hindus,
Pagans, atheists, or anyone else
Who does not submit, convert, or die
When they strike in Mohammad’s name
To arbitrarily decide who lives and who
dies
According to their craven ideology.
CWO Ruth, Marine Corps Pilot
Who in Vietnam evacuated the dead
And wounded under heavy enemy fire
Went on to earn a Master’s degree
When he returned from the war.
He taught social studies and history
For 30 years to middle school students
But was pulled from the classroom
In the best tradition of the citizen
soldier
To fight in Desert Shield and Desert
Storm.
He presided one time as Commander
Of the Mt. Airy American Legion
Before God called him home,
Serving to the last minute
After a life of non-stop service.
Lt. Vauk graduated from the U.S. Naval
Academy,
Served on the submarines U.S.S. Lipscomb
And U.S.S. Oklahoma City,
Was a supervisor in submarine technology
At the Johns Hopkins University
Applied Physics Laboratory,
And was the Watch Commander
At the Pentagon Command Center
On the phone trying to get jets to scramble
When the Jihadi-hijacked plane
Hit the Pentagon like a cruise missile,
As he served to the last minute
After a life of non-stop service.
Hear, children, we both left children
behind
But we now preside with millions
Of Saints guarding the Gates of Heaven.
When your faith is weak
Know we stand post guarding
The gates of earth against the onslaught
Of the Jihadi’s who even today
Burn down Christian churches
And continue to rape, oppress and murder
Wherever they can find an opening
To slaughter the Holy Innocents.
Remember always, children,
To cry out to these Heavenly Saints,
Chief Army Warrant Officer William Ruth
Navy Lt. Commander Ronald J. Vauk
And all who have been martyred
In this 1400 year old war, and pray:
“Jesus, help us to know how
To defeat them and their ideology
And be worthy of Your sacrifice.”
We are 9/11.
But we are more than 9/11.
We had a physical and spiritual life
Before that day.
And we have a New Life now.
Let us celebrate our New Life together.
Future Dust
"I'll never look like that!"
I said to myself when we were offloaded
from the Lakeland Air Force Base
Officer Training School bus
and heard the upperclassmen
bark orders at us, the arriving class,
and saw the triple rings under their eyes.
Six weeks later, I looked like that
as I stood at the attention outside my room
on Saturday Morning Inspection
(as one upperclassman stood
outside my room looking at every detail
of my appearance for deviations
"Details will save your life!"
repeated by my teachers so often
it is forever burned into my mind,
and another ran over every detail in my room
from the folds in the mattress
to the spacing between my socks).
I broke after they left
to scan my demerits book
aware that so much depended
on my finally bringing those demerits down:
my graduation, the cohesion of my flight, honor,
the future of the United States of America.
And there it sat, like a turd
the inspector left behind
from his white-gloved hand:
"Future dust."
When the inspector returned
for questioning, I fired it right at him,
"What's 'future dust', Sir!?"
"I'd have had a perfect inspection
but for that demerit."
"Come over here, son."
he said in a thick Southern drawl.
He opened the blinds to let in the sun
and pointed at the air.
"What's that?" he said,
a thin grin opening on his face,
all the muscles in his future fighter pilot's body
preparing to press the red button on the joystick.
"Dust, Sir." I stated.
"Wrong, Officer Candidate Curley!
That's future dust!
In a few minutes it will land
on your desk and you failed to prevent it!
Therefore, you Sir, are guilty!
Guilty of letting down your flight!
Guilty of failing to prevent future dust!"
Three demerits. Good-bye!
As our teachers told us so many times,
they were preparing us for war.
Waging war has rules and surprises,
and surprises repeated often enough
become the rules of warfare.
Like future dust,
Or the future dust of a company
that fails to plan for the next bear market,
or the future dust of a family death,
or the future dust of the lack of preparation
for the next war and the deaths that will result,
or the dust of skyscrapers brought down
by fanatical jihadists,
or the future dust we will find
clogging the oxygen filters
of our interplanetary space ships.
So many years later,
I now know they were right.
We all must be eternally vigilant
to prevent future dust from landing,
if we are to have any chance at all
of a life in the space dust of the future.
Lament for American Hands and Hearts
A father will not be coming home tonight, or ever.
He was among 45 passengers
On a routine American commercial flight, Flight 93
When terrorists, Satan’s gift to the forces of evil,
Unjust war, pestilence, anger, murder, envy, and all
mortal sin,
Slit the throats of some mothers who were stewardesses,
Bound them, sprayed mace at the men, who tried to help,
Herded them into the back of the plane,
Rushed the pilots, murdered them, and hijacked the plane.
Nevertheless, this Father Thomas Burnett
Calmly phoned his wife to say,
“I know we’re all going to die.
There’s three of us who are going to do something about
it.”
As Mark Bingham phoned his mother to say,
“I just want you to know I love you.”
They organized and planned in nanoseconds,
And acted with fearlessness in minutes.
They overpowered the murders before them,
Charged down the 33 rows and 290 feet of 767 aisle,
Kicked down the locked cockpit door,
And 3 unarmed average Americans
Subdued 4 armed, vile, and unclean Bin Laden terrorists
Because they overheard the terrorists plans to turn
The civilian airliner into a war missile
To kill more innocent civilians
In a new kind of war, the terrorists
Decided and stated for decades ago, had no rules.
The unarmed Americans fought bravely and well.
They pulverized the puny terrorists who,
Now stripped of their most advanced weapon…surprise…
Cowered beneath the first and fierce counterstrikes
Of many future ones from average Americans
Until we drive these terrorists back to the caves
From which they emerged,
As their caves become their tombs,
As we carry forth the spirit of those who fought and died
Above the Amish Pennsylvania countryside
Who put into practice the ancient Amish saying,
“Hands to work and hearts to God.”
Top Secret Clearance
Dedicated to John O’Neill
The FBI agent who identified the Al-Queda network
And was drummed out of the FBI for making it an issue
And died in the
Rescuing others after he got out safely.
“They denied
Your top-secret security clearance.
I wanted to tell you before anyone else.
Can you think of anything?
Mental health, arrest record, alcohol?”
My friend who had tried to hire me
On a government contract tells me.
“Sure. All three.”
I answer. “I told them all of it,
But it was so many years ago
I thought it wouldn’t matter to them.”
It’s a shame.
I could have done a great job for them
Rewriting their horrible
Defense Security Service website
And Employee Personnel Security Questionnaire
So human beings could have actually used it.
That’s all history now.
The hollow men still rule.
They don’t believe in redemption
Or that
They have their rules and their rationale
I think to myself, aware my friend is still on the
phone.
“I’m grateful for your help. It’s them, not you.” I
say.
And put a phone weighing 500 pounds
From the past back in its cradle.
Listen well, all you GS4’s and GS5’s
Sitting self-satisfied, taking 2 hour lunches
And dreaming of that fat government pension:
When I attempted to fill out your
Employee Personnel Security Questionnaire
And clicked the Help button,
The link was broken.
When I sent you an e-mail
Telling you it was broken,
Despite your auto-response that
“I am forwarding your concern
To the EPSQ Subject Matter Expert
To address your concern.”
No one ever responded to my request.
Listen well.
When I visit Jihad Unspun
The Jihadi’s gold-plated website,
All their links work fine.
They don’t even have a Help tab.
Their website works so smoothly
They don’t need one.
Some of the $500 million
The House of Saud gave them
Must have gone into their Website
Because it achieves the seamless
Integration your website never does.
Even though you hollow men
May set the standards
And rules and regulations
Which keep me and mine
Out of your very select,
Very narrow minded,
And very secret society of mutual approval,
Have never asked me and never will,
I’m going to clue you in.
It’s not me you need fear.
I bought into the American system
So deeply I will take the rejection and eat it.
Not so the Jihadi’s.
They don’t go through
Two year background checks.
They can know each other
Through a mosque anywhere in the world
And they can join a worldwide network
Of money, passports, safe houses, drivers,
Employers, governments, and cells.
As they demonstrated
On September 11th, 2001,
They are unconventional, creative,
And unlike the
Who oppose them and claim to think
In the cliché “outside the box” way,
The jihadi’s actually do think that way.
Like me.
But I’ll never get to fight them
Because I have been judged
To not be inside the box enough
To get to be outside the box.
Let me put it to you this way.
If you’re most dangerous nightmare
Were to come true,
The one that causes
you
To stare at the ceiling at 4 a.m.
With bile pouring through
Your gut thinking about it,
And it was a matter
Of courage and creative thinking
And unconventional action
That was going to save your ass,
Who would YOU
Want next to you
If your next plane ride
Was high jacked by jihadi’s?
Who would risk his life
To keep you safe,
That government drone
You work with each day
With the top secret clearance
Who follows all the rules…
Or a high IQ, high awareness,
PTSI "victim" like me?
One of the Great Lessons
Because no one
is perfect,
we all learn
to get by,
cooperate,
make do,
use whatever
can be cobbled together
to get the job done
because no one
is perfect.
Songbird Euphonious
There’s a songbird that sings
Like a poet, early each morning
For hour after hour
From the highest branch
Of the white birch
In my summer backyard.
Years ago, I hung a bird house
Made of a hollow tree trunk
On the back deck that sat empty
Until a sound came from it,
A solo melody so seductive,
All daily worries retreat.
Small, too small for even
Fiercer birds like robins or blue
jays
To battle with for territory,
It sings, always alone,
An euphonious trill
Long and rhythmic and sweet.
I’m not sure if it sings
In hopes of attracting a mate
In praise of a mate long gone,
Just to create beautiful sound
For the sake of beautiful sound,
Or to celebrate the act of
creation.
But this very act of making sound
So effectively day after day
Forces me to measure myself
Against a standard of devotion
An inch and a half tall
The size of a mountain.
Women’s Work
“It took me eleven hours to
prepare
your birthday dinner!” my wife
says.
“Eleven hours…how’s that?”
I ask in a man’s way.
“Everything I made was fresh.
And then there’s the clean up.
It was eleven hours!!!”
Woman’s work.
Eleven hours out of twelve.
Carrying the flesh seed
To flesh for nine months.
Raising the child to adult
Past the rocks in the river.
Creating a man
From a child and seed
The greatest of all women’s work…a
man.
Carrying the laundry to the washer
and dryer
Sorting the whites from the
colors,
Wash several loads.
Dry several loads
Iron the wrinkled cloths.
Fold everything and put it away.
Shop for the food order.
Load it in the car.
Carry it into the house.
Put everything away.
Vacuum the dirty rugs.
Shampoo the dirty rugs.
Replace the rugs when they’re too
beat up.
Work a regular job full time.
Carry and bear and birth the children.
Wipe their bottoms and noses.
Feed them nutritious milk and
solid food.
Make the babies smile and feel
safe.
Organize the family time and
destiny.
Cleaning the child,
Feeding the child,
Protecting the flesh from pain,
Hurt and the ones
Who would destroy
Their very life,
They save us now
From mosques and caves
Thousands of miles away
And around the corner.