Would This Work to Rid the Country of the Internationalist Mafia?

If you have no choice but the Mob, let me tell you what to do instead.

Look up, in text print, the method of using the financial term the 'IRA', a banking practice.

Write it out in your own words, for yourself. Take your time.

Then, buy a book, on Irish Republican Propaganda, by the IRA themselves, and read it.

The future is yours, poor common goon.

Favors tipped, from the Chinese restaurant.

Pork wontons with me, and flight, or chicken wonton, and love, is up to you.

For Fatherland.

If you want to rid the world of parasites then here are the following.

0. Stop worshiping that mentality. That is 1950's rubbish.

1. Find products that people use everyday that is marketed. Even lesser thing

2. See the link between religion, community, and method of thinking.

3. The reality is that these people are garbage and wasting your time.

4. Modern organized crime ( or criminals in general ) are clean people. They are not the same mentalities from years gone by. That is fetish, or stereotypes. You might be working with them and not know it. You might be burning money at some kind of business that you use which is part of the natural flow of things. Question? Why would one person spend tons of money on a business to have a huge lounge when it barely requires one room? That is because they are running another kind of business on the same property.

5. Another method of hiding among sheep pushing other ideas on to people.
A. Sex-addiction ( people who participate LGBT activities are not LGBT )
B. Tattoos
C. Dress codes
D. Like ants to sugar or bees to honey

6. "The world is but a stage" -Edgar Allan Poe

What a load of patootie.

EA Poe did not write that: Shakespeare did:

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely Players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


BTW: From As You Like It, sparky.

Only if you are at the top of the list.

Your mom wants to know if you are taking your medication correctly.