Starting in April the student debt crisis hits me with SS retirement garnishment, so I will then get the equivalent of $6.05 an hour. Ramen noodles for the next 14 years. Unless I decide… to just snuff it.
Pay Ignatius F Makarevich using PayPal.Me
Go to paypal.me/IgnatiusFMakarevich and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it’s easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.
Youtube is Facilitating the Sexual Exploitation of Children, and it’s Being Monetized (2019)
Premiered Feb 17, 2019
Over the past 48 hours I have discovered a wormhole into a soft-core pedophilia ring on Youtube. Youtube’s recommended algorithm is facilitating pedophiles’ ability to connect with each-other, trade contact info, and link to actual CP in the comments. I can consistently get access to it from vanilla, never-before-used Youtube accounts via innocuous videos in less than ten minutes, in sometimes less than five clicks.. Additionally, I have video evidence that these videos are being monetized by Youtube, brands like McDonald’s, Lysol, Disney, Reese’s, and more.
This loophole is wrong, something needs to be done. Its’s being monetized. CP is being traded as well as social media and WhatsApp addresses. Youtube is facilitating this problem. It doesn’t matter that they flag videos and turn off the comments, these videos are still being monetized, and more importantly they are still available for users to watch.
Known for two years, at least? Still no one in jail?
I smell a rat.
Script for custom audition
From the window’s glass I defined it, her eyelids never post for transcribing every detail.
I have insulted, destroyed, killed in process, and they them through the thick.
Every time invisible is a sedition of second.
Every click without papers is a treason of image.
Every image without save is a fraud frame afraid of fraught.
Every border displayed in deceit is betrayal.
And we request that tandem betrayal to go, with art decorative’s distortion every other.
Ki kotsutien bava minivrik.
I have come to the conclusion that the Cosmos does not want me to be a voice actor. Or anything. It must be due to my obvious total incompatibility with this planet and it’s profoundly sick culture. Yup. What now, you ask?
Once again, I have lost out for being late. Although there’s a day left. But there are no links. So, I assume the quota’s been reached. So I lose. Every time. Every time. I am simply not in the right dimension of time for this concept to work out. Consequently, I am giving up on Voice123.
Oh… I would like your opinion, dear reader of this post. Do you think this is any good? In regards to at least one these references…
• Character should sound: frail, somewhat weak, aging, tired, deep, breathy/raspy, wavering through depression, sadness, and failure.
• Varied between common speaking volume to softer whispers, common conversational speed to slowed speech.
• No time length limitations at all, feel free to speak at a slower pace with thoughtful pauses.
EXAMPLES OF TONE/STYLE/DELIVERY:
• https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IO5Y6wlPn5k The tone, volume, and delivery of the voice (00:26-01:20).
• https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUHFRVxCtMI Specifically the segments where the voice sounds deep (00:53-01:12).
• https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r4r9xXe3P6w I enjoy the near-whispered volume of this clip, also how the voice sounds deep with some bass to it.
• https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2jrldn Specifically the segments where the voice sounds deep (01:10-01:26). But also please reference some of the near-whispered segments as well (01:50-02:00).
Please leave a comment either way.
Thanks in advance.
David Seidman is a professional illustrator living in Philadelphia, PA. He has worked on licensed products including comics for properties such as Se7en and Charmed. David also specializes in book covers and has done promotional illustrations for bands like Coheed and Cambria. David’s artwork has also been selected numerous times for inclusion in Spectrum, Expose and d’artiste. Follow him on Facebook and Instagram.
Want to keep up with art? Check out our Instagram!
posted by tu recepcja
Here via crossconnectmag
Spectacular imagery. I love works like these.
Marines in Iwo Jima’s volcanic sand, February 1945.
That place was Hell on Earth.
Hunting Dogman!! Do Cryptid Hunters Really Exists ?
Streamed live 19 hours ago
Do Cryptid Hunters Really Exists? Hunting Dogman. Tonight On Chasing the Truth we interview a “Dogman Man Hunter”. Dogman is one of the most popular cryptids in the paranormal world and pure nightmare fuel. Sean Graham releases another Dogman Interview and we can already fell the controversy swirling in the air. Sit back listen and enjoy Chasing The Truth.
Over two hours of creepy stories from master storyteller Dark Waters. Dig it.
The Battle Of Little Bighorn: Chief Two Moon’s Own Words – June 25-26th 1876
Published on Jun 16, 2018
EDIT: I am having some problems from immature people right now.., so I apologize to the Arikara People for the “h” instead of the “k” in the Tribe name on the video.. It was not like this.., when I finished editing.. (as with many of my other videos). Still.., with humility and respect.., I apologize to you..
This is a a detailed description from Chief Two Moon.., about ” The Battle Of Little Big Horn”.., from a meeting between Hamlin Garland.. and Grandfather/Chief Two Moon.. (Published: September 1898 – McClure’s Magazine)
There is also a bio for Chief Two Moon.. and some words about “The Dog Soldiers”..in a separate video, this channel.
Two Moon’s Story of the Battle, #1
A Cheyenne’s account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
(From McClure’s Magazine, September, 1898.)
By HAMLIN GARLAND
“As we topped the low, pine-clad ridge and A looked into the hot, dry valley, Wolf Voice, my Cheyenne interpreter, pointed at a little log cabin, toward the green line of alders wherein the Rosebud ran, and said: ..”His house — Two Moon.”…
Another Interesting Read:
“The Custer Myth: A Source Book of Custerania”
written and compiled by Colonel W.A. Graham,
The Stackpole Co., Harrisburg, PA 1953
I thank, ..with much respect: Grandfather “Ishaynishus”..
.. Chief Two Moon .. (and all of his relations)..; the Cheyenne People..;
The Arikara People..; Jason Shae..; VueTunes….
..and to all the other brothers and sisters who have saved
some great photos of Grandfather Two Moon.
I claim no ownership of any of the clips, video, music, photos and words expressed in this video…and employ my borrowing of them with ..much respect and thanks.. Credits are given at the end of the video.., also.. (*Please let me know in a message, if I have missed anyone.. Miigwetch! / Thanks)
No personal monetization is being done with this video, by me…, nor am I receiving any other benefits from any of my videos.. They are meant for all.., to heal, teach, discuss, inspire and inform…
..and to share… (please feel free to copy and paste the LINK.., as I am not on any other social media).
Hohou hii3tone3en.. Nea’êšemeno!..
Many Blessings & Thanks..
*Set your You-Tube video viewer to 960 X 540p, for best viewing..
This is really neat and such a valuable piece of Historical Truth! Dude was there!
It is nothing less than treason. And to think it’s nearly all of them. By ‘them’ I mean our complicit politicians. This must be fixed ASAP.
The bigger horror may be that it doesn’t look like there will be anyone doing any repairs anytime soon.
I’ve been hoping that the military will finally see the big picture and fix it good.
We can only call out and pray for help.
A nuclear powered psychopathic abomination is in full effect. And full control.
Apparently all that hub bub with the summit that I was excited about has had zero practical, real world effect on the place. It was recently reported thtat the government reminded the people that listening to broadcasts from the south would result in the death penalty. So, yeah, big effin’ deal.
Where freakishness knows no bounds.
Scientists Confirm Hillary Clinton Is A Psychopath
According to the Daily Mail, Oxford University’s Dr, Kevin Dutton has been exploring the psychopathic traits of Hillary Clinton and other historical figures using a standard psychometric tool, the Psychopathic Personality Inventory – Revised (PPI-R), reports Scientific American Mind.
While learning about these traits, Dutton also looked at which ones can be beneficial and which will lead to destruction.He explains that being a psychopath is not an all-or-nothing affair, but is on a spectrum along which each of us has our place.
There also seems to be a range of positions that attract individuals on the high end of the psychopathic scale such as business, surgery, the law military and of course, politics.
Previous to this recent study, Dutton contacted the official biographers of many historical leads and asked them to fill out an abbreviated version of the PPI-R in order to create a table showing which traits these figures had.The table shows each subject’s scores for psychopathy’s eight component traits.
The first three being, social influence (SI), fearlessness (F) and stress immunity (STI), which are collectively known as Fearless Dominance traits – these leaders tend to be more successful. However, the next four traits that are known as Self-Centered Impulsivity can be destructive.
This group includes Machiavellian Egocentricity (ME), Rebellious Nonconformity (RN), Blame Externalization (BE) and Carefree Nonplanfulness (CN).
And the final trait is Coldheartedness (C), which is helpful for making tough decisions such as sending troops off to war. The ‘league table’ implies that a majority of these well-known individuals are high scorers, such as Winston Churchill.
Well, we all knew this. Anyone with more than one brain cell, anyway.
But nice that it is official, eh?
In 1897 Major Tom Figginbotham journeyed to the little known isle of Kong & was delighted to find the natives friendly & welcoming. He was instantly offered a warm bath & left to his ablutions. His suspicions were only aroused when he realised his bathtub was filled with bananas.
Gotta sweeten those English stews a bit, it would seem…
This is not a film by Al Capone, or The Godfather
This is the horror that people live every day, for decades by the savage Israeli terror.
— ✌️🇵🇸✌️Mohammed pal (@hamada_najar) February 3, 2019
This has been going on for seven decades.
And we pay for it, endorse it and send our kids to die for the oppressor’s agenda. Our “allies” who did 9/11.
So foul. God. It makes me ashamed of America.
This is REPULSIVE:
February 3, 2019
Details of negotiations by the bi-partisan panel working to beat the February 15th budget deadline, are emerging. It seems Democrats on the panel are totally out of touch with what’s best for America and Americans.
The House Democrats’ first offer to President Trump in negotiations to fund his proposed United States-Mexico border wall includes a provision that would end all immigration enforcement for migrants trafficking children across the southern border.
The draft budget provides the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency with $7.4 billion, nearly $850 million less than requested by the Trump administration, and funds only 1,250 beds for adults and migrant children coming across the border this year, a decrease in detention space.
Attached to that funding is an immigration enforcement ban first introduced by Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-CA) and supported by every Senate Democrat.
The Democrats’ offer demands that all immigration enforcement end for any adult crossing the border with a child, by the end of Fiscal Year 2019.
This would encourage immigrants who don’t have children to “find” one while in transit to America. Once they get to a port-of-entry, the gate is opened and into America they come. One can only imagine what will happen to the child that enabled the adult(s) to legally enter the U.S..
President Trump should just tell the bi-partisan team to remove wall funding from their discussions. He should then proceed to use his executive authority to continue building walls/barriers, without involving our dysfunctional Congress.
I want to throw up.
And as we have seen in Europe.
Moronic leftists don’t like to challenge anyone who ‘claims’ to be a child.
35 year old men are being registered at the borders as 17 year olds. Just because they ‘lie’ and weak gutless Libs don’t dare to challenge them. That would be ‘racist’.
The same is bound to happen here.
And anyone who thinks a criminal (which most of these people most definitely are) won’t kidnap a child and then abandon it after crossing has been living a very sheltered life.
Those criminals WILL do that if it gives them access to the country.
2020 is in the bag.
— Breakthestreak, New Zealand
I also want to kill DemocRATS. Every single God damned one of them.
The Germans of the 30s and 40s would have lined them all up and shot them dead. So would any actual human beings do. And that is exactly what we should do. These creatures are an infection.
We must not allow this infestation to wreak any more damage on our gene pool than it already has.
Wow. Just wow.
#QAnon – How the Media Controls What We Think
Edge of Wonder
Published on Sep 4, 2018
Recently a mysterious figure has been getting a lot of Press called #Qanon. Among his many posts, he seems to be exposing many lies the media tells. But is it true? How does #MSM (Mainstream Media) today compare to traditional journalism and is it the same? On this episode of Edge of Wonder, Ben & Rob will talk about the four tactics media use to draw conclusions they want us to have such as #Disinformation, Agitation Propaganda, Memetic Warfare, and Psychological Warfare.
All Editorial Photos by: Ben Chasteen® See more of Ben’s photos here: www.benchasteenphotography.com/
Other Images: Shutterstock.com
Music: Audio Blocks: www.audioblocks.com
Voice provided by ‘Radio Face’: voice123.com/profiles/chrisslone
EOW Theme by Ben Chasteen and the great Enrico
Hey, folks, this is really well done and will be a good reference for those just starting out in understanding what goes on behind the scenes and old timers like myself will find it rather refreshing. Dig it. Peace out.
“I was one of you once, or so I thought. End up stranded on a planet with no charge left on your emergency beacon and they write you off as AWOL”—he snapped his fingers—”just like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make my dues like the way you did to my wife. I’m coming for you, brothers.”
Turian OC named Solon “Sundowner” Calion, an ex Blue Suns mercenary-gone-rogue after the “isolated incident” that led to the death of his wife. Nowadays he masquerades as a freelancer to exact his revenge on his former colleagues.
It’s Getting Closer….. (UPDATE)
www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/a84yfo/its_getting_closer/ (Original post)
So before I get into what has been going on these past few weeks I want to say sorry for not keeping you all updated more frequently. It’s been difficult to find time to write updates since I’m more stressed out than I have ever been in my life.
First off to answer the question on everyones mind, yes. I did survive that night I posted. Before I get into that I want to answer another big question. I can’t just leave my job, because i’m under an official contract. I didn’t specify last time but i’m in the military. I make my job sound easy but believe me, some aspects of my career have been very stressful. I got back from a deployment recently and I never want to relive what I had been through or see the things I witnessed ever again. I never thought i’d have any worse to worry about, but as you know the cruel truth stared back at me from across the parking lot.
Now to get into the update, buckle up. There’s a lot to talk about.
Let’s start with the night of my original upload, I was in the middle of my shift absolutely terrified. After I made the post I could not stop pacing and staring at the clock. Time seemed to be moving fast, it always seems to happen when you really don’t want it to. Inevitably though closing time came. I started to close up and began to calm myself down. I kept reassuring myself that the experiences that i’ve been through trump anything that’s standing out in that parking lot. I was able to calm down enough to at least get to the door to leave my building. I stood before the door, took a deep breath, braced myself, and started to run forward knocking open the door. As I was running, eyes locked on my car, about halfway to the safety of my car I began to frantically search for where the figure was, and saw something that stopped my mad sprint.
The figure wasn’t there.
He wasn’t anywhere. Not across the street, not on my street, and not waiting for me by my car. I kept looking, surveying all around me to see if my eyes were decieving me. Then it finally hit me, he really wasn’t there. I felt a tidal wave of relief surge through my body, I hadn’t felt this way in weeks. I walked the rest of the way to my car, taking my time in the process. On the drive home I actually turned up the radio and started to sing to a song I usually hated, and as I arrived home I did a small dance to my front door and thought afterwards, “I hope my neighbors didn’t see that.” I laid in bed that night smiling and thinking to myself, “It’s finally over”. I had never slept better before that night.
When I woke up, I felt refreshed knowing it was the weekend and Christmas was right around the corner. No work, life was good. I took the day to just lay in bed and be lazy, but that got me thinking a bit. Not about the strange figure though. I thought about my family and friends who I haven’t talked to since the figure first appeared, I thought about work and how much of a lunatic I must have seemed to be, and I just thought back to my life before the figure and everything that had led up to it.
I must have been thinking for some time since before I knew it, it was getting dark outside. I was starving too, I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I forgot I actually needed food to survive. I walked downstairs and scavenged through my fridge finding the last of my food which sadly was just a measly TV Dinner. I looked for literally anything else but found only condiments, and milk. I decided I didn’t want a ketchup shake, so I set a reminder on a sticky note to get more food and grabbed the TV dinner. Once my dinner was heated up, i started to head for the stairs thinking about whether I wanted to watch a movie or play some videogames. Something stopped me dead in my tracks though as I passed by the window in my living room. What I saw caused me to drop the plate shattering it on the floor. At that moment though it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered.
The figure was standing in the middle of the street outside of my house.
We stared at each other for minutes that felt like hours. I stared at him and met his unflinching gaze. He stood there dead center in the middle of the street, illuminated by the streetlight that hung over him. His mouth still twisted in that horrifying invisible scream, and his eyes locked on me. I felt afraid, but at the same time I also felt anger rising up inside of me. I was feeling so good today, and I thought my ordeal was finally over only to find that the figure showed up to my house instead. I did the only thing I could think to do at that moment. “FUCK YOU!” I screamed. The creature did nothing in response, didn’t move and continued to stare into my soul. I ran upstairs and into my bedroom making my way to the window by my bed. I stared down at him and saw he was already staring up at me, as if he had tracked me as I moved throughout my house.
I stared at him for hours from my bedroom window. He didn’t move once. I struggled for hours to keep myself awake, I refused to fall asleep while the twisted figure lurked right outside my house. I knew if I fell asleep he’d probably get even closer, maybe even find a way to get into my house. Then he’d surely catch me. As I was convincing myself not to fall asleep, my eyes got heavy and before I knew it I was waking up to the morning sun. As i rubbed my eyes I immediately looked out to the street and started to look for him.
The figure had disappeared.
This had gone on for a while, the second day I didn’t see him at all until that night when i was playing videogames in my room. I glanced outside and sure enough the figure was standing out there, not in the center of the street but right beside the streetlight across from my house that was illuminating him the night prior. Then the next night he was standing on the sidewalk right beside my driveway. Every night he was there, except in a different spot outside of my house. I was absolutely terrified, and it didn’t help the fact that none of the other neighbors seemed to see him. My neighbors would pull out trash cans and set it right beside him, joggers would move past him not even acknowledging the fact that he was standing there, teenagers that longboarded around the development passed by him never breaking their focus.
As weird as it sounds though, I kind of made a routine out of his appearances. I realized that he never appeared in the daylight, so in the mornings I would go out and about and do things that i needed to do. About an hour or so before it started to get dark I always got home to lock up and get ready for the figure to show up. Looking back now I could have gone to stay elsewhere but I guess I just figured, if he could show up at my house and where I work he could definitely show up anywhere I went. Another thing I noticed about the figure, he showed up every night in a different spot but not once did he make it close to my front door. The furthest I had seen him was right before my front lawn on the sidewalk connecting to it.
I was still wary of the figure and definitely scared but in a strange way it got a little easier. Sure there were some things I lost out on due to the creep trapping me in my house. I couldn’t celebrate christmas with friends or go to any christmas parties since I didn’t want to be outside of the safety of my house when it got dark. Instead I celebrated Christmas in my house, but I wasn’t alone. Sure enough the figure stood outside of my house. “I guess he just didn’t want to take the holiday off.” I thought to myself. I also missed a New Years party that a coworker hosted. Instead I counted down to a New Year with the figure watching me from a distance. “Happy New Year!” I shouted at him. “Here’s to another year of you ruining my fucking life!”
The holiday was over and sure enough the day after New Years it occured to me that I had to start back to work the next day. To be honest I hadn’t thought about work and realizing that I was on evening shift the next night brought all of the fear immediately back to me. I knew I couldn’t stay in the safety of my home the next night. That i was doomed to work the evening shift and closing by myself. I’d be walking out in the open for the figure to have another chance to charge at me. I knew that there was a chance that when I left work the next night, I might not make it home.
I figured at the time, if I might not survive after tomorrow night I may as well spend the rest of today doing what I love to do. So that’s exactly what I did. I went out for breakfast at this little diner that claimed to have the best pancakes in South Dakota. Following breakfast, I went on a bit of a shopping spree. I bought a videogame I had been meaning to get for a while, a brand new controller, a movie I really enjoyed that came out last year, and one of my favorite graphic novels of all time. I decided to call up my friends and ask if they wanted to hang out, and we ended up going to see a movie. I got the biggest popcorn and soda available for myself and i bought the tickets for my friends and I.
After the movie we talked and caught up, I didn’t even think about bringing up the last few weeks to them. Honestly I was just happy to listen to their big happenings of the past few weeks. Afterwards we parted ways and I decided I wanted that nights dinner to be at one of my favorite Hibachi restaurants, you could call it a last meal of sorts. I caught an early dinner and made it home before it started to get dark. I put in the movie I had purchased earlier and started to watch it, and before I knew it the movie was over and it was dark outside.
Refusing to look outside, I put in my new videogame and started to play. To be honest that game is fucking amazing and I actually couldn’t look away from the screen. Around 1130, I started to get tired so I turned off the system and started to get up to head upstairs to my room. Before I could make my way upstairs, I had to look out the window. I had ignored the fact that the figure existed all day but I had to come face to face with tomorrows reality to remind myself of whats to come. I turned to face him, I scanned up and down my street.
He wasn’t there.
I could have screamed for how overjoyed I was. I finally got a break from the figure and I didn’t have to deal with him, at least for that night. I went upstairs, got into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.
On my shift the next evening it was the strangest thing, I didn’t even worry about leaving once I closed up. I’m not sure exactly why but it was as if the whole day I had already accepted what was going to happen and I just went about my day choosing not to think about it. It may have been because I had the best day the day before and I did everything I had wanted to do before my first day back the next day. Before I knew it, it was time to close up. I closed up, and walked out the front door to my car. I looked around to see where he was waiting for me and saw that he wasn’t in the parking lots.
“Well, he’s probably waiting for me at my house.” I thought to myself. I got in my car and slowly began my drive home. I reached my development, drove around until I got to my street, approached the street corner ready to meet him, turned onto my street and saw…
He wasn’t there. Two nights in a row he didn’t show. I stopped in the middle of my street and thought to myself “Is he actually gone?” “Am I finally free?” I turned into my driveway, got out of my car, walked up to my door, walked into my house, and shut the door locking it behind me. I leaned against the door and slid to the floor, and started to laugh. I thought the figure was just fucking with me, that he was waiting for me when I was most vulnerable to attack. But then I thought, “Maybe i’m actually done being tormented.” “Maybe it’s actually over this time.” Either way I decided to head to bed right away. Falling asleep almost immediately.
So, in the week after that I didn’t see the figure anymore. Days passed by and things started to return to normal. I started to reconnect with my friends more, work shifts went by faster, and life was pretty good.
I wish I could say I lived happily ever after, that I could tell you that my life went on and everything is all better now. That one good day can save you from the otherworldly evil that dwells in parking lots. That’s not the way life works though, because my update leads to earlier tonight when things got even worse than I could have ever imagined.
So tonight, I got home and did what i did most nights after a long shift and unwound with some videogames. I played for about an hour when I got a notification from Facebook telling me that my mom tagged me in a post. I groaned to myself, usually when my mom tags me in a post it’s usually always something like “Share and tag if you have a loved one in the service” or “Share if you like Jesus, ignore if you worship Satan.” Stuff like that, i’m sure you guys know what i’m talking about.
Anyways, I log onto Facebook and see that my mom actually tagged me in a post with a bunch of old pictures she found. I had to laugh though, she literally took pictures of old polaroids and posted them one by one in a huge photo album. She really must have been dedicated to showing off these old pictures of our family. I started going through them all, recognizing certain events from my childhood. I saw a picture of me in our old house, it was my second birthday and I had cake mushed all over my face. My dad was in that picture, arm over the chair beaming from ear to ear.
“This must’ve been before he left.” I thought to myself. My dad had left us when I was still young, one of my first memories was actually watching him walk out the door with a suitcase and slamming the door behind him. I decided I didn’t want to look at him anymore and went to the next picture. This was a picture of one of my Halloween costumes where I dressed as Charmander from Pokemon. Picture after picture I went through, and the memories flowed back. Eventually I got to an old picture of me with the rest of my soccer team in a team photo.
I hated that “team.” They didn’t treat me like I was a part of the “team”, instead they isolated me. It was because I was the goalie, I always recieved the blame when we lost. I wanted to leave the team but my mom insisted that it was normal behavior and that my teammates were just competetive. So I went to every practice and every game and sure enough I always got treated like shit by the rest of my team. I was so happy when the season ended and I didn’t have to see them ever again.
I decided to keep going through the rest of the pictures until I finally reached the last one, another picture of my dad. This time though it was him holding me as an infant, in front of the dining room window in my old house. I had wondered why my mom decided to post all the pictures of my dad all of a sudden. Maybe she was over him leaving, and decided to move on. She always was hung up and scarred by how terrible of a person he was. Maybe things were getting better for her finally and she felt comfortable posting it. Whatever it was, I couldn’t look at him anymore so i moved to close out Facebook when something caught my eye.
I looked at the picture of my dad holding me once more, and studied it hard. Suddenly my heart started to race, and my blood went cold. I frantically started to zoom in on the picture, “It can’t be.” “No way.” I kept saying. And when I zoomed in, it was pretty blurry but sure enough on the street outside the living room window almost obscured by dad’s head…
The figure was there.
I clicked off the picture, and noticed something else in another picture. The picture of me with my soccer team, I zoomed in once more. Between two of my teamates heads in the field stretched behind us, he was there. In another picture, an action shot of me in my goal beside cheering parents on the bleachers, the figure was standing behind the bleachers same expression on his face as everytime i’ve seen him. Some pictures he wasn’t in but most of them he was always partially hidden or you had to zoom in a bit to see him.
My mind was racing, as i clicked on my page to get away from the album. I felt like I was going crazy, that’s when I noticed something on my cover photo. I enlarged it to see the familiar photo of me and a few coworkers standing in the desert while we were deployed. But on the far right side almost out of shot, the figure stared from the side of a tent. I threw my phone across the room and started to scream. I gripped my head and tried to calm down despite a million questions in my head, “What is going on?” “Has he been here my whole life?” “What does this mean?”
My though process was interrupted though when I got the feeling I was being watched. I whipped my head to stare out the living room window and almost lept out of my skin. He was right there, nose almost pressed against the window. Closer than he had ever been to my house. I felt frozen, I tried to say anything but the words couldn’t come I tried to move but my body refused. I could only stare at this awful figure that haunted my life. His matted silly string black hair which stuck to my window, His eyes that bore into mine as they always have, His mouth frozen in that silent scream. At that moment I knew my life would forever be stalked by this terrible curse.
And the figures mouth as if on cue, twisted into an all knowing smile.
Creepypasta is one of the best things on the web. There are some wonderful writers there.
The raid on Innsmouth — Darren Tan
To the tune of “Light My Fire.”
It’s time to call a spade a spade.
I don’t want to be a liar.
The puppet master’s cards are played,
And our pols are rolling in the mire.
They’re just Israel’s guns for hire.
They’re just Israel’s bums for hire.
May they burn in Satan’s fire.
The time for mincing words is through.
No more preaching to the choir.
I just want to say to you.
The situation now is dire.
They’re just Israel’s guns for hire.
They’re just Israel’s bums for hire.
May they burn in Satan’s fire.
Our spending bills are coming due.
But somehow they never tire
Of giving what they get from you,
And Israel’s cost grows ever higher.
They’re just Israel’s guns for hire.
They’re just Israel’s bums for hire.
May they burn in Satan’s fire.
God, more death in the freezing cold.
Horrific. Our species is messed up.
Not someone you’d really want to meet, I’d guess.
“We see dead people, the downside is she doesn’t.”
My sister and I grew up in a village in a certain country in southeast Asia, our home back then was a two-story, with three bedrooms on the second floor one for me, another for my sister’s and the last one is for our parents. I’ve called this a home until I became thirteen and then it became something.
It was the day after my thirteenth birthday, I’m fully exhausted throughout the day with all the pot-busting, parlor games, and other stuff so I decided to lay on my bed and just sleep it off. As I slowly drift myself to sleep, I heard a sudden thud on the ceiling, I hastily opened my eyes and to my shock, I can’t see anything, it’s pitch dark. I slowly stood up and reached for the light switch just at the left side of the door. I flicked the light switch on and nothing happened, still I’m in my dark room, I tried switching it on and off multiple times but still, it doesn’t work, that’s where the creep reached me. I can hear someone breathing just above me, I can feel its icy cold breath that smells like death touching my forehead, I quickly glanced at the ceiling but to no avail, I saw nothing but darkness, I reached for the doorknob and ran downstairs while screaming on top of my lungs.
I saw mom downstairs looking at me with such worried eyes asking me what happened, I told her what took place in my room. She went with me upstairs and as she pulls open the door there’s no one inside and the light was turned on, she tried it to turn it off and on again and it worked. Was it just my mind playing tricks on me? But what about the chilling putrid breath I felt? I shrugged it off and slept with the lights on.
The next day I played with my sibling Ciara, who’s two years younger than me, we unwrapped the dollhouse I got yesterday as a birthday gift, we usually share toys, dresses and secrets, we’re like best friends sisters. As I disassemble the plastic furniture from their package frames, Ciara went to the kitchen downstairs to get some snacks so we could play cooking afterward. I was left inside my room alone. As I assemble some figures, with my keenest sense I heard someone giggling in the ventilation on my ceiling just over my head, I was hesitant to look up but what would a dead-curious just-turned-thirteen do? So I slowly lifted my head with extreme nervousness then Ciara banged the door really loud, that made my heart jumped. She laughed seeing me shocked with her grand entrance, with all the irritation I can muster, I threw the stuffed toys just behind me at her. After all, those lousy throwing we went back to finishing the dollhouse. At the middle of our play Ciara stopped and looked at my forehead, with her shocked expression and pale skin I can tell that there’s blood on my forehead, she’s afraid of blood, I quickly wiped my head with my arms and ran down the kitchen sink to clean those blood. It turns out it came from something else since I have no visible wounds on my forehead. After cleaning up, I went upstairs and told Ciara that it was just a bad prank, that I stored some ketchup in my room and put some on my head while she was busy playing with dolls, even though I have a hint where it came from.
The night has fallen and I’m totally scared and nervous. After I’m done with all of my before-bed routines, I stood still under the ventilation in my room, looking upward, I may seem brave but for each second that passes my heart pounds faster. While directly staring into the dark abyss just above me. Someone rushed to my room and popped out of my door, I was startled and I fell on my feet, yes, it’s Ciara again saying goodnight to me. She laughed on her way back to her room. I decided to keep it off of my imagination and laid down on my comfy bed with the lights again, turned on. As I venture the deepest dreamlands in my sleep, I was awakened by a cold puff that runs from my left ear up to my right cheeks. I opened my eyes and again I can’t see anything, there’s no difference between keeping my eyes closed and keeping it open. Bullets of cold sweat are now starting to make its way on my face, I never tried to move. I lay down there, on the bed that should keep me comfortable and relaxed feeling the opposite. After a few seconds, I can slowly feel something on my face, something sticky and it smells like rotten flesh, I grabbed my blanket and covered my whole body assuming that it’ll keep me safe throughout the night until my fear has finally given in and I fell asleep.
This became a recurring event sometimes it happens in three consecutive days, sometimes just once a week, I became less and less frightened of the dark until that night when things have changed.
This night my dad went off to work leaving the three of us at home. Right after eating our dinner we stayed in the living room to watch some drama series, the thing we usually do every night, after a few hours, when the clock struck nine, it is the time to face that being again. After doing the things that should be done before bed, I turned on the lights in my room and finally laid myself to slumber, while sleeping deeply, I heard that familiar puffing on my right ear again, I didn’t open my eyes, instead, I pushed myself to go back to sleep but things got worse, the thing no longer blows air, it spoke.
“Let me have those eyes, your face, let me have you!”
It sounded like a voice from an old woman, like a witch murmuring near my ear, with a terrifying giggle. I stood up opened my eyes, I can’t totally see anything, I am frozen at sitting position, my heart is pounding really fast as it wants itself out of my chest, I have dead cold sweats, I am starting to shake and then I heard a scream, Ciara. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs, the sound is coming from somewhere near but I can’t see her, I’m unable to move until I fully recognize the words she’s screaming.
“CAITLYN! THERE’S A MONSTER ON YOUR FACE!”
I recognize seeing strands of hair afterward since the thing looked at Ciara, I pushed myself to the corner of room, as I look at this terrifying creature, no, it’s a terrifying woman, her skin was pale white like she was drained out of her blood, she’s wearing a tattered white nightgown with random smudges of dried blood and dirt, she’s standing on the ceiling upside down and she’s directly looking at Ciara.
“Go downstairs, Ciara!” I shouted. The undead woman turned her face back to me. She has a wide grin, and no eyes, those dark sockets, empty eye sockets that fill half of her face that upon glaring will give you the feeling of being dragged into the deepest chasm of hell. I came to realize that all those nights, it wasn’t actually dark, I was actually directly looking into something, my whole sight was devoured by those abysmal holes. The creature started moving, towards me, twitching with every step, I was petrified right there, I can’t move a single muscle, until finally, it made its way in front of me, I’m seeing all darkness again, I can feel her grip on the back of my head, it’s not letting me go, I gathered all of my strength trying to push its head off me but I can’t, it’s stronger than me. It released a terror-stricken shriek.
“Your body will be mine!”
I heard the floor pounding from the footsteps, it must be mom and Ciara, I heard mom shouting my name, she saw nothing, she saw me pushing something invisible in the air, she saw me struggling to free myself from something, she can’t see the demon inside my room while Ciara keep on screaming, seeing how real my struggles are. She grabbed me by my stomach with her right arm and dragged me and Ciara down the stairs to the living room. At that moment, I was blankly staring at nothing, my body is almost lifeless, I can’t move anything, I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can understand what’s happening, until Ciara screamed that that monstrosity is coming for us, coming for me. The air is filled with adrenaline. Mom, terrified by what’s happening, picked up her car keys and told Ciara to open the car while dragging my drop-dead body outside. We got inside the car and mom drives to our Aunt Lita, I gained my full sanity when we’re far enough from our home. On our road to Aunt Lita, Ciara and I explained to mom what happened, mom called dad then we spent the night at Aunt Lita’s house.
The next day, we left Ciara at Aunt Lita’s house and we went back to our home with dad. When dad opened our main door, a smell of rotting flesh welcomed us, the sofa and furniture were ripped apart, there were animal furs and feathers everywhere, our house is totally messed up. We went to my room and we were surprised by what we saw, there are lots of dead animals, rabbits, chickens, cats, even lizards and there’s a scribble of their blood on my ceiling,
“I almost got you little Caitlyn, until we meet again?”
Quite creepy, wouldn’t you say?
Finnish World War II veteran Ensio Röyskö looks over his shattered camera. While taking photos on the frontline in Karelia, a Russian sniper shot his camera, destroying the camera and wounding Ensio’s face. 29 June 1942
Here via captain-price-official.
Damn, that must have been some kind of rude awakening, eh? Holy Cow! Missed by an inch, as they say.
13 Investigates: Senator outraged by IRS investigation
Published on Nov 4, 2015
Lawmakers are angry about a secret IRS policy exposed by 13 Investigates.
Wow, folks wait till you get a load of this one!
This one is actually worse than the immigrant story that Jean Louis turned me on to.
Short and sweet, it is.
Wow, I wonder if this ever got fixed. Not that they’d tell us, eh?
I leaned in unnecessarily close to Tim’s face to repeat myself. My tongue felt like a huge sponge, engorged with vodka, flopping haphazardly around my mouth as I spoke.
“I HAVE. TO USE. THE SHITTER.”
Tim looked disgusted. I don’t know whether it was my statement or my breath that he was reacting to. Tim twisted a finger around in his ear as if to clear it. Through the haze of alcohol I realized that his look had probably been due to the volume of my voice. I hadn’t meant to shout quite so loud. I backed up a half step and muttered an apology.
“’Sokay” he slurred, “You can stop by my place to shit, it’s closer than yours.”
I shook my head. He didn’t understand. My guts roiled with pressure. I had to consciously make myself stop shaking my head. The world kept spinning and I had to shut my eyes for a moment to right myself.
“Nonono, ‘s too far, man. ‘Slike six blocks. I godda go.” I insisted. I pointed at the doors to a nearby club. The windows were blacked out, but the thumping of music clearly indicated that the establishment was still open. Tim looked annoyed.
“I don’t wanna go to a club. I’m good for the night.”
I almost shook my head again and then remembered the dizziness from last time. “No dude I’ll be right back, you just wait here while I take a dump real quick.”
Now it was Tim’s turn to shake his head. “I’m not gonna stand outside some sketchy ass club for half an hour in the middle of the night all by myself while your drunk ass falls asleep on a toilet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Five minutes dude, I’ll be in and out.”
I edged toward the door, reaching out for the handle. I clenched my sphincter. This conversation was going to have to end soon, one way or the other. Tim kept walking in the direction we’d been headed, passing me by.
“Sorry bro, no can do. I got a three o clock appointment with a tall glass of water.”
I was surprised, and then annoyed, and then confused. The booze pickling my brain only allowed me to experience one emotion at a time. Tim was a few feet past me down the sidewalk when I finally arrived at my response.
“I’M GONNA GO. SMOKE A BONG. AND WATCH CARTOONS.” Tim yelled over his shoulder, imitating my speech pattern from a few moments ago. “See ya tomorrow Eddie.”
“Fuck you too you pieceashit” I called after him.
He chuckled. “See ya tomorrow!” he repeated.
I turned my attention to the door in front of me. My vision swam and warped as I tried to focus on the handle. I missed the first time, but managed to yank it open on the second try.
It was late on a weeknight, and the club didn’t have a doorman outside. I handed my ID to the bored-looking security guard sitting on a stool just inside the door. He barely glanced at me before returning my driver’s license and waving me into the club. I took a moment to be silently thankful that there was no cover charge to get into this place. Like I said, it was a weeknight.
The place was large and dark, and I couldn’t easily spot the bathrooms through the mass of sweating, bouncing flesh on the dance floor, so I approached the bar to ask.
I had to scream at the top of my lungs to be heard over the booming dance music. Or at least, I thought I had to. Based on the bartender’s face, I realized that I had perhaps once again misjudged my own volume. She, like Tim, looked annoyed.
“Paying customers only, buddy. I just saw you walk in.”
My intestines painfully contracted. I crossed my legs and clenched as hard as I could. This night is not gonna end with me shitting my pants, I told myself firmly.
“Alrght alright, just get me uhhh shot of Jameson.” I said, spouting off the first thing I could think of. The bartender turned to grab the bottle, and I pulled the last ten-dollar bill from my wallet. The whisky and the money hit the bartop in unison. I slammed down the shot as fast as possible.
“Ok, now where’s the bathroom?” I said. I could feel a vein popping out on my forehead. I was beginning to sweat.
The bartender sighed and rolled her eyes, but pointed me toward a dark corner of the club.
“Thankskeepthechange” I murmured, not even looking back as I sprinted in the direction she had indicated.
If I had been sober, I would have probably taken one look at the bathroom and walked right back out the door. It was dark, filthy, graffiti-covered. There were two stalls. The door of the far stall was shut, and a pair of shoes beneath the door betrayed an occupant. However, the near stall was blessedly, miraculously vacant. The toilet itself was yellowed and old, but thankfully looked relatively clean compared to the rest of the surfaces in the restroom. I wasted no time in locking the stall door, dropping my pants, and sitting down. Sweet release. I probably groaned aloud, remembering too late that there was a guy in the next stall over.
I sat there relieving myself, the initial pressure thankfully gone, scrolling through some social media feed or another on my phone. After a few minutes, I began to feel a small rumbling in the floor beneath my feet, travelling upward. It was distinct from the thudding vibrations of the music. This was closer, and constant. I noticed with passive interest as it travelled up the wall behind the toilet that I was sitting on. It then stopped going upward, turning to the right and rumbling, louder and louder, through the wall toward the other stall. It was the pipes, I realized. Something was travelling noisily through the plumbing. Air bubbles, probably, I vaguely thought. Once the rumbling reached a point which I assumed was right behind the neighboring toilet, it reached a trembling crescendo before cutting off abruptly.
“What the fuck was that?” The guy in the other stall grunted. I don’t know if he was talking to me or himself. Outside of the bathroom, it sounded like a quieter song had just started, or maybe there had been some kind of interruption in the music, because for a moment it was eerily silent in the bathroom. My breathing suddenly sounded deafening. The other guy sniffed a few times.
Two things then immediately happened at once. Outside the door, the music came thumping back in full force. At the same time, the guy in the next stall over made a loud gasping sound. The combination of the two sudden noises made me jump, and I almost dropped my phone into the toilet. Once the wave of adrenaline subsided, I listened with mild curiosity to my neighbor. He was grunting and groaning softly, and at one point I heard a wet slapping sound. I almost started laughing out loud in disbelief.
Is this dude seriously jerking off right next to me? I asked myself incredulously.
It quickly became clear, though, that this was not the case. The guy’s groans suddenly shifted to gasps and yelps of surprise and pain. I heard a manic shuffling and rustling as the guy hurried to stand up. I saw beneath the stall wall that he began to bend over to pull up his pants. Something stopped him, however, and he suddenly cried out.
“AAAAHHH!! HEY WHAT THE FUCK?!”
His voice was panicked, and pained, like the yelp of a wounded animal. My eyes were fixed on his feet, I was transfixed by whatever unseen problem the man was having. I wanted to ask what was happening, or if he was ok, or if he needed help, but the words never made it from my brain to my mouth. The guy’s feet then moved rapidly backward, as if he had been suddenly and violently yanked back onto the toilet by a rope. From the hard, painful slap of what I guessed was his bare ass hitting the toilet seat, it sounded like that’s exactly what happened.
What followed was the most disturbing combination of sounds I’ve ever heard. The guy started screaming. Terrified, hoarse, inhuman barks of pure shocked agony. Simultaneously, a high-pitched hum broke the air, like the sound of a power drill putting a screw into a particularly stubborn piece of hardwood. Layered beneath this, there was some kind of raspy, squeaky chattering sound that reminded me of the sounds that rodents make when they’re scared. Worst of all was the wet, squishy plops of something soft rapidly hitting the water in the neighboring toilet bowl. Whatever was falling in there, it sounded like there was a lot of it. This was soon followed by a series of snaps, pops and crunches. Like joints, I realized, or bones.
As this happened, I could see the guy’s legs frantically twisting and writhing around beneath the stall wall, until they raised up out of my field of vision and never came back down. Moments later, all the sounds died off one by one. First to go was the screaming, subsiding into a soft gurgling moan before rattling out into nothing. All the other sounds kept up for a few seconds after this, but before long all I could hear was the music from the dance floor.
I gazed at the floor of the neighboring stall for several moments, barely breathing. Nothing moved. There was no sign that the guy was even still in there. His legs and feet were nowhere to be seen. I tentatively reached out for some toilet paper, ripping off a strip from the roll as quietly as I could, and quickly wiped my ass. I never took my eyes off the floor of the next stall. I rose slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements, and pulled up my pants. Painfully slowly, I unlatched and opened the door to my own stall, wincing as it creaked. There was nothing amiss outside my stall. The bathroom looked exactly the same as when I’d entered. I walked carefully toward the exit, my phone still clutched in one hand. I dismissed any thought of washing my hands. Too noisy. I wanted to make a quiet escape from whatever the hell had just happened. And yet…
I turned slowly to face the still-locked stall where the other guy had been. He had to still be in there. Maybe he needed help. Maybe he’d had a seizure or something, and all his jerking around on the toilet was what had made those god-awful noises. I took one step, then another, then another, each slower than the last, and before I knew it I was in front of the other stall. I raised my hand and knocked once, softly on the door.
“Hey” my voice quaked, “You ok in there?”
There was no sound except the pounding bass, matched beat for beat in my own chest.
There was a small crack between the door and the wall through which I could view just a sliver of the inside of the stall. I moved my face closer to peer through. A strangled cry barely escaped my lips.
The stall walls had been sprayed with blood. It had run down in slow-moving streaks which had not yet begun to drip onto the floor. Not a single drop had hit the ceiling, or the wall behind the toilet, but the two parallel walls on either side were splattered with the stuff. This was nothing compared to what was inside the toilet. The guy’s body, folded unnaturally in half, had been pulled ass-first deep inside the toilet bowl. Most of it must have somehow been pulled down the pipe, because all that was left sticking out of the toilet were his arms and legs, jutting out into the air at odd angles, and his crushed, deformed head, covered in blood and limply laying face-downward in a pool of his own gore. My mind reeled. I raised my phone to the crack in the door, my still-drunken mind reasoning that I would need to take a picture to show to the police.
I focused on the phone screen, trying to get as much of the gruesome scene in frame as possible. Then, suddenly, the screen went dark. For a moment I thought my phone had died, but the camera app display still showed on screen. It was only the viewfinder that had gone black. I lowered the phone and leaned in again to peer through the gap, only to find that I couldn’t. The crack in the door was no longer empty, but had been occupied by something wet and dark. I took a shocked step back. A fleshy slapping sound drew my attention to the top of the stall door. A tentacle (or a was it a tail? an arm?) whipped over the top of the door, sliding down the front leaving a trail of blood as it went. It was followed by another. Something was heaving itself over the top of the door. Something dense, and hairy, and damp with toilet water and piss and shit and gore. I didn’t wait to see what it was. I turned around and fled the bathroom, phone in hand, and left the club without so much as a word to anyone.
The next morning, my brain straining painfully against my skull from a horrific hangover, I stood outside the door of the club nursing a cup of gas station coffee. The bitter acid attacked my queasy stomach in just the right way. I looked the establishment up and down. I was surprised at how normal everything looked. I had expected cops and crime scene tape, maybe even some kind of hazmat cleanup crew, but there was nothing. Before I had been there long, a man in a leather jacket and jeans approached. He looked warily at me.
“The fuck are you doing hanging out outside my club?”
I cleared my throat, unsure of how to explain. “I’m here about an… incident. Last night. There was a guy who was, uh… attacked. In the bathroom. I’m sure you know about it already. There was a… a body.”
The man stared dead-eyed at me. His expression betrayed nothing.
“I just… I wanted to let you know I was there.” I continued. “If you, or the police, need like… a witness, I guess.”
“A witness?” He droned.
“What exactly did you witness?”
I paused. I knew if I told him the truth I’d sound crazy. Plus, I wasn’t entirely sure what I had and hadn’t seen. I’d been so drunk.
“Something attacked the guy while he was in the stall.” I said cautiously, “Some kind of… animal, or something.”
The man raised an eyebrow, but otherwise his face stayed absolutely unchanged. “Animal.”
“Yeah,” I was unsettled by the man’s apparent lack of concern. There was no way that the body hadn’t been found by now. “It really… fucked him up.”
The man paused for a moment before moving in close to me, lowering his voice but still speaking in that flat, dry tone.
“Listen, kid. The guy here last night had a heart attack on the john. Happens all the time. Club like ours, people enjoying themselves in all manner of ways, sometimes they have a little too much fun. It’s been handled. But thanks for your concern.”
“Heart attack?? No, it was… it was some kind of… creature. I think it came out of the pipes. It tore him to shreds. Didn’t you see the stall? The toilet?”
The man rested a heavy hand on my shoulder. It wasn’t threatening, exactly, but it wasn’t comforting either.
“I think it’s time for you to get away from my club.”
He turned, and unlocked the door. I stood, incredulous. Before shutting the door in my face he met my eyes. There was something there, for the briefest moment. Was it malice? Fear? I’m not sure.
“Just pretend it was a heart attack, kid. The poor bastard is just as dead either way.”
I love creepypasta.
especially when there are monsters!
Part one: 13 Investigates IRS tax loophole
Published on Apr 27, 2012
Eyewitness News shows a massive tax loophole that provides billions of dollars in tax credits to undocumented workers and, in many cases, people who have never set foot in the United States.
Part two: Will lawmakers act to close tax loophole for illegal immigrants?
Published on May 2, 2012
From Indiana to Capitol Hill, thousands of people are now weighing in on a WTHR investigation exposing a tax loophole worth billions for undocumented workers.
Part three: Congress debates tax loophole
Published on May 11, 2012
13 Investigates is getting action after exposing a multi-billion dollar tax loophole. Members of Congress are debating the problem we first reported in April.
Part four: IRS workers OK “phony” documents from illegal immigrants
Published on Jun 22, 2012
After WTHR exposed a tax loophole that allows illegal immigrants to collect tax credits worth billions, the Internal Revenue Service pointed the finger at Congress. But IRS whistleblowers are now coming forward to say the real blame lies within.
Part five: IRS tackles ITIN fraud
Published on Jun 26, 2012
Change will make it more difficult for undocumented workers to get fraudulent tax credits
I find it interesting that Part five is not present on the WTHR YouTube channel!
Part six: Auditing the IRS
Published on Jul 5, 2012
13 Investigates has learned the tables are turned on a federal agency feared for its ability to audit taxpayers. The IRS is now the focus of a year-long audit, thanks to federal employees who are blowing the whistle. Note: This is a follow-up to a previous story. See all stories here: www.wthr.com/story/18204912/ta…
Wow. My friend Jean Louis Lebreton sent me Part one and was duly appalled, requesting that I share it. I am pretty sure he didn’t realize it was six years old!
I bet it’s still going on.
Massacre at Dachau and other Allied war crimes
Published on Oct 3, 2017
Oh my God. These Americans, of the 42nd and 45th Divisions, killed not only the Germans, but the God damned prisoners, too! Prisoners who had surrendered. Absolutely frigging disgusting.
What a disgrace to the United States of America. Not to mention the P-51 Mustangs who machine-gunned children riding their bicycles in nearby areas. I am so creeped out by these things and even more creeped out by the outcomes as revealed in the presentation and the following Q&A session.
be well. If you can.
Who voted for this woman!
David Harris Jr
Published on Jan 17, 2019
What does this say about the ones that did!
It says that they’re thick as planks.
Apparently there are at least 11,000 uneducated morons in The People’s Republic of the Bronx and Queens that should be truly ashamed of themselves for voting for her.
Ms. Occasional-Cortex is some special kind of stupid as well as being a Communist.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Other Losses – a film by James Bacque
Published on Feb 15, 2018
The deliberate murder of one million German men after WW2 by the Americans.
I first learned of these horrors a few years ago and it did a number on my bearings and thoughts about war and the perception of good and evil. It still grosses me out. In the recountings that I read back then, there were entire families left out in barb wire fenced open fields and anyone caught giving them food or solace was punished rather harshly. We were supposed to be the good guys. Well… that thought vanished, mighty quickly. General Eisenhower was pure scum. Yes, pure.
What I would like to do before I die; and I am completely serious about this, is to dig up Eisenhower’s grave, by hand, open the coffin and fill it with the most disgusting shit available. The same treatment would be doled out for all the other human garbage that were responsible. No exceptions.
try not to throw up
Looks rather formidable…
German infantry moving under the cover of a light tank Pz.Kpfw.I Ausf.B, Norway, spring 1940.
I am hoping that these men are not the comrades of the landser from a couple of posts back! They are certainly mighty close together.
Me, a landser at the rear of the column seeing all fifty of my comrades blown to smithereens by a single 75mm shell because they had no idea how to effectively space themselves:
War is Hell, but it makes some people a lot of money. So traumas like this will, unless we evolve, continue till the end of time.
From ronaldcmerchant, it’s Beast Of Blood (1970)
Looks reasonably disgusting.
Probably some entertaining stuff!
July 16th, 1995 – Chad Gewecke is found wandering the woods of Tanyard Creek in North West Arkansas. He is admitted with minor injuries, and when questioned, he claims his friends were taken or killed by “something huge striding through the trees” that mimicked their voices.
That thing is exceptionally creepy and apparently either quite angry or ravenously hungry.
Justin Case, meine volk, be careful out there, eh.