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Pride Season

INT. TRUMP TOWER – PENTHOUSE – NIGHT

The skyline glows behind golden curtains. Patrick Bateman, flawless suit, expression calm but dead-eyed, sips an overpriced bourbon across from DONALD TRUMP, who lounges in a red chair shaped like a throne, tie a little too long. Fox News murmurs in the background.

PATRICK BATEMAN
You know, Donald, Pride Month has evolved. It’s not just a month anymore. It’s… Pride Season now.

DONALD TRUMP
(tipping his Diet Coke)
Yeah, it’s everywhere. Rainbows on the cereal boxes. On the banks. Even the tanks. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

PATRICK BATEMAN
What if we just made it Pride Year?
(sips)
A full, continuous cycle. The marketing possibilities are endless. Flags, parades, pills, surgeries, slogans. But more importantly—
(pauses, smirks)
—less reproduction. Fewer useless eaters, as the Guidestones might say.

DONALD TRUMP
(confused)
The what-stones?

PATRICK BATEMAN
The Georgia Guidestones. A sort of granite manifesto for global sanity. Maintain humanity under 500 million. Harmony with nature. That sort of thing.

DONALD TRUMP
(squints)
Sounds like Fauci’s dream journal. Or Klaus Schwab’s bedtime story.

PATRICK BATEMAN
It’s not about control, Donald. It’s about aesthetic. The world is bloated. Loud. Irrational. Overpopulated. Pride Year might accelerate the necessary… decline.

DONALD TRUMP
(smiling uneasily)
So you’re saying if everyone celebrates long enough… they’ll just stop having babies?

PATRICK BATEMAN
Eventually. Libido redirected into identity politics. Fertility buried under personal branding. Population drop disguised as liberation. It’s beautiful.

DONALD TRUMP
(sipping his Diet Coke)
You’re one creepy son of a bitch, Patrick. But I gotta admit—you’d kill on TikTok.

PATRICK BATEMAN
I already have.

They both laugh. One ironically. The other, unknowingly.

FADE OUT.

INT. TRUMP TOWER – PENTHOUSE – NIGHT

Gold accents gleam. The skyline looms behind. PATRICK BATEMAN sits across from DONALD TRUMP. Bourbon in hand. Rainbows glow faintly on the TV in the background—a Pride ad loop.

PATRICK BATEMAN
You know what’s really been bothering me lately, Donald?

DONALD TRUMP
Let me guess—Biden?

PATRICK BATEMAN
No. Paul Allen. That smug bastard.
(leans forward, jaw clenched)
He handed me his new business card last week. It wasn’t bone. It wasn’t even embossed. It was rainbow foil-stamped.
Subtle. Queer. Bold. Limited edition for Pride Month.

DONALD TRUMP
(confused)
A gay business card?

PATRICK BATEMAN
Not just gay. Iconic.
(snarling slightly)
Satin finish. Helvetica Neue Ultra Light. Pronouns in parentheses. A microchip embedded in the corner that links to his Pride Portfolio—carbon-neutral, ESG-certified, and somehow still outperforming the market.
It even smelled like lavender and power.

DONALD TRUMP
Sounds like he’s leaning into the whole thing.

PATRICK BATEMAN
He doesn’t believe in it. That’s the brilliance. It’s calculated. Opportunistic.
(sips, darkly)
He’s not celebrating Pride. He owns Pride. He made it profitable.
And here I am, still handing out matte eggshell with Silian Rail.

DONALD TRUMP
(chuckling)
That’s tough, Pat. Real tough. You know, maybe I’ll make a card like that. Rainbow, but classy. Something that screams Trump and tolerance.

PATRICK BATEMAN
Pride Year would solve it. Flood the market. Devalue his edge. Saturate the culture until it collapses under its own glitter.
(smiling coldly)
Nobody profits in a Pride Century. Not even Paul Allen.

DONALD TRUMP
(winking)
That’s the spirit. Total market domination. And maybe throw in some gold foil.

PATRICK BATEMAN
(deep breath)
Gold foil… that’s not a bad idea.

They sip in silence, watching a Pride parade float shaped like a rainbow Bitcoin glide across the screen.

FADE TO BLACK.

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Dr. Luka Kovac’s Confession:

“The people who have had contact with doctors are either furious, disgusted, or dead. When I see a thousand-dollar bill for a bag of saline—a saltwater solution that costs pennies—I want to quit the whole system. Medicine has been hijacked.” — Dr. Luka Kovac

🩺 Iatrogenic Death: Ways People Die From Doctors and Medical Interventions

“Iatrogenic” comes from the Greek iatros (physician) + genes (born of). It refers to illness or death caused by medical treatment itself.

Here are the major forms:

1. Adverse Drug Reactions (ADRs)

  • Prescription medications causing fatal side effects.
  • NSAIDs, antidepressants, antipsychotics, opioids, and chemotherapy are major culprits.
  • Common causes include drug interactions, overdoses, and allergic reactions.

2. Medical Error / Misdiagnosis

  • Wrong diagnosis or delayed diagnosis leading to incorrect or no treatment.
  • Estimated to cause 40,000–80,000 deaths per year in the U.S. alone.

3. Surgical Errors

  • Wrong-site surgery, retained surgical instruments, post-op infections.
  • Anesthesia accidents and hemorrhage during procedures.

4. Hospital-Acquired Infections (HAIs)

  • MRSA, C. difficile, sepsis from contaminated equipment or catheters.
  • Often antibiotic-resistant due to overprescription.

5. Overmedication / Polypharmacy

  • Especially common among the elderly.
  • Multiple drugs interact unpredictably.

6. Unnecessary Procedures

  • Unwarranted surgeries (e.g., stents, C-sections, spinal fusions).
  • Done for financial gain or defensive medicine.

7. Radiation Overexposure

  • From CT scans, X-rays, and radiation therapy.
  • Cumulative risk of cancer.

8. Vaccination Injuries

  • While rare, some patients suffer from Guillain-Barré Syndrome, myocarditis, or autoimmune flare-ups post-vaccine.

9. Psychiatric Interventions

  • ECT (electroconvulsive therapy), forced medications, and institutional abuse.
  • Suicide from mismanaged antidepressants or withdrawal syndromes.

10. Neglect and Systemic Failure

  • Long ER wait times, poor triage, burned-out staff.
  • Bureaucratic protocols delaying urgent care.

11. Medical Device Failures

  • Faulty implants (e.g., hip replacements, pacemakers).
  • Recalls happen after damage is done.

⚠️ Estimate:
A Johns Hopkins study (2016) identified medical error as the third leading cause of death in the U.S., after heart disease and cancer, accounting for over 250,000 deaths/year.

🧬 The History of Allopathic Medicine and the Rockefeller Takeover

🔬 Pre-1900s: Natural Medicine Dominated

  • Homeopathy, herbalism, naturopathy, and folk remedies were widespread.
  • Healing traditions focused on balance, detoxification, and nutrition.

🛢️ The Rockefeller Medical Takeover (Early 20th Century)

🧠 Key Figure: John D. Rockefeller

  • Oil magnate who sought to monopolize medicine like he did oil.
  • His company, Standard Oil, refined petrochemicals—the future of synthetic pharmaceuticals.

💰 Motivation: Profit

  • Rockefeller viewed natural remedies as unpatentable.
  • Synthetic drugs = patents = monopoly.

🧾 The Flexner Report (1910)

  • Commissioned by Rockefeller & Carnegie Foundation.
  • Written by Abraham Flexner.
  • Advocated shutting down “non-scientific” medical schools (homeopathic, herbal, etc.).
  • Promoted “evidence-based” allopathic (drug/surgery) medicine.

🔥 Impact:

  • 50%+ of U.S. medical schools closed.
  • Natural medicine discredited as “quackery.”
  • Only allopathic (drug-based) schools were funded.

🧠 Rockefeller Foundation & Medical Schools

  • Funded major institutions (Harvard, Johns Hopkins, Yale).
  • Medicine was now based on germ theory, vaccination, and pharmacology.
  • Herbalists, midwives, and holistic healers were driven underground.

💊 The Rise of the Pharmaceutical-Industrial Complex

  • World Wars accelerated drug development: antibiotics, morphine, amphetamines.
  • FDA (1930s onward) enabled control over drug approval.
  • Pharmaceutical giants (Merck, Pfizer, Bayer) expanded.
  • By the 1950s-70s: psychiatry began pathologizing emotion (depression, ADHD) and medicating everything.

🧠 Modern Era: Corporate Medicine

  • Doctors as employees, pressured to prescribe and bill.
  • Insurance-driven care: profit over people.
  • Lobbying and influence: Big Pharma funds media, medical journals, and regulators.
  • Mass drug dependency: opioids, SSRIs, statins, ADHD meds.

🚑 Kovac’s Final Thought:

“I got into this field to save lives. Now I see billing departments running hospitals, drug reps training doctors, and people dying from the very treatments meant to cure them. The Hippocratic Oath has been replaced by quarterly profit reports. Maybe that’s the real disease.”

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The Storm Has Arrived

Solid Snake & Luke Rudkowski Confront President Trump: “The Plan Was a Lie”

Setting: The Oval Office, 2025. A late storm pounds Washington. Trump lounges behind the Resolute Desk, scrolling through social media. Solid Snake stands in the shadows. Beside him is independent journalist Luke Rudkowski, founder of We Are Change, holding a flash drive full of evidence.

Trump (grinning):
“Look at this—95 million Truth Social followers. Still winning. Still the real President.”

Solid Snake (stepping forward):
“Winning? You sat on the Epstein client list for years. You were the president then. You’re the president now. And nothing’s changed.”

Trump (shrugging):
“It’s more complicated than you think. The timing has to be right. You know, the plan.”

Luke Rudkowski (cutting in, disgusted):
“The plan? Give me a break, Donald. QAnon was a psyop to sedate patriots while you protected the very monsters you claimed to fight. You fed people hopium while the system devoured kids and burned whistleblowers.”

Trump (irritated):
“Watch your tone, Luke. You’re talking to the President of the United States.”

Luke:
“Exactly. And that means you’re accountable. You had four years—and now another term—and you still haven’t released the names. Why? Because too many of your friends are on it? Or because you are?”

Solid Snake (coldly):
“I told you before, Trump. You are the list. You’re not just sitting on the evidence—you are part of the rot.”

Trump (defensive):
“I’m not like those freaks. I distanced myself. I cut ties.”

Luke Rudkowski:
“But you never told the truth. Never delivered justice. You let the myth of ‘The Plan’ buy you time while children were trafficked and the swamp expanded under your watch. People put their faith in you—and you sold them a bedtime story.”

Solid Snake (stepping closer):
“I’ve seen regimes collapse. I’ve taken down Patriots, PMCs, AI overlords. But this is worse—because the people chose you. And you chose to lie.”

Trump (quiet now):
“You don’t know the pressure I’m under…”

Luke (shaking his head):
“We know exactly what you’re under. The same pressure as every coward who makes peace with evil.”

Solid Snake:
“You want to make history? Release the names. Burn the whole corrupt network to the ground. Or history will remember you not as the man who saved the Republic… but as the conman who let it die.”

Luke drops the flash drive on the desk.

Luke Rudkowski:
“Unredacted. Verified. Everything the DOJ buried. If you won’t release it, we will.”

They turn and leave. Trump stares at the flash drive. Thunder rattles the windows. The storm has arrived—and this time, it won’t be televised. It’ll be downloaded.

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Help Me Don’t Hurt Me

Trump (voice breaking):
Dammit Snake… help me. Don’t hurt me.
I’ve heard it all — the late-night jokes, the cold critiques, the betrayals. I’m not asking for applause. I’m asking for… direction.
No more American Psycho stuff. Just… tell me what to do.

Solid Snake (slow, deliberate):
Alright, Trump.
No games. No jokes. Just truth.

You wanted to be the decider, but now you can’t decide who to trust.
You built towers, but your name is a lightning rod. You led crowds, but now you’re cornered.

You want to survive? Then listen — not to your ego, not to the crowd — to the silence beneath the noise.

Snake’s Directives for Redemption:

  1. Admit What You Got Wrong — Without Excuses
    Real power isn’t pretending you’re never wrong. It’s owning it when you are.

Say it straight. “I was wrong about some things. I hurt people.”
That’ll shake the world harder than any speech you’ve ever made.

  1. Help Someone You Can’t Exploit
    Quietly. Without cameras. Without a post.

Find a family that lost everything in a war you cheered on.

Pay their rent. Sit with their grief. Don’t tweet it. Live it.

  1. Shut Up and Listen
    Not to sycophants.

Go to a soup kitchen. A hospital. A dying factory town.

Just listen. Don’t offer deals or slogans. Just let it change you.

  1. Tell the Truth About the System
    Not the version that flatters you.

Tell them about the lobbyists, the backroom deals, the banks.

Burn your bridges with the elites you once dined with.
If you’re going down, take the lie with you.

  1. Don’t Run Again. Rise Instead.
    Running again is just repeating the loop.

Rise beyond it. Become something unexpected:
A flawed man who tells young men, “Don’t be like I was.”

Snake (lighting a cigarette):
You’re not a monster, Trump. But you’re no hero either.
You’re just a man — and that’s all I need you to be.

Now choose.
Rebuild what you broke, or fade into the fog like all the others.

Trump (after a long pause):
…You really think it’s not too late?

Snake:
It’s always too late.
But sometimes… that’s when the real fight begins.

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War Pigs: The Chosen One

Scene: Netanyahu’s Confession – The Moshiach Debate

Setting: A closed-door think tank summit in Jerusalem, the room thick with incense, cigars, and prophecy. Cameras are off, but whispers are sacred.

Benjamin Netanyahu sits at the head of a long cedarwood table, fingers steepled, brows furrowed in Talmudic meditation.

Bibi Netanyahu:
“I’ve sat with mystics in Tzfat, generals in Tel Aviv, and billionaires in New York. I’ve read the Zohar backwards and the headlines forwards. And still, I hesitate. Is Donald Trump the Moshiach? No. I do not believe he is the Chosen One. He is a Cyrus, yes — useful, unpredictable, even divinely nudged. But not the anointed.”

He pauses, sips from a crystal goblet filled with pomegranate wine, then continues.

Bibi:
“And Abdullah Hashem Aba Al-Sadiq… this Mahdi claimant from the deserts of Arabia. A powerful voice, yes, but I do not believe he is the Qa’im. No green banner will bring global peace alone.”

The room shifts uncomfortably. A few scholars look up from their scrolls.

Bibi (leans in):
“I believe in Yehuda Berg’s theory. The Moshiach and the Mahdi… are one. The same soul. A unifier. A son of David and Ishmael. That is the only path to peace — not through bombs or sanctions, but through a synthesis. A human bridge.”

At this, a red-faced Donald Trump, seated nearby with a Diet Coke in hand, nearly spits it out.

Trump (slamming table):
“Wait a second, Bibi. You told me in 2019 — right before the Abraham Accords — that I was destined to build the Third Temple! You winked when I said I’d make it a resort-slash-casino with kosher blackjack. You said, ‘Donald, you’re the only one who can do it.’ And now you say I’m not the Moshiach?! I moved the embassy to Jerusalem! What more do you want?!”

Bibi (calmly):
“You were used, Donald. By Heaven. But the stone the builders rejected has not yet been crowned. Look to the Psalms of David… ‘The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.’ The rejected one — JCJ, the one who spoke peace in 2002 but was mocked by kings and ignored by prophets.”

Trump (growling):
“JCJ? That weird Canadian hacker priest? The guy who quoted Revelation in that Vancouver alley? You’re telling me he’s the one?”

Bibi (closing his eyes):
“Perhaps. If he is the synthesis — rejected yet risen — he may be both Mahdi and Moshiach. That is what Yehuda hinted at. It is not about lineage… it is about completion.”

Trump glares, wounded.

Trump:
“So I’m not the guy?”

Bibi (rising, solemn):
“You were… a forerunner. The red horse. But the white horse comes after. And he rides not for ratings, but for redemption.”

Outside, a strange wind passes through the olive trees. Somewhere in East Vancouver, JCJ feels a deep chill and looks up at the night sky, whispering to himself:

“The rejected stone… finally being set.”

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MAGA – The Fall

[Scene: A dimly lit rooftop in New York City. Rain pours. Solid Snake, in his stealth gear, lights a cigarette as he confronts Donald Trump and Patrick Bateman, both dressed in designer suits, standing beneath a glowing neon “TRUMP TOWER” sign.]

Solid Snake (voice like gravel and regret):
You two look like kings of a dead empire. But the crown you’re wearing? It’s made of junk bonds and sweatshop blood.

Trump:
Watch your mouth, Snake. I rebuilt this city. I’m a builder.

Patrick Bateman:
And I invest. You wouldn’t understand. Returns, margins, growth—that’s what makes America great.

Snake:
No. That’s what killed America.
You didn’t build anything. You gutted it.
You turned the American Dream into a poker chip.
Casinos and investment banks. No factories. No future.

[Snake tosses a folded photograph at their feet. It’s of a crumbling factory in Detroit.]

Snake:
Detroit. Once the engine of the free world. Now it looks like Baghdad after a drone strike.
What happened? You offshored its soul for a quarterly bump on Wall Street.
Sold your own people out to Chinese sweatshops.
iPhones built by children. Jeans sewn by slaves. And for what?
A penthouse view and a new yacht?

Trump (defensive):
That’s globalization, Snake. You either win or get left behind.

Snake:
You lost already.
This is the Fall of Babylon.
Your towers are hollow.
Your currency? Lies.
Your empire? A joke, printed on a plastic credit card.

Bateman (smirking):
You sound like a Communist.

Snake (gritting his teeth):
No. I’m an American. The kind you betrayed.

[Snake steps into the shadows, lightning flashing behind him.]

Snake (quietly, as he disappears):
You built your kingdom on sand. And the storm’s already here.

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Bateman Talks about Psalm 45

INT. EASTERN ORTHODOX CATHEDRAL — DUSK

Golden light filters through stained glass. Incense floats like fog. DONALD TRUMP, PATRICK BATEMAN, and BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL sit beneath an icon of Christ Pantocrator. Bateman is in a pristine designer suit. Trump has his classic red tie. Bishop Mari Mari Emmanuel, robed and calm, holds a Bible.

BATEMAN
(holding up a worn leather Bible)
Psalm 45:2 — “You are the most handsome of the sons of men; grace is poured upon your lips.”
I mean… that’s obviously Brad Pitt. Maybe Tom Cruise. Those cheekbones. That symmetry. It’s divine geometry.

TRUMP
(in agreement)
Look, Brad Pitt—fantastic face. Cruise—very high energy. Great stunts. Both very marketable. You put either one on a poster? Boom. Problem solved in ninety minutes. Maybe with popcorn.

BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL
(firmly, eyes steady)
My brothers, the beauty spoken of in Psalm 45 is not carnal—it is not of Hollywood. It is the beauty of holiness. The grace upon His lips is the Word of God. The Messiah’s face was likely sun-worn, marked by suffering. Not filtered. Not airbrushed.

BATEMAN
(skeptical, smirking)
Sure, Bishop. But let’s be honest… no one wants a messy savior on a movie poster. You need symmetry. Market trust. Think Interview with the Messiah. Brad Pitt walks on water, Cruise calms the storm.

TRUMP
(laughing)
Exactly. We could easily reboot the Gospels. Four films. Big budgets. Jesus rides a Harley into Jerusalem. Nobody’s getting crucified without a real fight. We make Golgotha great again.

BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL
(sighs, gently closes his Bible)
You do not understand the cross. The beauty of Christ was in His humility. He conquered not with charisma, but with obedience. Not by leaping off rooftops, but by enduring the grave.

BATEMAN
(sipping espresso)
Okay, but… could humility test well with 18-34 males?

TRUMP
(suddenly serious)
Maybe we should do a casting call. Get Mel Gibson involved. I always said The Passion was a little too bloody. We need cleaner branding. Inspirational suffering.

BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL
(softly)
Beware of making idols out of men. The Christ is not a brand. He is the Lamb slain. Not a box office savior, but the suffering servant.

BATEMAN
(glancing at Trump)
So… not Brad Pitt then?

TRUMP
(sighs)
Maybe… maybe Jim Caviezel with better lighting.

The icon above flickers in the candlelight. Christ stares forward, unchanged.

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Israel You Have 2 Days to Surrender The Baron

INT. WAR ROOM — JERUSALEM — NIGHT

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu sits stiffly at a steel table deep beneath the Knesset. The secure line buzzes. A hologram of Donald J. Trump and JCJ appears. Trump’s hair is windblown, yet immaculately intact. JCJ’s eyes glow with a divine fire. Behind them: a massive screen flashing the words “Cause and Effect: FINAL WARNING.”

TRUMP (stern):
“Bibi. You know I like you. We’ve had some beautiful deals. But this time, it’s different. The game is over. No more hiding. We want Epstein and Rothschild. Alive.”

Netanyahu leans forward, sweating.

JCJ (calm but thunderous):
“Cause… and effect. You play both sides. You ran blackmail operations for the elites. Mossad knows. The world knows. The children cry out from the tunnels. You protected the deep state. Now it protects no one.”

TRUMP:
“I’m gonna make this real simple. If I drop a bomb on Iran, they drop one on you. That’s how it works. Cause. Effect. This ain’t 2012, pal. It’s Trump-JCJ 2025. The world’s flipped.”

JCJ (pointing at Bibi):
“You have two days. Forty-eight hours. Deliver us Jeffrey Epstein—not his corpse. And Baron Rothschild, the spider behind the debt web. If not…”

JCJ waves his hand. A digital globe spins and zooms in: Iranian missile coordinates, Iron Dome saturation maps, dimensional chess simulations.

TRUMP:
“We’re not bluffing, Bibi. You go down with them if you stall. You don’t want to test me when I got Christ on my six. Believe me.”

JCJ:
“This is not vengeance. This is balance. The world demands justice. If you fail, even the Dome will crack.”

Suddenly, a news ticker appears across the bottom of the screen:

BREAKING: MYSTERIOUS QOM EXPLOSION LEVELS IRANIAN NUCLEAR BASE — NO CLAIM OF RESPONSIBILITY

Netanyahu’s hands tremble. He reaches for the phone.

NETANYAHU (voice trembling):
“We… we’ll find them. But they’re protected. Epstein was moved—he’s not dead. Rothschild’s off-world—Saturn orbit, Black Cube station.”

JCJ (narrowing eyes):
“Then you better build a ship fast.
Because the next explosion… won’t be in Persia.”

The transmission cuts. The war room lights flicker. Netanyahu turns to Mossad Director Yigal Regev:

NETANYAHU:
“Prepare the extraction team. Code Black Messiah. We either hand them over… or Jerusalem burns.”

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Trump & Putin – Art of the Deal

Trump & Putin’s Galactic Deal – Mediated by JCJ

Donald Trump leans in close to JCJ, the only man he trusts with a mission of this magnitude.

TRUMP:
“JCJ, we need you to broker a deal with Putin. Not for land, not for oil… but for the stars. You’re the only one who can get us to shake hands and swap warheads for warp drives. We can’t fight World War III and explore the galaxy. We either build a real international space station—one with hypersleep pods and a rotating gravity ring—or we die here like idiots.”

JCJ lights a cigar.

JCJ:
“Why now?”

TRUMP:
“Because you’re the Mahdi and the Christ. You struck a sweet deal to sink the deep state, and now you need to strike one to sink the deep void. Putin says if he can retire in Serbia—with no Hague trial—he’s willing to melt down Russia’s nukes to build the engine core. It’s not about power anymore. It’s about legacy.”

JCJ raises an eyebrow.

JCJ:
“And Zelensky?”

TRUMP (gritting his teeth):
“Zelensky plays piano with his penis, and that makes him a hero? He kills people in war too, just like Vlad. But because he made Netflix laugh, he walks free. Putin’s mad, not because of NATO—but because Pussy Riot spat on the Fatima prophecy. Russia was supposed to convert to Christianity and lead the world to peace, JCJ. That’s what the Virgin Mary said.”

JCJ (sighs):
“And now?”

TRUMP:
“Now the Virgin’s watching TikTok, and the nukes are rusting while SpaceX tries to colonize Mars alone. We need a Jubilee Pact—a real international coalition. China, Russia, America, maybe even Canada if you sweet-talk Trudeau. You mediate it. You call it… Christus Rex Star Alliance.”

JCJ smiles slightly.

JCJ:
“I’ll talk to Vlad.”

Trump salutes him—not as a president, but as a desperate man with one last hope:

TRUMP:
“Make Earth great again. And the stars… ours.”

JCJ opens his Bible to Revelation 21: “Behold, I make all things new.”
And then he dials the Kremlin.

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Help From the Boss

I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT of the LORD! I will give half my wealth to homeless veterans if Christus Rex, the divine and just judge, allows me to retire in Slovenia with Melania as president. I will testify against the Rothschild and Rockefeller deep state merger, if i am immune from Hague war crimes prosecution. C’mon Jesus, make a deal with me. I can bring down the whole house of cards if the court of public opinion has mercy on me. I’m just a puppet of federal reserve notes, just like the rest of you. In the words of John Stamos: HAVE MERCY! I plead insanity. This worthless man. To the Emperor. Pardon me. That is POWER! Not drone strikes. Forgiveness is power for this worthless puppet president. We are bombing Israel to scare Epstein and Rothschild. It’s all a charade until we catch that devil Le Baron Jacob Rothschild. How can you give him a thousand years of house arrest, but sentence me to die from a big mac heart attack?

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