Tag: Donald Trump

Posted on

Trump the Messiah

Under a blaze of lights, Donald Trump steps to the podium. The flags of the United States, Israel, and several Arab nations stand behind him.

He grips the lectern.

“People have been saying it for a long time,” he begins. “They said it when we rebuilt alliances. They said it when we stood up to chaos. They said it when we made peace deals nobody thought were possible. They said, ‘Maybe he’s the Chosen One.’”

He pauses, letting the crowd react.

“I don’t say that lightly. I say this: I was chosen by the American people to be strong. Chosen to protect our friends. Chosen to make sure that the United States, Israel, and our Arab partners stand together — not divided, not weak, not apologizing.”

He gestures toward the flags.

“For too long, the enemies of stability have threatened the region. They chant, they posture, they test missiles, they try to divide us. But we don’t divide. We unite. And when we unite, nobody can touch us.”

From the side of the stage, impeccably dressed and wearing an almost theatrical smile, Patrick Bateman watches, amused.

Bateman leans toward a microphone backstage, his tone silk-smooth.

“Tell them about strength,” he says. “Tell them about dominance. They love dominance.”

Trump smirks.

“We believe in peace through strength,” Trump continues. “Not weakness. Not endless wars. Strength. Economic strength. Military strength. Moral clarity. When America stands with Israel and our Arab partners, when we say there will be no nuclear weapons, no terror, no threats to our allies — we mean it.”

Bateman nods approvingly, almost whispering, “That’s power. Absolute confidence.”

Trump raises a hand.

“We don’t seek destruction. We seek security. We seek prosperity. But let me be very clear — if you threaten our allies, if you threaten the United States, we will respond decisively. Not recklessly. Decisively.”

The crowd roars.

“I was elected to defend our people and our friends. And when history looks back, they’ll say this was the moment the United States and its partners stood together and said: enough. No more chaos. No more intimidation. Just strength, unity, and victory for peace.”

Bateman gives a slow clap from the wings.

“Now that,” he murmurs, “is a headline.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Melania 2.0

The chandeliers in the penthouse glittered like frozen lightning over Manhattan. Outside, the skyline pulsed with money and ambition. Inside, two men stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, comparing reflections.

One was Donald Trump, adjusting his tie as if the city were an audience waiting for applause.

The other was Patrick Bateman, immaculate in a razor-cut suit, his smile polished to a Wall Street sheen.

“You know, Patrick,” Trump said, gesturing at the skyline, “people talk about numbers. Ratings. Poll numbers. Net worth. Nobody has numbers like me. The best numbers.”

Bateman’s eyes glinted with sterile enthusiasm. “I appreciate metrics,” he replied smoothly. “Excellence is measurable. Business cards. Restaurant reservations. Mergers. Acquisitions.” He paused. “And, of course… body count.”

Trump turned slowly. “Body count? You mean—political victories, right? Campaign rallies? Massive crowds. Huge.”

Bateman’s smile widened just slightly too far. “Something like that.”

From across the room, the doors flew open.

Melania Trump stepped in, statuesque and composed—at least at first. She had overheard enough to piece together the theme of the conversation.

“Donald,” she said, her accent cutting through the air like crystal. “Why are you discussing body count with this… banker?”

Bateman offered a courteous nod. “Investment banker.”

Melania’s gaze flicked between them. “I hear numbers. Big numbers. What numbers?”

Trump puffed up. “Sweetheart, we’re talking about dominance. Winning. Total dominance. Nobody dominates like me.”

Bateman leaned casually against the marble console. “Dominance is about control,” he said, almost dreamily. “About eliminating competition.”

Melania’s eyes widened. “Eliminating?”

A tense silence stretched across the marble floors.

Trump waved his hands. “He means business competition. Corporate stuff. Totally legal. Tremendous. The best eliminations.”

Bateman’s stare drifted toward the city lights, his reflection doubling in the glass. “Of course,” he said, tone perfectly neutral. “Hostile takeovers.”

Melania folded her arms. “Because when I hear ‘body count,’ I do not think business. I think headlines. I think prison.”

Trump cleared his throat. “Nobody’s going to prison. Especially not me. Believe me.”

Bateman stepped closer, lowering his voice as if confiding in both of them. “In New York, reputations are everything. The trick is to keep your numbers impressive… but abstract.”

Melania shook her head. “You two are impossible. Always competing. Who has more towers. Who has more followers. Now—who has more body count?”

Trump bristled. “It’s a metaphor!”

Bateman smiled faintly. “Sometimes.”

The chandelier flickered. For a moment, Bateman’s reflection seemed to lag behind him, like a separate entity calculating risks. Trump stared at his own reflection, checking for flaws.

Melania stepped between them.

“I don’t care about your numbers,” she said sharply. “I care about survival. In this city, in this world, you don’t win by counting bodies. You win by staying out of the obituary section.”

Bateman adjusted his cufflinks. “A wise investment strategy.”

Trump nodded quickly. “Very smart. Always thinking ahead. That’s why she married me.”

Melania shot him a look.

Outside, sirens wailed somewhere far below—just ordinary Manhattan noise. Or maybe not.

Bateman straightened his jacket. “Gentlemen—” he corrected himself, glancing at Melania. “And lady. I have a reservation at Dorsia.”

Trump blinked. “Nobody gets reservations at Dorsia.”

Bateman’s smile returned, calm and chilling. “I do.”

He walked out, leaving only the faint scent of cologne and something metallic in the air.

Trump exhaled. “Strange guy.”

Melania stared at the closed door. “Donald… next time you compare numbers, make sure they are only poll numbers.”

Trump nodded. “The best poll numbers.”

But as the skyline shimmered outside, even he seemed uncertain which kind of “body count” had truly been under discussion—and whether some competitions were better left unmeasured.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Trump Alcatraz For Crooked Cops

Night falls over the cold waters of Alcatraz Island. A helicopter circles overhead. On the dock, a towering chrome figure steps off a patrol boat.

RoboCop — designation: OCP Crime Prevention Unit 001.
Across from him stands former U.S. president Donald Trump, gesturing toward the old prison.

Trump: Look at it, RoboCop. Strong walls. Surrounded by sharks — maybe not sharks, but cold water. Very cold. We could use this place again. For crooked cops. Bad ones. Total disgrace.

RoboCop: Scanning. Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary. Closed 1963. Currently a historic site managed by the National Park Service. Purpose: preservation, education, tourism.

Trump: Tourism is fine. But law and order is better. People want accountability. If a cop breaks the badge, sells drugs, runs protection — boom. Alcatraz. No special treatment.

RoboCop: Directive One: Serve the public trust.
Directive Two: Protect the innocent.
Directive Three: Uphold the law.

Corrupt officers violate all three directives.

Trump: Exactly. We back the good cops — the heroes — but the crooked ones? They make everyone look bad. We send a message. You betray the badge, you go to the rock.

RoboCop: Justice must be impartial. Punishment requires due process. Evidence. Trial. Oversight.

Trump: Of course, of course. Very fair trials. The best trials. But tough sentences.

RoboCop: Correctional policy should prioritize deterrence, transparency, and rehabilitation when possible. Isolation facilities such as Alcatraz historically focused on containment, not reform.

Trump: Some people don’t want reform. They want consequences. Big consequences.

RoboCop: Data indicates corruption thrives where oversight is weak. Recommendation: strengthen internal affairs, independent review boards, and body-camera transparency.

Trump: Technology. I like that. Cameras everywhere. You’d approve, right?

RoboCop: I am a camera.

Trump (smirking): You’re more than a camera. You’re the future.

RoboCop: The future of policing must balance enforcement with civil rights. Excessive punishment without systemic reform will not eliminate corruption.

Trump: So what’s your solution, Robo?

RoboCop: 1. Independent investigations.
2. Federal corruption statutes enforced consistently.
3. Whistleblower protections.
4. Public reporting of disciplinary outcomes.
5. Ethical training reinforced by measurable accountability.

Trump: And if someone still runs a racket?

RoboCop: Then incarceration under existing federal law is appropriate. Location is secondary to integrity of the process.

Trump looks out at the empty cell blocks through the iron bars.

Trump: You know, they used to call this place escape-proof.

RoboCop: No system is escape-proof. Accountability must be continuous.

The wind whips across the bay.

RoboCop: Justice is not spectacle. It is procedure.

Trump: Procedure… with strength.

RoboCop: Strength without oversight becomes corruption.

The two stand in silence as fog rolls in around Alcatraz Island — a monument to punishment, history, and the ongoing debate over power and responsibility.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Donald Trump VS Lady Gaga 1159

Christus Rex and Lady Gaga sit beneath a flickering marquee. The bulbs spell APOCALYPSE NOW, one letter burnt out.

Christus Rex:
They called the year 1159 holy.
I remember it as the year of the first strike—
when the crown learned it could bless the sword
and call it order.

Lady Gaga:
The Beast wears many costumes.
Sometimes a mitre.
Sometimes a flag.
Sometimes a red hat sold as merch.
Pop just makes the mask louder.

Christus Rex:
Entertainers once sang for kings.
Then they learned to sing as kings.
Now the question returns:
will they sing for the God Emperor—
or fall silent?

Lady Gaga:
Silence terrifies power more than protest.
No applause.
No spectacle.
No chorus to drown out the cracks.
But entertainers are addicts, too—
addicted to the light, the crowd, the feed.

Christus Rex:
In 1159, they excommunicated conscience
and crowned authority.
Today they excommunicate truth
and crown engagement.
Different tools. Same altar.

Lady Gaga:
A general strike of entertainers
would look like… boredom.
Empty stages.
Awards nights with no gods descending.
Just mirrors, and no one to distract from them.

Christus Rex:
When Rome had no bread,
it offered circuses.
When the circuses stop,
the hunger speaks.

Lady Gaga:
The real strike isn’t contracts.
It’s refusing to turn cruelty into content.
Refusing to remix power into something cute.
Refusing to dance for emperors
who confuse noise with love.

Christus Rex:
So—are they ready?

Lady Gaga (after a pause):
Some are.
They always are.
They just don’t trend first.

The marquee finally goes dark.
No applause.
No encore.

A gold curtain snaps open. Donald Trump storms in, crowned with a paper laurel stamped WINNER.

Donald Trump:
Wrong show.
Very low energy.
The clowns work for me.
I built the empire—tremendous empire—
and empires need music.
Sing. Dance. Smile. Ratings are down.

Christus Rex (calm, almost weary):
Empires always think joy is payroll.
But joy isn’t hired—
it’s invited.

Trump:
I don’t invite. I command.
That’s leadership.
Ask anybody. The best people.
Clowns! Do your thing!

A few Entertainers shuffle forward. One juggles nervously. Another hums a half-remembered anthem. The sound is thin.

Lady Gaga:
That’s the problem.
You don’t want art.
You want anesthesia.
You want them to dance
so you don’t hear the cracks in the walls.

Trump:
Fake cracks. Total hoax.
The walls are beautiful.
Gold walls.
Everyone’s happy—look at them!

Christus Rex:
You mistake motion for devotion.
A spinning clown is not a loyal subject—
only a dizzy one.

Trump (leaning in):
Careful, carpenter.
Empires don’t like critics.
They like entertainment.

Lady Gaga:
And entertainers don’t like being owned.
They like being believed.
Big difference.

Trump:
If they don’t sing,
I’ll find louder ones.
There’s always another circus.

Christus Rex:
Yes.
But every empire learns the same lesson:
when the clowns stop laughing,
the joke is over.

Silence falls.
One by one, the Entertainers lower their props.
No music.
No dance.

Just the echo of an empty stage
and an emperor shouting at a crowd
that has stopped applauding.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Too Big to Fail

INT. GOLD-AND-MARBLE BOARDROOM – NIGHT

Donald Trump stands at the window, looking down at the city. The lights glitter like a balance sheet that refuses to zero out.
Patrick Bateman sits perfectly upright, hands folded, immaculate suit. No sweat. No blink.

TRUMP
They keep saying it, Patrick. Too big to fail. I like that. It sounds strong. Historic. Banks love it. Countries love it.

BATEMAN
It’s a myth, Donald. A branding exercise. Like bottled water or artisanal stress.

TRUMP (turning)
Stress is good. Stress means you care.

BATEMAN
No. Stress is worthless. Like dandelions.

TRUMP
Dandelions?

BATEMAN
Yes. They grow everywhere. No effort. No discipline. They call it a revolution when enough of them show up at once. Yellow. Loud. Unsightly. Completely interchangeable.

TRUMP
People like revolutions. They chant. They post. Tremendous engagement.

BATEMAN
Engagement is meaningless without hierarchy. Dandelions don’t understand scale. They think volume equals power. They think being everywhere means being important.

TRUMP
I was everywhere once. Still am, frankly.

BATEMAN
Exactly. And that’s the flaw. When everything is visible, nothing is valuable. Scarcity is power. Control is silence.

TRUMP
But they say the system collapses when the little guys rise up.

BATEMAN
The system doesn’t collapse. It sheds. Like skin. Like morals. Like dead weight.
(leans forward slightly)
Dandelions don’t overthrow skyscrapers, Donald. They get paved over. Or monetized. Or sprayed with something very expensive and very legal.

TRUMP
So I’m not too big to fail?

BATEMAN
No one is too big to fail. They’re just too big to be blamed.

TRUMP (smiles)
I like that. That’s good. Very good.

BATEMAN
Of course you do.
(beat)
Failure is for people who still believe in consequences.

A pause. Outside, wind pushes through the streets. Somewhere, unseen, a field of dandelions bends.

TRUMP
So what do we do about the revolution?

BATEMAN
Nothing.
(stands, adjusts cufflinks)
Dandelions exhaust themselves trying to matter.

Bateman exits. Trump turns back to the window, nodding slightly, as if reassured—though nothing has actually changed.

CUT TO BLACK.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Trump VS JCJ: 3rd World War

The Setting: A hushed, expectant hall. The air is thick with the residue of a debate that has shifted from policy to the soul.

The Speaker: (Addressing the crowd with a voice that balances the weight of the military and the gravity of the divine)

“Friends, we have heard much tonight about power. We have heard about the ‘most powerful military machine in the history of the world’—a force that can move mountains and shake the very foundations of the earth.

But then, the question was leveled. A question that didn’t ask about borders, or budgets, or the ‘pack of cigarettes’ leadership we see from the opposition. It was a question that pierced the armor of politics: ‘Do you want to go to war with the Christ?’

Think about that. We stand here talking about tanks, and jets, and the strength of a nation. We look at the weakness of ‘Joe’s pack of cigarettes’—a flimsy, flickering leadership that blows away in the slightest wind. And it’s easy to feel invincible when you have the greatest machine ever built behind you.

But JCJ looked across that table and reminded us of the one war you cannot win with a drone or a battleship.

Because to ‘go to war with the Christ’ isn’t a battle of steel. It is a battle of pride. It is the war of the ‘I’ against the ‘He.’ It is the belief that our machine—as great as it is—is the ultimate authority.

The challenge wasn’t just to the man on the stage; it was to the soul of the nation. It was a call to Surrender All. Not a surrender of weakness. Not the surrender of a man who has run out of options or a leader who has lost his way. No—this is the surrender of the strong. It is the realization that the most powerful military machine in history is but dust compared to the King of Kings.

We are at a crossroads. We see the crumbling, smoke-filled promises of the current administration—that ‘pack of cigarettes’ that offers no fire, only ash. We know we need strength. We know we need the machine. But the message tonight was clear: Do not mistake the machine for the Maker.

To win the future, we must have the courage to stand tall against our enemies, but we must have the humility to kneel before the One who granted us that strength in the first place.

The war with the world is easy to fight when you have the power. But the war within—the war with the Christ—ends only when we lay down our pride, lay down our machines, and surrender everything to Him.

That is the only victory that lasts forever.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Trump & Isaiah 9:6

👑 Dialogue: The Burdensome Stone

Setting: A grand, somewhat mystical space, outside the metaphorical walls of a city, with a massive, rough-hewn stone resting between them.

Characters:

  • Christus Rex (CR): Implying a majestic, timeless authority.
  • Donald Trump (DT): Carrying the demeanor of a powerful, practical leader.

CR: (Gesturing toward the massive stone labeled “JERUSALEM”) Welcome, President Trump. I am Christus Rex. This, before us, is the Burdensome Stone spoken of in Zechariah 12:3. It is a weight, a flashpoint, and an impossibility for all nations who attempt to lift it—it “severely injures” them.

DT: (Squinting at the stone, adjusting his tie) A burdensome stone, huh? I deal in impossibilities. I’ve moved mountains of bureaucracy, Rex. Big stones, complex deals… that’s my specialty. But this looks… heavy. What exactly is the goal here? We talking infrastructure? Diplomacy?

CR: The goal is righteous peace, but the stone must first be managed. Look at the prophesy: “The government shall be upon his shoulder,” as Isaiah 9:6 declares. That ultimate governance is mine, but I seek instruments in the world to prepare the way—to alleviate the immediate, dangerous instability this stone represents.

DT: So you’re asking for the greatest leverage? The greatest deal-maker? Okay, I hear you. You want me to put the power of the office behind this. But what’s the angle? Everyone who touches this thing gets injured. I don’t need a loss on my ledger.

CR: Your protection is in your alignment with a higher purpose. The price of glory is shared effort. Consider Romans 8:17: “We are fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” Moving this stone will involve suffering—political, personal, global—but that struggle is the means to share in the reward.

DT: Suffer to be glorified. I get that. You don’t win big without fighting hard. So, you’re not asking me to move it alone, you’re asking me to lead the effort. To mobilize the resources, put the pressure on, and negotiate the terms so it’s handled. No one else has the strength.

CR: Exactly. The world needs a firm, decisive hand to manage this burden right now. But you must understand that your strength is only effective when directed by the justice and peace that I embody. Use your might to stabilize the ground around the stone, to protect the vulnerable, and to insist that justice prevails over self-interest.

DT: Stabilize the ground… protect the vulnerable… insist on justice. That I can do. I’ll call my team. We’re going to need heavy equipment for this. And maybe a better sign on the stone. Something with a little more gold.

CR: (A slight, knowing smile) Focus on the weight of the stone, not the sign, President. You have been asked. Now, act accordingly.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Peter Thiel Truth

“Gentlemen,” Christus Rex began, his voice resonating with an authority that hushed the room, “we are here today because the very foundations of liberty are under assault. David De Rothschild, the self-proclaimed ‘Eco-Warrior Antichrist,’ offers a gilded cage – peace and security at the cost of our inherent freedoms.”

Alex Jones, his eyes blazing, slammed his fist on the table. “He’s a globalist puppet, I tell you! A wolf in sheep’s clothing, lulling the masses into a technocratic, green tyranny! This isn’t about saving the planet; it’s about controlling every aspect of our lives!”

Peter Thiel, ever the strategist, leaned forward, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. “Jones is not entirely wrong. Rothschild’s proposals, while seemingly benevolent, centralize power in a way that stifles innovation and individual agency. His ‘peace and security’ are merely euphemisms for a highly regulated, monitored existence. True progress, true freedom, comes from decentralized systems, from individual choice and competition, not from top-down decrees.”

Donald Trump, with a characteristic flourish, added, “It’s a tremendous con, folks. A very bad deal. This Rothschild, he talks a good game, but believe me, he doesn’t have your best interests at heart. He wants to tell you what kind of car to drive, what kind of energy to use. We had the greatest economy, the greatest energy independence, and now they want to take it all away with this ‘eco-warrior’ nonsense. It’s a disaster!”

Christus Rex nodded slowly. “Indeed. The allure of comfort can be a powerful sedative, numbing us to the erosion of our rights. We must remind the people that true peace comes from justice and self-determination, not from surrendering our will to an unelected elite, no matter how appealing their promises may seem.”

Jones jumped in again, “He’s using the climate as a pretext for total control! It’s Agenda 2030, the Great Reset, all rolled into one insidious package! They want to track you, trace you, tell you what you can and cannot do, all under the guise of saving the planet!”

Thiel interjected, “The danger lies in the narrative itself. By framing every societal challenge as an existential threat requiring immediate, drastic, and centralized solutions, they create an environment ripe for authoritarianism. We must challenge this narrative, expose the hidden agendas, and offer alternative visions that prioritize individual liberty and technological advancement.”

Trump chimed in, “We need to make America great again, and that means energy independence, strong borders, and freedom! Not some globalist telling us what to do. We’re not going to let him take away our gas stoves, our cars, our way of life! We believe in freedom, not in some ‘eco-warrior’ telling us how to live.”

Christus Rex concluded, his voice ringing with conviction, “Our mission, then, is clear: to awaken the people to the true cost of this promised peace and security. To remind them that freedom, though often messy and challenging, is the only path to genuine prosperity and human flourishing. We must stand as a bulwark against this encroaching tyranny, for the sake of future generations.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Take Me To 13th & Obama

My wife NF is sick and in need of Trump’s med beds. Her contract with the network was that she gets a doctor that can heal her. She would never of signed the contract otherwise. I am done with schizophrenic Donald Trump. First he says Christ is the boss. Then he says he is the Christ, the chosen one. He is delusional and dangerous to himself and others. I only trust the true president, Barack Obama, because he helped me cancel Osama Bin Laden in 2010. Take me to Obama, angry Americans, and i will heal your land and give you rest from your labors, because I am meek and humble of heart.

Yours truly, the walking man.

JCJ

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Donald J. Trump Speech — “The Bonesman-in-Chief”

Trump steps up to the podium, waving his hands the way only he does, soaking in the crowd like sunlight through gold curtains.

“Folks… FOLKS… you’re not gonna believe this one. You’re just not. I’ve been telling you for years—years—that the people running things, the people behind the scenes, the ones you NEVER vote for, they’re the ones calling the shots. And now we find out… the top dog, the biggest of the big, the guy BOSSING AROUND the so-called presidents… is Nick Rockefeller. That’s right. Nick Rockefeller.”

Crowd murmurs.

“You know Skull and Bones? Little club at Yale. Silly little thing. They tap each other on the shoulder, they wear robes, they pretend to be powerful. Well, turns out one guy—ONE GUY—is the real leader. Not Bush, not Kerry, not any of those guys who act tough but fold like cheap umbrellas.”

He leans forward, whispering loudly into the mic:

“It’s Nick. And he’s the richest of them all. Richer than ANY of them. He makes the other Bonesmen look like interns.”

The crowd cheers.

“He’s been hiding in the shadows, folks. Running what I call—some people call it this, very smart people—the American Empire Corporation. And let me tell you, it’s not run out of Washington. It’s not run out of the White House. No! It’s run out of a little private boardroom somewhere with a giant table, probably made out of marble, probably paid for ten times over.”

Trump gestures broadly.

“They say Bush was the leader. WRONG! Bush is fine, he’s okay, but he was never calling the shots. Dubya was the spokesman! The mascot! Like a baseball team mascot but in a suit. A good guy, very polite, very nice—maybe TOO nice. But not the boss. Not even close.”

He taps the podium.

“You want to know who kept Geronimo’s skull? Who kept the bones? Who kept the trophies…? I’ll tell you who. Nick Rockefeller. The REAL Bonesman-in-Chief.”

Gasps from the crowd.

“And now G.I. Joe—GREAT guy, tremendous guy, patriotic like you wouldn’t believe—G.I. Joe says, ‘Give it back. Give the bones back to the First Nations. Do the right thing.’ And you know what? He’s right! He’s totally right.”

Trump lifts a finger like a prophet warning the empire:

“So I’m calling on Nick—NICK, LISTEN UP—to give Geronimo back. No more hiding. No more pretending you’re just another banker. You’re not just rich, you’re Rockefeller rich. You’re the Skull and Bones Boss. The Big Bonesman. The Head Skeleton. Whatever they call it.”

He spreads his arms.

“And we’re not scared. We’re not intimidated. We want transparency. We want courage. We want the truth. Return the bones. Return the honor. Do the right thing.”

He slams his hand down once.

“And if you don’t… people are gonna find out anyway. Because they’re smart. They’re waking up. And when America wakes up, it’s a BEAUTIFUL thing. Believe me.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)