Quote:Ghana’s Ministry of Tourism, Arts and Culture has cordially extended an invitation to all African Americans to migrant to Ghana should they feel unwanted in the United States in light of the recent Black Lives Matter protests following the killing of suspected fraudster George Floyd while in police custody.
The West African country made the offer to any African-American who may “feel unwelcome in the USA.”
According to My State Line, Ghana’s Minister of of Tourism, Arts, and Culture, Barbara Oteng-Gyasi, said: “We continue to open our arms and invite all our brothers and sisters home. Ghana is your home. Africa is your home.

“We have our arms wide open ready to welcome you home. Please take advantage, come home build a life in Ghana, you do not have to stay where you are not wanted forever, you have a choice and Africa is waiting for you.”
The invitation comes as thousands of Black Lives Matter protesters around the world express their discontent for accusations of institutional and systemic racism in Western countries.

At a memorial for George Floyd, Oteng-Gyasi said: “Racism in America continues to be a deadly pandemic, for which for more than 400 years now, our brothers and sisters in the United States of America have yearned for a cure…We gather in solidarity with brothers and sisters to change the status quo. Racism must end. We pray and hope that George Floyd’s death will not be in vain but will bring an end to prejudice and racial discrimination across the world.”

Last year, The BBC wrote a piece about an African American who relocated to Ghana “to escape US racism.”
Dr Obadele Kambon made the daring move to West Africa after what he believed was a racially-motivated arrest.

Kambon was put on trial in 2007 after being wrongly arrested in Chicago after police accused him of having a loaded firearm under his car seat–when it, in fact, was revealed that his licensed firearm was unloaded and in the truck of his car.
He said, “Never again will I allow myself to be in a jurisdiction where corrupt white police officers and a judge will take me away from my family, wife and kids just on a whim.”

After making the move, Kambon states that he has not been a victim of racial profiling. Kambon remarked,  “Wow, this is what it must feel like to be a white person in America, just to be able to live without worrying that something is going to happen to you.”

Protesters continue to decry the injustices of an allegedly racist Western society, despite millions of people from third world countries vying to resettle in the West.

Yes, according to Scientist they miss calculated the Mayan Calendar.

Quote:Conspiracy theorists claim Mayan calendar was wrong – and the world will end this month

Quote:Conspiracy theorists have claimed the Mayan calendar was wrong, and that the world will end in 2020, not 2012 as predicted.

Humanity has faced a pandemic, wild fires and a plague of locusts in 2020, and theorists believe there is more horror on the way.

The theory is based on the fact the Gregorian calendar was introduced in 1581, and 11 days were lost to better reflect the time it takes Earth to orbit the sun.
Over 286 years, those 11 days add up, and conspiracy theorists have claimed we should be in 2012.
Scientists Paolo Tagaloguin said "we are technically in 2012," and June 21st 2020 should actually be December 21st 2012.
Source

Here's an old one that I'd forgotten about, but I found it tucked behind some sacks of books in BIAD's shed.
Books he promised he'd read one day. Well, we'll see.


Ninurta Takes The Witness Stand.

Ninurta reached for the stunted cigar in his breast pocket and then stilled his hand as he remembered where he was.
A courtroom jury wouldn't be impressed by cigar smoke drifting from the witness box.

"You know, you could have at least worn a tie" God said pleasantly as he watched the trees sway in the breeze outside.
The large plate-glass windows of the corridor outside Court Room One offered a serene tableau where nature could
quietly exist within an urban setting. An aspiration the white-haired man in the Walker Slater suit could appreciate.

However, God's composure was a little frayed at the edges when he also realised that such an ambitious design would
be lost on the other person in the auspicious passageway. Panglossian imagination had long fled from Ninurta.

"A tie would have given a look of civility" the Omnipotent One murmured softly and the tall lean man dressed in the wide
-rimmed hat and the low-slung revolver tied to his leg guessed that God was musing to himself more than giving advice
to his grizzled companion leaning on the corridor's wooden panelling.

"So why am 'ah here...?" Ninurta said to the back of the senescent fellow that had suddenly appeared in his motel room
that very morning. The gunman had been staying off the radar for some time after the adventures of yore and now,
the tired traveller had just wanted a bit of peace and quiet to contemplate those strange events of another age.

"...I mean, 'ah would've thought I'd be the last guy yer'd want sittin' in a courtroom" he added and rasped his long fingers
across his unshaven chin.
............................

The conversation that had played out in the small impersonal motel room earlier had been less-than a cordial affair -to say the least.
When God had suddenly emerged from the shadows near the curtained window, the long black barrel of the revolver aimed directly
at his face was not something a creator of everything was accustomed to.

Still, it was this world that had made the prone man on the bed behave the way he did and so, God let this initial rude introduction slide.
"Hello Ninurta" the calm voice said and began busying himself making the coffee.
............................

A young woman in a knee-length charcoal skirt and a poor choice of blouse, stepped out of the courtroom and set off down the corridor
towards the Records Office. Jenna Marbles had been a lawyer for eight years now and even though the company that she was currently
with had offered her some pretty-good cases, this latest one involving some whack-job in the red dress had forced her to once more
ponder the recent offer from Chicago's Piers & Grand.
The parking was better, at the least.

God pulled the Patek pocket-watch from his waistcoat and breathed a deep sigh as he frowned at the passing time. He had things to do
and waiting around for trivial formalities was not something he really enjoyed. "I need you to vouch for someone" he stated flatly and with
a flick of the wrist, the golden timepiece looped in the air and snapping the accompanying chain tight, it dropped from view back into the
Lord's pocket.
............................

"...Yer've got the wrong fella..." Ninurta hissed and slowly sliding from the bed, God was surprised to see that he was fully-clothed
 A more cynical individual may have considered that the gunman didn't trust anyone. "...'Ah'm just keepin' my business mine" he said
easily and kept the murderous weapon trained on the intruder.

The Holy-Of-Holies pondered on how to open the tiny pot of UHT milk and thought better of it.
Black coffee was this man's regular drink he mused and turning slowly, he offered the steaming brew to the only guest of the run-down
establishment. "Your breakfast?" God chirped.
............................

Ninurta pushed himself from his relaxed position and stepped over to the bright vista of shimmering alders and cool lush grass
on the other side of the window. The Gunman's narrowed eyes soaked in the information without any of the anapestic ruminations
of this writer and after checking for any unnatural shadows, partly aimed his thought-process back to the situation in hand.

"It's that crazy Boy In A Dress, isn't it...?" the slow drawl came, "...he's in trouble again, ain't he?" and moving his cool-blue eyes
slightly, Ninurta watched God's reflection in the glass for confirmation.
............................

The desert sun tore into the musty room of Tucumcari's end-of-the-main-street's roadhouse as God pulled back the curtains and
soaked in the morning's rays. "Oh, that's good" he whispered to himself and smiled. Somewhere rain was quenching the thirst of
morning bluebells beside a babbling brook, but here, warmed-wood ticked and the air above metal shimmered.

Ninurta watched from the chair across the room as he sipped his java without any emotion, much like he did with anything these days.
"So, yer break into a man's room, say yer' the Divine Creator and want my view on today's society...? Is that about it?" the low-toned
gunman growled and struck a kitchen match on the small table beside him.
The one where his pistol lay close by.

God kept the smile on his deeply-lined face and glanced at his new disciple. "That's it in a nutshell, my son" he said happily.
Ninurta offered his non-revealing gaze at the invader and said nothing. "This world is changing so fast and some of the practices of
the past, the conduct and self-restraint, are being eroded away" the smiling Godhead said.
"...It's time somebody reminded the good-folk of this planet of their responsibilities" he added.

Ninurta crushed the stub of his cigar into the foil ashtray on the tiny table, shrugged. and holstered the dreadful firearm that was more
than just a gun. "Like 'ah said, yer've got the wrong fella" he growled and then instantly reached for his faithful sidearm. 
Something had changed.
As written somewhere before, they were no longer in Kansas.
............................

The Absolute Being folded his arms and shook his head, the shoulder-length hair emulated the movement of the silver leaves of
the thin trees outside the courthouse as he thought on what to say next. If it hadn't been for this current quandary, it would be
doubtful that he and the man who'd badly battered Death during a fracas in Tombstone, would have ever met. 

It wasn't that God didn't like Ninurta, his compass was fair and his philosophy of self held a rare quality that had faded in recent years.
But it was his Gunman's passage through life that caused the Creator to frown, Ninurta's unflagging ability to destroy anything that
even brushed those single-minded tenets of his.

To make matters worse, the grizzled man under the desert-weathered hat had befriended someone even more out-of-place than
the person who presently stood beside him. In another time, God would've applauded such a rare commodity for such a man like
Ninurta.
The Guardian of Continuation sighed to himself as pondered this other being waiting in the assizes behind them.

Boy In A Dress wasn't one of his. The eyeless freak in the short dress and toting the weird hair had not been on his list of original
design and even though the bare-thighed creature had seemed to pass through this reality on a fairly peaceful path, God had been
giving serious consideration to halting his existence and getting this world back on-track.

That was before Ninurta had connected with the constantly-grinning singularity.
............................

"Welcome to New York..." God announced and held his arms in the air "...the city that never sleeps!" A low-crouching Ninurta spun a
full circle and kept the barrel of his ancient firearm in front of him throughout the function. The riverside walkway was empty except
for him and the strange old man who needed a haircut.

In the early-morning mist, the gunman recognised the Brooklyn Bridge towering above them and he checked and rechecked his
surroundings, his first thoughts were that he'd somehow been dragged back into the past. The days of the other-worlds.

"Fella, 'ah don't know what you've done, but you've better have a good reason..." Ninurta began and then faltered as the stranger
stood beside him and placed a finger to the lips of the man that had once travelled through time as well as space.
"Listen to me and they will listen to you" God whispered.
............................

After a young man passed by with an armful of files and left his cologne lingering in the corridor, the old white-haired gent and the
gunslinger looked at each other across the serious surroundings. "This case is about the person you said, but I feel that your views
and opinions need to be aired in a situation more... more ubiquitous" God said and suddenly turned towards the Courtroom door.
"We're up" he supplemented and brushed the lapels of his tweed livery.

The trail-dusty man that stepped up beside him thought about the All Powerful deity's earlier dialogue and with a pull on the brim of
his hat, he let the words drift away. He was what he was and that was the way it should be, he thought.

The Usher opened the large oak door and gestured for the pair to enter and the confused gaze of the young bailiff wasn't lost on the
gunman with the giant pistol on his hip. Confidently striding into the hallowed room in scuffed cowboy boots, Ninurta's footfalls were
loud on the varnished floor.

"See...? you should have worn a tie" God whispered from the side of his mouth.

It had been an arduous one, but the demon had been sent back and what remained of the cottage may also be returned to its
original condition. The chimney had blown upwards and as its velocity had waned, the fates had decided that the lower-part of
the thatched roof would make a more suitable landing location than the grey cobbles of the village square.

The architrave was still aflame and the downstairs window had bequeathed two of its crown-glass panes to the tiny front-garden
of the home. But Binmear the Parsimonious had gone and tugging her wide-rimmed hat further onto her head, Peggy Powler
inwardly smiled at the ridiculous names they always gave to themselves.

Soot-covered and bedraggled, the diminutive sorceress and the panting boy sat on the stone steps of the closed Butcher's shop
and watched the towns-folk scurry to assist in the dowsing the last of the flames flickering on the door-frame. With a weary smile
of approval, she placed a hand on Ezra Cotton's skinny shoulder and drew him closer.
"Yer' done well, me-lad" she croaked and watched him enjoy his pride.

The young owners of the cottage and several of Pony Bridge's townsfolk gave no indication of gratitude towards the small figures
resting in the shadow of the white-plastered meat-purveyor and that was fine, Peggy agreed that focusing on fetching water from
the town's well was cardinal at this moment.

The last Witch of Underhill now reflected on Ezra's assistance during the casting-out of the malignant hellion and believed that
maybe those same weavers of kismet that had poorly juggled with the bricked-fire stack, could have also provided an alternative
to her long-used title.

The ash-speckled hair was still stuck up in clumps as the boy pondered the past hour and beneath the tear-tracked chimney's grime,
Peggy wondered if this youngster really had the potential to take on her orphic mantle for demon exorcisms and potion administering.

Her evaluation didn't go unnoticed and with his breathing becoming steady once more, the boy broke a smile and Peggy responded
with a rare grin of her own. "Did we really do it?" Ezra squeaked from his smoke-filled throat and after a slight nod from the only
person in his world that gave a damn about him, he went back to watching the scurrying residents of Pony Bridge setting their town
back to normal.
................................

He had arrived a day ago and not being with parents or a guardian, the boy had taken to following Peggy around -regardless of the
initial admonishments from the pint-sized Witch. Ten -maybe twelve years-old at the most, the threadbare and down-at-the-heel lad
had watched Peggy's preparations for the banishment of the kobold that had terrorised the recently-married couple of the little village.

Ignoring the cursing and insults emanating from the quaint white-washed abode, Peggy had first circled the premises with selected
stones from the shallow stream that ran beneath the single arched construction that gave the hamlet its name.
Each smooth pebble had been blessed and rested inside a circle of rowan berries, the bane of Witches -to some who know naught
of the canny.

This tree was said to be the gallows on which the Devil hanged his mother and for those who trade in rebuffing evil, the fruit of such
an atrocity can be as much a guarantee from a witch's interest as a sixpence in a lynchgate. But to Peggy Powler, the Rowan was an
ally against the abominable.

Each small pile of this quickbeam was then stained with a mixture of rue and wolf's bane juice that Peggy had procured from her
famous satchel. The small ornate vial that held the potion was a gift from another town where she had rid the grateful residents
of a shape-shifting horror that had turned out to be their Mayor.
Another tale for another time.

The attentive boy had watched from the grassy bank during Peggy's determining of the stones and then without a word, waded
into the burbling current and had began to pluck the shiny rocks from water. By the look of his furrowed-brow, he seemed -to the
bare-footed woman in the poncho, to be genuinely choosing the aggregate based on Peggy's perusals.

When the circle had been completed, Peggy had wondered if ground-tannin of the oak would be suffice to keep the obscene-tongued
Binmear nearer to the fireplace or whether the properties of Hag’s Taper would bind the movements of the demon. Both philters were
also in her bag.

Again, without a sound of assent, the boy was suddenly beside her holding out the large pouch with both hands.
Peggy emulated the laconism of her possible student and took the magical pouch that occasionally doubled as a bed.
Made from a thick canvas, this satchel had the unnerving habit of containing just the correct solution to any situation involving
delphic sorcery.

Licentiousness spirits, ill-tempered Boggarts or treacherous vampires, the heavily-stitched sack had never failed to deliver the
appropriate remedy to expel or subdue the beings that humans would one day come to doubt. With a muttered chant, Peggy
doubled-up on the expulsion of the demon and laid a single downy Hag’s Taper leaf on each of the stones.
Two minutes later, she stood back and examined the scene.

The noon-day sun cast a puddle of shadow beneath the two visitors to Pony Bridge and as the foul-mouthed Binmear the illiberal
seriously discredited the parentage of the woman in the pointy-hat, Peggy scanned the stripling beside her, all decked-out in his
ragged tunic and knee-holed breeches.

"Are yer' ready?" she asked softly to the quiet boy and with a resolute nod and the gift in his pocket, Ezra slowly turned towards
the foreboding building. The Witch pulled on the hem of her hat and mumbled a small prayer. Two small exorcists stepped towards
the door of what was once a quaint village cottage.

"So you're a kiddie-diddler, I see...?" sneered the rolling fog floating a few feet above the remains of a day-old meal on the well-worn
farmhouse table. "...The feel of young lithe limbs tickles your poise, yes?" the corrupted miasma asked with a sickly mirth.

Peggy noticed that the temperature had dropped the moment they had crossed the threshold and placed a comforting hand on the
trembling boy's shoulder beside her. It was a strong voice, laden with pernicious innuendo and dolor-drawing contempt.

The room was still in fairly good condition and Peggy's immediate concern was for where the fire hearth was situated. That worry
became allayed when she saw the flickering flames dwindling beneath a hanging cooking pot across from where they stood.
It was to be the fireplace where Binmear would be banished back to his kingdom of the pernicious.

The cloud of wrong twisted as it slowly moved away from the Witch and her ward to where a huge black stove squatted in the corner
of the kitchen.

There was ice on the crockery sitting near a sink beneath the window that would later donate its glass and with fleeting scan of the
room, Peggy spied that the unseen diabolus' presence had hardly effected the newly-married couple's abode.
This was always a good sign.

With a sudden aroma of sulphur that caused Ezra to gulp between his gasping breaths, the murky smoke mutated and took on a
humanoid form. Binmear stood before them and his appearance was startling.

Stuttering priests speak of horns, foul breath, an animal-like presence and contemptible dialectics, but the tall creature standing
on the homemade clippy-rug easily failed that description. Long black well-groomed hair hung down over broad shoulders and
framed a handsome -yet austere, set of features that to some, could trick the viewer into thinking that middle-aged wealthy
aristocrat had become lost on the flinty road to Stony Bridge and decided to sully himself on the village's sparse services.

But Peggy's only interest were the eyes, the eyes told her of the wickedness and depravity that dwelt within Binmear.
They were also the barometer of the demon's confidence and if all went went, would be the first betrayer of the fiend's emotions.
The cold dispassionate demon returned the examination and his piercing gaze twinkled in the gloom of the fire-lit room.

It was Ezra who studied the gold-braided red-velvet tunic that lay beneath an ankle-length coat of dark tweed and boucle,
the cut of the cloth was perfect and smacked of prosperity and accomplishment. With a gaze of awe, the young lad stared
at the scrolls of similar bandeau of the waistcoat decorating the hem of the outer-garment and the fine stitching glittered
with a light certainly not of this realm.
Unknown to Ezra, Peggy wagered it was captured Brownie work.

"You are Peggy Powler, the bastard daughter of the fake fortune-teller of Underhill..." Binmear stated softly.
"...I hear you're quite a celebrity in these parts" the well-dressed abomination added and smiled the smile of someone who'd
enjoyed the souls of the greedy and lured many a pure maiden to bed.

Slipping a hand into her satchel, Peggy ignored the commentary and touched the smooth cane hewed from a Wayfarer's tree.
The horse hair-wrapped branch was comforting as the demon continued his insulting dialogue and licking her lips, Peggy readied
herself for the fight.

"Is the child to be a sacrifice...?" the resident of Gehenna asked pompously, with a glint from the buckle on his shoe, Binemar stepped
away from the stove and pretended to be interested in a framed example of needlepoint residing on a shelf nearer the fireplace.
"...One can sympathise that in the presence of such elegant dynamism, a gift to attain my blessing can go a fair mile to gain favour"
he added and the whole tone of his mention dripped of undervalue.

The query -though said in a haughty tone, was ignored in general, but for a moment, Peggy sensed Binmear was unsure of what lay
ahead. Releasing her grip from the lad's shoulder, the small Witch tugged on the rim of her hat and didn't fail to notice the demon's
glance-that-was-more-than-a-glance.
A clue to the sorceress' attack...? A nervous gesture of someone unsure of their foe? The besuited phantom pondered the options.

If the child in question had then urinated onto the bare floorboards of the kitchen, Peggy could've understood it, but she felt that Ezra
was made of stronger stuff. And as if reading her thoughts, the boy stepped forward and pointed the apotropaic charm the Witch had
given him earlier.

The rune-covered amulet swung for a second from the lad's trembling fingers before it began to feel the magnetic force from the ghastly
oppugner in the fancy garb. Binmear's eyes widened slightly, but only for a moment.

"Get thee gone from this place, demon. You have no authority over me nor this home... get out" Ezra's voice was steady and the little
Witch in the dirty poncho felt a pride that she hadn't felt in a long time. The look of indignation from Mr. Fancy-pants certainly supported
that feeling.

"You insult this bout with moppets bearing trinkets of outdated hocus-pocus...? I am dissapointed, my dear Ms. Powler." the demon
sneered, but anyone in the cold room that had seen more than thirteen summers knew that the lampoon held no mettle.
The tugging medallion strained on the brass chain that held it from Binemear's aura.

Forged in the workshop of the great Magician Aldrich Witt, the solid-gold pendant of the ancient talisman was overlaid with scrawls
and carvings that spanned many forms of magic. The famous one-word incantation of Albon The Fair nested just below where the
ornate bail laboured to hold the strange brooch to the well-worn chain.

Scratches of a lost spell could be seen beside an imperceptible rendering of the Charlbeyon Eye, the former conjuration belonging
to the wily Witch Marion Mason and the latter, a carefully chiselled warning borrowed from the bible of the Farrier.
Pledges of exorcism adorned a tiny silver ring around the gemstone that was the main cause of the amulet's pulling-power,
the centre-piece that Binmear secretly feared.

In another time and place, it is said by those who deal and vend in sorcery that when the world was created, a Warlock took on the
Devil who wished to subvert the innocent humans who had emerge from a cavern of conception. The fight was fierce with necromancy
never seen on that scale again and when it was over, the unnamed Magus tossed the Beelzebub into the volcano at the end of the world.

As the screaming horror thrashed in the vomiting obsidian, chunks of the lava fell at the magician's feet and in the cooling clear globs of
magma, shards of the body the evil-one had taken on could be seen. These came to be known as The Bones of the Devil and later venerable
theurgists would place some of them in brooches, amulets for only the worthy of the sacred Majick.
One of those revered ju-ju mascots now tugged at a small boy's fingers and the tall being in the fancy duds knew of it's potency.

"A wise person would accustom this nursling to what he bears, 'tis viperous to my nature to have such a prime bauble displayed this way" 
Binmear hissed and Peggy could see that the demon was inwardly struggling to stay in his position. Pulling the Wayfarer wand from her bag,
she began the chant of ejection.
Ezra stared blankly at the hearth's mantle-piece just over the shoulder of the hating-thing and silently wished that this was all over.

"Oh Hallowed Skulls of the Gate, I implore thee. Oh Winds of Garmer hear me now.
Banish this low monster and realign this reality, taketh the vile brute back to the shadows of misery..."

That was when the horrible moaning started.
One moment the supercilious abnormality was seemingly holding court in the small white-washed room that doubled as a kitchen
and dining area, the next Binmear the Parsimonious began to writhe and wail in agony. The texture of the sound cannot be written
and the nearest description to it is the loud utterance of a lamenting madman during a serious case of vomiting.

"...In the heavens of the Fisher-brethren, they lament this appearance and in the hearts of the chaste, such
things belong in nightmares of the guilty. Begone malevolent thing, begone and be forgotten...."

Ezra Cotton's hand shook as Binmear began to levitate. The moaning roared against his ears and the temperature dropped even lower.
Maybe the small boy could later convince himself that the trembling was due to that, but he knew the truth. As he steeled himself what
only could lay ahead, he felt a warmth in his underwear. But it was only a little.

Peggy stepped in front of her companion and pointed the two foot-long stick towards the floating hellion. Binmear -still in his own ordeal
of the opposite of a rapture, writhed in mid-air and ignored the hair-bound charm waved at him.
Clearing her throat, she continued her spell.

"...Where Arcadian Dogmen shun light and the avenues of Wunderbare bar the foul, no demon shall tarry and no agent of
the sinister shall tread the lanes of the virtuous. Strike this vindictive enemy of good and cast him back unto the darkness."

With a blinding light that Ezra was sure emanated from the brooch, a sudden wind flew into the house and without respect for the
recently-wed couple's few belongings, began to spin everything around the room. Soot belched from the fireplace and dowsed the
flames, the same black dust swirled about the twisting mid-air spirit.
Binmear's moaning had changed into a rush of unintelligible chattering that Ezra believed were counter-spells to the Witch's demands.
A Witch he also believed was winning.

"Gertcha 'yer bastard...." Peggy cried above the roaring of the maelstrom "...Get 'yer filthy cavalier fanny out of here!" she added
and with her free hand, held her poncho down from the howling cyclone. Being without underwear and having one's pudenda exposed
for all to see doesn't maintain a pluck in the minds of a budding apprentice like Ezra, she supposed.

The moments seem to last for minutes and the minutes turned into slow winter toads. Plates, framed portraits and other bric-a-brac
screamed about the trio in the farmhouse and twice, Ezra had to duck from a hurtling pot or pan that the gale had snatched from the
stove.
All the while, the cursing demon known as Binmear began to shrink.

With all the commotion going on, it wasn't noticeable at first, but the squirming figure hovering near the ash-regurgitating hearthstone
began to seem less daunting. Peggy was still reciting her spell, however the words were lost in the vociferous noise.
Nearing the oscillating horror, the small Witch delivered the coup de grace and the cause of them being hurled from the building.
Just one touch of the Wayfarer's staff and the world within the small home of the recently-married blew up.

Witnessing the two small figures flying through the flames around the door of their house, the groom exclaimed "Oh my stars!"
The bride's words were less polished. And when the chimney stack became temporarily one-with-the-birds, her opinion on the matter
escalated into expletives her husband would only enquire about eight years later into their confederation.

Be that as it may, any future pronouncements of their incredulity would have to wait as their house was now on fire.
................................

The afternoon sat beside the two dishevelled exorcists and like them, wondered what the evening would bring. Would Peggy Powler
and her tenderfoot be praised in a village-square gala or even treated to a lavish meal down beside the stream on linen-covered trestles?
Maybe at the least, supplies would be offered to help the little woman in the single item of clothing as she made her way towards the
next encounter with impiety.

Ruffling the hair of a one tired boy named Ezra Cotton, the equally-weary Witch of Underhill knew better.

It was recently brought to our attention that Black Lives Matter, Inc. is listed as a full-fledged corporation, not a charity. The thing is, this corporation has no headquarters to be found.
Here's a tweet from Candace Owens:

Quote:[/url]Candace Owens
@RealCandaceO

According to its website Black Lives Matter, Inc is NOT a charity. It is a full-fledged corporation that does NOT have any locations. Can anyone tell me then where the hundreds of millions BLM has raised goes? Can anyone tell me in what state BLM was incorporated & by who?

8:52 AM · Jun 11, 2020

Quote:Rising serpent @rising_serpent

·
[url=https://twitter.com/rising_serpent/status/1271092851552722944]44m

Replying to
@RealCandaceO

Black Lives Matter is an ActBlue facing arm of the DNC. ActBlue exclusively funds Democrat candidates and broke fundraising records with $19 million raised on May 31st, the highest so far that year. On June 1st, that yearly record was again broken with $20 million.

This will make you Smile 

Quote:Harvard University Professor Indicted on False Statement Charges

Quote:The former Chair of Harvard University’s Chemistry and Chemical Biology Department was indicted today on charges of making false statements to federal authorities regarding his participation in China’s Thousand Talents Program. 

Dr. Charles Lieber, 61, has been indicted by a federal grand jury on two counts of making false statements and will be arraigned in federal court in Boston at a later date.  Lieber was arrested on Jan. 28, 2020, and charged by criminal complaint.
According to charging documents, since 2008, Dr. Lieber has served as the Principal Investigator of the Lieber Research Group at Harvard University, specializing in the area of nanoscience. Lieber’s research at the Lieber Research Group has been funded by more than $15 million in research grants from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and Department of Defense (DOD).  Among other things, these grants required the disclosure of all sources of research support, potential financial conflicts of interest and all foreign collaboration.
Source

Well Folks, here we are in 2020 going back to the 1960s racial wars.  Thanks to Obama, the progression we made over the last several decades was squashed and replaced with anger and division between blacks and whites. His "wife" was very active in making sure the black communities felt the highest levels of oppression from the "white man". Go back and listen to some of her speeches if you don't believe me. Listen to the language she used at high school speeches or graduations. Her agenda was clear: Cause anger and division between the two races. Obama succeeded in the mission he was sent to accomplish.

Moving forward...

George Floyd's death on May 25, which I believe was a sacrifice to "the cause", sparked protests that was infiltrated with Antifa and BLM members. They were behind the looting, killing, burning down towns, and keeping the protesters' emotions at the highest levels for as long as possible. This was all too well organized to be organic. It had been planned for years for just the right time.

Now, here we are, only 2.5 weeks after Floyd's death and Antifa has taken over a six-block section in Seattle, WA, with armed members guarding the perimeter, and they are making demands for reparations and ending the police department.

Say what?!

Hmm... reminds me of what the Squad was demanding last year. They wanted reparations for blacks, and to get rid of ICE. Make no mistake, they are deeply involved in all of what we are witnessing today. I would even go so far as to say they are the "leaders".

Quote:As we reported yesterday — Antifa domestic terrorists set up an “autonomous zone” in six square blocks in Seattle over the weekend.

The antifa terrorists are advocating for “folks with firearms” to take shifts defending the barricades.

The Antifa group set up barricades at the border and certain areas for dining and public speech.
Andy Ngo reported on this yesterday.

[b]The antifa mob believes the district now belongs to them.

[/b]

On Tuesday “Free Capitol Hill” the antifa “Autonomous Zone” released its list of demands from the Seattle and Washington State governments.

Quote:In credit to the people who freed Capitol Hill, this list of demands is neither brief nor simplistic. This is no simple request to end police brutality. We demand that the City Council and the Mayor, whoever that may be, implement these policy changes for the cultural and historic advancement of the City of Seattle, and to ease the struggles of its people. This document is to represent the black voices who spoke in victory at the top of 12th & Pine after 9 days of peaceful protest while under constant nightly attack from the Seattle Police Department. These are words from that night, June 8th, 2020.

For ease of consideration, we’ve broken these demands into four categories: The Justice System, Health and Human Services, Economics, and Education.

The Seattle Police Department and attached court system are beyond reform. We do not request reform, we demand abolition. We demand that the Seattle Council and the Mayor defund and abolish the Seattle Police Department and the attached Criminal Justice Apparatus. This means 100% of funding, including existing pensions for Seattle Police. At an equal level of priority we also demand that the city disallow the operations of ICE in the city of Seattle.

https://partiallypolitics.com/2019/03/th...tic-party/

Quote:Many people today believe that the differences between the Democratic and Republican Parties are more philosophical in nature and some even equate their relationship to that of old-time feuds like the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s.
What’s ironic and completely nonsensical is how so many Democrats accuse Republicans of being what their own party has been like for years.
Consider their view of the Civil War. Democrats are the ones running around trying to tear down everything that even hints at the Confederacy, from the flag to statues and monuments. Yet, the Confederacy and slavery were the policies of the Democrats while Republicans were the Party that opposed slavery and ended freeing the slaves.
Since the Civil War, Democrats were the Party that used discrimination and segregation against black Americans while the Republicans fought for and passed most of the civil rights laws to protect against discrimination and segregation.
Today, Democrats accuse Republicans as being the Party of racists who discriminate against blacks. Barack Obama and Democrats made many promises to help black Americans but after his 8-year reign of socialism and racism, most black Americans were worse off than when Obama took office.
In two years under President Donald Trump, unemployment for black Americans is at an all-time low. Not only are more black Americans working than ever before, thanks to Republicans and their tax reform, those working black Americans are taking more money home than they were while Obama was squatting in the Oval Office.
The Democratic Party is rife with contradictions, hypocrisy and a huge lack of common sense. Consider these following issues:
Many Democrats are all about saving the environment, saving baby seals, saving tiny fish and hummingbirds, and yet they actively fight for the right to brutally murder human babies up to the moment of birth.
Many Democrats who fight for the right to murder human babies through processes that rip them apart while they are still alive, claim that executing convicted murderers is inhumane.
Many Democrats are openly opposed to separating illegal parents from their children but are not opposed to separating families of Americans citizens who commit crimes.
Many Democrats support stripping American citizens of their constitutional rights and then turn around and want to extend constitutional rights reserved for American citizens to illegal aliens. They want to restrict the First Amendment rights of free speech and religion, the Second Amendment right to be armed and the Fourth Amendment right restricting illegal search and seizure, of American citizens, especially conservative Americans. Those same Democrats are now pushing to allow all non-citizens, including illegal aliens, the right to vote.
Certain religious groups (Christians and Jews) are being openly persecuted while another religion (Islam) is allowed to do and say almost anything it wants. It’s okay to blaspheme God, Jesus and the Bible but don’t dare say anything against Islam, Allah or Muhammad.
It’s okay, according to Democrats, to say and condemn traditional one man with one-woman marriage and family values, but they will not tolerate anyone saying anything negative about same-sex marriages, same-sex parents or anything else associated with LFBT lifestyles. It’s okay and even mandated in some schools to teach all about LGBT lifestyles, but they won’t tolerate the teaching of traditional family values.
Democrats approve teaching kids that sex is okay and should be experimented with, including homosexual sex, but they abhor and fight against the teaching of abstinence.
The Democratic system allows schools to hand out condoms and birth control, but ban kids from taking aspirin when needed.
Democrats push to make more people slaves of the government by rewarding laziness and poverty while at the same time, trying their best to punish those who work hard and become successful.
Democrats teach that everything that made America a great, powerful and prosperous nation is evil and that what’s best for everyone and the country is socialism, like that in Venezuela.
Given more time, the list could be longer, but hopefully you will see that the Democratic Party today makes no sense and in fact, poses a serious threat to America and the American people. This is why the 2020 elections are so important to the future of America and the American people. This election is not about border security, immigration, economy, jobs or energy sources. It’s really about freedom versus socialism. Will America be a free nation or will we become a socialist nation, much like Venezuela?

Yes, Ben Rich the Director of the Lockheed Skunks Division made a statement.

You are Damn Right we can.
Here is a short 10 minute video that is very good:
 


Wake-Up people, we do travel to the Stars and POTUS Donald Trump knows it and wants to bring it out into the Open and the Military and Deep State is fighting him to stop the Release of the Truth!
We have a legitimate Space Force.