Vanguard News Network

Well, what the hell is the difference between them and Christians? Any decent Roman could have said the same thing as van den Bruck, and probably did.

Except for “personal advantage” substitute “personal salvation.”

That’s all.

“Liberals can only proliferate in a society that has the luxury of supporting them. But by that point the society in question is too far gone to be saved.”

-Hillary “The Angry Dyke” Clinton

“Liberal: a power worshipper without power.” ?George Orwell

Tim McGreen, good observation on Charles Manson. He and his followers stepped inside the elite circle on their crime spree, exciting the world and Hollywood. Endless coverage of Manson has made him a pillar alongside Nazism and secession. The gruesome crimes carried out by the Manson people are surpassed by their diabolical, fiendish, blood thirsty enemies. Those who slaughter wholesale across the world–Waco Holocaust, etc……………

Tim McGreen kicked over a stack of old album covers. A musty smell arose in the room.

“Acid rock is NOT DEAD! Pink Floyd LIVES!” shouted McGreen.

He espied a Bee Gees pre-disco album: “Why? Why, fellas? You had a groovy sound, why go to disco, for god’s sake??! How can you mend my broken heart??!”

But what was REALLY bothering him? He briefly did a Roy Master’s meditation, quieting his mind, getting in touch with his suchness.

“AHA!”

“That goddamn Charles Manson!” he said outloud. “The sombitch a murderer and women flock to him! FLOCK to him! SHIT!”

“WHAT the hell is it with White women and cult leaders? Don’t White women have any sense?

Tim had read about a young White woman who was going to marry the mass-murderer, Charles Manson. He had read it on VNN. It had made him angry. ANGRY. At the time, he had been categorizing his collection of old album covers. Ah, now those were real artists! Not only the musicians, but the album illustrators! How he loved to photocopy the album covers, and rearrange the elements! In his mind, he could indeed have been either: a killer musician, or an album-cover artist. But not now. Everything was shit, now.

And he was angry, so angry that he got in his car and just started driving. He slipped in “Stairway to Heaven” by Zeppelin. He also had some wine, poured into a plastic coca-cola bottle. It comforted him.

“There’s a feeling I get, when I look to the West, and my spirit is crying for leaving.”

“Ya got that right, Robert, ya sombitch! The goddamn White women have taken over, and are ruining it for us all! Let’s get the heck out!” Tim shouted, taking another long draught of Toasted Head Pinot Noir.

“Pinot Noir, yeah! Now them French know how to treat women–slap ’em, screw ’em, and leave them scrubbing the floor! Scrub de flo’, bitch! C’est la vie, c’est la vie!”

And when he reached a patch of woods, so beautiful in the New England pre-fall golden sunlight, he parked the car, got out, and just started walking. He had walked about two hours, long ago flinging the bottle aside. . He saw a white oak, its sturdy limbs supporting multitudes of leaves, red-edged with the coming fall. He sat down and laid back against the trunk.

“Where the hell am I?” he thought. “Oh, to be a tree! So undisturbed by everything, so strong, so attuned to nature, so . . . ” He fell asleep, dimly thinking of Rip van Winkle, Thoreau, Puritan treatment of women, and the Salem witch trials.

He woke up. Two naked women and a horse were before him.

http://nakedhorseriding.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/tumblr_mfu373Em6b1rztzruo1_500.jpg

They were superb female specimens, he had to admit.

“WHAT the hell is it with White naked females and horses?” Tim thought.

He stood up to go, rather embarassed.

“Oh, hello,” said one of the women, facing him fully. “I am Jill Mustang, and this is my sister-in-the-Lord, Paula Filly. We usually don’t see too many strangers on my Master’s land.”

“Uh, hello,” said Tim. “Uh, uh, why are you naked? Is this a nudist colony, or something? And who is your master?”

“We are naked because we have a new heart; our old sinful nature has been crucified with Christ. We have returned to Eden. Like our first parents, we neither wear clothes nor eat meat.” said Jill Mustang.

“Cool,” said Tim.

“And our master is he-who-is-our-Lord, according to the Scriptures. We will take you to meet him. He will want you to dine with us, I am sure.” said Paula Filly.

“Uh, uh,” said Tim, “you mean . . . Je . . .Je . . . Je . . .Jeez . . .”

“Jesus? No, although he is the Supreme Lord. We are talking about our Lord here on earth, according to the Scriptures, Big Jim Jesus,” said Jill. “He is our husband and our Lord while we are in the flesh.”

“As you seem very much to be” said Tim, trying to turn his bottom half at a ninety degree angle to the women, to hide a very sinful reaction, according to St. Augustine, and possibly, probably, the Scriptures.

“Why, you seem to be quite twisted, Mr. . . . what is your name?” said Jill Mustang. “Big Jim Jesus will heal you!”

“T . . . Ti . . .Tim. Tim McGreen.”

Next: Tim McGreen meets Big Jim Jesus.

“Let’s go meet the Master!” said Jill Mustang, leaping nimbly onto the horse. “You get on behind me, Tim.”

Tim clumsily got up on the horse, with the help of Paula Filly. The naked Paula then got several yards behind the horse, took a running start, and very neatly landed right behind Tim.

A nimble little minx, thought Tim.

“Alright, Tim, hold on to me, and you, Paula, hold on to Tim”

Tim put his arms around Jill’s tight, muscular breathing stomach. Paula put her arms around Tim, her naked torso pressed into his back. Tim started trembling.

“Don’t be afraid, Mr. McGreen. This horse is very gentle,” said Jill.

Tim could not believe that he was sandwiched on a horse between two naked women, going to meet their husband. What were they, Mormons? Nudist Mormons?

“I know!” said Paula, thinking that Tim was trembling out of fear of the horse. “Let’s sing a song! Tim, can you suggest a song?”

“Well . . . well . . . how about ‘I Started a Joke ‘ by the Bee Gees?”

“Excellent choice, Tim. Because without Christ as the Master of our lives, we are all living a joke. But before we sing, Tim, may I ask you a question? ” said Jill.

“Yes, of course.”

“Have you returned to the Scriptures?”

(Next: Tim confesses his doubts about the Scriptures)

It had been a rather long ride.

They rode the horse past a stone fence and a vast and well-tended vegetable garden. There was a stone house, elegant, large, and well-constructed. Tim heard chickens clucking.

Standing on the front steps of the house was a man in a dazzling white robe. On his chest was a burnished roman breastplate. His trim waist was girded with a belt of entwined golden strands. His arms were muscular, and the muscles of his calves strained the straps of the roman sandals that he wore. His gray hair was long, flowing with streaks of blonde. His beard was completely gray, with some white showing. Except for his hair, Tim judged him to be in his early thirties. Behind him were three more young naked women and about 15 children of various ages.

“My Lord, we have brought a guest!” said Jill Mustang.

“He has expressed to us some doubts about the Scriptures!” said Paula Filly. Incredibly, she stood on the flanks of the horse, and did a somersault in the air, landing in the gymnast’s finishing pose on the ground beside Tim, her breasts and buttocks still jiggling a bit.

“Good! Good!” said Big Jim Jesus, laughing. “Excellent!”

“Why in the world would that be good?” Tim thought. I was expecting to be tortured or something for my doubts.”

Big Jim Jesus strode out towards him.

(Next: Big Jim Jesus reveals some incredible things)

“Susan Palomino!” shouted Big Jim Jesus. “Cook us up a steak, and bring out the wine!”

“Susan Palomino is an excellent chef,” said Big Jim. “She loves to cook.”

http://womennudeinthekitchen.tumblr.com/

As they drank their pinot noir, Tim reflected on his confusion. The women are naked, because they have been born again, but the man is wearing a robe, and he is the husband of them all. They say they don’t eat meat, because they have returned to Eden, and this man has invited me to have a gourmet steak with him. Drinking wine (Tim thought)– I can understand that. That has been European Church tradition forever.

“Big Jim, why is it good that I have doubts about the Scriptures?” said Tim.

“Because that shows that you have returned to them,” said Big Jim Jesus. “Most people have no idea what is in the Bible, and are afraid to return to it, study it, and question it.”

“Pardon me for saying this, Sir, but doesn’t the New Testament discourage polygamy?” said Tim.

“Absolutely!” said Big Jim Jesus, laughing. “And it does more than that—it discourages marriage at all, and having children!” Big Jim laughed uproariously, slapping Tim on the knee.

He studied Tim’s confusion, and starting laughing again.

I must say, thought Tim, he is really enjoying this.

“I will tell you what else it discourages,” said Big Jim. “Excellence, knowledge, scientific curiousity, artistic endeavors, owning property, achieving wealth, physical perfection . . . ”

“But you . . . you . . . your women . . . they . . . forgive me for saying this, but they are foxes! And you seem to be some kind of Mr. America!” said Tim.

“Thankyou, friend! Ah, here comes our meal!”

Susan Palomino, the naked chef, brought two steaming platters of steak, medium-well cooked, with sauteed mushrooms, baked potatoes and creamed spinach.

(Next: Big Jim Jesus explains)