Tuesday, May 2, 2023
4154-4155: Do You Believe in Good Chinese Elders? from Lincoln County Watch
By Anna Von Reitz
We
are not talking about good Chinese Grandmas and Grandpas or even
Great-Grandmas or Great-Grandpas. I am talking about these magical,
mythical beings who just sprang up out of nowhere in the past few
years. I can't imagine where they have been hiding all these years? A
cave in Tibet?
So,
you believe that these ultra-altruistic and wise and beneficent Elders
just showed up with half the world's gold in their hands, ready to give
it away ---- after Mao Zedong played Whack-A-Mole on them and everyone
else in China for 27 years? And then Mao's followers continued his
example for another fifty years?
And all the Chinese Triads just flunked the course and didn't find all this gold?
Mao
Zedong and his Chinese Communist Party somehow missed these Chinese
Elders and their vast storehouses of gold, too? I just have to come
back to that a second time.
Billions
and billions of Chinese people knew about these Elders but nobody said a
word or wrote a thing about them from the beginning of last century
until about five years ago? Am I missing anything?
Or is there a tradition of Chinese Elders hidden at the rainbow's end behind a shimmering gold cloud of mist?
If
you believe in Beneficent Chinese Elders bearing trainloads of gold for
the benefit of mankind, you have, in my opinion, stars in your eyes and
rocks in your head.
If
these Elders were real and if they were beneficent, why'd they let
their own people die by the tens of millions and starve until they
turned to cannibalism under the early CCP?
It's
far. more realistic, if less charming, to assume that someone wound up
with a lot of gold that didn't belong to them, and they are now trying
to come up with a story to explain away where all this gold came from
and how it happened to be in China.
Like
a pawn shop owner caught with a stolen diamond necklace, trying to
ditch the hot goods by anonymously donating the necklace to charity.
"Hey, Mac, nobody needs to know. You do the donation for me, and it all looks good."
But
wait, we know how all this gold came to be in China. We can track it on
satellite. We can use LIDAR and physical tomography. The Vermin moved
it there as part of their preparations to move their headquarters and
main base of operations to China. That's how all that gold got to
China.
We
can sit in a darkened room and watch transport ship after transport
ship moving gold from Point A to Point B (Hong Kong) or Point C
(Shanghai) and nobody needs to wonder how the Hong Kong and Shanghai
Bank of Commerce (HSBC) became such a world class wonder in such a
brief span of years. We can also note that all the ships using U.S.Navy
ports and air stations and U.S. Navy vessels in Singapore and U.S. Navy
vessels in Manila most likely were attached to the Pacific Fleet that
is supposed to be working for us.
Let's
all get a clue here, all this largess pouring into China in the years
after Reagan wasn't from Chinese factory workers investing their extra
pocket change in the stock market. And it wasn't even from Chinese
investment. It was from wild, whole hog western investment, as the word
was out and the fix was in.
The
elderly Chinese involved in this charade may indeed be good people; I
would be the last one to say otherwise, in view of their apparent good
intentions; but you know, I have seen good intentions fail so often, and
that gives me a jaundiced view.
Just
look at the good intentions of the Roman Catholic Church? And the good
intentions of the United Nations? And before that, the good intentions
of the League of Nations? And all that "foreign aid" that the U.S.
Congress appropriated out of our pockets without a yes or no?
Turns
out that 98% of all that foreign aid never made it to its intended
destinations, and what did arrive was WWII surplus that the Defense
Contractors got stuck with and that their buddies in Congress bought
from them as a favor and just redefined this cronyism as "foreign aid"
--- like all those moldy green wool Army blankets we saw on the docks in
Lagos, Nigeria. Like the Army Green canteens still in daily use in
Ethiopia and Morocco.....
Turns out that as soon as the League of Nations got serious about outlawing slavery worldwide, their fate was sealed.
Turns
out that the United Nations and the Roman Catholic Church have both
been used as storefronts by criminal commercial corporations.
Turns
out that when the Pope asks for a voluntary special offering to help
pay for relief for refugees and people in need of medical care and
assistance in war-torn areas of the world, he spends it on Disney movie
productions, new bank digs in the Inner City of London, and luxury
condominiums for those (very rich) immigrants, well, refugees of a sort
--- moving to China.
Good
intentions go astray in so many ways. The programs and projects get
funded, but remain on paper. The programs and projects get funded ---
but only so long as they are politically correct. The programs and
projects get funded -- but the contracts go to rats.
This
is the perennial problem and the only way to make sure that the
decent living people of the world actually receive the benefit of
anything is to give it to them directly ---- not all at once, but in
abundance, and not ever subject to the whims and greed of any political
body or group of trustees, because that, more than anything, is how all
this wealth and all these good intentions get siphoned and side-lined
and never seem to hit the ground and make a difference in the lives of
average people.
The
other thing that really is a benefit are infrastructure projects, but
they need to be carried out by the actual national governments, not
handed off to Municipal Corporation Subcontractors.
Don't
believe these silly narratives about Good Chinese Elders funding the
rebuilding of the world after the Second World War, either. That never
happened according to the bank deposit records. That gold came out of
family trusts under the umbrella of The Avila Family Trust and national
trusts --- like ours.
So, strike two for the Chinese Elders Narrative.
It's better to believe in the Tooth Fairy. At least we know for sure that teeth exist.
----------------------------
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Rope Climbing
By Anna Von Reitz
Back
during the Kennedy Administration there was a big push to promote
physical fitness and even a program to distribute Presidential Awards to
young people who met and exceeded certain fitness goals. Virtually
every school in the country had one of these fitness programs and tests
that went with it, and so, you find me as an eighth grader perched
tenuously on the knotted end of a large rope, staring up at the gym
ceiling probably twenty feet above my head.
It looked like twenty miles.
With
despair in my heart, I watched Terry Bonneville, one of our local
gifted athletes, scamper up the rope like a Rhesus Monkey, so nimble and
quick about it that I envisioned a grand career for her in the navy,
the circus, or alpine rescue. Then, with a flourish, she slid down the
rope with an easy swoop to the end of the rope and hopped off the knot,
landing straight as a pin. Just a tiny bit flushed.
I
was still staring up at the ceiling, trembling. But I gathered my
courage and reached upward for the next handhold and slowly, maybe four
inches at a time, clenched my teeth, bruised my feet, and clung on for
dear life ----and true to form, like an inch-worm, grimly kept my focus
on the ceiling.
My
classmates laughed themselves sick. When I finally got to the ceiling,
and despite Terry's fine demonstration, I had no idea how to get down.
There ensued a frantic conversation with the gym teacher, and if
possible, my even more agonizing descent back down the rope began.
Now,
instead of maybe four inches, I was making progress an inch at a time,
and every time I let go, it felt like I must certainly go tumbling to
the polished wood gym floor so infinitely far below.
By this time a very large crowd had gathered.
Not
only my classmates but a really large audience from the school
cafeteria, too. I was sweating profusely, red-faced, and every time I
inched down another click, my butt bulged out of my gym shorts as I
tried to adjust to my new position on the rope.
I stared hopelessly at my short skinny forearms. If God had intended me to climb ropes...
The
laughter was no longer a dull roar. The mere sound of all those people
laughing at me was overwhelming by itself, but instead of trying to
quiet the riot, the gym teacher was convulsed, too, clutching her ribs
and her muffin-top belly like she'd never seen a scholar climb a rope
before.
I
forgot momentarily or never knew that you technically didn't have to
climb the rope. This was all voluntary, like Federal Income Taxes.
Technically, all you had to do was make a good-faith effort to jump on
the knot.
I
hung there paralyzed between heaven and hell, clenched around that rope
like a python. Inch by inch by inch I made it down. When my feet
finally touched the big knot at the end of the rope, I just hung there
gasping for a full thirty seconds, dimly thinking I might live after
all, too exhausted and disoriented to even drop the rest of the way to
the floor, listening to the laughter still breaking out in guffaws and
giggles.
Finally,
I launched off the knot and landed with no grace at all on the tiny
padded mat, still clinging to the rope with one hand to prevent a total
collapse in front of my friends and detractors.
The
whole school, some 130 students and the Principal, had gathered for
The Unannounced Event. Plus the Guidance Counselor. Plus the gym
teacher, still red-faced and with eyes wet from tears of laughter. I
was completely drenched, soaking wet, in sweat. I could feel the back
of my gym suit smacked flat to my skin, fore and aft.
I didn't even think about the fact that I had actually made it back to Earth again.
I
certainly didn't expect what came next, when all those people who had
been laughing so uproariously went silent, nor was I prepared when they
started clapping. I was so dazed I didn't realize that I had suddenly
merited all this adulation and looked back over my shoulder to see who
they were clapping for. Terry Bonneville wasn't anywhere in sight. I
was confused.
No
amount of applause would ever convince me that this was a good
experience, but in a way, it was. It taught me a lot about myself,
about the strength of my determination and ability to persevere, and
also a lot about human nature. People often laugh at you and then end
up cheering. Not that you do whatever it is for their applause.
All
over this country, people are rope climbing -- not physically rope
climbing, but intellectually and spiritually rope climbing as they come
to grips with what has happened to their churches, schools, and
government.
I hear the Prophet Isaiah's voice saying, "If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all." (Isaiah 7: 9b)
The
predatory courts still caught up in their endless quest to collect war
reparations that are not owed by the people standing in front of them,
still wrapped up in the delusions of a long-dead and illegal Mercenary
War, imagining that we are Enemies and they are Victors, still continue
to misaddress American civilians on a daily basis.
The
basics of the situation come down to this--- your public employees have
occupied your country. They have no authority and no contract to do
this. When they misaddress you and entrap you into their courts, what
do you do?
1.
You make sure that before you say anything that it is on the court
record, by asking if it's on the record, and you bring as many Witnesses
with you as you can.
2.
You ask, "Where is the contract obligating me to obey you? Bring it
forward, if it exists." They don't have a contract with you, but they
will probably cite some State of State Constitution or Statute, some
County Code or other legislative doggerel.
3.
You ask, "Where is my signature on any of that?" They may try to put a
front on it and invite a conversation about Social Contracts. You
listen politely.
4.
You say, "I am not a member of the City or the District, and there is
no evidence otherwise before this court. I do not wish to be
impersonated or misaddressed by anyone."
In
some cases they might bring car registrations or copies of other
documents you did sign -- in which case you mildly observe, "I was
misinformed and coerced to sign that under color of law and conditions
of deceit and non-disclosure." And then you clam up and give them
nothing more to discuss.
There
will be an eerie silence if you have a competent court. If not, they
will push their way onward, and try to sentence you or fine you or so
whatever they were told to do according to their instructions. But if
they do that, you fall silent, too, waiting to appeal.
I
have done this many times and so have many others. In all but one case
we have never had to go to appeal court, and the one time that
happened, it came back against the lower court with extreme prejudice.
The cases vanish and sometimes the whole courts shut down and lock the
courthouse doors. Vanished overnight.
The thieves flee the light.
This
is because they have no valid contracts; the two valid contracts they
could have with the People of this country, The Constitution of the
United States of America and The Constitution of the United States, they
have evaded and dishonored.
The
sword of truth and the perseverance of the people prevails as
inexorably as my slow progress coming back down that rope. It may be
slow, it may be painful, but the safety of the solid ground awaits you,
and a life lived in freedom, too.
By ninth grade I could prove that the rope climb was voluntary. I sat on the bleachers and smiled. Even the good faith effort to jump on the knot was voluntary.
Freedom
from harassment. Freedom from forced registrations. Freedom from
foreign taxation. Freedom from unsought citizenship obligations.
Freedom from racketeering.
Freedom, sweet freedom that our forefathers fought for, not mere liberty.
Yes,
freedom and a country where every American sleeps snug in his bed and
our schools teach science instead of political dogma, where our
newspapers provide useful news, where our religious institutions no
longer live in fear of the government, and our health and safety is not
undermined by commercial corporations trying to sell us solutions to the
problems they have created.
Well, there's the knot, and there's the rope. We all have our Public Duty and our part to play.
----------------------------
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