The Rothschilds were the first. People would receive a letter in a black envelope — there was no postal service in those days. The person receiving the letter would look up from the letter and the person who delivered it was already gone — never to be seen again. Think of the Bush funeral.

Bill Clinton is a product of the dead man in the box. He wasn’t Skull & Bones, he was a CIA prop from the 1950’s — he was picked because of his intellect. The CIA at that time, owned the Mockingbird Media — please, tell me what has changed? The only one they couldn’t stop was the man that they knew for decades was going to be president. Ronald Reagan gazed at the stars and said Trump is it, (just like Coke).

That boy is presidential.

Now I ask you: how did they know all of these people were going to be president, including the rag head, Barack? The Ayers’ mailman was the first average Joe to know (because the mailmain got it from Barack’s cyanotic lips.)

It reminds one of Edgar Allen Poe (a son of Baltimore) who was allergic to alcohol — and there in lies the problem; Laudanum had alcohol in it.

Brown Brothers (before Harriman) knew where to get it: The Jolly Ole’ Roger England. Those scumbags in England think they own the earth. Have you ever noticed that the average Joe in England is up against the wall, because he really has no property rights?

It’s all fogged — London Fog, put on your raincoats, they’re pissing on us. Time we start throwing crap like monkeys at the zoo. There are a lot of us monkeys out here — they got no chance.

Have you seen British intelligence piling on our presidential election and how Barack Obama bowed to the Queen of England while President of The United States (as well as to the King of Saudi Arabia?)

That bitch went to Occidental College — was that an Occidental accident? No! That was Armand Hammer from the grave. Some more CIA bullshit.

These British run the financial sector of the world and they use our CIA as a tool. Please…let’s see just how much John Brennan can take before he breaks into a babbling idiot for the rest of his miserable existence. How much do you know little Johnny? We’re going to teach you a lesson — you, and the horse you rode in on.