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4 November 2021

Meanwhile, Back in Jersey

As of late, I do not often follow politics; and I very rarely take note of the sewer-rat race of elections in my former home state of New Jersey. When The Lout in 2002 just HAD to be put onto the ballot for the senatorial race, because THERE WAS NO DEMOCRAT “running” in that slot, I said:

“Why bother even having an election? The Democrat always wins the body count!”

I also made a highly accurate comment during that autumn of 2002, to a frenemy, still living and grumbling in that meadowlands-swamp state of One Party Rule:

as more and more of the corrupt Democrats left New Jersey and retired to Florida, that sunshine state took over the pole position of #1 in stealing elections. In spite, or because of, The Sunshine Laws.

The next time that anyone boasts of his transparency, start looking for cloaks-and-daggers. Six feet deep!

Twenty years have passed by since the wretched Recounts of 2000, a shame-filled scam that taught the dumb party how to steal back better. I focused on other, more personal matters, raising a family, home-schooling my young’uns, and reclaiming an acre of land gone to wrack-and-ruin in Newcastle, CA.

Little did I even guess that my home state was receiving the same treatment, going to wrack-and-ruin, from a bunch of bozos running a once-productive original colony into the Chi-Comm ground. I did opine at a dinner party in late October 2009 that Christie would win: “He’s the Other Guy. Not that he’ll do much good, but he can’t do much worse.”

Once the Garment District in New York City got skewered, the “families” in New Jersey had to look elsewhere for those legitimate vices. King Andrew in Albany had been vehemently opposed to the Beijing influence, not out of any fervent patriotism to America, but because he was enslaved to other masters. We’ve yet to find out who-all those masters are!

The entire northeast is scrambling to find dopey puppets for the State House. They’re importing them — from one state to the next. Pinhead Murphy was born in . . . Massachusetts!

That accent must stick out like a sore thumb in Jersey!

During the first week of the 2000 Florida Recounts and the botched Butterfly Ballots, I came up with a plan to teach my home-schooled children the realities of political corruption in America. When the Miami-Dade county voting machines, in car trunks, started to be identified by the Opposition Party, you know, the R side of the Uniparty, I packed up myself, the hounds, the Hubby and the Kiddies, and we all headed out from Newcastle, CA.

The Milligan family took a 10-day trek in our Ford Explorer to the great national parks of Utah and Arizona, along with Hoover Dam.

My experiences during that transcendental journey were foundational and inspirational for my creation of THE DAWN, and for my creation of a future life for myself and for my family. The snow-laced geological formations that Arthur Carmichael contemplates from a window in Pascal’s Restaurant in Roussillon, France — are the hoodoos that I contemplated during that November 2000 in Bryce Canyon.

I’d not contemplated during that year, or even during the past two decades, the myriad ways in which the same processes were at work, nefarious under-cover work, in my home state and in the state I now call home. Nonetheless, the mob-state of New Jersey has been undergoing the same sieving and relocating of citizens in much the same ways as has the intrinsically libertarian state called California. In many ways, those two states of the United States are mirror images of one another.

The blatant quest for liberty moves the feet in ways that the fraudsters never count on. They only count the number of phony ballots they need to stay in power. Staying in power is their only game. To what end, I still do not know. It’s not just about the money anymore. It’s about hiding the dead bodies.

The thugs and crooks lose more with each spin of the fraud-campaign bottle. They’ve been shown for what they are — after decades and decades, sixty years worth, of conning the electorate about their working-class roots, their humble needs to help the working class stiff. Those blue-collar individuals, the salt of the earth, are now very much stiffs, especially after the COVID hysteria stuffed them into old folks homes, never to see the brighter side of life again: never to see life on this earth again.

It does not matter now if that geriatric genocide was planned, or if these elected and incompetent ghouls just fell into that morass of indecency, or if both scenarios played themselves out in 2020. What matters is the clawing of the decent, noble citizens out of their pits of political paybacks that are bankrupting their home states, even their homes.

Those paybacks might never end. For how does the Sleazy Figurehead figure out how to shut’em up forever? The First Amendment is a sticky constitutional right.

The Jersey in me is the part that will not be silenced, ever. Whenever it does speak, it comes out with unique, one-of-a-kind statements that are unforgettable. There are millions of people in Jersey, with the Jersey in them.

No one is gonna shut them up, anymore.

Rev your engines! Let’s Go Grassroots!