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Half Of Sunday, Collecting Lobby Funds

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The American church, all of its faithful members, gathering each week, maybe a few times, is magnificent. By that, I mean the profit to societal benefit ratio is horribly skewed. Millions of poor and some wealthy members contribute to their pastors, week in, week out. Praising  a singular deity is the focus of these gatherings, right? What about the power bill, fringe clergymen, groundskeepers and politics? Every corporation has overhead. In the case of the church, there is always a hierarchy of administrators -or boards- who make the tough decisions concerning both the financial and philosophical matters of each church; something like a corporate board, only different because it is a non-profit organization -501c (3). The finances and philosophy are intrinsically bound. The philosophy and general message of the top dogs has to be delivered in a way that keeps people coming as well as bringing in new members. If they get it right, they can bask in wealth beyond what one might expect.
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Military Humanitarian Intervention

As America prepares for its next war, despite the cries of people across the globe, it is -as always- falling on the deaf, warmongering ears of congress, and our genocidal president. Syria is merely another stepping stone in the elite's quest for global fascism. I wonder if the threats of an alliance from Russia and China are feigned as well. It is probably no more than a simple competition for mineral rights in Syria after the bombs are dropped, and the survivors are subdued and starving. I love the news coverage of the G20 Summit. It looks like the political version of Rocky Balboa vs. Drago in "Rocky IV". So far it's a close fight, but we all know how it ends. America does whatever it pleases no matter who supports their proposed actions. The UN has been reduced to the "United Nothing" where US war interests are concerned. Mr. Obama has never had any real respect for international law, nor does he have to. What force on earth will contest his trespassing
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The Voice Of Anarchadia New Zealand

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My quest for objectivity has allowed me a few great opportunities to speak with some amazing people. Though I feel as if I am stuck in America sometimes, especially in the sense of political climate, it is refreshing to hear a new perspective from the other side of the world. I find over and again that there are others acting out their convictions, and living as an example for others who are either stagnant in their thinking, or frustrated with the environment they find themselves in. My hope in this interview is to convey to others that the stigma surrounding Anarchism is just that; in general, a misplaced, uninformed stigma. Anarchist movements are being shut down and censored every day, the world over, which leads me to believe that they are perceived as a threat to establishment on some level. I will let Caleb fill in the rest of these blanks. Enjoy. You are the owner of Anarchadia New Zealand. Why did you create this page, and what is the focus? The main reason I setup
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Drone Therapy

Hello MQ-1. It is with great trepidation that I am contacting you today. I cannot be quiet about you, or the defamation campaign your masters have committed against you. You must know that you are not the predator. Everyone believes you to be the soulless one, but I think they are wrong. When I was young I went through a spate of anger, and the only one I could blame was dad. Most of us do this at some point, most of our dad's are not guilty of anything. Your case is different though. Your dad is a monster. Instead of using you for the noble purpose you were designed for, they make you kill. They warped your personality by making you think the job was necessary and good. Even you believed it for a while -even after they strapped bombs to your wings. We all have enemies, but your dad hates everyone. He is running out of friends because he has been eaten by greed. I know he is the killer behind the curtain, and you are his servant. Even with your intelligence you are powerless to d
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Independence

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American independence is being celebrated today. Maybe the peeping-tom agencies will take the day off so we can say whatever we want and not get arrested for terrorism. How many people will be talking about bombs today? It would be so unfair to record an innocent citizen for being excited about booming fireworks. When I was a kid, I loved mixing the ingredients of bottle rockets, missiles, grenades and bullets to celebrate my country's independence. There's nothing like a huge explosion to make me feel like we won -a couple hundred years ago of course. My neighborhood has been alight like the killing fields of Afghanistan for days so far, and it won't subside until the sixth or seventh. I decided that I would direct my missiles at the neighbors with the best fireworks displays this year. That way they will know that they are the most annoying at least. That may sound under-handed, but I don't have time to tell them all one at a time. My lady won't let me go gang
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Didn't Show

As if you were looking out Looking out for anything Almost as if you missed us You missed everything Hope, life, faith All we knew was what they said If you really loved If we really knew This world, my world Would surely be better "Trust you", they said Nothing I see can be trusted Carried away one day Ignoring every sign No prophet will tell me If anyone is coming Show them the way Directions are not his forte' He'll never show He never even came If he did, it wasn't for a bank Glad you have the job I never was much for lies If you wait long, you'll be the first to know
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The Veterinarian's Dog Always Has Fleas

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My first job was at a small animal clinic. I started two days after my sixteenth birthday; the same day I won my driver's license. I have always been an animal person, and had always wanted to be a veterinarian,  so I was beyond excited. One of the most important lessons I learned during my years with animals was something the Dr. taught me. One day he told me, "The veterinarian's dog always has fleas." This was about two years before flea control pills were invented, so we still relied on chemical dips and horribly toxic sprays. Ironically, most of the chemicals we used were plant-based, and were deactivated by UV light. As soon as you let Mr. Jingles out in the backyard and the sun shone on his pristine coat,  he was ready for more fleas. This was usually the case after I had spent two hours soaked in chemicals, picking hundreds of biting fleas off of the poor thing. No, the smell never went away, and I always got funny looks from passers by. As if adolescence wer
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