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Once upon a time there was this little cow. He wanted to tell you how great it is to live in the 'United' States. So this is his story . . . .

I was born a few years ago and here is how it went. My owner, a rancher named Uncle Scam, made sure that I was branded close to birth. I have a big, rectangular-shaped brand that is on my hind quarters with stripes on it. Looks sort of like a flag of the ranch. You humans get to have a 'birth certificate' issued to you. You are lucky since it doesn't hurt like the brand does.

Next Uncle Scam stapled a tag on my ear with a number on it. That is so he could track me in case I wondered onto someone else's ranch. You human folks don't get stapled. They just issue you a number at birth whenever possible, or soon after your parents will get one for you so they can claim you as a dependent. Since you are smarter than me, a dumb old cow, you eventually memorize your number. I have to look into a mirror at mine or get the cow next to me to tell me what it is.

As we get older, we go to cow school where we learn how to eat hay and follow orders from Uncle Scam. You've seen us following one cow to the trough to eat in a pasture, haven't you? You get to go to human school where you get to eat crummy lunches and learn to follow orders from your Uncle Sam.

Since I am an animal resource, I eventually end up on a plate at Wendy's as a hamburger. You are a human resource that eventually ends up looking like hamburger after you are sent to places that Uncle Sam sends you, like the undeclared, unconstitutional war in Iraq .

I have no choice in what vaccines are pumped into me, and you have no choice of the ones that are pumped into you before you are allowed to enter your indoctrination centers, which are politely called public schools. At least I don't have to go to them, and I understand that I am just a commodity to be traded and sold for a profit. You folks get traded and sold for a profit and don't even know about it. Your birth certificates are placed in interstate commerce from the time of your birth and you are looked at as a source of revenue from the time you are old enough to work.

And talk about causing confusion! You should see what happens if two of us cows from two different ranches wander off somewhere and aren't found for a while and we have a calf that isn't branded or tagged! The ranchers go nuts. They can't figure out who the calf belongs to, and they will argue over who owns it! If two of you branded humans go off and have a child and don't brand it with a birth certificate and socialist security number, your Uncle Sam goes nuts because he can't claim ownership! Why, this human isn't 'ours.' It causes all kinds of problems for Uncle Sam when a human isn't branded. That is why he insists that you get your kids a birth certificate and Social Security number. Otherwise Uncle Sam is totally confused. The poor kid can't even get a driver's license or get registered to become hamburger in Iraq ! How sad!

You humans think you are free, and yet you obviously aren't, because if you try to do anything with your own body without Uncle Sam's permission, he will put you in a cage for it. You have to use Baal-approved . . . errr, I mean FDA (gooberment)-approved drugs if you are sick. You can't smoke grass if you need it because of nausea or some other sickness, and you have to wear seat belts because dead slaves are no good to the master. At least I can eat grass! You are a 'human resource,' and if you are killed by accident in a no-knock raid, you are considered 'collateral damage.' They don't really want to damage you because dead slaves are of no use. At least I realize I am a slave and am going to end up on your plate at Wendy's one day. Full of USDA-approved drugs and vaccines, of course.

Isn't it nice to live as free in the good old United States ? At least I am willing to realize that I am food for you. Too bad you can't realize that you are nothing but a peon to the New World Odor that is rising from the once great land known as America .

I am reminded of a song by Carl Klang . . . Why The Banksters Keep us Dumb . . .

Today, we're all going to learn a new term It's only two words, now listen closely Can all of you say . . . Constructive Fraud?

Did you ever get the feelin' as your stairin' at the ceilin' That this game of life we play ain't fair? Seems as fast as we can make it there's a hand that grabs and takes it Till they plant us in a grave somewhere Like a rodent on a treadmill, we keep pushin' for it up hill But we never seem to get to far Well if you think you're bein' taken Then you're ready to awaken to the truth of what we really are

We're all indentured, servitudal slaves over burdened and bewildered feudal knaves Who have lost our soul posterity through ignorance and apathy And now we're bein' taxed out of our graves And as long as we stay passive we'll succumb Contented with some socialistic crumb Well, the naked truth and fact is, we're all saps who pay our taxes And that is why the Banksters keep us dumb

Could the state of our condition be the product of omission What we didn't learn in public schools? And did our Fathers all through history all fight and die for liberty So we could play the tyrants' fools? And can you call it education when it's all indoctrination To obey the hidden powers that be Did we fight the revolution, did we win the world wars Just to slumber into slavery?

We're all indentured servitutal slaves Over burdened and bewildered feudal knaves Who have lost our soul posterity, through ignorance and apathy And now we're bein' taxed out of our graves And as long as we stay passive we'll succumb Contented with some humanistic crumb Well the naked truth and fact is we're all saps who pay those taxes And that is why the Banksters keep us dumb

While Franklin and Eleanor were tellin' us they hated war They made a deal behind our backs They said the bankers could enslave us for a portion of our wages And today we call it income tax But what they failed then to tell us was the way they planned to sell us Into statutory slavery Now it's called constructive fraud some even claim the wrath of God I call it social insecurity

Let's stop bein' indentured servitudal slaves Over burdened and bewildered feudal knaves and reclaim our lost posterity Rise up and proclaim liberty it's high time we rocked the boat and make some waves 'Cause as long as we stay passive we'll succumb they'll starve us on their communistic crumb And the naked truth and fact is we don't have to pay those taxes Yes it's time we showed those the Banksters those international gangsters So let's turn the tables and spoil all their fun

That's all!

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Mark Reynolds's picture
Columns on STR: 13

 
Mark Reynolds is a web site developer residing with his wife of 26 years and his four boys in the place most folks call Arkansas. Reading the book Letters to Jessica, a Child’s Guide to Freedom of Mind and Spirit was a major turning point in his life.