...to wring the truth out of the fictions you guys like to tell people.

Like, for instance, "top secret" people know MORE about everything than regular people who can read journal articles.

Go cook your weenies over someone else's imaginary stovepipe.

You've come here to sell crazy and no one's buying.

The single bullet theory was not "proven" by any article published in a rag that fronts for the National Security infrastructure. Pravda has more objective coverage than the NYT anymore.

The Chief Counsel for the House Committee on Assassinations, G. Robert Blakey, after the report supporting the theory JFK was murdered as the result of a conspiracy, accused the CIA of obstruction of justice in the case. The primary gatekeeper of the CIA's evidence, George Joannides, actually worked in and around Lee Harvey Oswald's CIA front organizations (counter-insurgency technique).

That's alot of trouble to go through to demonstrate one's innocence. Those files and that evidence should have been filed and summarized decades prior. Instead, a conspiracy to defraud the American people spanning multiple decades followed.

The bullet that supposedly performed the amazing feat of passing through two bodies' worth of flesh, bone and automobile seat? An unscratched, pristine copper-jacketed projectile.

Not gonna happen, skooter. That plus a body arriving in the back door of Bethesda for a bumb's rush autopsy without a brain to speak of pretty much spells "coup de tat."

...that depicted a man riding into town ON a white donkey.

He was not carrying the donkey so as to demonstrate how strong and powerful he was before his adoring fans.

His fans adored him. The great unwashed masses, never having met him or heard him speak, came to despise him with little provocation.

The message is clear...learn to control your inner donkey and the masses will be all the more energized to locate your defects of character FOR you. Then they will disproportionately punish you for mistakes they make multiple times a day. Sometimes with impunity.

Pontius Pilate was a thug. Not a well-meaning thug, a thug of the George W. Bush variety. His interests in keeping any Jewish uprising from gaining a foothold in the empire were clear.

The churches that printed and reprinted this story were able to do so at great expense. Only the elites were able to read and write, and only the scribes were allowed to record history.

The great mass of the faithful believed an oral history that quickly became engorged with mythological themes from other, more familiar, spiritual and cultural traditions.

My point is that barely a fragment of the real story of the true path of the hero remains; the rich elites have no interest in allowing people to believe that heroes get off scott free. The social institutions the rich have established and maintained over the centuries are designed to squelch rebellion so that only the most radical fringes can be heard.

What happens when the most radical fringe is in the middle?

Nationalism. Fascism. Terror. Roman rule, opus four.

Heroes don't have to die. Heroes don't have to blow themselves up for the sake of Allah. They can live on and do more sacred work if they are wise and prudent about the battles they choose to fight.

Rich people don't want you to believe this to be true. They want to scare you into submission. They want to offer stories of the Easter Bunny and of resurrection on some mystical third day.

Drilling a hole in your skull and attaching a hook to control your every move throughout your life would have been too obvious and unseemly.

Soon it will not matter. They are bold about their arrogance and sense of entitlement because they believe you are too few in number and too weak to bring them to justice.

Do it every day, anyway. Do it until it becomes as natural as brushing your teeth. But don't kill them this time. Stuff them into jail cells where they can be remembered for their worst, and forgotten for their best, behavior. Trap their miserables souls inside of bodies where they are weak and limited, where their weaknesses feed on their whithering forms

until they pass away as pathetically as our elderly pass away in the piss-stained warehouses these bastards relegate them to with impunity every single day.