Why I’m Still Standing With Bernie


Last night’s apparent losses to the Clinton campaign have only further exemplified how corruption and voter fraud has lead to the DNC giving the nomination to Clinton, while paying little regard to the wants of the American people. There have already been allegations and evidence popping up, that voters in Pennsylvania were given ballots without Sanders listed as a candidate. With the DNC and the Clinton campaign trying their hardest to secure Hillary as the nominee for the Democratic Party, one would think the voters would follow suit. This however is not the case.

I personally have noticed, and now have witnessed, a growing degree of outrage towards the recent primaries in New York, and now Pennsylvania and Connecticut. It seems the more Hillary pushes her agenda, the more voters are become dissuaded from her candidacy. This is the primary reason of the split in the current Democratic Party, and for one, it is not Bernie Sanders to blame at all.

I first heard of Bernie Sanders over ten years ago, as the man who was considered the crazy independent in Vermont. It wasn’t long after then that I started paying attention to Bernie Sanders. It became evident then, and more so every year since, that Bernie Sanders is not a politician who could be bought. Bernie’s vision has always been in the interests of the people, the same interests all politicians should share.

Initially a Clinton supporter, I became increasingly interested in Bernie’s proposals, even before he entered the race. He had, and to this day, still does talk about the issues concerning the working class, foreign policy, and the future of our nation. Issues we should all be talking about and focusing in, not the concerns of corporate bureaucrats and the one percent.

Meanwhile, as time has gone on, Hillary has spent more time attacking Sanders than talking about the future of the nation. Tack on the plethora of scandalous activity pointing in her direction, and you have a candidate whom stands no chance now against Donald Trump. The Benghazi scandal was only the beginning, the recent rumors popping up to links with the recent Panama Papers leak, has only helped solidify her position with the corrupt government that is trying to snuff out the voice of the people. How far the Clintons have fallen…

Bernie Sanders has however, done something rather magical. Against insurmountable odds he has given Hillary a run for her money, and even pushed her campaign to the brink of disaster, likely leading to the Clinton camps motives behind voter fraud in now three states. Bernie has united and spoken to the people. He has done what a true politician should do, merely portrayed himself as a vessel for change and civil rights for the citizens of this country. The crowds he has amassed are among the largest of any candidate, something the press won’t focus on.

Win or lose, Bernie has shown the country what happens when a strong leadership takes the time to listen to the people. His campaign has fought tooth and nail for our rights as Americans, and as supporters of that campaign, it is our job to stand by our candidate and see the primaries through to the very end.

Bernie’s voice has been an awakening to the establishment. It also can be considered to be an awakening to a needed revolution that this country is on the beginnings of. With the amount of publicity and notoriety Sanders has garnished, it’s quite possible that it is only a matter of time before the changes necessary start to take place.


All New Yorkers Should Be Outraged After Reading This


The lastest democratic poll numbers are staggering. With evidence that Sanders took home over 85% of the counties in the state, voter fraud seems more blantantly obvious than ever. Let’s just crunch the numbers though:


Here are the facts:

27% of all Democratic New York voters were not allowed to vote due to various legalities in the state.

New York state has roughly Twelve Million voters whom were registered or had a history of voting Democratic.

The above polling numbers show 1.8 million voters took part in the Democratic Primary.

1.8 million voters is twenty percent of the nine million voters available.

Twenty percent of three million is 600,000 voters who likely would have voted had they been able too.

Bernie Sanders had roughly 80% of the vote from voters under age 30.

Over 125,000 voters in Brooklyn NY (Bernie Sanders Stronghold), were refused the right to vote.

Many of the voters denied were denied in NYC, and denied due to the fact they hadn’t registered as Democrats.

Most people don’t vote in elections other than Presidential ones. Meaning a huge percentage not able to vote fit into the catagory of someone who would have voted for Bernie Sanders. Voters 22 1/2 years old and younger likely were unable to vote for Sanders at all.

With 600,000 votes not cast due to election legality constraints, it’s safe to say atleast 70% of these votes would have been for Sanders.

600,000 x 70%= 420,000 votes for Bernie Sanders

600,000 x 30%= 180,000 votes for Hillary Clinton

Difference= 240,000

This means that only 50,000 would be needed by Sanders to catch up to Hillary. Proving, he would’ve made the primary a close race.

These numbers do not include the numerous accounts of voter fraud, and supression: faulty machines, understaffed polling sites, voters whom were registered as Democrats yet were changed to Republican against their will, etc.

600,000 voters not eligible for voting for a Democratic candidate whom otherwise would have. Let that sink in for a minute.

All it takes for corruption to triumph is for the American people to do nothing.


They Don’t Really Care About Us


What is a democracy?

It’s an interesting question. One which has been uttered more and more in recent months. With allegations of voter fraud in Arizona, to the recent links of Hillary Clinton to the Panama Papers, political corruption arguably has never been more evident.

Fast forward, to the New York Primary. With over 200 electoral votes at stake, the primary was slated to be the deciding primary for the Democratic nomination. Critics and journalists had warned that New York needed to avoid a fiasco similar to Arizona. What happened in reality was worse.

It’s no suprise that Hillary’s New York, a state which had elected her Senator twice, would make the primary swing her way initially. However, after winning eight of the last nine states, Sanders had proved a point that the race for New York could be very close indeed. Political cronies, and greed changed that.

New York City was rumored to be a stronghold for Bernie Sanders, the city alone worth nearly half of the state’s delegates. However, New York’s mayor De Blasio, who is a Clinton supporter conveniently, may be partly responsible for the voter problems that propped up.

It’s the same story, defective machines, understaffed polling stations, and polling hours which differed from when the polls were to be opened. But now, there are some new twists. A little law forcing all those back in October 2015 to be registered as Democrats to vote in the Democratic Primary, was passed unnoticed. It was merely days before yesterday’s primary that this change came to light, easily shafting thousands of voters from casting their vote in the Democratic Primary.

Allegations have also popped up, that voters had listed themselves as Independent or Republican, while voting Democratic the past few elections. These documents, appear to have been forged, causing outrage across the masses.

Others had different problems, such as when entire city blocks of voters went missing from the registry. Thus causing tens of thousands of voters to once again, be denied the right to vote.

The final tally has Hillary with 58% of the vote, with almost 300,000 more votes than Bernie Sanders. However, in Brooklyn NY alone, over 100,000 voters were denied. Others across the entire state were denied too, in a similar act that prevented college students in Arizona  (Bernie’s biggest supporters), from having their voices heard.

I am disgusted. Big money and politics is destroying this country. Corporate bureaucracy controls too much of this nation and has been dabbling in the voting process for far too long. Where is the justice system? Isn’t it obvious who is behind this voter fraud?

This country claims it is a democracy. It claims it is a government for the people. Yet, where is the voice of the people heard? What is democracy? What has America turned into?

Sources below.





Lessons in Literature-A Sound of Thunder


If you’re really familiar with Ray Bradbury and his classic short story, A Sound of Thunder, you know there is a discussion of a presidential candidate whom is widely despised by the populace. For those not familair with the story, I have included it below. Keep in mind, this is the same author who wrote Fahrenheit 451, a great novel which shows societies degeneration.

In Bradbury’s short story, there is a line which reads:

“We’re lucky. If Deutscher had gotten in, we’d have the worst kind of dictatorship. There’s an anti everything man for you, a militarist, anti­Christ,anti­human, anti­intellectual. People called us up, you know, joking but not joking. Said if Deutscher became President they wanted to go live in 1492.”

The winner of the election was a man named Keith. I feel this character personifies Bernie Sanders. As for Deutscher (notice the German name), I feel his character more personifies Donald Trump.

The more I think about it, the more I feel everytime I hear about Trump, it reminds me of The Sound of Thunder.


A Sound of Thunder
Ray Bradbury
The sign on the wall seemed to quaver under a film of sliding warm water. Eckels felt his eyelids
blink over his stare, and the sign burned in this momentary darkness:
Warm phlegm gathered in Eckels’ throat; he swallowed and pushed it down. The muscles
around his mouth formed a smile as he put his hand slowly out upon the air, and in that hand
waved a check for ten thousand dollars to the man behind the desk.
“Does this safari guarantee I come back alive?”
“We guarantee nothing,” said the official, “except the dinosaurs.” He turned. “This is Mr. Travis,
your Safari Guide in the Past. He’ll tell you what and where to shoot. If he says no shooting, no
shooting. If you disobey instructions, there’s a stiff penalty of another ten thousand dollars, plus
possible government action, on your return.”
Eckels glanced across the vast office at a mass and tangle, a snaking and humming of wires
and steel boxes, at an aurora that flickered now orange, now silver, now blue. There was a
sound like a gigantic bonfire burning all of Time, all the years and all the parchment calendars,
all the hours piled high and set aflame.
A touch of the hand and this burning would, on the instant, beautifully reverse itself. Eckels
remembered the wording in the advertisements to the letter. Out of chars and ashes, out of dust
and coals, like golden salamanders, the old years, the green years, might leap; roses sweeten
the air, white hair turn Irish­black, wrinkles vanish; all, everything fly back to seed, flee death,
rush down to their beginnings, suns rise in western skies and set in glorious easts, moons eat
themselves opposite to the custom, all and everything cupping one in another like Chinese
boxes, rabbits into hats, all and everything returning to the fresh death, the seed death, the
green death, to the time before the beginning. A touch of a hand might do it, the merest touch of

“Unbelievable.” Eckels breathed, the light of the Machine on his thin face. “A real Time
Machine.” He shook his head. “Makes you think, If the election had gone badly yesterday, I
might be here now running away from the results. Thank God Keith won. He’ll make a fine
President of the United States.”
“Yes,” said the man behind the desk. “We’re lucky. If Deutscher had gotten in, we’d have the
worst kind of dictatorship. There’s an anti everything man for you, a militarist, anti­Christ,
anti­human, anti­intellectual. People called us up, you know, joking but not joking. Said if
Deutscher became President they wanted to go live in 1492. Of course it’s not our business to
conduct Escapes, but to form Safaris. Anyway, Keith’s President now. All you got to worry about
“Shooting my dinosaur,” Eckels finished it for him.
“A Tyrannosaurus Rex. The Tyrant Lizard, the most incredible monster in history. Sign this
release. Anything happens to you, we’re not responsible. Those dinosaurs are hungry.”
Eckels flushed angrily. “Trying to scare me!”
“Frankly, yes. We don’t want anyone going who’ll panic at the first shot. Six Safari leaders were
killed last year, and a dozen hunters. We’re here to give you the severest thrill a real hunter ever
asked for. Traveling you back sixty million years to bag the biggest game in all of Time. Your
personal check’s still there. Tear it up.”Mr. Eckels looked at the check. His fingers twitched.
“Good luck,” said the man behind the desk. “Mr. Travis, he’s all yours.”
They moved silently across the room, taking their guns with them, toward the Machine, toward
the silver metal and the roaring light.
First a day and then a night and then a day and then a night, then it was day­night­day­night. A
week, a month, a year, a decade! A.D. 2055. A.D. 2019. 1999! 1957! Gone! The Machine
They put on their oxygen helmets and tested the intercoms.
Eckels swayed on the padded seat, his face pale, his jaw stiff. He felt the trembling in his arms
and he looked down and found his hands tight on the new rifle. There were four other men in
the Machine. Travis, the Safari Leader, his assistant, Lesperance, and two other hunters,
Billings and Kramer. They sat looking at each other, and the years blazed around them.
“Can these guns get a dinosaur cold?” Eckels felt his mouth saying.
“If you hit them right,” said Travis on the helmet radio. “Some dinosaurs have two brains, one in
the head, another far down the spinal column. We stay away from those. That’s stretching luck.

Put your first two shots into the eyes, if you can, blind them, and go back into the brain.”
The Machine howled. Time was a film run backward. Suns fled and ten million moons fled after
them. “Think,” said Eckels. “Every hunter that ever lived would envy us today. This makes Africa
seem like Illinois.”
The Machine slowed; its scream fell to a murmur. The Machine stopped.
The sun stopped in the sky.
The fog that had enveloped the Machine blew away and they were in an old time, a very old
time indeed, three hunters and two Safari Heads with their blue metal guns across their knees.
“Christ isn’t born yet,” said Travis, “Moses has not gone to the mountains to talk with God. The
Pyramids are still in the earth, waiting to be cut out and put up. Remember that. Alexander,
Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler­none of them exists.” The man nodded.
“That” ­ Mr. Travis pointed ­ “is the jungle of sixty million two thousand and fifty­five years before
President Keith.”
He indicated a metal path that struck off into green wilderness, over streaming swamp, among
giant ferns and palms.
“And that,” he said, “is the Path, laid by Time Safari for your use,
It floats six inches above the earth. Doesn’t touch so much as one grass blade, flower, or tree.
It’s an anti­gravity metal. Its purpose is to keep you from touching this world of the past in any
way. Stay on the Path. Don’t go off it. I repeat. Don’t go off. For any reason! If you fall off, there’s
a penalty. And don’t shoot any animal we don’t okay.”
“Why?” asked Eckels.
They sat in the ancient wilderness. Far birds’ cries blew on a wind, and the smell of tar and an
old salt sea, moist grasses, and flowers the color of blood.
“We don’t want to change the Future. We don’t belong here in the Past. The government doesn’t
like us here. We have to pay big graft to keep our franchise. A Time Machine is finicky business.
Not knowing it, we might kill an important animal, a small bird, a roach, a flower even, thus
destroying an important link in a growing species.”
“That’s not clear,” said Eckels.
“All right,” Travis continued, “say we accidentally kill one mouse here. That means all the future
families of this one particular mouse are destroyed, right?”

“And all the families of the families of the families of that one mouse! With a stamp of your foot,
you annihilate first one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!”
“So they’re dead,” said Eckels. “So what?”
“So what?” Travis snorted quietly. “Well, what about the foxes that’ll need those mice to
survive? For want of ten mice, a fox dies. For want of ten foxes a lion starves. For want of a lion,
all manner of insects, vultures, infinite billions of life forms are thrown into chaos and
destruction. Eventually it all boils down to this: fifty­nine million years later, a caveman, one of a
dozen on the entire world, goes hunting wild boar or saber­toothed tiger for food. But you,
friend, have stepped on all the tigers in that region. By stepping on one single mouse. So the
caveman starves. And the caveman, please note, is not just any expendable man, no! He is an
entire future nation. From his loins would have sprung ten sons. From their loins one hundred
sons, and thus onward to a civilization. Destroy this one man, and you destroy a race, a people,
an entire history of life. It is comparable to slaying some of Adam’s grandchildren. The stomp of
your foot, on one mouse, could start an earthquake, the effects of which could shake our earth
and destinies down through Time, to their very foundations. With the death of that one
caveman, a billion others yet unborn are throttled in the womb. Perhaps Rome never rises on its
seven hills. Perhaps Europe is forever a dark forest, and only Asia waxes healthy and teeming.
Step on a mouse and you crush the Pyramids. Step on a mouse and you leave your print, like a
Grand Canyon, across Eternity. Queen Elizabeth might never be born, Washington might not
cross the Delaware, there might never be a United States at all. So be careful. Stay on the Path.
Never step off!”
“I see,” said Eckels. “Then it wouldn’t pay for us even to touch the grass?”
“Correct. Crushing certain plants could add up infinitesimally. A little error here would multiply in
sixty million years, all out of proportion. Of course maybe our theory is wrong. Maybe Time can’t
be changed by us. Or maybe it can be changed only in little subtle ways. A dead mouse here
makes an insect imbalance there, a population disproportion later, a bad harvest further on, a
depression, mass starvation, and finally, a change in social temperament in far­flung countries.
Something much more subtle, like that. Perhaps only a soft breath, a whisper, a hair, pollen on
the air, such a slight, slight change that unless you looked close you wouldn’t see it. Who
knows? Who really can say he knows? We don’t know. We’re guessing. But until we do know for
certain whether our messing around in Time can make a big roar or a little rustle in history,
we’re being careful. This Machine, this Path, your clothing and bodies, were sterilized, as you
know, before the journey. We wear these oxygen helmets so we can’t introduce our bacteria into
an ancient atmosphere.”
“How do we know which animals to shoot?”

“They’re marked with red paint,” said Travis. “Today, before our journey, we sent Lesperance
here back with the Machine. He came to this particular era and followed certain animals.”
“Studying them?”
“Right,” said Lesperance. “I track them through their entire existence, noting which of them lives
longest. Very few. How many times they mate. Not often. Life’s short, When I find one that’s
going to die when a tree falls on him, or one that drowns in a tar pit, I note the exact hour,
minute, and second. I shoot a paint bomb. It leaves a red patch on his side. We can’t miss it.
Then I correlate our arrival in the Past so that we meet the Monster not more than two minutes
before he would have died anyway. This way, we kill only animals with no future, that are never
going to mate again. You see how careful we are?”
“But if you come back this morning in Time,” said Eckels eagerly, you must’ve bumped into us,
our Safari! How did it turn out? Was it successful? Did all of us get through­alive?”
Travis and Lesperance gave each other a look.
“That’d be a paradox,” said the latter. “Time doesn’t permit that sort of mess­a man meeting
himself. When such occasions threaten, Time steps aside. Like an airplane hitting an air pocket.
You felt the Machine jump just before we stopped? That was us passing ourselves on the way
back to the Future. We saw nothing. There’s no way of telling if this expedition was a success, if
we got our monster, or whether all of us ­ meaning you, Mr. Eckels ­ got out alive.”
Eckels smiled palely.
“Cut that,” said Travis sharply. “Everyone on his feet!”
They were ready to leave the Machine.
The jungle was high and the jungle was broad and the jungle was the entire world forever and
forever. Sounds like music and sounds like flying tents filled the sky, and those were
pterodactyls soaring with cavernous gray wings, gigantic bats of delirium and night fever.
Eckels, balanced on the narrow Path, aimed his rifle playfully.
“Stop that!” said Travis. “Don’t even aim for fun, blast you! If your guns should go off ­ ­ ”
Eckels flushed. “Where’s our Tyrannosaurus?”
Lesperance checked his wristwatch. “Up ahead, We’ll bisect his trail in sixty seconds. Look for
the red paint! Don’t shoot till we give the word. Stay on the Path. Stay on the Path!”
They moved forward in the wind of morning.

“Strange,” murmured Eckels. “Up ahead, sixty million years, Election Day over. Keith made
President. Everyone celebrating. And here we are, a million years lost, and they don’t exist. The
things we worried about for months, a lifetime, not even born or thought of yet.”
“Safety catches off, everyone!” ordered Travis. “You, first shot, Eckels. Second, Billings, Third,
“I’ve hunted tiger, wild boar, buffalo, elephant, but now, this is it,” said Eckels. “I’m shaking like a
“Ah,” said Travis.
Everyone stopped.
Travis raised his hand. “Ahead,” he whispered. “In the mist. There he is. There’s His Royal
Majesty now.”
The jungle was wide and full of twitterings, rustlings, murmurs, and sighs.
Suddenly it all ceased, as if someone had shut a door.
A sound of thunder.
Out of the mist, one hundred yards away, came Tyrannosaurus Rex.
“It,” whispered Eckels. “It……
It came on great oiled, resilient, striding legs. It towered thirty feet above half of the trees, a
great evil god, folding its delicate watchmaker’s claws close to its oily reptilian chest. Each lower
leg was a piston, a thousand pounds of white bone, sunk in thick ropes of muscle, sheathed
over in a gleam of pebbled skin like the mail of a terrible warrior. Each thigh was a ton of meat,
ivory, and steel mesh. And from the great breathing cage of the upper body those two delicate
arms dangled out front, arms with hands which might pick up and examine men like toys, while
the snake neck coiled. And the head itself, a ton of sculptured stone, lifted easily upon the sky.
Its mouth gaped, exposing a fence of teeth like daggers. Its eyes rolled, ostrich eggs, empty of
all expression save hunger. It closed its mouth in a death grin. It ran, its pelvic bones crushing
aside trees and bushes, its taloned feet clawing damp earth, leaving prints six inches deep
wherever it settled its weight.

It ran with a gliding ballet step, far too poised and balanced for its ten tons. It moved into a sunlit
area warily, its beautifully reptilian hands feeling the air.
“Why, why,” Eckels twitched his mouth. “It could reach up and grab the moon.”
“Sh!” Travis jerked angrily. “He hasn’t seen us yet.”
“It can’t be killed,” Eckels pronounced this verdict quietly, as if there could be no argument. He
had weighed the evidence and this was his considered opinion. The rifle in his hands seemed a
cap gun. “We were fools to come. This is impossible.”
“Shut up!” hissed Travis.
“Turn around,” commanded Travis. “Walk quietly to the Machine. We’ll remit half your fee.”
“I didn’t realize it would be this big,” said Eckels. “I miscalculated, that’s all. And now I want out.”
“It sees us!”
“There’s the red paint on its chest!”
The Tyrant Lizard raised itself. Its armored flesh glittered like a thousand green coins. The
coins, crusted with slime, steamed. In the slime, tiny insects wriggled, so that the entire body
seemed to twitch and undulate, even while the monster itself did not move. It exhaled. The stink
of raw flesh blew down the wilderness.
“Get me out of here,” said Eckels. “It was never like this before. I was always sure I’d come
through alive. I had good guides, good safaris, and safety. This time, I figured wrong. I’ve met
my match and admit it. This is too much for me to get hold of.”
“Don’t run,” said Lesperance. “Turn around. Hide in the Machine.”
“Yes.” Eckels seemed to be numb. He looked at his feet as if trying to make them move. He
gave a grunt of helplessness.
He took a few steps, blinking, shuffling.
“Not that way!”
The Monster, at the first motion, lunged forward with a terrible scream. It covered one hundred yards in six seconds. The rifles jerked up and blazed fire. A windstorm from the beast’s mouth
engulfed them in the stench of slime and old blood. The Monster roared, teeth glittering with
The rifles cracked again, Their sound was lost in shriek and lizard thunder. The great level of
the reptile’s tail swung up, lashed sideways. Trees exploded in clouds of leaf and branch. The
Monster twitched its jeweler’s hands down to fondle at the men, to twist them in half, to crush
them like berries, to cram them into its teeth and its screaming throat. Its boulderstone eyes
leveled with the men. They saw themselves mirrored. They fired at the metallic eyelids and the
blazing black iris,
Like a stone idol, like a mountain avalanche, Tyrannosaurus fell.
Thundering, it clutched trees, pulled them with it. It wrenched and tore the metal Path. The men
flung themselves back and away. The body hit, ten tons of cold flesh and stone. The guns fired.
The Monster lashed its armored tail, twitched its snake jaws, and lay still. A fount of blood
spurted from its throat. Somewhere inside, a sac of fluids burst. Sickening gushes drenched the
hunters. They stood, red and glistening.
The thunder faded.
The jungle was silent. After the avalanche, a green peace. After the nightmare, morning.
Billings and Kramer sat on the pathway and threw up. Travis and Lesperance stood with
smoking rifles, cursing steadily. In the Time Machine, on his face, Eckels lay shivering. He had
found his way back to the Path, climbed into the Machine.
Travis came walking, glanced at Eckels, took cotton gauze from a metal box, and returned to
the others, who were sitting on the Path.
“Clean up.”
They wiped the blood from their helmets. They began to curse too. The Monster lay, a hill of
solid flesh. Within, you could hear the sighs and murmurs as the furthest chambers of it died,
the organs malfunctioning, liquids running a final instant from pocket to sac to spleen,
everything shutting off, closing up forever. It was like standing by a wrecked locomotive or a
steam shovel at quitting time, all valves being released or levered tight. Bones cracked; the
tonnage of its own flesh, off balance, dead weight, snapped the delicate forearms, caught
underneath. The meat settled, quivering.
Another cracking sound. Overhead, a gigantic tree branch broke from its heavy mooring, fell. It
crashed upon the dead beast with finality.
“There.” Lesperance checked his watch. “Right on time. That’s the giant tree that was scheduled
to fall and kill this animal originally.” He glanced at the two hunters. “You want the trophy picture?”
“We can’t take a trophy back to the Future. The body has to stay right here where it would have
died originally, so the insects, birds, and bacteria can get at it, as they were intended to.
Everything in balance. The body stays. But we can take a picture of you standing near it.”
The two men tried to think, but gave up, shaking their heads.
They let themselves be led along the metal Path. They sank wearily into the Machine cushions.
They gazed back at the ruined Monster, the stagnating mound, where already strange reptilian
birds and golden insects were busy at the steaming armor. A sound on the floor of the Time
Machine stiffened them. Eckels sat there, shivering.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last.
“Get up!” cried Travis.
Eckels got up.
“Go out on that Path alone,” said Travis. He had his rifle pointed, “You’re not coming back in the
Machine. We’re leaving you here!”
Lesperance seized Travis’s arm. “Wait­”
“Stay out of this!” Travis shook his hand away. “This fool nearly killed us. But it isn’t that so
much, no. It’s his shoes! Look at them! He ran off the Path. That ruins us! We’ll forfeit!
Thousands of dollars of insurance! We guarantee no one leaves the Path. He left it. Oh, the
fool! I’ll have to report to the government. They might revoke our license to travel. Who knows
what he’s done to Time, to History!”
“Take it easy, all he did was kick up some dirt.”
“How do we know?” cried Travis. “We don’t know anything! It’s all a mystery! Get out of here,
Eckels fumbled his shirt. “I’ll pay anything. A hundred thousand dollars!”
Travis glared at Eckels’ checkbook and spat. “Go out there. The Monster’s next to the Path.
Stick your arms up to your elbows in his mouth. Then you can come back with us.”
“That’s unreasonable!”

“The Monster’s dead, you idiot. The bullets! The bullets can’t be left behind. They don’t belong in
the Past; they might change anything. Here’s my knife. Dig them out!”
The jungle was alive again, full of the old tremorings and bird cries. Eckels turned slowly to
regard the primeval garbage dump, that hill of nightmares and terror. After a long time, like a
sleepwalker he shuffled out along the Path.
He returned, shuddering, five minutes later, his arms soaked and red to the elbows. He held out
his hands. Each held a number of steel bullets. Then he fell. He lay where he fell, not moving.
“You didn’t have to make him do that,” said Lesperance.
“Didn’t I? It’s too early to tell.” Travis nudged the still body. “He’ll live. Next time he won’t go
hunting game like this. Okay.” He jerked his thumb wearily at Lesperance. “Switch on. Let’s go
1492. 1776. 1812.
They cleaned their hands and faces. They changed their caking shirts and pants. Eckels was up
and around again, not speaking. Travis glared at him for a full ten minutes.
“Don’t look at me,” cried Eckels. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Who can tell?”
“Just ran off the Path, that’s all, a little mud on my shoes­what do you want me to do­get down
and pray?”
“We might need it. I’m warning you, Eckels, I might kill you yet. I’ve got my gun ready.”
“I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing!”
The Machine stopped.
“Get out,” said Travis.
The room was there as they had left it. But not the same as they had left it. The same man sat
behind the same desk. But the same man did not quite sit behind the same desk. Travis looked
around swiftly. “Everything okay here?” he snapped.
“Fine. Welcome home!”

Travis did not relax. He seemed to be looking through the one high window.
“Okay, Eckels, get out. Don’t ever come back.” Eckels could not move.
“You heard me,” said Travis. “What’re you staring at?”
Eckels stood smelling of the air, and there was a thing to the air, a chemical taint so subtle, so
slight, that only a faint cry of his subliminal senses warned him it was there. The colors, white,
gray, blue, orange, in the wall, in the furniture, in the sky beyond the window, were . . . were . . .
. And there was a feel. His flesh twitched. His hands twitched. He stood drinking the oddness
with the pores of his body. Somewhere, someone must have been screaming one of those
whistles that only a dog can hear. His body screamed silence in return. Beyond this room,
beyond this wall, beyond this man who was not quite the same man seated at this desk that was
not quite the same desk . . . lay an entire world of streets and people. What sort of world it was
now, there was no telling. He could feel them moving there, beyond the walls, almost, like so
many chess pieces blown in a dry wind ….
But the immediate thing was the sign painted on the office wall, the same sign he had read
earlier today on first entering. Somehow, the sign had changed:
Eckels felt himself fall into a chair. He fumbled crazily at the thick slime on his boots. He held up
a clod of dirt, trembling, “No, it can’t be. Not a little thing like that. No!”
Embedded in the mud, glistening green and gold and black, was a butterfly, very beautiful and
very dead.
“Not a little thing like that! Not a butterfly!” cried Eckels.
It fell to the floor, an exquisite thing, a small thing that could upset balances and knock down a
line of small dominoes and then big dominoes and then gigantic dominoes, all down the years
across Time. Eckels’ mind whirled. It couldn’t change things. Killing one butterfly couldn’t be that
important! Could it?
His face was cold. His mouth trembled, asking: “Who ­ who won the presidential election
The man behind the desk laughed. “You joking? You know very well. Deutscher, of course! Who else? Not that fool weakling Keith. We got an iron man now, a man with guts!” The official
stopped. “What’s wrong?”
Eckels moaned. He dropped to his knees. He scrabbled at the golden butterfly with shaking
fingers. “Can’t we,” he pleaded to the world, to himself, to the officials, to the Machine, “can’t we
take it back, can’t we make it alive again? Can’t we start over? Can’t we­”
He did not move. Eyes shut, he waited, shivering. He heard Travis breathe loud in the room; he
heard Travis shift his rifle, click the safety catch, and raise the weapon.
There was a sound of thunder.
Ray Bradbury, “A Sound of Thunder,” in R is for Rocket, (New York: Doubleday, 1952)


Why The Panama Papers Are Important


You may have heard, that a large leak of corporate data occurred recently which has taken the world by storm. The company compromised, Mossack Fonseca, is a business specializing in the creation of offshore businesses, or fronts which deal in a variety business practices. Whether it be property purchases, black market trading, or worse, these dealings have recently been exposed in a massive leak (the largest ever) called the Panama Papers. The company compromised, is located in Panama, hence the name. But why is this important to the average Joe?

It should be no suprise, corporate big wigs, and bureaucrats, have been embellishing in side projects and private ventures for centuries. After all, everyone is out to make money, even if illegally. But at what expense? True, not all the exposed activities are illegal, not on the surface originally. Yet, the question comes to mind: If these activities aren’t illegal then why is everyone so tight lipped over it? We’ve only scratched the surface of this massive leak, which has ties to Putin and Poshenko. Sean Connery, and even the Saudi King. Already, the Prime Minister of Iceland has resigned. The fallout has begun, but for what reason. It is the proof, first hand, of the growing web of illegal entanglements, and secret ploys the rich use to get richer.

The Panama Papers list out detailed activity. To illegal sales of jet fuel used by Assad’s government to target civilians in Syria, to a UK politician secretly financing North Korea’South nuclear weapons program. The Panama Papers make light of the unethical practices of the worlds aristocratic society. Some of which, is at the expense of ordinary people. How? Why create an off shore company? How about tax evasion? Why create a false front if you weren’t hiding something? These are the questions we should be thinking about.

Anyone with half a brain knows the higher ups dip their hands in enterprises they best not disclose. This leak has ultimately shown the world proof of how vast this secrecy is. Had this leak been as sizable 150 years ago, the Marxist movements back then might have had alot more fuel to work with. With all the discontent with these political elite, it should not come as a suprise that the future may very well hold more calls for leaders to step down. Perhaps even revolution. Funny though, how our American press has tried to keep the leak low key and strangely no one in our political system has been linked to any of these off shore accounts, yet. Would they honestly tell us though, if anyone in our political system was involved? Especially since these same new agencies are owned and operated by the very people whom may be involved with off shore dealings.

This leak is the clear cut facts of all that the common rabble are blinded from. Particularly in regards to the lives of the rich, whom walk this earth privileged and ussually greedy for more. It is evidence of how corrupt most of our world leaders are and to what end they will bend the rules, or break them, to stuff their empires. We all should pay close attention to this story as it unfolds.

I have a included a link below for those who wish to visit the site:



Food For Thought


There is no question the attacks on 9/11 were a tragedy. However, it should be a bit obvious that what we’ve been told as a nation, differs from what actually transpired. Politicians always try to sweep the reality they don’t want us to know under the rug. The following are notes, and research on my part, on a number of different factors that may have benefited everyone involved on that day. Everyone but the American people. The verdict? You decide.

Rig an election to have Bush Jr as president to do his father’s bidding. Gore says he won’t rest until every last vote is counted in Florida (Jeb Bush assured his brother Florida).  Two days later Gore suddenly states we should accept Bush as president elect.

Set to invade Iraq by making fabrications about WMDs & Biochemical weapons. Secretly, with Columbia, censor an 11,800 page report by omitting over half of it before it hits the UN Security Council to make the report appear incomplete, thus provoking the Security Council to war. Create forged invoices to make it appear Iraq is still trying to obtain uranium. Joseph Wilson, a UN weapons inspector publicly announced that the reports were fake and Iraq was not purchasing uranium. Days later, his wife, a CIA operative, gets her cover blown by a Cheney cabinet member.


RUSSO-AFGHAN war 1979-1989. Bin laden, relative of the rich Bin Laden family in Saudi Arabia, infiltrates Afghanistan to help fight the Soviets. Al Qaeda under his rule is likely sponsored though Saudi monetary funds. Pakistan helps fight the Soviets by allowing rocket strikes on its soil into Afghanistan, aiding the Mujahideen cause, as well as training anti Soviet militants. The Muhahideen is led by Ahmed Shah Massoud. Massoud tries to implement democratic reforms after the Soviet withdrawal in 89 and Communist government’s fall in Afghanistan in 92.

Saudi Arabia & Pakistan don’t want a democratic Afghanistan, and help organize the Taliban which is aided by Saudi money and Pakistani troops. Al Qaeda is used to fight with the Taliban to destabilize the country. Early 2001, Massoud warns of an imminent terrorist attack on US soil. He is assassinated by Al Qaeda suicide bombers September 9th.


Bush family and friends:

Bush Sr gets his son in office to make money along with his son and Halliburton executive Dick Cheney who is Vice President. Bush Jr’s cabinet is Reagan/Bush Sr era advisors (Rumsfeld, Ashcroft, Rove).  Objective, make money in a middle eastern war and oust Hussein out of Iraq to finish what was started in the Persian Gulf War (Bush Sr felt betrayed by Saddam after the Iraq/Iran war in the 80s. Rumsfeld email stated the US “needed another Pearl Harbor”). Give high contracts to Halliburton for war material to finance the big corporations. Apprehend and take Bin Laden into custody. Needed an instigator.

Al Qaeda

Since 1998, had bombed two US embassies and damaged USS Cole. Sought a Jihad, would have been honored to be viewed as martyrs for the Islamic cause. Most of the hijackers were Saudi.

Saudi Arabia

Huge allies with US, financed Al Qaeda and Taliban. Help orchestrate attacks to abandon Bin Laden from rest of family, make tons of money in the war after.  Use Bin Laden as a fall guy for the US to hunt down. Lose the financial burden of financing Taliban and association.


Get the US involved to relieve financial burden of fighting a war in Afghanistan. While also having the US maintain chaos in the country. Try to pass off the world image they’re trying to fight terrorism.

World started to hate the Taliban. By having the US intervene, Saudi Arabia & Pakistan would be off the hook supporting the regime. Taliban leader was married to Osama Bin Laden’s daughter, had an obligation to not surrender Osama.
When 9/11 happened, Bush spent ten minutes upon hearing the news just sitting there, justifying he knew. Saudi Embassy in Washington for the entire presidency of Bush was one of the most guarded buildings in the country.  Attack was pulled off 8 months after Bush’s inauguration, buying atleast 3 plus years for the American people to forget. Gives US excuse to go to war, and to use Osama as the target.


You decide.