Over the past few days I've been thinking a lot about John Kennedy and what our world might have been like if he had lived. These thoughts didn't just come out of the blue, they are the result of the fact that I have just finished reading one of the saddest books ever written: Farewell America by the pseudonymous author, James Hepburn.
Farewell America is pretty well accepted to have been authored by the French equivalent of our CIA, and based on hard intelligence gathered from French, Russian, and even American sources. It was originally published in French in 1968, but it was unavailable in the United States for many years. With the coming of the worldwide web, it became available and I truly wish that every American citizen would read it.
With remarkable skill and insight, the book outlines the overall situation in America at the time, and describes the players and most probable conspirators involved in the horrific and brutal public execution of probably the best president America ever had. There are many reasons to think that George H.W. Bush was involved in the plot, and today, having placed his idiot son on the throne, the world is as far away from that world we could be living in had Kennedy lived, that it is like we all died back then, and now we have awakened in Hell.
They weren't satisfied to just kill Jack Kennedy; they went for his brother as well. And when John-John grew up and began to display the same characteristics of his father: decency, intellect, and a sense of obligation to help others, he had to die also. The situation actually has all the makings of an immortal myth: the good and noble Prince snatched from his cradle and replaced with the psychopathic offspring of an ogre.
I don't know if it is only me noticing these things, but it seems all the GOOD heroes are dead; and we notice that they all had three things in common: an ability to move the masses by their simple presence, a feeling of unity with all people regardless of nationality, ethnicity, or social status; and the most important of all, the thing that meant they had to die: they were totally opposed to War. Is it too "conspiracy minded" to point this out? To wonder how the human race has had such inexplicable bad luck to have lost all it's decent, anti-War heroes?
Well, anyway, we are left now to our own devices; or rather, at the mercy of the ravening, bloodthirsty wolves that took away from all of us the best hope we ever had: John Fitzgerald Kennedy, tearing him to bloody pieces right before our eyes.
And what did America do?
Nothing. And on the day that the American people allowed their president to die on the street, a victim of the filthiest examples of deviant humanity ever to take human form, and NOT rise up en masse to demand that the killers be brought to justice, that is the day America died.
This coming November 22nd is the 43rd anniversary of the death of John F. Kennedy. I will be thinking about him every day and I will be sharing with all of you my journey back in time to that awful day when I was in my classroom and the regular programming was interrupted to tell me that my beloved president had died. So, let us begin.
The soft, the complacent the self-satisfied societies will be swept away with the debris of history - John Fitzgerald Kennedy