101.
Title: The Rewriting of
History by The Masters of Disguise (Part Three)
Down to the Nitty-Gritty – Whose Bones Are Which Please?
The Gollywog the world must bow down to is now up for review. There was a
construction site dug up and filled with bones from head to foot, one piled upon
the other, the action-takers Albino jewry (jewry being a verb an action word and
not a noun nor a race) made ready for camera and script to say: "All bones
found in Germany were belonging to the poor Hebrew race."
This, in fact, further prepared the way for substantiating a homeland
not in the
jungles of
Brazil where plenty of woodsmen and their wives were buried, the clansman of the
outback, and not in the highlands either of Ethiopia, in the great wide expanses
of Africa’s north country, but rather right on top of the greatest oil wealth in
the world, the Saudi-Iraqi Gulf Enclave with the Red running waters of the
channel or corridor to both India as well as China, Asea,
pulling all in
together from Egypt the crossroads of Africa, the entire Middle East down to
China and India with full access to all other ASEAN NATIONS.
(The following is a scribed portion given to me by the Sirs. The light
italic is what I saw as the words came streaming down to the tip and point of my
pen with resourceful impeccability. – Uthrania Seila Sentana-Ries Cortez)
“We have bones everywhere, we did, quip the resourceful entrepreneurs
of all historical remains.”
“Bones categorized. Bones catalogued. Bones galore all over the world.
“But the bones unburied in Germany, photographed, gruesome, tired old
bones.
“How many? Not really sure. They are in a jumbled mess. Aye, Sir, many
bones. Here is one bone. Here is another. Gad, scads of bones, and they are all
over the place, Sir, even in the nice concentration camp with the livery
station, the hospitals, the marriage steeples where each prisoner received a
dowry toward their marriage bed. Aye, a nice way to live, Sir, if it were me in
a time of war.”
(Dougy drags on his pen).
“How many bones are they, Sir? I can’t rightly say, Sir. No Sir. Can’t
rightly say, but what I’m wonderin is … whose bones are they in the deep
trenches, Sir? For they don’t match any Hebrew DNA.
(Doughy quizzically recalled the poor white bones) “and the war
wan’t even over yet!”
(Dougy drags as on
a pipe on his sorry ol’red pen).
“Do you know what happened in Poland, Dougy?”
“No Sir. Matrix or sompin’ I guess.”
“Dougy, son, where did you hear that word? Matrix?” (they pronounced the word ma soft a trix – Uthrania)
(Dougy scruffed his boots on the ground an bent down to pick up a blade
of short wired grass)
“what happind
in Poland, Sir? Some invasion or sompin?” (Dougy looked
uncomfortable).
(The Major Lenex leaned back on his stub of a chair and with one long
deep but short breath he began to recall the horror of those days. His face deep
with worn lines and leather-type skin, crinkled beyond the eyes. The Major
looked sad and worn. But he glanced sideways over at the young man and began
recalling a part of the story which he knew would one day free the Hebrews from
their lying supervisors and shock the world).
“The vades invaded Poland, aye, son, but they did not. The land was
taken as injury from the German Reich and they let it be lest a war make it
worse, but their voice was not to be silenced for many more years for the war on
county claims broke out and Poland claimed the verst for its own jurisdiction,
but them bad boys over there they came running ‘cross the border, the new border
they had made with Germany and took those poor German children, them boys and
little girls and tacked them to the very walls of the barns and business which
they created while their parents stood watchin.’ Son those bones were never
found up there either in the north but some say, may be a story, I don’t know,
that the skeletons died by night and an injurious fall did them in. Over a cliff
they say. But, son, lots of stories go round and ‘tis better to recall history
the victor’s way and then just turn it around and dig.”
- Scribed by the hand and pen of I, Uthrania Seila Sentana-Ries Cortez, a representative of the Federation of Unified and Free Planetary
Worlds Sela.