He’s
seen trouble all his born days!
Chapter
One
The
old man sat alone in the darkened room of his Tennessee home, his
eyes moist and red. How could he possibly go forward in life, even
though he was America’s newly elected president-elect?
What
are all the honors of the world to me, now that she’s gone?
The
slander, lies, and abuse heaped upon him and his wife, Rachel, during
his presidential campaign by the ever propagandizing Rothschild press
had killed the being he loved above all others.
The
press had publicly called her a bigamist, with implications of worse
accusations. In the private quarters of the Rothschild minions, she
probably was called a goy whore.
The
old man wanted to fight them, but how could he fight the loss of the
most important being in his life? No longer would he and his Rachel
smoke their tobacco pipes in front of a cheery fire on cold Tennessee
evenings.
Yes,
the great man had often overcome staggering odds, but to lose her was
too much. Did he really want to live in the White House without her
with no Rachel at his side? Could he do it even if he wanted to?
Night after night, he asked himself the same old question.
Could
I do it even if I wanted to?
Slowly
out of despondency grew anger, until one freezing night he bolted out
of the chair in his bedroom where he denied himself any heat from his
large fireplace and shouted to no one but himself …
Damn
right I can do it. They’ll pay. By thunder, they’ll pay!
This
angry old man, body broken by age, war, duels, carrying a shattered
heart, paused and decided he would become the first US president ever
to defeat the tribe of Rothschilds. And he did. The only American
head-of-state down through our ever disappointing decades to ever do
so.
The
Rothschilds had destroyed Rachel. They had destroyed France, but he
would not let them destroy the United States of America.
The
Planned Assassination!
The
Rothschilds lost the presidency, but they could win it back if their
most powerful American nemesis was to suddenly depart this life.
It
was a cold, rainy day of January in 1835. And while only a conspiring
few knew it, the fate of a nation and its greatest man was about to
be decided.
The
ailing president was a sick man as he slowly made his way, with a
stout walking cane, down the Capitol steps. He had attended a funeral
and those around him seemed to want to talk with him. But the
president’s mind was elsewhere: could he live just long enough to
make them pay?
Standing
a bit over six feet, the man only weighed 145 pounds. He still
carried bullets in his body from wars and duels. He was being
poisoned to death by the lead in those bullets.
Then
suddenly, not ten feet in front of him, appeared an immediate threat
to his life and to the life of his nation. The wide-eyed Richard
Lawrence was now aiming a dueling pistol at him the president.
Had
the supernatural fates that had so long guided his truly remarkable
life now abandoned him?
The
gun’s percussion cap exploded with a deathly crack, but the powder
had not ignited the shot, as loud as it was, was a misfire.
Everyone
on the steps around the president froze in stunned dismay. But the
nearly crippled, nearly debilitated, sixty-eight-year-old president,
with his walking cane held high above his head, charged the would-be
assassin.
Lawrence
then pulled out a second pistol. And with the president at
point-blank range, he couldn’t miss.
Facing
his sure death, the president never stopped his charge. He would make
him pay, in spite of a bullet in his heart.
Hearing
the explosion of the pistol’s percussion cap sent a stark message
to the president: he knew he’d have to be quick.
As
the first mighty cane blow fell on Lawrence, the assassin knew his
second pistol had also misfired. Now, he was no longer a presidential
attacker, but the painfully attacked.
Davy
Crockett, who was then a US congressman, helped to subdue the failed
assassin, Richard Lawrence, the first man in history to attempt to
kill an American president.
The
odds of both of Lawrence’s guns failing were later determined to be
125,000-to-1.
Yes,
Andrew Jackson was a Man
of Destiny to
hell with the Fates.
He
told his vice-president, Martin Van Buren …
The
Bank is trying to kill me, but I’ll kill it.
Young
Andy …
Andrew
Jackson was born on March 15, 1767, in the Waxhaw settlement, a
community of Scotch-Irish immigrants along the border between North
and South Carolina. Andy grew up proud to be a first generation
American with poor immigrant parents.
It
was South Carolina that played such an important role in Jackson’s
later prevention of a Civil War; and, unlike Lincoln, he saved the
lives of hundreds of thousands of American boys.
Jackson
always considered himself a native of South Carolina.*
*Andrew
Jackson was born on the Ides of March, which is still celebrated by
several religious
observances and became notorious as the very date of the
assassination of Julius Caesar in 44 BC.
What
mysteries did Andrew Jackson’s birthdate portend?
Jackson’s
father died shortly before Andy’s birth, which caused close
neighbors to wonder how Mrs. Jackson could feed little Andrew and his
two slightly older brothers.
One
lady asked another, “How will poor Mrs. Jackson ever manage with
three little tykes and their father just dead?”
A
wiser lady responded with, “Mrs. Jackson has courage. She’ll
raise little Andy to be a credit to this land.” And he did become a
credit to the land of America, far earlier than anyone could have
expected.
Andy,
who was the first president born in a log cabin, became a ragged boy
who fought hard for the principles he considered to be right.
By
the time he was fourteen, he was fighting as a courier against the
British in our War of Independence, riding from farmhouse to
farmhouse, yelling the latest war news …
The
redcoats are on their way down from Camden to punish us for
rebellion. Gather at the Waxhaw Church! Spread the word!
In
the battle that ensued, the British butchered scores of Scottish and
Irish immigrants. Andy and his one-year-older brother, Robert, were
taken as prisoners. It was then that a dragoon ordered Andy to clean
his British boots.
“Sir,
I’m not your servant. I claim the right to be treated as a prisoner
of war,” Andy calmly relied.
The
furious officer raised his sword and slashed Andy across his forehead
and left hand.
“Our
prison camp in Camden will teach you some manners, you whelp.”
Jackson
carried a scar on his brow from that slashing for the rest of his
life just as he later carried bullets in his body. But so did his
older brother Robert who had also been cut on his head for refusing
to clean the same officer’s boots.
Both
boys were marched the forty-five miles to the Camden prison, while
their wounds became infected.
Smallpox
ravaged the Camden prison and Robert came down with it, with Andy
nearly as critical.
Their
older brother, Hugh, was already a death casualty of the war, at the
battle of Stono Ferry. And if something was not done very soon, Mrs.
Jackson would lose all four men in her life. So, Mrs. Jackson rode
their old horse all the way from her farm to Camden to plead for the
lives of her sons.
She
was totally unprepared for what she saw: her sons were two barely
living skeletons. But as Andy’s destiny would have it, the British
had priorly arranged to exchange some of their prisoners for thirteen
British soldiers. Andy and Robert went free; but how could they
traverse the forty-five miles home?
Robert
was strapped to their horse. Mrs. Jackson walked doggedly and slowly,
with heavy steps, while Andy stumbled, both trying valiantly to keep
Robert on their horse.
At
long last, their little log cabin was in sight. Asking God for
renewed vigor, Mrs. Jackson worked around the clock, trying to keep
her boys alive. But only Andy made it, Robert died two days later.
Young
Andy was delirious for weeks, an invalid for months, but finally he
began to gain strength.
With
Andy out of danger, Mrs. Jackson joined several other women from
Waxhaw on a grueling 160-mile trip to Charleston. She gained entry
into the prison ships lying in the harbor, where she tried to give
aid as best she could, only to become afflicted with cholera. The
gallant, valorous lady Elizabeth Hutchinson Jackson died,
never making it home.
Young
Andy came from good stock; and he would need all of it, as now he
faced the world alone as a mere fourteen-year-old.
How
Did He Ever Make It?
He
made it one step at a time, even when he lost a step, or two, or
three. By never giving up, his positive steps began to outnumber his
negative ones. But win or lose, he learned from each step he took.
He
could not read very well, so he became Waxhaw’s public reader of
news events.
He
was uneducated, so he became a teacher.
He
knew nothing about the law, so he became a lawyer.
He
was never formally schooled in the military or its tactics, so he
became a general, the most popular one our country has ever known.
He
knew nothing about being a good president, so he became I believe
the greatest we have ever had.
He
was not a philosopher or a superb wordsmith like Jefferson. He was
not a traitor like Clinton, nor psychopathic like the Bushes, nor a
puppet like Obama. But he was a man strong enough to carry through on
the ideals he thought were right.
Was
he always right? Of course not. But the point is, he always thought
he was right and acted upon what he sincerely believed. Utterly
unlike most prior and subsequent politicians who know when they are
wrong, but act wrongly anyway.
But
first things first.
Jackson
had to get some schooling, which he received piecemeal, from local
clergymen, at least enough to eventually get a job with lawyers in
Salisbury, North Carolina. At age twenty-one, Jackson parlayed what
he had learned into his own practice of law.
As
his business acumen became more successful, at age twenty-one Jackson
moved across the great mountains to Nashville. In time, he bought
land and horses. He liked nothing better than to bet on his own
horses at races, except to enjoy his usual winnings in a tavern or
two.
Between
1788 and 1790, Jackson was appointed prosecuting attorney for the
district. He also became the protégé of territorial governor
William Blount and thus the recipient of important political
patronage and was appointed the judge advocate of the Davidson
County militia regiment.
Perhaps
most importantly, he met and fell in love with a divorced woman, the
lovely Rachel Donelson.
Jackson
wed Rachel in 1791. Prior to the wedding, Rachel pursued divorce
proceedings from Lewis Robards.
But
the Jacksons soon learned that Rachel’s divorce was never properly
finalized and Robards accused Rachel Jackson of adultery. The same
claim was made by Jackson’s political opponents during his
campaigns for the presidency.
Rachel’s
divorce decree was issued on September 27, 1793.
On
the 18th
of January, 1794, Andrew and Rachel had another wedding ceremony to
ensure their union was legal. Marrying Rachel was a godsend for
Andrew, as she proved to be an able administrator of their estate
during Jackson’s frequent absences, due to his legal, military, and
business affairs. In fact, when Jackson was off fighting the American
Indian Wars, Rachel sent Jackson’s army food and supplies, as
allocations from the US government in Washington were slow or never
arrived.
Andrew
Jackson, on the 22nd
of October, 1796, was honored to be elected to represent Tennessee in
the US House of Representatives, which was quickly followed by
Jackson’s election to the US Senate. But he resigned his Senate
seat in 1799.
On
April the 1st, 1802, Jackson was commissioned Major General of the
Tennessee militia.*
*This
particular piece of research seemed a bit strange to me, as I have
yet to discover anywhere that Andrew Jackson ever had any formal
military training … or any military training at all, other than
almost dying in a makeshift British military prison.
During
the summer of 1802, the Jacksons bought and moved into The
Hermitage property
near Nashville. They
developed the farm into a cotton-growing plantation with nine Black
slaves. By his death in 1845, there were about 150 such slaves living
and working on The
Hermitage.*
*There
is much made about early White Americans owning slaves; yet there is
little to nothing said of the Rothschild tribe owning and promoting
the slave trade in America, South America, and the West Indies. The
Rothschilds even owned and managed the slave ships that made slavery
possible in the new world.
The
Rothschilds have long had the habit of accusing others what they are
most guilty of themselves. And they get away with it.
Could
it be because those stealthy bankers create both the curriculum of
government schools and the content of the major media?
Andrew
Jackson never cared if he was liked or not; however, his flamboyant
and successful style made enemies of far lesser men. But Jackson had
many loyal friends to whom he was loyal in return. Making friends
with Jackson meant choosing a definite path in life, often a
dangerous one, but one that was always transparent and usually
upright.
Jackson’s
Nashville enemies plotted on how to rid themselves of the fast up-
and-coming Andrew Jackson. Their solution was an easy one considering
Jackson’s protection of his honor. They would simply have the best
marksman in the state, Charles Dickinson, offend publicly both Mr.
and Mrs. Andrew Jackson.
Jackson
probably knew of the scam, but he had no other choice than to
challenge Dickinson to a duel.
“I
plead with you; do not duel with Mr. Dickinson. What if I should lose
you?” Rachel must have said to her husband.
But
Andrew Jackson, being Andrew Jackson, challenged Dickinson to what
appeared to be an ill-fated duel. The date of the match was set,
along with its location in Kentucky, where dueling was still legal
and usually lethal.
Chapter
Two
Andrew
Jackson was awake nights thinking about how best to engage Charles
Dickinson in the scheduled duel, but every idea was fraught with
death, his own.
Early
on the morning of May 30th
of 1806, an uneasy Andrew Jackson and his second, Thomas Overton,
mounted horses and rode out of Nashville to Kentucky. In Harrison’s
Mill, on the Red River, near Logan, Kentucky, the duelists met.
Jackson
was not the expert duelist; Dickinson was, so at the first signal
from the seconds, he resorted to guile. Quickly raising his gun,
Jackson held his fire, hoping to hurry Dickinson’s shot. The ploy
did not work.
Dickinson’s
bullet hit Jackson near his heart and it staggered Andrew. The pain
was intense, but so was his desire for revenge.
Slowly
Jackson tried to focus on Dickinson, but now he saw two of them.
Which one should he shoot?
The
decision must be quick, or forfeit his one opportunity for
retribution, as Jackson was losing consciousness.
Jackson
covered his bleeding chest with his left hand, aimed between the dual
images of Dickinson and pulled the trigger. His pistol, however,
failed to fire.
With
knees beginning to buckle, and with a pounding heart, Jackson
re-cocked his pistol, aimed, and fired again.
To
Dickinson’s credit, he stood bravely awaiting the bullet from
Jackson’s pistol. He would adhere to the code of gentlemen.
Soon,
a sledgehammer blow struck his heart and Dickinson fell to the ground
bleeding profusely. The expert duelist quickly bled out and died in
Kentucky where he fell.
Dickinson’s
seconds yelled, “Breach of etiquette! The duel was over after
Jackson’s first attempt to fire.”
A
more penetrating enlightenment would ask …
Would
it not have been of greater nobility for Jackson to have fired his
shot into the air?
Andrew
Jackson had nobility, but it was of a rougher, less refined, less
educated frontier nobility, where one was forced to shoot quickly and
later philosophize under more comfortable and safer circumstances.
But
given time to reflect over the duel, Jackson said, “I would have
killed him if his bullet had gone into my brain.”*
*But
it was the bullet in his chest that Jackson would keep painfully near
his heart for the rest of his life. The wound never properly healed,
with abscesses forming around the lead slug, causing debilitation and
pain for Jackson’s remaining thirty-nine years.
Jackson,
much like Dickinson, was also bleeding profusely, but with a long
horseback ride ahead of him. By the time he fell off his horse at
home both of his boots were filled with blood. Weak and feverish,
Mister Jackson must have thought, If
I survive this, it’ll be my last duel.
But
what about gunfights?
While
the War of 1812 raged in the East, on September 4, 1813, Jackson was
nearly killed in a gunfight in a Nashville tavern.
There
had been an ongoing feud between Jackson and his erstwhile friends,
the Benton brothers, Thomas and Jesse.
Jackson,
carrying his trademark horsewhip, approached Thomas. At close
quarters, Thomas reached for his pistol, but before he could draw,
Jackson’s gun was at his breast.
Thomas
backed toward the door, with Jackson following him step for step.
I
doubt that Jackson would have shot an unarmed man, but the Benton
boys didn’t know that.
From
behind Jackson came the other Benton boy, pistol in hand. Jesse shot
Jackson three times.
Jackson’s
friends rushed to aid him and put him on a mattress. Jackson’s
blood soaked two mattresses before a doctor could get to him. Jackson
was indeed dying from blood loss caused by his shattered left
shoulder and a ball embedded against the upper bone of that arm.
It
would be an understatement to say Andrew Jackson was gravely wounded,
with seemingly only one chance at life.
Can
you hear me, Andrew, can you hear me?
asked a doctor. We’ll
have to cut off your left arm, in order to save your life. Do you
understand?
Jackson
opened one eye as if he was winking at them and said …
I’ll
keep my arm … thank you.
Later,
unbeknownst to Jackson, mostly unconscious on his deathbed, as he and
Rachel fought for his life, the Creek Indians went on the warpath.
An
officer of the Tennessee Volunteers obtained permission from Rachel
to speak with Jackson.
Ah
… General … ah, I hate to give you bad news ... when you’re
dying and all, er … I mean being sick. But 250 Americans were
massacred at Fort Mims by the Creeks.
Jackson
swung his legs out of bed and onto the floor. With as commanding a
voice as he could muster, he said …
Order
my militia to report to duty. I will command in person.
It
must have been the tonic Jackson needed, as he put aside thoughts of
dying. Now reverting to his role of an army general in command of
fighting men, he had the job of explaining it all to Rachel.
General
Jackson and his Tennessee Volunteers routed the Creeks and were
primed for the most important battle of their lives …
The
Battle of New Orleans
On
some of the forced marches Jackson put his foot soldiers through,
young men would at times talk with each other. Below is a short
fictional summation of actual events.
He’s
the damest general in this man’s army. Never seen a soul like em.
He suffers along just like us privates do.
Yeah,
he’s got gumption.
Remember that time we
was plum outta food and flints and we all quit? We was all walking
home when he came up on that big-assed, gray hoss of his … steam
comin outta his ears.
Yeah,
I remembers … he was fit to be tied all to hell and back …
He
rode out in front of us … jumped off his hoss and runs up ta me. He
grabs my rifle and yells … I’ll shoot any one of you reprobates
who takes another step toward home. If you’re real Tennessee
Volunteers … turn your sorry asses around … NOW!
Yeah,
he’s got a heap a grit … gotta admire that.
Yeah,
but … you ain’t heard the kicker. When he gives me back my rifle
… I says, Why general, this old rifle ain’t got any bullets in it
… Know what he said?
What?
He
said … Don’t tell nobody.
Yeah,
he’s tuff on us … but he’s sly enough to make sure we see how
tuff he’s on himself …
Yeah
… he’s tuff as old hickory.
But
he can be soft-hearted too.
Remember
that Indian war we was in … beatin the shit outa em too. Then one
night the old Indian chief himself sneaked into the General’s tent.
I don’t know what kinda story the old chief laid on the general,
but then Jackson called off the war and ordered us to give all our
food and supplies to em.
But
we kept all our rifles and bullets … remember?
Yes,
Jackson’s men loved him. In fact, the whole country loved him after
the Battle of New Orleans. Much more importantly, Jackson later
became a political hero to the majority of US citizens, no matter
what the controlled press said about him.
Today,
the Rothschilds do not allow us to have any political heroes. They
all are discovered, sooner or later, to have dirty hands.
Heroes
in government give us a sense of national pride and unity. But such
national self-respect among Americans would be counterproductive to
the Rothschild’s one government for the entire world dream.
Therefore, no heroes allowed.
Since
Andrew Jackson, John Kennedy was as close as we came to having a
genuine political hero; so they did away with him.
And
although Andrew Jackson is still revered today he is also vilified by
the Rothschild’s cultural Marxists, who are attempting to deny us
all of our real heroes.
On
YouTube
there are videos with titles that try to denigrate Andrew Jackson:
Killa
Jackson;
Andrew
Jackson: Most Terrifying Man Ever Elected President;
Andrew
Jackson: Serial Dualist;
Andrew
Jackson Jihad;
Andrew
Jackson: The Napoleon of America;
Remove
Jackson from $20 Bill.
What
most of these Andrew Jackson vilifiers do not know is the Rothschilds
probably ensured that Jackson’s image would appear on the
twenty-dollar bill. You see, Jackson hated paper money. He knew it
could easily be inflated to the bankers’ benefit at an awesome cost
to the people.
But
the cultural Marxists are attacking Jackson’s memory in yet another
way. They have radicalized thousands of Blacks to campaign against
Jackson’s statue in Jackson Park, New Orleans. It is a huge statue
of Andrew Jackson on his rearing horse, made from the very cannons
used against the British in the Battle of New Orleans.
But
let us take a look at the Battle of New Orleans and decide if Jackson
really deserved the many accolades he received after that battle.
Two
weeks prior to the Battle of New Orleans, Great Britain and the
United States had signed a peace treaty in Ghent, Belgium, that
officially ended the War of 1812. News of the treaty was slow to
cross the Atlantic, however, and on January the 8th,
1815, American and British forces clashed in the Battle of New
Orleans.
The
British fielded between 5,000 and 7,500 infantry, maybe three times
as strong as Jackson’s rag-tag army of Tennessee Volunteers,
frontiersmen, Indians, and slaves.
In
perhaps one of his wisest military moves, Jackson agreed to meet with
the notorious Gulf Coast pirate leader, Jean Lafitte.
General
Jackson, I can give you 7,500 flints and nearly a thousand men.
Release my men from prison and I promise you New Orleans will be
saved.
Jackson
glared into Lafitte’s cold dark eyes, taking a measure of the man,
and said … They
shall be released.
Jackson’s
frontier and pirate army would face the same army that had just
defeated the army of Napoleon.
By
late December of 1814, British troops were within eight miles of New
Orleans. For four frantic days, Jackson put his men to work widening
and deepening the Rodriquez Canal that cut across the British line of
advance.
Using
the excavated muck from the canal, the Americans built a wall against
the British. By Christmas morning, the wall was over one-quarter of a
mile long, eight feet high, and twelve feet thick. It was from this
mud wall that Jackson would mount his defense of New Orleans.
Then
at dawn on January the 5th,
1815, with bayonets
fixed, 5,000 to 7,500 British regular infantry screamed and stormed
toward the frontiersmen and pirates and their wall of mud.
But
as he had done in his duel against Charles Dickinson, Jackson held
his fire. The delay startled his pirate troops.
What
the hell is he waiting on? Has he no nerve?
Closer,
ever closer came the quickly advancing British troops, sure they
would route the frightened Americans, slaughtering them as they ran
away in panic for their lives.
Jackson
had other plans. He wanted the enemy troops within point-blank range
of Jean Lafitte’s cannons and the Kentucky long rifles of his
experienced Indian fighters.
Finally,
with a surprisingly strong voice of a man recently up out of his
deathbed, Jackson screamed …
Fire!
Fire, you sons of liberty … Fire!
The
European war tactics of frontal assaults were no match for Jackson’s
Indian fighters and his lawless pirate cannoniers.
The
Battle of New Orleans became a stunning victory for America, only
costing them the deaths of thirteen soldiers, while inflicting about
2,000 casualties on the British, 500 of whom became prisoners, with
many of them later becoming American citizens.
Jackson,
with no formal military schooling, had defeated the army that had
defeated the mighty Napoleon.
For
their service to America, Monsieur Jean Lafitte and all his pirates
were pardoned by President James Madison.
But
it seems that Lafitte again turned freebooter, building a large
pirate reserve on Galveston Island in Texas. Jean Lafitte, however,
always claimed, thereafter, he was a privateer, not a pirate.
After
his decisive victory, Andrew Jackson became the most popular man in
America and was celebrated in New Orleans with parties after parties
and balls after balls.
It
seemed that men and women of all social classes (including some most
alluringly and imposingly beautiful women), wanted some of General
Jackson’s time.
But
it was his darling Rachel that Jackson wanted to go back home to.
Life with her at The
Hermitage would be
better than any ball in the world, especially considering the many
sticky problems that had been generated for him in New Orleans by the
agents and politicians of the Rothschilds.
The
Rothschilds, and their Khazar banking kingdom, immediately saw
Jackson as a serious foe. So at once they began covertly
manufacturing controversies concerning Jackson in their controlled
press. Jackson was attacked not only in the media, but by petty,
self-serving politicians from Washington and Louisiana all meant
to eliminate the general’s growing popularity.
But
then, as unexpected as a warm ray of sunlight on a cold misty day, by
way of a flatboat down the long Mississippi River, Rachel arrived in
New Orleans.
As
beleaguered as he was, the gaunt hero of America was elated,
forgetting his troubles and even his triumphs.
Soon
there was a ball for Rachel. It seemed to incorporate the whole city,
who later found Andrew dancing with his beloved Rachel. It was
probably the grandest, most euphoric moment of their lives. Does such
ecstasy escape those who lead timid lives, shrouded with concerns for
personal safety?
Chapter
Three
Much
occurred to Andrew Jackson from the time of his dance with Rachel at
the New Orleans Victory Ball to the time he bolted out of his bedroom
chair at The Hermitage
as the newly elected president-elect of America and shouted …
They’ll
pay! By thunder, they’ll pay!
He
Opposed the Most Evil Scourge Ever on Earth!
Andrew
Jackson was aware of the suffering and death the Rothschilds and
their Khazarian bankers had brought to Europe, especially to France.
In
his private moments, he must have thought more than once …
I’d
rather face men in open combat than the sneaky snakes of politics and
banking.
But
as an American President, Andrew Jackson gave the Rothschild central
bankers fair warning. To a delegation of bankers in the Oval Office
of the White House, Jackson said …
You
are a den of vipers and thieves. I intend to rout you out, and by the
eternal God, I will rout you out.
But
could Jackson actually rout them out? He was but one man facing the
most powerful plague ever spawned, with practically every politician
and bureaucrat in Washington against him. Every newspaper he read
talked about the ill-bred backwoodsman.
The
Rothschilds, and their mob of gangsters, had indeed stolen America
from the brave men and women who built it just as Thomas
Jefferson had predicted.
If
the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of
their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and
corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of
all property until their children* wake up homeless on the continent
their Fathers conquered … I believe that banking institutions are
more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies … The issuing
power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to
whom it properly belongs.
* We are the
children to which Jefferson was referring. There are now over
nineteen million vacant homes in America.
Andrew
Jackson did, indeed, kill the Rothschild’s central bank in America,
and the US Senate condemned and censured him for doing so the
only president to have ever been censured.
Still,
Andrew Jackson is the only president in American history to have
reduced our national debt to zero.
Andrew
Jackson gave our nation an all-important economic reprieve from its
downward financial spiral.
Today,
a reprieve would do nothing for our economy. We desperately need a
complete and radical makeover.
Old
Hickory
What
then followed Jackson, on into the Civil War, were what was called
“Free” Banks.
Then
came “National” Banks until 1913, when the infamous Federal
Reserve Act was passed, which has lasted to this day, costing
Americans 97 percent of the value of their dollars.
Can
It Be Done Again?
Thomas
Jefferson told us …
The
issuing power [of money] should be taken from the banks and restored
to the people to whom it properly belongs.
That
seems easy enough: simply have the government assume the power to
issue and control money, without any interest (usury) being paid on
it. So why is it not done?
Careful
now, as the truth to the above question may startle.
Democracy
no longer exists in America, if it ever did. Democracy was eclipsed
with the laws requiring attendance of government schools, with the
mis/dis information from the corporate media all but completing the
job. As a final coup
de grace, Rothschild
agents took utter control of all electronic voting machines, making
sure that American democracy was dead absolutely dead.
The
people who cast the votes don’t decide an election, the people who
count the votes do.
Joseph
Stalin (1878-1953)
As
a result, the Rothschilds and their devoted army of Khazarians
control our federal and state governments, the multi-national
corporations, the failing economy, education, the major media,
medicine, courts, religions, science, the military/police,
establishments, and other institutions, all forming a heavy bulwark
of ignorance, called American popular opinion.
Such
widespread control is usually accomplished through money
(bribes) or threats of character assassinations or blackmail
and in that descending order of frequency. In government, the threat
of bloody assassinations is ever real, with enough of them occurring
to make believers of the living.
With
most of those in the higher ranks of the above institutions pressure
to the dark side is unnecessary as they already furtively practice
Satanism in their various secret societies.
The
secret practice of Satanism existed in Jackson’s day, but nothing
like it has exploded into today. Our Khazarian hazard has become a
peril without an historical parallel.
The
ascendance of sociopaths and criminal psychopaths in American
governance appears to be irreversible, short of an utter collapse of
society; but there is one noticeably slim hope.
And
since Russia shed its Bolshevik horror show, perhaps we can arise
from our Bolshevik/neocon induced nightmare.
This
dark imposing juggernaut of consolidated power against America does
have an Achilles heel.
It is from where assassinations, frame-ups, blackmails, bribes,
payoffs, power, and orders come the
Intelligence Agencies.
It
is where the underground Shadow
Government hides.
Under Rothschild orders, the US Shadow Government makes doubly sure
we have mercury in our mouths, chem trails in our skies, genetically
modified organisms in our soils, fluorides in our water, vaccines in
our bodies, and depleting uranium (DU) sweeping around our world.
Andrew
Jackson virtually defeated the Rothschild octopus by himself. But,
since Jackson, we have gone down the slippery primrose slope for so
long, and so fast, it would take dozens of Andrew Jacksons to rescue
us. And like Mr. Vladimir Putin,* these born-again saviors would best
arise from the slimy muck of intelligence agencies.
*I
pray that Vladimir Putin will have proven to be a bellwether for
America receiving a head-of-state who is as good for his people as
Putin has proven to be for his people.
For
too long the most psychotic of our so-called public servants have
become intelligence agents; we vitally need to reverse that stuck
flow.
Is
it possible that a team of courageous, daring, patriotic, and
foresighted men, like Andrew Jackson, or say Vladimir Putin, could
highjack enough of the US intelligence services to take over those
agencies, the military, and then police departments? Surely, people
in the dark services of intelligence know the score of how far our
nation has been taken down, even if US senators do not know it.
US
intelligence services are currently controlled by the Israeli
intelligence service, Mossad,
which is owned by the ever ubiquitous Rothschild clan. In fact, the
entire country of Israel is nothing but the private fiefdom of the
feudal lords known as the Rothschilds.
Mossad
even trains our policemen. Our police chiefs go to Israel for secret
specialized training. That is why our police no longer Serve
and Protect, but lie,
brutalize, and kill innocent citizens.
Early
in America’s development, our military was highly decentralized and
was controlled in regional, state, and local militias; this helped to
prevent tyrannies and hostile takeovers by criminals like the
Rothschilds. It was called Bottom
Up Control.
At
one time, our police departments were controlled by city governments.
Today, they are under federal control, which means Rothschild
control. And irrespective of what is right or wrong, the police will
obey those who pay them.
With
today’s Top Down
Control it is far
easier to control all the military, and even the police, from one
source of command since such institutions have become so very
federalized.
With
patriotic rebel control of the military and police in hand, the media
could then be easily taken from the Rothschilds. Such a free media
could help keep the masses calm and even enlist them to help with the
rescue of our country.
A
truthful media means an informed America, which must be told the
truth about our national policy of torturing human life.
This
heinous policy of torture must be terminated forthwith, as no nation
can prosper while committing such brazen, shameful, and inexcusable
crimes.
But
in spite of this long overdue reformation, the American economy would
still immediately fall into a shambles. It, however, could quickly be
recovered with wise economic and financial guidance.
We
should audit and investigate the Federal Reserve System, hedge funds,
and investment banking houses with an eye to issuing hundreds (maybe
thousands) of subpoenas. All findings should be widely made known to
the public, thus gaining support for the nationalization of the
Federal Reserve System.
Such
a nationalization would not only eliminate trillions of dollars of
debt but also nullify the mortgage-backed securities derivatives
scam.
The
wise issuance of our own currency and credit, all without usury, tied
to our gross domestic product, would end inflation and deflation,
booms and busts. Personal savings would again become wise courses of
action.
Next
we should indict all the top neocons in the defense department, then
abolish the IRS.
If
the federal government cannot operate on the billions of dollars it
gains from duties, assessments, sales, use, and excise taxes, then
the federal government should be cut down to the size that would
allow it.
All
current foreign aid should be suspended, along with all military
contracts.
America
desperately needs to drop its War
Until Bankrupted Policy and
adopt a Prosperity
Policy that includes
the nations we have destroyed in the Middle East.
We
should rebuild and restock all national infrastructures we have
destroyed and ensure Most
Favored Trade status
for those nations.
Regarding
American government bureaucrats, elected officials, or workers with
dual citizenships or passports? It should not be allowed any longer.
All
our troops stationed abroad should be brought home and put to work
rebuilding our near-to-collasping infrastructure. A greatly improved
infrastructure makes possible a better economy.
Critical
to giving our economy life is the removal of all governmentally
imposed “consumer protection laws” that were only meant to tilt
the playing field in favor of the multi-national corporations owned
and controlled by the Rothschild network.
Revoking
all the phony consumer protection and environmental* laws will give
our small entrepreneurs a chance to compete in the market. It would
be a move that would benefit us all.
*Our
environment is badly in need of help. But the environmental
legislation imposed on us was not designed to aid our environment,
but to end all forms of industrialization and to destroy our economy.
In
prosperous times, America’s small businesses provided seventy
percent of our gross domestic product while producing and sustaining
our vibrant middle class.
As
Russia* used its oil and gas reserves to quickly recover from her
poverty-stricken days of communism, America could do the same, but
better.
*The
famed psychic, Edgar Cayce, made a startling prediction back in 1944.
“In
Russia there comes the hope of the world not as that sometimes termed
of the communistic, or Bolshevik, no; but freedom, freedom! That each
man will live for his fellow man! The principle has been born. It
will take years for it to be crystallized, but out of Russia comes
again the hope of the world.”
All
nuclear power plants should be phased off line as too dangerous and
far too expensive for the government to continue to subsidize. The
nuclear power scam has been a Rothschild con job from the beginning,
as they have had a corner on uranium and they like the atomic bombs
that spring from their nuclear power plants.
America
has enough coal, gas, and oil to consume and sell far longer than we
would need them, once we release all the discoveries and inventions
that have been hidden by the Rothschilds.
Volumes
of positive ideas could be written on how to build and sustain a
healthy economy, which would all be the exact opposites of the US
economic, foreign, social, and defense polices of the last century.
But
whatever economic ideas are employed, they should all contribute to
America’s self-sufficiency in food, consumer products, services,
energy, and finance.
Too
many of us have bought into the Rothschild lies that America must
have foreign trade and international finance to exist.
Do
you think if America became the only land mass on earth, with all
else being oceans, that we would all die?
That
might be true of Greenland, but it’s certainly not true of the
United States of America.
We
have the resources and people in America to prosper no matter how the
dollar rates next to the euro or the yen.
We
can enjoy a high standard of living even if we receive no consumer
goods from China.
We
can keep the dollar strong even if every other national currency unit
was inflated to zero value. And anyone who tells you anything
differently is simply a Rothschild New World Order shill or is non
compos mentis.
Our
economic system is not broken; it was built to fail as it is doing.
America has been used to destroy America; and it’s time to end that
load of horseshit.
How
have the Rothschilds, for so long, pulled off such massive
destruction of viability in America?
It
is easier for them to swindle and steal than to produce value that is
needed and wanted by humanity.
Moreover,
human suffering is food for their blackened souls.
In
any recapture of our country by patriotic rebels, expect the
prolonged wailing of millions of Rothschild’s cultural Marxists.
Racists!
Nazis! Bigots! Chauvinists! Sexists! Homophobes! Jingoists!
Conspiracy theorists, they will howl.
But
as the alternative media becomes the major media their high-pitched
screams of anger will turn to cries of pain, then moans of a massive
death rattle … and … finally silence golden silence.
With
the intelligence agencies, military, police, media, and economy all
moving in the direction of helping the people of America, all other
institutions would shake out in time. How long a time?
Decades!
Such has been the damage to our country.
But,
I think you will agree that such a long shakeout is vastly superior
to the nuclear wars the psychotic Rothschild crime syndicate has
planned for our near-term future.*
*I
do not believe that the Rothschilds are the ultimate minds behind the
long trail of international crimes attributed to them.
The Rothschilds are
simply the highest nexus point of criminality that can be easily
proven. Any advanced research for higher criminal authority would
certainly involve the metaphysical.
In their various
roles as alien inserted automatons, the Rothschilds, and their
Khazarian support base, are but a semi-human connection between the
oppressed masses and the real suppressors.
I believe the
Rothschilds, and their vast army of acolytes, have been thoroughly
programmed to be used to play a servile role to a superior elite.
Who is this superior
elite? That is the 64 trillion dollar question.
But the host is
failing and will soon perish, unless the parasite is quickly removed.
With quivering
hearts, the wise of the world’s elderly await America’s final
denouement.
J.
Speer-Williams
Jsw4@mac.com
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