Morgellons - The Crime?
Treason Against The Species

By Cliff Mickelson

We all knew it would come.... It was only a matter of time.
It took root among us many long decades ago.  It feigned to grow slowly.  At first it only whispered: "FEED ME", in a low-key and righteous manner.  "FEED ME."
Just a few prisoners here, a few black men there, just an unsuspecting young soldier or two.
They were victims, never missed.
"FEED ME", it said, but now it no longer was whispering...
Still, no one really noticed.
Oh, sure, there were a few malcontents and crackpots who sat up and listened.
"Say, Did you hear that"? They asked America. 
No one replied, and so, those who listened... were easily marginalized and quickly silenced.
Now, the criminals grew bolder.
"FEED ME" was soon audible throughout the land.
During the decades of the last half of the twentieth century, what was once criminal caution turned increasingly into criminal arrogance.
FEED ME, FEED ME!.....More and more an endemic and chronic Government secrecy paved the road to the overthrow of the Republic.
Like an acid, it disolved the bonds of human dignity and facilitated the repudiation of the value of the individual as a vital integer of a free nation.
And... through it all, in the background the roar grew stronger....
Yet still America slept.
 Now, the criminals no longer needed to fear.  Criminal arrogance was soon replaced with criminal contempt!
 Contempt for you.  Contempt for me. Contempt!
 Criminal contempt.
So, at long last, here we are.  Our journey nears its end...We are all infected.  You may not realize your disease yet.
 But you are infected.  I am infected.
There may only be one sad small difference between you and I.... I know my disease.... I realize I am infected.
My control over my own fate, My sacred right to exercise my ability to affect my own destiny; those things the criminals stole first.
Now, with each new day, I look anew upon the mark of this bondage to which the contempt of criminals has delivered me.
 And you?   You who have yet to see?
You have also been sold. Now the sound of the jackal is heard everywhere in the land. 
I do not pretend to know what fate my new master holds in store for me.  Of course it is easy to imagine death in all its most painful and terrible forms.  Yet, why is it so difficult to only believe that this is a benign infection? Perhaps a mistake? Tomorrow I will wake and shake off this nightmare?
I find myself grasping at hope with a ferocity that equals that which now grips me, as it also grips you.
Criminals have stolen among us like assassins at the stroke of midnight.  It is a cold, merciless hand that touches everyone. The sound of it befouls every thing.
Alas, my friends, you do not yet even realize that the criminal hand flies each day above all you have ever loved.
Even now, it grips your children as they play in the school yard.  It throttles your retired parents as they unsuspectingly set out to see an America that is no more.  It comes for you because it must.
It has an insatiable need:
And so it is that an unnatural appetite devours an America where once, some decades ago, just a few official criminals were allowed to become criminally arrogant, testing their poisons on just a few other lesser criminals.
Until at long last, like thieves in the night, they finally came for us all.
Such treason! Our own flesh and blood!
Our own fellow citizens!  And now our own kith and kin rob us of that which is the most precious of God's gifts:
Our future.
And the cock crowed thrice!
In closing, dear reader, if there is indeed a hell, then in the darkest corner of fiery torment, may those who have brought this fabric of darkness forth upon our world, receive their just wages.
We must continue to believe that someday there will come a champion. 
That we will someday behold our own Pale Rider.
That there will rise up an avenging wraith armed with a sword of justice and it will be wielded against the criminal wrongs done to unsuspecting men and women.
Our faith must give life to that yet unknown avenger for the loss of our innocent little children.  Those babes, who even now, are fain to taste the sorrowful sweet joy of life.
For this, we will find the strength to persevere. We will find the will to live.
...And even if it is only for the venal satisfaction of being there on the day when this horrid spawn, this creation of evil, has been rooted out and damned to the blackest of eternity's fires.
And........Even if only it is to hear the words:
For on that day, and only then, will we, as a species,...
 Rest In Peace.
- CliffMickelson
Extracted from Nexus Magazine, Volume 8, Number 5 (August-September 2001)
A Common Disease Agent Weaponised
There are 200 species of Mycoplasma.  Most are innocuous and do no harm; only four or five are pathogenic. Mycoplasma fermentans (incognitus strain) probably comes from the nucleus of the Brucella bacterium.  This disease agent is not a bacterium and not a virus; it is a mutated form of the Brucella bacterium, combined with a visna virus, from which the mycoplasma is extracted.
The pathogenic Mycoplasma used to be very innocuous, but biological warfare research conducted between 1942 and the present time has resulted in the creation of more deadly and infectious forms of Mycoplasma.  Researchers extracted this mycoplasma from the Brucella bacterium and actually reduced the disease to a crystalline form. They "weaponised" it and tested it on an unsuspecting public in North America.
Dr Maurice Hilleman, chief virologist for the pharmaceutical company Merck Sharp & Dohme, stated that this disease agent is now carried by everybody in North America and possibly most people throughout the world.
(end snip)
Cory S.
I knew it would come... it would only be a matter of time.
Taking root amongst the thick, seemingly endless cloud of adverbs and metaphors, it could only remain hidden for a matter of time. Soon... Yes, soon I knew it must reveal itself.
"Read... me..." it whispered in a breathy, sensual tone that piqued my nubile curiosity. I knew it wouldn't be long now.
But the deeper I waded into the stagnant, murky pool of literary elements that was this article, the more stealthily it seemed to elude my advances.
Still, I could hear it calling out to me... A perverse siren drawing me in, seducing me with promises of some grand finale, some mind-bending conclusion that would give every word a haunting significance and make the entire experience worthwhile.
"READ ME..." It persisted, now with a hint of stern dominance which I had not previously sensed.
....Dare I?
Dare, I did indeed. Deeper into the depths I delved, searching, searching...
"READ ME!" it now shrieked, shrill as a fishwife. No longer was it a request.
Nay.... This was a command.
But alas, my dearest reader, there was no turning back now. I had not come this far only to scurry away without tearing that for which I had been searching from it's womb of pathetic fallacy and grandiose phrasing. Further and further into the article I peered, searching between lines, between the very letters. And then it began to dawn on me.
Had I finally found IT? Had IT finally come?
Nay, I say....Nay.
It was with great weeping and torment that the scales began to fall from my eyes... the horrific truth finally became as clear to me as the purest crystal.
IT had never even existed. There was no IT.
"It", of course being the conclusion or "point", if you will, to the above article. Notice how, after an unnecessary amount of build up and suspense, I at last revealed what I was talking about? Unfortunately, Mr. Mickelson chose a different approach when writing his article.
He utilized every shred of poetic diction he could muster, every literary element know to man, homages and allusions to every author and style in recorded history (including but not limited to the 1960's cult classic "Little Shop of Horrors"), but conveniently neglected to provide the one key element an article needs: A point to reading it.
In short, I came away from this stunned bewildered, not knowing whether I had just finished the cliff notes for an actual article, or an excerpt from R.L. Stein's latest novel. Or perhaps, just maybe, this was meant to be a "To be Continued" style series of articles.
If so, I will make sure to stay tuned until next week for the exciting conclusion.



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