Deep State is in a panic

  1. The Deep State is in a panic and Trump just told them to go scream at the sky. Democrats, the FBI and Deep State want President Trump to hide the names of the FISA abusers in the memo. TRUMP WILL RELEASE FISA MEMO WITHOUT REDACTIONS. WE the PEOPLE will know of YOUR CRIMES.

    ***

    The Calm Elitist

    Panic? Not me.

    I am Elite.

    My Deep State Friends

    Will help me cheat.

    ~Day

David Seaman’s Point of View

Folks…

Well, I’m disappointed. The government is viciously going after marijuana use in 2018, even as our neighbors Mexico and Canada plan to completely legalize within a couple months. I hate that. All of the pedophiles and Luciferians – the Clintons, their backers, the Podestas, etc. – all of them are still 100 percent free.

Hillary read from a book at the Grammys. Free and clear elite jetsetter. She’s not under house arrest of any kind- she can go anywhere on the planet, provided she has the jet fuel.

George Soros was mocking the United States of America and calling for our demise in a lecture delivered at Davos, only feet away from the American President. Free and clear.

The Podestas are still free, and live comfortably in Washington. The nation’s capitol, and also a safe space for Luciferian pedophiles. Pedophile Sanctuary City = D.C.

Meanwhile, the full weight and resources of the federal government are being used to go after peaceful pot smokers. Despicable– I stand against it, and I am speaking out when others are afraid to, or too lazy to.

~David Seaman

February 1: “Night Funeral in Harlem” by Langston Hughes, 1902—1967

Night Funeral in Harlem

Langston Hughes, 19021967

Night funeral
In Harlem:

Where did they get
Them two fine cars?

Insurance man, he did not pay–
His insurance lapsed the other day–
Yet they got a satin box
for his head to lay.

Night funeral
In Harlem:

Who was it sent
That wreath of flowers?

Them flowers came
from that poor boy’s friends–
They’ll want flowers, too,
When they meet their ends.

Night funeral
in Harlem:

Who preached that
Black boy to his grave?

Old preacher man
Preached that boy away–
Charged Five Dollars
His girl friend had to pay.

Night funeral
In Harlem:

When it was all over
And the lid shut on his head
and the organ had done played
and the last prayers been said
and six pallbearers
Carried him out for dead
And off down Lenox Avenue
That long black hearse done sped,
The street light
At his corner
Shined just like a tear–
That boy that they was mournin’
Was so dear, so dear
To them folks that brought the flowers,
To that girl who paid the preacher man–
It was all their tears that made
That poor boy’s
Funeral grand.

Night funeral
In Harlem.

February 1: “You Are Old, Father William” by Lewis Carroll

You Are Old, Father William
~Lewis Carroll

“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”

“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?”

“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?”

“You are old,” said the youth, “ and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the back—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was steady as ever;
Yet, you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father. “Don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs!”