The Pusher at the School Gates

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Allegories are useful tools for conveying to others the essence of complicated situations. The situation we're about to explore below is only made complicated by the powers that be in order to protect themselves and their overlords, the Jews. I've employed this method before, but only in passing and didn't really give it the attention it deserves. The time has come to flesh it out, because it goes to the very root of our problem in the West today and will no doubt assist those who have difficulties in understanding why we "anti-Semites" are so angry about the terrible things being done unceasingly by these vampires against decent people and their families. Some day if I get arrested for being a "hate-monger" I plan to use it in court to get my view over to the jury (if the jury system survives) in a readily comprehensible form. You might like to avail yourself of it, too, should the suppression of free speech in the West come to match or exceed that which we see in countries such as China or Burma.

Imagine, if you will, that you inhabit an apartment that overlooks a local school. Let's say you're retired and don't have too much to do all day, so you sit on the balcony just enjoying the sunshine and maybe reading a decent book. Every afternoon at the same time, the noisy chattering of the townsfolks' kids echoes over to you as they leave lessons for another day. You gaze across at them trooping home with a degree of paternalistic concern. You wonder what sort of a world they'll be inhabiting by the time you're no longer around. You sigh resignedly with the nostalgia of your own schooldays when life was so much simpler and the cultural environment infinitely more wholesome.

Another day rolls around and the chattering of the children once again assails your ears. You put down your book, having difficulty concentrating against the backdrop of this customary disturbance, and turn your gaze over to the school gates, once again fondly musing on your own innocent, long-gone school days. But something's different on this day. There's a somewhat older guy just a few yards down from the gate the children are leaving by and calling them on over to him. Some hang out with this stranger a while, others just drift on by. You think little of it. Maybe it's just a former teacher stopping by to say hello to some of his old charges. The noise diminishes in time and you get back into your book.

Some days later and you're on your balcony again. You hear the laughter and general cheeriness of the kids coming out after the completion of another school day. Oh, it's that time of the afternoon again, so you put down your book and watch the kids leave. They're in high spirits as ever. After all it's a good school in a good area and you rarely hear of any bullying or similar trouble. The scene is really quite idyllic. You're sitting there with your feet up, enjoying the sun, and watching small town life go past before your eyes. But then you notice the same, slightly older guy again, maybe 10 feet from the gate. And again he's calling some of the kids over and again some do, whilst others appear oblivious.

You're rather more suspicious this time. He doesn't look like a sex offender - whatever 'they' look like - and isn't acting like some pervert might, either. All the same, though, it's a little odd. Maybe he's one of the kid's big brothers between jobs and just likes to collect his little brother from classes and chew the rag with a few of the lad's pals. Yeah, that's probably all it is. You have no reason to suspect there's anything untoward about this older guy and this little town is a place where people don't even spit chewing gum on the sidewalk. Nothing ever happens here. It's peaceful and quiet, thank goodness. The local cops think they've had a bad day if they have to hand out more than a dozen speeding tickets.

It's now nearly two weeks later, and this guy has become quite a regular visitor. He can't be picking up a younger relative, though, as it seems there isn't anyone in particular among his little 'posse' with whom he leaves. Your curiosity is now pricked. You haven't any binoculars, but photography has always been a passion of yours, so you go back in the house and get your latest camera, attaching the longest lens you can find. What CAN they be doing? Now you're right up close with a much better view. Your blood freezes in your veins, for this guy is selling DRUGS to the kids! There can be no mistake. You see him taking money and furtively handing back little packets of what can only realistically be drugs! Your vigilance has paid off big-time: you've caught a dope dealer in action!

Your hands are shaking so badly from the shock of this sudden revelation that you can't get a good photo off. All the images from the pictures you've taken are without exception, blurry and juddery. Hell! What to do? What to do? You return indoors still reeling from your shattering discovery. This kind of thing NEVER happens in this little town. It only ever happens in larger towns and cities. You've seen pictures of it on TV and can't bring yourself to believe it's happening here, in small town America, right in front of your very eyes! Your heart is pumping nineteen to the dozen. You make a cup of coffee and try to calm down, but you're still shaking so badly out of a combination of shock and anger that you end up spilling most of it on the floor.

The very next day, this creep is once again at the school gates and you know what's coming. You're rather more cool and calm now that 24 hours of passed; still mad as hell, of course, but at least the shakes have gone. You steady your camera, zoom into the scene unfolding again before you, and crack off several good shots, all of which show money being exchanged for small packets of dope. "Got the bastard!" you whisper under your breath. You flick back through the pictures on the camera's rear screen. They're good, bright and sharp: excellent evidence. You return indoors to your computer to print them out, make yourself a congratulatory coffee (which you don't spill this time) and tuck the photos safely away in an envelope.

10am the next morning and you take your file of evidence straight to the police in the not unreasonable expectation that swift action will follow. You are somewhat dismayed, however, when the cop on duty screws his face up, takes a deep breath and asks you to wait whilst he takes them to a superior. "What's his problem," you wonder. Not enough pictures? Weren't they sharp enough? Or did he recognize the child of a colleague in one of the frames. Could be embarrassing, that! After a while two sargents appear, both looking very serious."What do you want us to do with these?" they inquire. Now you really ARE confused! "What do you think?" you reply in surprise, "I want you to nail this creep for selling drugs to kids. It's obvious enough, isn't it? This should be all the evidence you need here."

The older of the two sargents hands the envelope back to you. You sense deep unease in his demeanor. Something is just not right and you can't work out what it could possibly be. "What?? You mean you're not going to act on this??" you stutter incredulously. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," replies the younger cop, coldly. "But this guy is breaking the law in broad daylight selling drugs to schoolchildren!" You can feel your anger rising now, even higher than your confusion. "There's nothing any of us can do about it," they reply in unison. "Cases like these always get dropped at a higher level. It's just a waste of time," chimes in the older of the two. "My best advice to you," says the first cop with some gravity in his voice, "is to just turn a blind eye to it. Instances like this are simply more trouble than they're worth to get involved with."

You tuck your photos back in your pocket and storm out of the building, shaking your head in disgust and disbelief. The cops didn't want to know! The cops didn't want to know! This isn't how it's supposed to be in America! What the hell do these people think they're doing protecting this JERK? He's ruining these kids' futures, setting them on course for a lifetime of dependence and misery; many of them will end up in jail eventually from trying to feed the habit that this bastard is introducing them to (for his own selfish enrichment) and the law enforcement authorities could care less about it! What the hell is happening in this country? You head back to your apartment, experiencing several near-misses with other vehicles because your mind is totally preoccupied with the unbelievable stonewalling you got from the cops.

When you get home, your anger has just about reaching boiling point. You fix yourself another coffee, spilling most of it again, and sit out on the balcony to work out what to do next. The options seem pretty limited. You'd counted on the police to do what they're supposed to do, yet they won't lift a finger to help. The hours go by, but you just get more and more frustrated and angry. Going down there and busting this asshole on the nose is out of the question. 40 years ago, for sure! But age is not on your side and not only that, but you know that many of 'his sort' go around packing a gun. Why the hell should YOU - an older private citizen - have to turn vigilante and risk your life for something that the police should have willingly and instantly dealt with? The whole situation just baffles you.

After much deep thought, however, you come up with a great idea. You'll put up notices around the area to warn the parents about what's going on! You'll fire up that desk-top-publishing program and print dozens of warning posters with the best picture you took at the top of each sheet, being careful to pixelate the faces of the students, of course, but making sure the culprit is exposed clearly for the whole neighborhood to see! Yeah! That ought to do it! You set to work that very afternoon, spurred on by seeing the dope pusher up to his usual tricks with the kids again outside the school. "I'll fix that bastard!" you laugh to yourself, "Don't need those stupid cops after all!" Wasting no time, a few hours later you have a stack of 50 posters ready to go. "The cops might be useless, lazy, corrupt or incompetent, but they can't stop me from warning the parents!"

Next day, bright and early, you're out in the locality with your posters, a hammer and a box of tacks. Nothing's simpler than posting bills, and it doesn't take you very long before the first dozen are done. Much to your delight, you see one or two early-risers, dog-walkers and joggers, have already spotted them and have stopped to take a look-see. You fancy you know what their reaction will be: mad as hell! A short time later, however, you're just banging in a last nail on the 20th poster when a police cruiser pulls up along side. Two officers get out, one of which you'd encountered in the police station the day before. To your amazement, they're carrying several of of your warning notices; their jagged edges indicating they've just been hurriedly torn down...

Now things begin to take on an almost surreal quality. Without a word, the cops seize your remaining posters, the hammer and nails and bundle you into the back of the cruiser. Looks like you're heading down town. What the hell is going on? Why are they suddenly treating you like a common criminal? What the heck are they going to bust you for? Littering? People put up posters all the time and no one ever says nothing. "Would one of you people care to read me my rights?" you indignantly inquire. Silence. Neither officer says a word. Within minutes, the cruiser pulls up beside the police station and you're taken inside. The officers at the front desk seem to already know something. How odd. You can't believe all this trouble you're being put through just for trying to perform a civic service to your fellow neighborhood residents.

The younger officer is at the desk, unlike yesterday, working alone. He looks up as you're escorted in. Something in his eyes tells you what ever is coming, it's not going to be good. Finally, you get read your rights, although you really can't imagine why, as an honest citizen with no former convictions, you'd need to avail yourself of them. You will certainly not be pleading the 5th! You stride purposely up to the counter, look the cop straight in the eyes and say, "Is somebody going to tell me what the hell I'm supposed to have done?" The sargent raises his eyes and shoots you this cold, contemptuous look - the kind of look you imagine he normally reserves for someone hauled in on a major felony. He puts down his pen and says, "We already told you once to drop this. This is your second and final warning. If we have to haul you in again, you'll be charged." The hard glaze on his eyes tell you this cop isn't kidding. A moment's silence ensues before you can gather your wits.

"Charged??" you stammer, "charged with WHAT?" "Hate crime," replies the officer impassively. You're momentarily stunned. "Hate crime? Hate crime? How the hell do you arrive at charge like that? I'm no racist and the creep selling the drugs isn't black, nor even gay from what I've seen! Hate crime my ass!!" At this point a side door opens and a powerfully-built man in slacks and a sports jacket emerges. He motions to the cop to bring you over. You're guided through the door and into a small, sparsely-furnished room. The newcomer introduces himself as a detective and invites you to take a seat. He nods to the uniformed cop to leave the room, then turns to face you, remaining standing with a desk between you and him. You notice the desk is bolted to the floor. There's one window in this room, but the glass is frosted so there's no view of the outside. The atmosphere is rather intimidating, but you refuse to be cowed by it.

"Are YOU going to tell me what I'm supposed to have done?" you justifiably ask.
"Look, I'm gonna level with you," says the detective, "you were in the process of committing a serious felony in putting up those posters of yours and your actions amount to a hate crime, because by doing what you did, you're likely to arouse the anger of the community, and that can get ugly and out-of-control. You're fueling a lynch-mob mentality by putting up inflammatory material like that. This guy you claim is a drug dealer might be nothing of the sort yet wind up dead as a result of your actions. There's no telling where it might all end."
You're stunned and speechless at his words. He continues, "Do you know what will happen if you're convicted of a hate crime? First off, you go to jail, period. Could be 2 years; could be 10. Then there's a potentially unlimited fine. Plus all your property is subject to confiscation. It's a very serious matter indeed." You slouch back in the chair and cover your face with your hands. It's like some horribly bad dream - but it's ugly reality.

Now you're on the defensive. This guy has clearly misunderstood your motives. Yeah, that's got to be it. He'll understand if you just get your point across. "But I wasn't INTENDING to stir up any trouble," you begin. " - Doesn't matter," he cuts in, "your motives don't come into it. The applicable laws don't even consider them." "And this CREEP wasn't black, gay, hispanic, Jewish or anything else!" "That's irrelevant, too," replies the cop, "all the law is concerned with, in essence, is that you don't do anything which COULD incite hatred towards others."
"I was only acting for the public good!" you protest. "No defense," the cop states blankly, "I already done told you the law doesn't care what your motivations were; only with the possible CONSEQUENCES of your actions. Let's say for the sake of argument that you're right. This guy IS a dope peddler, but the parents, rather than form a lynch-mob, just escort their kids from the school, all nice and peaceful. That's no mitigation, because the material you distributed COULD still have given rise to big trouble among the community. That's still enough for a guilty verdict."

You pause momentarily taking in the enormity of what you've just be told. Being read the Riot Act for simply being a public-spirited citizen and trying to look out for your neighbors' kids is the last thing you expected. And now you're a hate criminal! "You're free to call a lawyer if you want," continues the cop, "but they'll just tell you exactly what I just did. It's your choice."
You martial together what remains of your resolve: "So basically what you're saying is that anyone can do anything they like to wreck society, but we mustn't raise awareness of it for fear of making decent people angry??"
"You can look at it any way you want," continues the cop, "we police officers don't MAKE the laws, we only ENFORCE them - and we DO enforce them. You have been warned for the last time. Today you walk out of here a free man, but if we ever find you're continuing with this one-man campaign of yours, by whatever means, even if it's just talking to people about it on the street, then you'll be back in here and charged under the hate crime legislation before you can say 'Thomas Jefferson.'"

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the nightmarish situation we're increasingly facing today with Western governments' strenuous efforts to suppress the Truth. The powers that be are contriving ever more devious and ingenious methods to prevent us from warning others about what is going on around us and who is behind it all. The time is already upon us to make the Big Decision: to remain cowed and silent whilst Evil flourishes, or to take a stand and REFUSE to submit to this new tyranny. Phaedrus and others in the blogosphere and elsewhere have already made that choice. If YOU haven't already done so, you'd better make your mind up damn fast, because the future of your children and their children will be extremely bleak, if everything that made us what we are increasingly ceasing to be, is further flushed into the rancid, malodorous, Jewish cesspit of cultural, ethnic, moral and social disintegration.