As a Being Who Knows Who He Was In Past Lives, and What The Hell the Sheep helped the Jackals Do To Me Many Times, I Despise Sheep

The only reason I run a couple of blogs is I do my Duty to God.
I have given up on the sheep.

But one of God’s laws is before a soul can be held accountable for what they did or did not do when they stand before the record of their life on the other side, they must have had the truth made available to them.

They do not have to embrace the truth, or even listen to the truth, but it had to have been made available to them.

I am this life, a truth teller as I have been in many lives.

Having spent years trying to tell the truth to sheep has convinced me of two things.

When Jesus the Christ called em sheep, that was not a term of endearment!

And if the sheep liked the truth, Jesus would not have ended up with his ass nailed to a tree trunk!


The Sheeple committed suicide in mass-
Bleating frantically to be injected in their sheep’s ass-

The herd shook in fear of an imaginary foe-
So that straight through the slaughterhouse door they did go-

They delivered their lambs up for the slaughter to save themselves-
Believing in a mythical “virus” same as they did honest government and garden elves-

They clambered to get to the front of the line for the killer jab-
Of a biological kill weapon developed in a Ratschild controlled & funded lab-

They bleated angrily at any who did not want to comply-
With the mass suicide pact, any who refused to buy-

The lies of the “Health Experts”, media and government whores-
Any who did not bow down to group think, of the mass hysteria mores-

In the end when the jabbed sheep had left their bones bleaching in the sun-
When those guilty of the farce had been by crazed & grieving relatives run-

Into blind alleys, places with no exits, back rooms and such-
As the guilty whores pleaded their innocence and for mercy so very much-

The survivors who lost friends, lovers, children, spouses, grandparents to the lying Rats-
Beat the evil sons of bitches brains out with rusty tire irons and base ball bats!

The Ole Dog!

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