Atlanta CPA Presents…Precipice of Power…Chapter 39
Precipice of Power is a call to action. Economically, politically and as a world leader, America stands on the brink. A step towards destruction or a step back to morality hangs in the balance. Precipice of Power is for all good thinking American’s to lead us back to smaller government and democracy and away from runaway deficits and Socialism. For what evil lies within the hearts of man, whose passion is inflamed by the lust for power, must be stopped. Democracy hangs in the balance until good people rise up and defend America from sea to shining sea. We must never back down. We must never be afraid. We must be bold. We must act. Now. Precipice of Power is not a call to violence but the peaceful revolution that our Constitution and democracy allows, granting us the privilege and responsibility to serve, vote and to actively seek positive change. Shirking not from our moral duty, but to do what you can locally, domestically and internationally to help seat America permanently as a beacon of democracy to a world in need. Precipice of Power will be published here in its entirety at http://www.hiscpa.com/blog/
Feel the steel.
All he had wanted was a little time alone. Was that too much to ask. The library had always been his sanctuary. His place to relax. Everyone knew it. It was widely known and respected but why this night. Why today. He had gone in there for a nightcap, his usual brandy and then HE had walked in unannounced, unappreciated and not invited.
HE had walked in at a most opportune moment. Leaving the safety of his battalion of Secret Service Guards he strode in interrupting the evening’s respite. Just when all seems lost, a chance of a lifetime presents itself. President Jack Jackson, full of himself as always, a man on a mission.
Without concern for those he stepped on or over. Without concern for those he hurt. Without concern for what meant most to the Chief Justice.
The Constitution of the United States of America.
America the Free, Land of Liberty and Justice, Don’t Tread on Me. One Nation Under God. Not mere words but the legacy, the destiny of a nation. Not for one man alone but for hundreds of millions. United Under God. Pledging Allegiance to the Flag that Shone Brightly. A City on a Hill. The Leader of the Free World. The Rescuer of Nations. The Leading Democracy of All Time. My Country. Mine. Not Yours. It was never intended to be yours. It belongs to all free, God-fearing people. Your reign will not go down in infamy for it will go down in flames. And it will end.
The nickel plated Glock was made for a purpose. Destined for a journey. Made as a means to an end. Death. Carefully aimed at the left temple of President Jack Jackson the hollow point bullet tore through his left temple and the front of his face, leaving nothing recognizable in its wake. He was dead before realizing he had even been shot, his body’s weight succumbing to gravity, it’s pull bringing him back to the ground, to which his body would now go.
From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust.
Certainly there would be a state funeral, there always was, but he knew he would not be alive to witness it. No way. Not now. His course of action had already determined his fate. There was nothing left to do.
When clearing out the personal effects of President Jack Jackson, these notes were found tucked away safely free from scrutiny or discovery.
Locked deep away in the secrets of his heart, far away from public view and record was a an old chained smoke scarred cross, the only recognizable remnant from a Albany, Mississippi church fire where 87 souls were lost and not the 86 who were reportedly killed. The one lost soul, his mother, whose record would never be discovered, a lone white orphaned girl, recently of child, attending an all black church seeking respite from pain, finding none in a rural southern town that fateful day, September 2, 1968.
Her lone survivor, aptly given the last name of the county where his life began in a small rural Mississippi town, his secret forever hidden in the churches ashes. Jack Jackson seeking to fill the hole in his heart that was there since birth by inflicting his pain on others. Instead finding the end of his life with a gaping hole in his mind. Power, controlling his head, arising to the country’s highest office. President of the United States of America, only to fall from grace and favor.
Beneath a chained, smoke scarred, cross on a parchment of fine linen paper where the excerpts of rules, written in his own hand, which were seized in a raid in Dusseldorf Germany, in 1919.
The files were marked, “Communist Rules for Revolution”:
• ”Corrupt the young: get them away from religion. Get them interested in sex. Make them superficial; destroy their ruggedness.”
• ”Get control of all means of publicity. Get peoples’ minds off their government by focusing their attention on athletics, plays and other trivialities.”
• ”By encouraging government extravagance, destroy its credit; produce fear of inflation, rising prices and general discontent.”
• ”Divide people into hostile groups by constantly harping on controversial matters of no importance.”
• ”Destroy the peoples’ faith in their natural leaders by holding the latter up to contempt, ridicule . . ”
• ”Always preach true democracy; but seize power as fast and as ruthlessly as possible.”
Written across the page at the very bottom was the words Patriot.
Press – Control the Press…ANN
Apportion – Encourage Entitlement…CARE
Together – Blind Group Obedience…SAFE
Religion – We are all Alike
Instruct – Teach Our Ways to the Youth
Opulence – Together we and get to the Promised Land
Teach – Teach Democracy, while seizing power
President Jackson’s own attempt to mask the Communist rules in the name of Patriotism.
Patriot… Hell, be damned, I think not.
The king will do as he pleases. He will exalt and magnify himself above every god and will say unheard-of things against the God of gods. He will be successful until the time of wrath is completed, for what has been determined must take place. Daniel 11:36