TURKEY TIME: Thanksgiving Homecoming Via ALL STOLEN Real Property/ies RETURNED NOW Via US-ZioCons Israeli Firsters, Et Al

US peace effort wavers as Israel issues tenders for new settlement homes November 04, 2013  Get short URL<<

A view of the West Bank Jewish settlement of Maale Adumim (front) is seen near Jerusalem (Reuters) >>  Israel issued more than 1,700 new home tenders for Jewish settlements in the West Bank on Sunday, complicating US-backed peace talks with the Palestinian Authority. The announcement comes ahead of a visit from US Secretary of State John Kerry.  >>  http://rt.com/news/israel-issues-building-tenders-171/ 

PECK'S BAD BOY ABROAD, By Hon. Geo. W. Peck

The Bad Boy and His Dad Eat Fog—Call on Astor—A Dynamite Outrage.

London, England.    Dear Old Man: 
Well, sir, if a court sentenced me to live in this town, I would appeal the case, and ask the judge to temper his sentence with mercy, and hang me. Say, the fog here is so thick you have to feel around like a blind goddess, and when you show up through the fog you look about eighteen feet high, and you are so wet you want to be run through a clothes wringer every little while. For two days we never left the hotel, but looked out of the windows waiting for the fog to go by, and watching the people swim through it, without turning a hair. Dad was for going right to the Lord Mayor and lodging a complaint, and demanding that the fog be cleared off, so an American citizen could go about town and blow in his money, but I told him he could be arrested for treason. He come mighty near being arrested on the cars from Liverpool to London. When we got off the steamer and tried to find the widow who robbed dad of his watch and roll of money, but never found her, we were about the last passengers to reach the train, and when we got ready to get on we found these English cars that open on the sides, and they put you into a box stall with some other live stock, and lock you in, and once in a while a guard opens the door to see if you are dead from suffocation, or have been murdered by the other passengers. Dad kicked on going in one of the kennels the first thing, and said he wanted a parlor car; but the guard took dad by the pants and gave him a shove, and tossed me in on top of dad, and two other passengers and a woman in the compartment snickered, and dad wanted to fight all of 'em except the woman, but he concluded to mash her. When the door closed clad told the guard he would walk on his neck when the door opened, and that he was not an entry in a dog show, and he wanted a kennel all to himself, and asked for dog biscuit. Gee, but that guard was mad, and he gave dad a look that started the train going. I whispered to dad to get out his revolver, because the other passengers looked like hold up men, and he took his revolver out of his satchel and put it in his pistol pocket, and looked fierce, and the woman began to act faint, while the passengers seemed to be preparing to jump on dad if he got violent. When the train stopped at the first station I got out and told the guard that the old gentleman in there was from Helena, Montana, and that he had a reputation from St. Paul to Portland, and then I held up both hands the way train robbers make passengers hold up their hands. When I went back in the car dad was talking to the woman about her resembling a woman he used to know in the states, and he was just going to ask her how long she had been so beautiful, when the guard came to the side door and called the woman out into another stall, and then one of the passengers pulled out a pair of handcuffs and told dad he might as well surrender, because he was a Scotland yard detective and had spotted dad as an American embezzler, and if he drew that gun he had in his pocket there would be a dead Yankee in about four minutes.

CHAPTER VIII.

     The Bad Boy Writes About the Craze for Gin in the
     Whitechapel District—He Gives His Dad a Scare in the Tower
     of London.

London, England.—My Dear Chum: I received your letter yesterday, and it made me homesick. Gee, but if I could be home there with you and go down to the swimming hole and get in all over, and play tag in the sand, and tie some boy's pants and shirt in knots, and yell that the police are coming, and all grab our clothes under our arms and run across lots with no clothes on, and get in a barn and put on our clothes, and dry our hair by pounding it with a stick, so we would not get licked when we got home, life would be worth living, but here all I do is to dodge people on the streets and see them look cross when they step on me.

Say, boy, you will never know your luck in being a citizen of good old America, instead of a subject of Great Britain, because you have got to be rich or be hungry here, and if you are too rich you have got no appetite. You have heard of the roast beef of old England, but nobody eats it but the dukes and bankers. The working men never even saw a picture of a roast beef, and yet we look upon all Englishmen as beef-eaters, but three-fourths of the people in this town look hungry and discouraged, and they never seem to know whether they are going to have any supper.

I went down to a market this morning where the middle class and the very poor people buy their supplies, and it would make you sick to see them. They buy small loaves of bread and a penny's worth of tea, and that is breakfast, and if a man is working he takes some of the bread to work for lunch, and the wife or mother buys a carrot or a quarter of a cabbage, and maybe a bone with a piece of meat about as big as a fish bait, and that makes supper, with a growler of beer.

Say, the chunk of meat with a bone that an American butcher would throw at a dog that he had never been introduced to would be a banquet for a large family over here.

I have been down into the White Chapel district, which is the Five Points of London, and of the thousands of tough people I saw there was not a man but looked as though he would cut your liver out for a shilling, and every woman was drunk on gin. What there is about gin that makes it the national beverage for bad people beats me, for it looks like water, tastes like medicine and smells like cold storage eggs. At home when a person takes a drink of beer or whisky he at least looks happy for a minute, and maybe he laughs, but here nobody laughs unless somebody gets hurt, and that seems to tickle everybody in the White Chapel district.

The people look mad and savage when they are not drinking, as though they were only looking for an opportunity to commit murder, and then when they take a drink of gin, instead of smiling and smacking their lips as though it was good and braced them up, they look as though they had been stabbed with a dirk and they put on a look of revenge, as though they would like to wring a child's neck or cut holes in the people they meet.

Two drinks of gin makes a man or woman look as though they had swallowed a buzz saw. I always thought drinking liquor made people think they were enjoying themselves, or that they took it to drive away care and make them forget their sorrows, but when these people drink gin they seem to do it the way an American drinks carbolic acid, to end the whole business quick.

At home the drinker drinks to make him feel like he was at a picnic. Here every drinker acts like a suicide, who only hopes that he may commit a murder before the gin ends his career. And there are hundreds of thousands of people in this town who have no ambition except to get a bit of bread to sustain them till they can get a drink of gin, and gradually they let up on bread entirely and feed on gin, and look like mad dogs and snarl at everybody they see, as much as to say: "What are you going to do about it?"

A good square American meal would give them a fit, and they would go to a hospital and die if the meal could not be got out of them. 

>>http://www.gutenberg.org/files/25489/25489-h/25489-h.htm 
 
AMERICAN TOOK A TURN.  The turn was into a wrong Thanksgiving Dinner.

Too many turkeys fed on GMOs.  Like PECK'S BAD BOY's words say, the streets were filled with neighbors getting operations and so the gig got on and went to market marking all the pigs to slaughter besides the hogs and including piglets as well as all the human beings that could be convinced to be cut on.

PALESTINIANS have suffered a very long time.  So have the people of London and the entirety of World Earth.  USA?  Failed Nation State and the intention wasn't to see further 'enlightenment'.  Domesticated Turkeys.

America and MONEY SOVEREIGNTY?   FOODSTAMPS in America just got cut.  HOME FORECLOSURES in America?  Most all the shelters same as the building in Palestine, temporary to herd the bewildered experimented upon and on.

People to get out of the weather and to feel as though the time of Twenty-first Century isn't about the time when MAD DOGS LOOKING AT EVERYBODY SNARLING?

Time to shoot lots of Domesticated Turkeys and find the Thanksgiving Dinner that was before the hospitals decided a fad to cut on humans was medicine to heal the sick and then the GMOs are to cause the sick to go to doctors to have the cuts continue.

Of course this is all the best choice for the U.S. Constitutional Republic, and 'Americans''. 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING 2013, Turning Into The Proper Dinner Of Champions

Time To Take Shiny Baubles And Put The Gun Powder In With The Feed, Too?

Congress LOVES shiny baubles just like Turkeys Domesticated into dumb enough to get in the rain and drown.  NOSES SO HIGH IN THE AIR, can't think the water drops into the nasal cavity and gone just like that.

Leading Congress into the rain with Obama at the head turkey match, his head so high already and all the others' perfectly domesticated for the design of noses in the air, shorter term memories than chimps and away we go for newer ideas.

... to be continued ...