The Great Ark

by T. C. Driver

  The fact that all these bums get a small check from the Federal government keeps these men available and keeps their wages down. They also get more back in taxes from the IRS than what they paid in. This very progressive tax system comes straight from Karl Marks but take a closer look. The lowest paid wages in America are not enough for a worker to sustain or feed themselves. These low end workers would not take the low pay unless the big socialist state paid part of their upkeep. Watch these men being picked up for work at very low rates. The small government check is enough to buy their vote and keep them in the “cash only” economy but not enough to live on. Almost every bum in America works a small limited amount at low wages. Each wino knows how much he is allowed to make without losing his check and would always rather work for cash. Half of these bums would move on or dry out without a government check to depend on. Mostly these government checks support illegal drug use, cigarettes, and alcohol in short all of the Osoma voters that are not lawyers, school teachers, and government workers. Most government programs do the exact opposite of what they say they are supposed to do. Poor people are better off in a free economy rather than a big government one because low end wages are suppressed by government programs. A good example of this is migrant farm workers (Mexican slaves) being offered off season government checks, and healthcare to keep them there in shanty towns instead of moving on. Growers could not keep enough workers around at low pay so they used government tax money to subsidize their workers. In a free economy farm work would have to pay more, in a free market the bottom end menial labor cost would go up and benefit poor people more than all government programs.

  We Americans have slowly lost all of our personal freedoms during the last sixty years and have slowly sunk into the mud of government. We are becoming just like the rest of the world, and we will soon be as poor as they are. At our present high level of government cost changing the tax collection method will not save us. If we could cut the flat rate back to 10% or less it might work. Tax rates this high on menial labor or a sales tax (fair tax) or consumption tax higher than 15% would just distort economic behavior as people circumvented the tax. This would bring about the end of cash as we know it. All buying and selling would require the mark of the beast to successfully collect the high tax rate. The holy Bible will be found true my friends and every man found a liar. God does know what he’s talking about, listen to him, read his word. My young rich republican friends had to leave early still long before closing time. They were nice young men but two of them were angry with me for talking about their Goodlatter daddy. The other two men had hot dates with two girls named Kishia from the ships drama department. These two took their ties off and unbuttoned their shirts revealing two save the whales go green pink t-shirts with an attached AIDS ribbon, and Osoma poster. I was quite impressed yes there was still hope for these young men. They were getting ready to play the bulls and cows mating game and they knew how to impress silly, mindless (easy) liberal women. Why does much of life have to be so phony? The whole game was pointless from the beginning, because the gals were most likely being phony too (ha-ha). I finished up my last coffee sitting by myself and thought about being young again. I was so glad to be old. I have had a wonderful life, truly I’ve been blessed by the best!

  Old men like me in every state legislature have passed a lot of silly laws about sex, mostly to protect their “perfect” little angel granddaughters and to keep their wives happy or at least off their backs. These old men have now forgotten all about being young and shot full of raging hormones. Most of the old men have failed to raise their families in Biblical teaching and do not want to face truth. The cold, hard, truth is that women have been taught not to value their virginity but rather to hate and despise it. In our sick society both marriage and virginity is ridiculed and their perfect little angel granddaughters are mostly vile sluts given over to raging lust, sexual depravity and self love. Each sad young woman is a mirror reflection of our sick, perverted, ungodly, popular culture. God’s truth is always rebelled against by wickedness and sin, and sexual transmitted diseases now ruin many young people’s lives. We should have never told young Christian girls not to marry and to first screw around for ten or fifteen years. This is against the ways and teaching of God. Do not try to change the Bible to fit your own desire for society. Surprise! God does know what he’s talking about and he speaks plainly in his Holy word. We had better listen!

  Chapter Eleven: Iceland and the Volcano

  By the evening of our seventh night in Portugal it was time to leave. Tommy Mute’s great Uncle and Aunt Bob and Alice Paxton did board the Great Ark just in time. Tommy did not meet them or give away his family connection. Down on main deck our mail plane had been in the garage during harbor stay. This plane was a two prop straight winged old box, with long range and light payload. We planned to use it to save the Paxtons. Early that morning our little team ran around the ship like mice in a grocery store. Before Marshall Moore “head of aircraft maintenance” came to work, we four brave mice led Bob and Alice Paxton to the mail plane and hid them in the baggage compartment. We also mailed their belongings to Ireland so our mail plane would be on track to go there first. A pilot friend one Scott Womack a retired Major living in Ireland would be on the tarmac when the plane landed. Old Marshal Moore or “Duck” always came to work early, but this morning he was very early so I spoke to him in a quiet, stern, and sober voice.

  “Duck you never saw us, don’t even ask. This is Island Number two serious this is life and death.”

  Thank God for men you can trust in a pinch. Yes godly men or honor among thieves whatever works. From the gym-or “fitness center” railing I watched the old mail plane come up elevator one and park just off the edge of our flight line. Hours passed, and still we were all watching the plane and pretending not to. When the plane did take off three hours later we all breathed a sigh of relief from distant parts of the ship. I had almost pushed Tommy Mute into that mail plane with Bob and Alice, but did not. I should have known better and trusted my instincts. Only one day later professor Tommy Mute disappeared. Our ships computers had caught up with his family connection to Bob and Alice Paxton. We all feared the worst. Lou and I waved to each other on the deck outside our cabins but we didn’t dare hang out together. It seemed we had not yet been found out. Each day now when in sight of the front killing floor cabins I could not stop myself from glancing eerily at the closed doors for any signs of life. What duty to these others did I have? Those men who were not family? Those men who didn’t matter? What did I owe them? Should I mutiny the ship, rebel against leadership maybe confront and shoot my old friend Captain Joe Coe. When younger we baby boomer Americans looked down on Germans of World War II age; those Germans that did nothing and looked the other way during the holocaust. Judge not, less you too are judged my friends. I had now become what I despised. I was now just like the frightened Americans back home, too much of a coward to stand up for the rights of the minority.

  American road side and airport searches were not constitutional but nobody stood up for freedom. Now there was road side pat downs at “safety” check points and huge prison camps were built all over the country. The local jail inmates of my home town of Salem Virginia were asking for the same rights as Communist Chinese prison camps! The local new jail is bigger than the Salem downtown business district and had no outside yard for inmates at all. By design no inmates would ever be outside to see the light of day ever again and no real visits by family were allowed to save money. Complete lack of sunshine and vitamin D is deadly to humans because men are not moles. Yes it was true that Communist Chinese prisons gave inmates more rights than the local drunk tank in Salem Virginia. Osoma had not prosecuted thousands of counts of voter fraud. Blatant and openly filmed voter intimidation by Black Panther thugs was applauded. Billions were paid to his “brown shirt” street gang ACORN. The laws and rights of free men are laughed at by power drunk low class hoodlums while many lawyers in high paid “fake jobs” su
cked the government dry. Why stand up to tyranny in government? This monster was growing bigger every day, why should you? Why should your family take a bullet to stand up for freedom; for the right to vote in honest elections, for the constitution? Take your paycheck and shut up! People who stand up for the Holy Bible or the constitution are hated and laughed at. The Democratic Party criminal gangs will never come after me. I’m one of the loyal, one of the good ones. I even drive an electric car! I’m one that counts. Hell I still watch Oprah show reruns and cry right along with her. I even recycle and don’t eat red meat.

  Sometimes you do know and you pretend that you don’t know or see. You simply look the other way because it’s easy. Standing up for freedom, being hated, taking a bullet, fighting tyranny, fighting against Osoma and his thugs is hard. A brave man is one who stands alone and obeys God like Christ did. One who stands for the rights of the few against the popular crowd? The home of the brave is gone forever. American men have been found not worthy, all of them to shy to stand for the few.

  After seven cycles of flight duty or twenty eight days the Ark pulled into Iceland but did not dock. On the way we delayed and took our sweet good time spending ten days off the coast of England where we transferred many college professors by helicopter. Ship defense was at a low level and nothing much was going on. When we arrived in Iceland we again picked up some more professor types. All of these new professors were volcanic rock nuts. The same “save the earth” nut jobs as all the dishonest “Global warming” so called environmentalist. They all are required to sing the same “America is wrong Song” to make the big easy government money. True science has nothing whatever to do with their work. There is not a brave or honest man among their ranks. Save us from hair spray, cow farts, air conditioning, motor cars, and farm tractors they shout. Please outlaw the smoking of cigarettes, and the burning of coal and oil and all cars should be electric and expensive forcing most poor slobs (like you) to ride the bus. All of these ideas stem from false science and mentally ill priests unable to see God’s truth when they stare it in the face. This false religion bunch wouldn’t know a basic science fact if it bit them on the ass.

  About one hundred little electric cars were unloaded in Iceland and four tractor trailer loads of freight, all done by ferry. I think Joe was too cheap to dock. Nothing much was going on except the Volcano.

  The volcano was wonderful grand and majestic to behold. It had been cooking again now for some months. The heat column reaching skyward and east ward was so large that it caused a mild constant breeze. This mountain put out more air pollution every two hours than all the cars in Europe did in a year. Many hours were spent watching the mountain. Its majesty made you feel small and weak, and not in control of this world. It was awesome and humbling to see a tiny piece of God’s power reflected in his creation. That is if you are not a mentally ill humanist earth worshiping environmentalist nut case trying to save the world from deodorant spray and air-conditioning.

  Lou and I had heavy hearts about our friend Tommy Mute. We started talking again at the Gospel Café but still did not associate together around ship. To tell the truth, we were scared for our lives. We knew facial recognition software was used on ship and that computers tracked and recorded our movements. Lou was always a pleasure to discuss politics, Holy Bible, and economics with because he was always only half right at best. While still in the harbor at Iceland three more flight cycles later, Lou Goodliar and I were again seated together at the Gospel Café. Lou pushed me a napkin with” Mutes not dead” written on it in very neat script. I smiled, a weight lifted off my shoulders. I crumpled up the napkin and soaked up coffee with it.

  That night I’m sure Lou disagreed with my anti- professor speech just to make things look good. The students brought up slavery and the civil War again that night. I pointed out the facts that ancient Ethiopians had light skin European slaves. How brainwashing of the young by government, Church, or home is effective and powerful.

  This fact is true be it false teaching, or the ways of God. The hand that rocks the cradle does rule the world and the family; never give this God given right and responsibility to the state.

  Mid morning the next day sixteen or eighteen grad students came aboard, all were volcano watchers. Captain Coe asked me to test a new ultra light plane by signing up these students and filing a report. Flying was dangerous in these cold waters next to the huge volcano. The small open planes required flight suits in this weather. Both the flight suits and the planes were manufactured by a Swiss company. These planes worked well with our ships “cable” storage system and flew ten mph faster in level flight. Joe bought thirty six of them. I would never get the chance to fly them again. Our group of student aviators used in part the powerful updrafts from the mountain to soar to dangerous heights. Flight was dangerous here because the planes did not have enough fuel to fight their way back to the ship. I spent my time waving students and shouting “head back now” but many did not listen. My friend Lou was with a group of students that ended up landing on volcano rocks. Six planes were brought back by harbor ferry unable to take off again after landing. I just wasn’t into hot rocks and cold weather. The air around this mountain was “brass monkey cold” so I did not go back up again. I also warned Friday to shut down the student fliers. Not until one of the new planes burnt up on hot lava rocks did Friday finally shut the lightweights down. I sent a report off to Joe about the ultra lights “needed increase in fuel capacity and bigger tires.” I made my report short and sweet. My mind was on those famous hot tubs in town. I planned to enjoy a little global warming for myself. I signed up on computer to use a sea plane as a taxi into town. Very little shore leave was allowed here in Iceland but not so for us special high class pilots (ha-ha). When I got downstairs I found that many of my pilot buddies had the same idea and were in sea planes in line ahead of me. Every plane was loaded crammed full of pilots all thinking like me; a few beers and the famous hot tubs in town. We pilots were a spoiled lot and used our privileges to the max. There was no shame or care in any of us. I waited through line and slowly came up to the dock and release port in the bottom of the ship. The cable system gave me a green light and I was ready to taxi out. Just at the time of release Lou opened the door of my plane and jumped in. This is against the rules, I was past the green light and also released. The cable system operator then had to run out, and reset the line and his computer. James Kiesler was on dock line duty that night and he angrily waved me out of the way. James gave me the “I should have known it was you” head shake and screamed again for me to keep moving while he walked back to his controls. Looking over at Lou I saw I saw that he was upset dirty, and half frozen to death. Burnt plastic odor filled the cabin.

  “What is that smell?” I asked.”

  Lou was tired and put out. He had melted the soles of his expensive, made in China, boots on those hot lava rocks. The wind in the small open planes was very cold and sucked the heat out of a person very quickly. On the ships deck it was now ten degrees and the little planes were miserable even with a flight suit. Lou for once sat quiet.

  “Lou,” I said, “I don’t mind drinking with a preacher professor if you don’t mind drinking with a watering hole Holiness!”

  We taxied out of the stern of the ship into the dark harbor, our landing lights worked only fair as headlights. We did not fly but rather skimmed or boated across the harbor.”

  “Are volcanic rocks hot, Big Lou?

  “Yes, hot as hell,” he replied, as we splashed our way through the large harbor. Tommy Mute then sat up behind us awakened by Lou Goodliar’s large left hand. The plane bounced on the water throwing the half asleep Tommy Mute back down. We three were laughing and off to a night on the town. Hot tub here we come.

  Lou Goodliar did have a (hidden) agenda as always. He let me down my customary two beers during dinner and then suggested we forgo the hot tubs to join with Brother Whitt again. I was a hard sell. The two men bribed me with two more rounds of beer. Lou want
ed to buy more books (one for Bob and Alice Paxton and one for his wife.) Little did we know that night that those E-books many months later would cost all three of Lou’s friends their lives? Lou Goodliar’s friendship was their undoing. Yes, some friends are like that. It’s always about them, at the cost of everyone around them.

  Professor author and preacher Nathaniel Isaiah Theodore Whitt was still on his book tour and in Iceland this weekend only.

  “What’s this Whitt guy doing touring with the ship?” I complained loudly as I paid the tip. We all finished eating and started walking up the street. Five blocks up a hill was the auditorium where Whitt was speaking. The sharp wind was bitter cold. We all rested in the lobby gasping for breath, our hearts pounding, and our faces numb from the cold. Professor Whitt was well underway and no one was collecting tickets at the door, so we walked in without paying. That was the highpoint of the evening for me. Whitt was speculating about the Great Pyramid being pre Noah’s Flood and the works of the “Sons of God.” I bought a book for myself this time still trying to figure out the number twenty-six. The most special number there is. Old Professor Whitt is right about one thing. I do want to be an heir with Jesus Christ and adopted into the family of God, to become one of the “Sons of God” one day. Yes, I want to be a joint heir with the king of kings, nothing else is important in this world. Professor Whitt talked again about Billiard balls and then the number twenty-six. Also about the fact that the numbers nine and six were both modeled after the two thumbs of a man’s hands. He placed one ball on the pool table just like before then put six around it and then six again forming the Hebrew Star. God becoming flesh, the covenant with Abraham, and the twelve disciples with Jesus at center. I started to understand the reflection of God in Math when he demonstrated the circle of fifths and the overtone series. He then, like before, took the six balls of the Hebrew star and put three on top and three on the bottom forming a sphere. The closest stacking of spheres always in groups of thirteen twelve points around one center. He then started doing pyramids and the Carbon atom, the number 666, then the golden mean and I was lost again. I never was good at math. The golden mean squared a deck of cards and the number twenty-six. (soon it all started to run together.)