Do you ever write any more of your own, or are you just now a Drudge-type conglomerate? We can all get the news directly from the sources you provide, but it was what you had to say that we all respected. Now you have nothing to say, so why should we keep coming here? Hell, you don't even say thank you. Adios, hombre. WarriorClass III
Funny. I was thinking the same things more or less just the other day. Not the part about failing to say thank you, because I try to do that, at least, without fail. I couldn't do what I do -- to the extent I am able to do it -- without the constant support of my readers. And I mean "support" not just in the voluntary subscriptions but in all the prayers and kind words I get daily in comments and emails.
But like Warrior Class I am never satisfied with my work, so I offer no defense to his critique. His thoughts track with my own. If I may, however, I'd like to offer a more complete look behind the scenes as it were to my average day that may be an explanation, if an unsatisfactory one.
As anyone who looks at the times of my various posts can tell, I've difficulty with insomnia. Sometimes the various aches and pains will wake me up, sometimes an idea. My first move after hitting the head is to the computer to check my email, answering those that require answer, marking many for later consideration, deleting those that have made it past the spam filter, etc. I get hundreds of email (sometimes more than a thousand) each day, so this is a constant chore. I then go to Sipsey Street and release (or delete) comments on previous posts. I then begin constructing the posts for the day from the news that seems important to me, especially from news tips of readers garnered in the previously-discussed emails.
Sometimes I'll start this process right after midnight and it takes me only so far when I must get some sleep again, and then I lay back down. Sometimes it works and I get more rest, sometimes not. If I do, often I'll oversleep, so that when I wake, I'll have just enough time to get outside a hard-boiled egg, shower, have Rosey change the dressing on my back and get ready to drive her to work. She has to be there by 0800 and it takes about a half hour to drive there. After dropping Rosey, I head to the doctors' appointments for the day or bill-paying stops and try to combine the trip back home with other stops that get the maximum amount accomplished for the least expenditure of gas. Along the way, I always hit the PO Box to see what comes in since many folks only communicate with me by essentially anonymous snail mail. (The One Hundred Heads note was a good example of that.)
I am generally back home sometime around lunch. My first move is to the computer, again to release comments and check (and weed out) emails. Lunch has to be light because my digestive system is very pressure-sensitive and the results of over-eating are often spectacularly inconvenient, so if I'm going to get anything done later in the afternoon I've got to eat sparingly.
If I've had little or no sleep the previous night and have no other intervening work required of me before picking up Rosey, I'll fall asleep on the couch after eating. Lately though, I've had plenty to keep me busy. This is the time when I get the most done on the Absolved rewrite, usually about three or four times a week. This is also when I do more planning and organizing work for upcoming operations. More often, this is when I get required household chores done.
Then, too soon, the time is up and I'm off to pick up Rosey who gets off at 1700 Monday through Friday and at 1600 on Friday. Any grocery shopping generally happens on the way home, which can delay things by about an hour or two given rush hour traffic. My first move once inside the door is down the stairs to the computer, where I go through the email/post ritual once again. (I'll do this once more before turning in for the episodic night.) Then, having posted on Sipsey Street the stuff that I think is important enough to interest the readers, I go up for supper and a little time with Rosey. And so, to bed, and then the schedule repeats.
In the past few weeks I've also been absorbed by going through my papers accumulated over the past 20 years, sorting them out and boxing them up for the Birmingham Public Library Archives folks. Believe me, this is a huge volume of documents. Yet this, like Absolved, is a task that must be completed before I resume civil disobedience operations in the fall, if for no other reason than we are contemplating some stuff that could get me arrested at the least.
When I do go out to Colorado, I will have a reporter in tow who will document the whole trip. Same goes for the planned trip up to Massachusetts, New York and Connecticut (their ammo restrictions go into effect in October, not July as I was misinformed back in April and I still have that 7.62x39 to spread around in defiance of that intolerable act).
One of the things we're talking about for Colorado is how to maximize the effect of our efforts on the future career of Governor Hickenlooper and how to keep hanging the gun-control bell around that cat's neck until the November 2014 election.
Despite all of these daily and special tasks, I, like Warrior Class, am dissatisfied that I haven't been able to crank out more original material and follow up on investigative stories that I have received tips on. I don't blame him for being upset. I'm upset myself. Yet, the blog must go on if anything else is, and the blog is a monster that must be fed. There are many folks who make Sipsey Street their first stop of the day and who appreciate the Drudge-like links, often because they wouldn't encounter them elsewhere and they appreciate my take on them, even if it's just a sarcastic headline.
It is not an excuse, I offer you dear readers, but perhaps it is an explanation.
You know, going through my papers has also provided me with a glimpse at what a long fight we are in, how far we've come, how far we have to go, and of the many friends and fellow fighters we've lost along the way. It's been 9 years since I lost my good friend Arlin Adams to heart attack. It was Arlin, a devout traditional Episcopalian, and the "1st Psy-Ops Company, Southeastern Command" who helped me get the "Unwanted by the FBI" posters up in Michael Brescia's haunts in Philadelphia which embarrassed the FBI into finally rolling up the last remnants of the Aryan Republican Army cells in that area. (Brescia had been the roommate of federal provocateur Andreas Carl Strassmeier at Elohim City, OK at the time of the OKC bombing. See Ambrose Evans-Pritchard's article in this issue of the John Doe Times.)
It's been five and a half years since we lost my co-conspirator in truth on the OKC bombing J.D. Cash. To my eternal regret, J.D. was buried before anyone thought to let me know.
Ten years before that. we lost Glenn Wilburn, whose crusade to find out what really caused the deaths of his two grandsons Chase and Colton Smith in the Murrah Building daycare on 19 April 1995 brought J.D. and me together in the private investigation of the Oklahoma City bombing.
Glenn, J.D. and I made a solemn promise that one day we would get to the truth of the OKC bombing and the role that Elohim City played in it and that we would stroll together onto the foreclosed property where the bolmbing had been planned and together piss on the graves of FBI informant "Pastor" Millar and the stupid terrorist Richard Wayne Snell (he shot and killed a pawn shop owner he mistakenly believed was Jewish). It was Snell, whose execution date was moved up by Arkansas Governor Jim Guy Tucker to 19 April 1995, in whose honor the OKC bombing was carried out the morning of his death to give him a "going away present." As he awaited his execution, Snell watched television coverage of the bombing and laughed like hell at the carnage. His last words were: "Hell has victories. I am at peace."
Well, both Millar and Snell have likely gone to that Hell. J.D. and Glenn have gone to their respective rewards, but it is unlikely we ever know the truth about the OKC bombing or that I will get the chance to urinate upon the graves of Millar and Snell. It is far more likely that one their neo-Nazi familiars or FBI handlers will urinate upon mine. I am content though, proud to have known such fearless patriots as J.D. and Glenn, prouder still that they called me friend.
There more faces that pop up when I go through these documents. There is Doyle Proctor, another fearless patriot who stood by me along with the rest of Bob Wright's boys of the 1st New Mexico at the national militia meeting at Mountain Springs, Texas back in October 1995 when I took on Prophet of the Most High Yahweh Willie Ray Lampley. Doyle also played a critical role in the beginning of Operation White Rose. Doyle is gone now too, an ardent patriot gone to his reward.
Bob Wright, my fast friend since that day in Texas is still here, of course. There have been many times when Bob and I wondered aloud how we ever made it alive through the 90s. It is evident that God is not done with us yet.
So to Warrior Class and everyone else who justifiably gets a little irritated at the quality of my work product, I would ask forbearance if not forgiveness. As far as I've traveled to date, I ain't done yet.