Archive for January 8th, 2011
January 8, 2011: Steven John Hibbs / The Tonka Report (TTR) – January 8, 2011
Rather than get porno scanned or sexually molested by the TSA, I decided to take a Greyhound bus cross-country. This was the first leg of my four part 5000 mile journey… I was shocked at how many people were traveling by bus nearly a week after the New Year. The stations were packed, there were numerous delays, buses were sold out, and extra buses and drivers had to be called in at nearly every stop in order to accommodate the overload in what Greyhound continually apologized for by saying it was due to the end of the holiday travel season.
However, with the exception of a group of soldiers whom I’ll mention later, not one person ever mentioned to me, nor did I overhear anyone say, that they were returning home from the holidays. They were all going somewhere. Did they opt to ride instead of fly due to the TSAs unconstitutional police state tactics? Because the savings to take Greyhound were insignificant compared to flying at the time.
Anyway, having crisscrossed America countless times, I couldn’t help but notice on this trip just how rundown and seemingly desolate so many of the cities and towns appeared to be that we had either passed by while on the highway or when we actually stopped in a town that was a scheduled stop. It eerily reminded me of Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand… “Who is John Galt?”
Maybe part of it was that I was not flying at 30,000 feet or preoccupied with actually driving myself, and maybe it was also due to the fact that there was no snow anywhere and thus everything and everywhere was a dreary and brown painting of bare desolation.
If my recollection serves me correctly, this may have been the only time I had ever traveled between the upper Midwest and the far Southeast in January and saw no snow along the entire trip, even though it was unseasonably cold all the way down to Florida. But there was more to it than that.
The highways were typically strewn with litter, mostly old food packages, tossed out coffee and soda cups, plastic bags, beer cans and broken bottles which all stood out on the barren landscape like beacons of poverty atop the lifeless terrain. And every so often a handmade cross with a name written on it had been erected marking the death of yet another unfortunate motorist along the roadside.
Dilapidated billboards advertising their outdated products or services from days long past left a lasting image of a once thriving country now succumbing to decay, as did the countless empty shops and store fronts in the strip malls along the way.
On occasion there was a glimmer of hope with fleeting signs of some semblance of a bygone American quality of life as I noticed a spattering of golfers hitting the links, which more resembled poorly designed martian landscapes in a low-budget sci-fi movie in the January emptiness of vacant dormancy.
Heading up into the carved out mountains of Tennessee showed evidence of once great engineering feats from decades ago. A time when America still actually created and built things. Today this country only builds insurmountable debt and poverty while creating nothing but unending wars and destruction.
The mountains were also surprisingly absent of any snow, even as giant icicles dangled from the cliff sides as we passed through the man-made canyons as potholes continually rocked the bus with bone jarring jolts. Another sign of perpetual decay in an America that once stood as a pillar of progress and ingenuity. A country the world round that others once strived to emulate, is now a skeleton of greed.
The sky is no longer the deep dark blue of my youth, but rather the all too typical milky white haziness we have all become so accustomed to as chemtrails slashed the sky with their poison that were clearly visible literally every mile along the way until the leaking horizon kissed the ocher earth.
The stars overhead in Georgia however were unusually bright, until you looked down to 45 degrees from the horizon where they disappeared behind the manufactured wax paper that now shrouds the atmosphere in a ghostly white. The bus rolled on… “I said be careful his bowtie is really a camera.”
On one of the buses there was a group of Army recruits returning from the holidays to Ft. Benning outside of Atlanta to complete their basic training. While having a smoke at one of the stops somewhere in Tennessee, or maybe it was Kentucky, I told them about the notorious School of Assassins (School of America’s) at Ft. Benning.
The young men, most just boys really, looked at me sheepishly and repeated a phrase that all of us who have served in the military have heard before… “We don’t know anything. We’re on a need to know basis.” I laughed, told them I was a former Marine and that I understood completely.
I then went on to say that I wanted them all to remember one thing during their tour of duty, “Remember the oath you all took… to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against both foreign and domestic enemies.”
I then said, “There’s a lot of bad guys running this country.” Most were silent, but a few chimed in in unison and said, “We know.”
They were all seemingly good kids, much like I was at that age when I joined, but if deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan, they will invariably return vastly different, if at all, than the innocence I encountered during our journey that day.
While traveling through Florida I engaged in a fascinating conversation with a gentleman who admitted to being a Master Mason after I brought up Freemasonry and the Illuminati while in another conversation about the Bible with someone else. I was pleasantly surprised with his knowledge concerning the Masonic and Illuminati symbology on the back of the dollar bill, as well as many other aspects of secret societies and the New World Order.
We talked for hours while several others listened intently as we discussed everything from Project Blue Beam to the Bible to the Federal Reserve to the slaughter of Palestinians by Israel and a number of other related topics as the bus rolled on from Ocala to Orlando at three something in the morning. I hope a seed was planted amongst them who were listening. That is how liberty grows.
Finally, in Orlando, America reared its ugly police state fascism during a four hour layover before heading to Melbourne. I had just traveled via Greyhound through six states, totaling 31 hours at that point with no searches or violations of my Fourth Amendment.
I walked in the station from the bus platform, put the bulk of my luggage at my next departing gate, then walked past two gun toting rent-a-cops searching incoming passengers from the front entrance and walked out to the smoking area with my laptop and another small back pack.
I had a smoke and walked past the people in line being searched, since I had obviously already been in the “secure” zone, when the shortest of the two rent-a-cops told me to stop and go to the end of the line to be searched.
I said that I had just walked out to have a smoke, when he repeated in a contemptuous tone to get back to the end of the line. Needless to say, after 31 hours of riding buses, I was incensed at this point. I waited nearly 20 minutes before it was my turn to empty my pockets into a tray, place my laptop and bag on a table, then stand spread eagle as I was wanded both front and back, then asked to remove my hat.
The shorter of the two rent-a-cops, who was the officer in charge of this Stasi checkpoint, had that typical psychopathic attitude of superiority burning in his napoleanic eyes. He rifled through my personal belongings in both bags, then checked the contents of the tray, including looking inside my cigarette pack.
Afterward, when nothing of interest was found and my bags and the tray were handed back to me, I asked this little prick, “So, are you going to do this every time I go out to have a smoke during the next four hours?” He responded flatly, “Yes.”
I then said in a rather authoritative tone, “So what you’re telling me is that I can’t smoke while I wait here for the next four hours until my bus arrives without getting searched every time I come in… Correct?”
“No, go ahead and smoke. We’ll just leave you out there until the end when we’re done searching everyone else…Do you have any knives?” “Nope.” I answered just as flatly as he had earlier. “Do you have any drugs?” “Nope.” I took my belongings and walked away letting him clearly know by my glare of contempt and disgust that I was not at all pleased with this unconstitutional treatment.
This blatant violation of my Fourth Amendment happened two more times during the course of four hours with this little jackboot Nazi piece of shit searching me again and again each time I came back in from having a smoke.
The last time I was out smoking, I had just returned from getting a cup of coffee across the street, when this simpleton with a badge and a gun came up behind me outside and said, “I don’t believe I checked your ticket.” I said, “What? You saw it twice when I put it in the tray.”
He said, “I just did a ticket check of all the passengers inside and I did not check yours.” At this point I just pulled out my ticket and handed it to him. He inspected it, handed it back and turned to go inside where I was then promptly searched for the third time when I re-entered the station.
During the entire four hours I was inside the Orlando bus station, I just glared at him as he would periodically march around the area with all the self importance of an SS officer while always glancing over my way. So, I thought I would have a little fun…
I kept moving around to see if he was purposely watching me, and each time I moved he would look around to see where I was, and each time he did he was met with a glare until he would finally turn away. When he did, I would move again. These are the punks who are supposedly keeping us safe from the invisible boogeymen lurking amongst us? Welcome to Amerika!
I got on my bus without further incident, and when I arrived in Melbourne, a Limo service was awaiting to take me to my final destination on this leg of the journey.
It truly was sad as I peered out at America through the looking glass, a country I once honorably served as a US Marine and yet no longer recognize… - SJH
Written by Steven John Hibbs
January 8, 2011 at 1:40 pm
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