Isaac might turn out to be the switch. Turn on the lights and begin the arrests. If it was ever going to happen it would be -- to quote the one headline, on the one covering search-returning outpost -- :
How Hollywood Insiders Are Taking Down The Cabal from the Inside-Out.
C/o Bing. Google brings zilch.
. . .
Sometimes it is quite difficult to pinpoint when one’s world view on a contentious topic undergoes sharp transformation, but at other times it is quite easy, Ron Unz writes in American Pravda: . . .
Interrupted writing on censorship and signposting hot reads in The Unz Review. The humility and honesty, not least, from Ron (Unz) himself. Got going with:
'It's difficult to suggest how breaks and any pull-back from . . .
Nout the despair like witnessing mainstream political dissent. The young-ish and let's be angry. Loud and proud, coming out for the ubiquitous 'protest'.
Makes no-sense half of . . .
Done 'Brexit' before. My profound shake-up came soon after an early-hours posting, watching and hearing Boris. His first comment and should be 'oh glorious victory...' somewhat later than expected on the morning after the referendum. As I recall, a pensive look, while all that stuck out was the "no need to . . .
Let's go, Russia did it x2. A binational wind-up upon the lemmings. Respective, ruling puppet squads, teleconferencing at night over vodkas and what-have-you. Havin' a laugh. Or, Russia at it and leaving litter to goad the MPs and their News stars. All a-jumping on a bizarre trip, stumbling over themselves to excel in . . .
'I can hear them calling way from Oregon...' sings Van. The song, Independence Day, slow-riding slaps and plucking. Yearnings to be out among hippy-happy-ville. The mix and smiling madness of heady times. Celebration and what seemed set. A world believing fixed into its hip new progression. Nowadays, sure ain't no 1972. . . .